Page 27 of To My Scot, With Love
He nodded. “Aye.”
“And these horses are—Where do they come from?”
“Any place with a cruel master.”
“So, you’re saying. You…” She trailed off again. But her eyes remained clear. Clear of judgment. Clear of reproof.
“I thieve them, Lydia,” he said quietly and watched her. Waited. His lungs banding tight and not allowing him air.
Her lips formed a silentoh,and she blinked slowly up at him.
“I know it’s…” He shook his head from side to side, weighing the best way to describe it. The only word he could think of being—
“Illegal, Malcolm.” Her fingertips dug into the flesh of his arm. “It’s illegal, is what it is.”
He winced. Aye, that one.
She searched his face, her brows knit in concern, a myriad of emotions flashing through those sea-blue eyes. Turbulent. Conflicted.
He glanced away. Would this be enough to lose her? Perhaps he shouldnae have told her. But it wasnae his nature to hide something from those in his life. Communication. Openness. Trust. Honesty. They were the pillars he lived by. And it was what she deserved. He just had to hope…
“Shhh,” she crooned and crawled up his body, delicious naked skin coasting over his, until they were face to face, her forearms framing his face, hands sifting through his locks. He closed his eyes with a groan, some of his fear fading as her fingers gently drifted over his scalp.
“I…” She paused, shook her head, her fingers trembling across his skin. He met her gaze, hated the fear and torture he saw there. “You’re safe with me, Malcolm. But that doesn’t mean I like it. God, I hate it.” Pain lanced across her face. “Not because of what you’re doing, but because of what the consequences mean. It’s the same as it is for Felix. If you’re caught—”
“Hanging. I know,” he said, voice thick. Because her pain caused him pain.
“But I understand,” she added, blue irises growing tender soft. “You’re a good, honorable man, Malcolm Campbell. Protecting those who cannot save themselves.”
Aye. And that was why he did it. The palomino stallion, emaciated and beaten, flashed in his visage. If he didn’t, no one else would.
“How often do these…expeditions occur?”
He rolled his lips in, running over the past few that had taken place. “It varies, anywhere from a few in a year, to just once a year.”
“And do you know of any happening in the near future…”
His gaze darted to his desk, and hers followed and then snapped back to his.
“Malcolm?”
“Next week. There will be another one next week.”
Her shoulders drooped, and she sank into him, burying her head in his neck. But it wasn’t the kind of melting that alluded to comfort or contentment. Nae, it was sad. Like catching snowflakes on one’s palm, only for them to disappear before one could truly appreciate their beauty.
“I don’t know if I’ll sleep a wink until it’s over and I know you’re safe.” Her muffled words drifted up to him.
He tightened his arms around her and buried his nose in her hair. “I’ll be careful, lass. I promise. I’m well-seasoned at this by now.”
“If something were to happen to you—” Her voice broke, and everything in him rebelled. Rebelled because she was hurting. Because of him. “Malcolm, you’re not just risking yourself. You’re riskingus.”
His pulse stalled, and his eyes sank closed. She was right. He hadnae ever had something to risk before.
She pushed up and then gripped his jaw, turning him so they were nose to nose. His eyes flew open. And through her tears, a blue fire burned. “You better be bloody careful, Malcolm Campbell. Because I love you, and I am nowhere near done with you yet.”
His heart skipped a beat. Or five. She loved him. And she was adorable. With her fierce demand. A warrior resided beneath her fragile exterior. He’d seen it in the way she spoke about protecting her son. And he saw it now. And to have that ferocity of love aimed at him? It was the highest honor.
His lips crashed down on hers, unable to stay away a moment longer. His hands tangled into her hair, and he put every ounce of feeling into that kiss, tongues sliding, lips brushing, teeth nipping and grazing. It was a kiss that promised love, unbendable devotion. Her own small hands dug into his face, holding on like she’d never let go. Like she was bound to him, wanted to be bound to him.
