Page 60 of Desire's Ransom
Sometime in the night, the hounds had migrated back down to the foot of their cloaks. And Gray, seeking warmth or something more carnal, had nestled close to him until she now lay cradled in his arms.
Of course, she was completely oblivious to this fact. And he’d just as soon she didn’t find out. But if he tried to extricate himself from their position, she’d no doubt accuse him of making advances. And if he didn’t…
He grimaced. At the rate he was swelling against her, it would only be a matter of time before she awakened in horror.
Closing his eyes, he carefully inhaled. Her hair smelled like summer. It wasn’t difficult to imagine waking like this every morn. With the touch of sunlight on his skin. The sound of birdsong on the air. The comfort of a woman in his arms.
He smiled. She reallydidfeel heavenly against him. The warm pressure of her body against his was driving him mad with longing.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the rest of the camp was stirring.
Fortunately, Domnall the soldier suddenly growled out, “Up, everyone! The sun’s high! The day’s a-wastin’!”
In the noisy confusion as Gray struggled to wake up, Ryland was able to pull away inconspicuously. He yawned as if he’d only just wakened as well. She’d never know how close they’d been a moment ago.
Of course, his body was cursing him for leaving such a pleasurable situation, and it would be a while before it calmed enough to be presentable. But such were the harsh realities of being a loyal husband. He had to learn to curb his desires, even when temptation in the form of an irresistible outlaw lass pursued him with a vengeance.
Temair was still shaken from her encounter in the middle of the night.
It was silly, she supposed. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a man naked. It wouldn’t be the last.
But somehow seeing Sir Ryland had been different.
Maybe it was different because his vulnerable state was so unexpected. She’d truly believed he’d been trying to escape. Not once did it occur to her that he might be innocent. The fact that she’d forced him to turn around under threat of death, only to discover that not only was he blameless, but she’d caught him with histriusdown, made her feel like a brutish fool.
Maybe it was different because Sir Ryland was more than just another man. They’d shared a kiss. They’d forged an undeniable connection. Something had happened between the two of them, some manifest spark that she felt lingering inside her like a coal, banked and waiting to burst into flame.
Maybe it was different because Ryland was dangerous, more menacing in a way than her father. He threatened her independence, her claim to the O’Keeffe land, her future. And seeing him standing there, unabashed, in all his manly glory, had made that threat all the more real.
To make matters worse, she didn’t dare leave the camp—not with the roads crowded with fair-goers and the ransom demand delivered to her father. Cormac had a formidable temper. When it was roused, he was capable of seeking revenge with a single-minded drive that was terrifying to behold. Now, more than ever, Temair had to be cautious, for her father would definitely have placed a target on her back.
But remaining behind, Temair wasn’t sure she could bear to look Ryland in the eyes. She was ashamed of what she’d done to him, embarrassed by her lack of trust, and humiliated that she’d been caught by Ronan, who was bound to spread the news around the camp faster than wildfire.
Temair pulled her hood over her head, wishing she could hide.
As she turned aside, she almost smacked into Ronan. Prepared for the worst sort of teasing after last night’s mishap, she was surprised when he only nodded his head in greeting and continued on. She stared after him in wonder.
One by one, the woodkerns left on their missions. Fair days were always lucrative for outlaws. From far afield, the rich came with full purses, intent on spoiling their sweethearts with trinkets.
As a matter of tradition, the woodkerns stole only half of what they found on fair days. After all, they didn’t wish to deprive anyone of an enjoyable day at the fair. But they figured most could afford to part with a sizable share of what they carried and still impress their mistresses.
The fewer outlaws that remained behind in the camp, the more tense Temair grew. So far she’d managed to avoid confronting Ryland. But soon it would be unavoidable.
It was Lady Mor who managed to keep Ryland busy, chatting with him beside the cave while Temair threw sticks for Flann and Bran to fetch.
Mor’s bubbling laughter rang out, and Temair stiffened. Obviously, he’d said something to amuse her. Temair wondered if he was revealing how Gray had caught him in the middle of pissing.
But Mor never once looked her way, so maybe he was only telling her a jest.
Temair tossed a pine cone for Flann.
While he bounded after it, she looked sidelong at Ryland. He was leaning back against the rock with his arms across his chest, looking devastatingly masculine. There was a relaxed smile on his face as he watched Mor fluttering her graceful hands, making gestures to accompany whatever she was telling him.
Flann nudged Temair’s palm with his wet nose. He’d already dropped the pine cone at her feet. Bran sat beside Flann and gave a single bark. He wanted to play too.
Temair picked up two pine cones and threw them in different directions, sending the hounds racing off.
Now Ryland was facing Mor, telling some story that required grand sweeps of his arms. Mor seemed spellbound. Her eyes were glowing, and she had one hand clasped to her breast as if his story was leaving her breathless.
