Page 5 of Saved By the Highland Beast
“I’m Dean O’Brien, Laird of McGill Castle. Ye wrote the letter to me askin’ if the position as a tutor was still available.”
Sophia perked up a bit when he said he was the laird.
“Yer miles away from the castle, lass. How did ye get out here?”
“I got lost on the way from the last inn,” she replied as her teeth began to chatter. The growing dark was bringing a chill that penetrated through her sodden clothes.
Dean stepped forward and scooped her up in his arms before she had any time to protest. He carried her out of the water and toward the group of men. “This is our new tutor,” he said bluntly.
“What is she doin’ all the way out here?” the swordsman asked. “She was due to arrive at the castle two days ago.”
“It seems she got lost,” Dean answered while he lifted her onto the saddle of his horse.
“How can ye get lost out here? The lake is miles an’ miles away from any kind of road,” another man said as if she weren’t there.
“Ye have to be daft to get lost out here.”
“Stop yer gossipin’ and start gettin' ready. The lass is tired,” the laird answered his friend as he swung his leg up and positioned himself behind her.
“I have my own horse,” Sophia said quickly when she realized what he intended to do. “I left her over there by the trees.” She pointed back over her shoulder.
The men all looked back to the trees where her horse was tethered before turning back in unison to the man with the sword.
“I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “I assumed the horse belonged to the English bastards.” He quickly turned his head toward her. “Apologies, lass, nae all English are bad.”
“All of my belongings were on the back of that horse.” She pouted, and she felt the laird tighten his grip on her.
“This would nae happen if ye didnae have to make such a show all the time, Anthony,” one of the other men accused, his large round belly protruding over the saddle.
“Dinnae start with me again, Hamish!” the swordsman growled.
“Never mind all that,” the laird snapped. “Let’s get a move on ‘afore the lass catches a cold. There’s a cabin nae too far from here where we can tend to her wounds and set up camp for the night.”
“I’m not wounded,” Sophia said through her chattering teeth while wrapping her arms around her waist.
“Were ye wearin’ a white dress with streaks of red when ye stopped by the lake?” Dean asked her gruffly as he reached around and grabbed the reins, pulling her closer to his chest.
She felt the warmth of his body against her back as she looked down to see the smears of blood on her clothes. “Oh, I didn’t realize…”
“Dinnae fuss, lass,” the swordsman said as he pulled his horse up beside the laird. “The pain will come. Sometimes, men in battle dinnae realize they are wounded until it’s too—”
“We better get on,” Dean cut him short with a glare, digging his boots into the sides of the horse. She could feel the strength of his muscular thighs with the movement of his legs.
The horses trotted on into the dark as Sophia rested her aching body against the heat of the man who had saved her life.
They rode on for a few moments in silence. Dean tightened his arms around her shoulder and held her steady every time the horse went through a ditch or trotted a little faster. She blushed slightly when she caught him looking down at her thigh through a rip in her dress.
"We’re nearly to the camp.” He cleared his throat when she shifted the scraps of her dress over her leg.
“Won’t we be headed to the castle tonight?” She panicked at the thought of having to camp with a group of strangers.
“Nae, I have to see to the men’s wounds as well as yers. We will make camp for the night an’ head to the castle in the mornin’.”
“What about your wounds?”
“I dinnae have any wounds, lass. But if ye want to see me without me shirt on, we can always arrange that.” His tone was teasing, though he remained stoic when Sophia turned around to look at him.
“I…” she stammered, her cheeks catching fire despite the chill in her body. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
