Page 9 of Saved By the Highland Beast
The men lookedup and laughed as Sophia came out of the cabin. The clothes that Anthony had given her were three sizes too large. The breeches hung on her like a sack, and the shirt fluttered like a sail blowing in the wind. She cut quite the comical figure with the belt pulled tight around her waist. She looked like the urchins that begged for bread on the streets of London and Inverness.
Dean shot the men a scornful look when he saw that she was blushing.
Some of the men coughed and turned their attention back to the belongings that needed to be packed. The horses were ready and waiting after a hearty breakfast of oats.
Hamish was done as usual and waiting to leave while supervising the rest of the men.
“Yer a sight for sore eyes this mornin’, milady.” Anthony was the first to approach her.
“I’m afraid the clothes are a little too big.” She looked up quickly after pulling at the seams. “I am grateful for them though,” she added respectfully. Her dirty shoes poked out from the bottom of the breeches.
“Och, dinnae even think on it, milady. It’s an honor for a fine lass such as yerself to be wearin’ a pair of me breeches.”
Sophia smiled warmly at Anthony in a way that prickled Dean’s nerves. The laird didn’t know why, but the thought of his best friend flirting with her made him madder than a bull that had just been branded.
“All me belongings are at yer disposal, milady.” Anthony bowed low. “May I offer me horse this morning as we ride back to the castle? She’s a fine mare, an’ I promise to keep the conversations light as we ride.” He winked at her.
Dean dropped what he was doing and made his way over to the pair. “Yer horse is nae even saddled yet,” he barked. “The lady will be ridin’ to the castle with me. I would nae trust ye to ride straight even with yerself on a horse.”
Hamish stopped what he was doing and sniggered, and Anthony glared at him.
Waiting for the others to leave, Dean took his chance to gauge how she was feeling since last night. “Did ye sleep well enough? The hard floor of a cabin must be far from the comfort yer accustomed to.”
“I slept just fine,” Sophia answered quickly and glared at him. “I may be a lady, but I’m not unaccustomed to adapting to change.”
The laird’s irritation grew at the defensive way she spoke to him all the time as if he were one of the English dogs she needed to defend herself from. Why didn’t she treat Anthony or Hamish like that? He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t the easiest character to talk to.
“The horse is saddled and ready to go. Ye will ride with me again today so I can keep an eye on yer wounds,” he barked at her before turning and making his way over to his chestnut stallion.
Sophia hung back slightly and waited for the rest of the men to ready their mounts before coming to his side.
“Are ye ready?”
She nodded in reply, allowing him to place his hands on her waist and lift her into the saddle.
He swung his leg over the horse and positioned himself behind her again, just as he’d done the day before. Dean felt the warmth of her body pressing against his as he reached around and grabbed the reins. Her hair smelt of rain, and her skin was softer than the petals of a mountain even in bloom. Scenes from the previous night flashed through his mind as the men made ready to leave.
Her smooth skin beneath the tips of his fingers. The subtle mounds of her perfect breasts, the long auburn hair that hung down her back like waves of the ocean, and the gentle way her full lips had parted. God, he’d wanted to kiss those lips. He’d wanted to run the tip of his tongue over the curve of her neck. He’d wanted to tangle those curls in his fingers and…
“The men are ready, my laird,” Hamish suddenly said by his side, then winked and smiled at Sophia.
“We can be off, then,” Dean uttered, shifting himself in the saddle so that his arousal would not be so evident to the woman who was about to become a tutor to his son.
He gave the reins a tiny nudge and urged the horse on as the men fell into line behind him.
What is happening to me?
He hadn’t been interested in another woman since his wife had died. His sudden arousal was puzzling at best.
They rode in silence for a while as the trees thinned out and eventually gave way to the open plains of a meadow. He thought of the tiny English woman that sat in his arms, and the ladies that had tried and failed to look after his son.
Cillian had been a difficult lad to deal with now that he was coming of age. He needed someone who would give him a good education while opening his mind to the world around him. He wasn’t a bad bairn, he just needed the right guidance and love, preferably from someone who would be patient with him.
“What is your son’s name?’” Sophia’s voice suddenly drew Dean’s attention back to the present.
“Cillian,” he answered bluntly. He’d almost forgotten that she was a real person and not just a figment of his imaginings.
“That’s a wonderful name.”
