Page 12 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
The soft, wet ground sucking at his boots, Struan walked the horse to the rear of the hut and tied it up near a stream that ran behind it. Leaving the horse to graze and drink, he gave it a paton the flank then walked back around to the front to find Isolde standing outside the door, still looking uncertain.
“Go on in then,” he said. “There’s naethin’ in there that’ll bite ye.”
She frowned and glanced at the doorway, hesitant. He could see she was unsure it was safe. Grinning to himself, Struan walked in ahead of her and glanced around. He was immediately hit by the smell of disuse. There was a layer of dust over everything, and it appeared that anything valuable had been taken, reinforcing Struan’s belief the place had been abandoned.
“See? ‘Tis abandoned. Nobody’s comin’ back here taenight,” he called to her. “’Tis safe fer ye tae come in.”
Her arms still folded over her chest and her lips pursed, Isolde looked around. “Aye. I suppose ye’re right,” she said softly.
“Of course, I am,” he said.
The hut lacked a proper hearth, but there was a pit in the middle of it ringed with stones that had been charred and blackened over its years of use. There were no furs or blankets left behind, so they would have to do without.
“Should I bring some firewood fer the fire?” she asked, surprising him.
“Nay, I will dae it,” he said. “But before I dae it, I want tae clean meself up.”
Ye arenae going anywhere around alone.
He stripped off his bloody and tattered tunic and tossed it to the side of the room then pulled off his boots—it was a minor miracle Mackintosh’s men hadn’t seen fit to take them—and dropped them. Isolde stood where she was, face blanched, mouth hanging open.
“What dae ye think ye’re daein?”
“I told ye, I’m goin’ tae clean meself up.”
She covered her face with her hands when Struan pulled his breeches off and tossed them over with the tunic. He chuckled at her, then walked out of the hut and across the small field. Stepping into the loch, he winced and drew in a sharp breath as the cold water hit the wounds Mackintosh’s men had left on his body. The pain quickly ebbed though, and he was awash in a brisk exhilaration as the water soothed his aching muscles.
Up to his waist in the water, Struan scrubbed his hands over his body, washing away the mud and road dirt from his body. He turned and saw that Isolde had followed him out of the hut and stood on the edge of the loch, gaping at him. She wanted to appear scandalized, but the way her gaze lingered on his form told Struan she wasn’t quite as appalled as she acted. Even from where he stood in the water, her bright scarlet cheeks werecrystal clear—as was the curious and intrigued glimmer in her eyes.
“Ye’re bleedin’ mad. Ye dae ken that, dinnae ye?” she called.
“Maybe. But at least I’ll be mad and clean,” he replied. “’Tis nay sense in puttin’ those clean, fresh clothes I just bought on me filthy, grimy body, is there?”
Isolde appeared even more flustered and he could feel the heat of her gaze spreading across his skin like the ripples he caused that marred the surface of the loch. His stomach turned over on itself and his mouth grew dry. Something primal and animalistic rose inside of him as he gazed at her. Struan felt a sense of longing and desire he’d never felt before. The way she looked at him made his entire body tense with a fiery sense of arousal.
‘Tis Murdoch’s daughter ye’re lusting over ye fool!
He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make himself wince and pushed those thoughts away. She was a means to an end—the only way he was going to find Finlay.
She was the daughter of his mortal enemy and a man he had vowed to kill. He had to get her to stop staring at him and walk away. And he knew just how to do it.
“Ye’re welcome tae join me. The water’s a wee bit brisk, but it feels nice,” he called out.
“I am nae gettin’ naked in front of ye. ‘Tis wholly improper.”
“So, ye’re just goin’ tae stand there watchin’ me be naked in front of ye?” he retorted. “It hardly seems fair, lass.”
Her cheeks turned a shade of red Struan didn’t know existed in nature and she sputtered. She looked away, then turned back to him, then turned away again, seemingly unsure what to do. Finally, she turned and stormed off.
“And where are ye goin’, lass?”
“Back tae the hut and away from ye,” she called over her shoulder. “Ye’re bleedin’ mad.”
“Aye. Ye said that already.”
Struan smiled to himself as he lay back and floated on the surface of the loch, staring up at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering. A storm would be coming eventually, and he knew it would be a cold night. And as he thought about the way Isolde had been staring at him and how his body had reacted, Struan knew it was also going to be a very long night as well.
CHAPTER SIX
