Page 12 of In the Hands of a Highland Bandit

It was just as bad, if not worse, for Finn, whose shaft was rigid because of the warm, pliant woman’s body pressed against him. He thought of raising his hand a little and cupping one of her breasts or sliding his fingers underneath her backside. He wanted most of all to be inside her and make her his, but before any of that, he wanted to kiss her senseless, to caress those luscious lips with his then taste the sweetness in her mouth.

Finn shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, desperate for the time when they would stop to rest and give him some relief from temptation. The woman pressed against him was the embodiment of every lascivious dream he had ever had, and it was torture being so close to her and unable to do anything about it.

* * *

At last, they stopped to make camp for the night, and the men began to cook some of the meat and prepare the bread, cheese, and fruit they had stolen from the village. To Greta’s relief, they completely ignored her, but she knew she could not let down her guard.

Greta’s mouth was watering, and her stomach was rumbling loudly, but she refused to give in to her hunger and tried to ignore the mouthwatering aroma of roasting rabbit. However, there were other bodily needs she had to attend to, but she dreaded asking Finn to come with her while she took care of them. However, she need not have worried.

She had sat down with her back against a tree, looking around her. It was too late to run into the trees and make a bid for freedom since it was almost dark, and it would be impossible to find her way under the thick tree shadows. She sighed. How had it come to this?

Just then, Finn came and held his hand out to her, smiling. “Would ye like tae go an’ wash? I will make sure nobody bothers ye.” He grinned. “They will a’ be stuffin’ their faces anyway.”

Greta nodded and followed him as he led her into the woods. She desperately wanted to feel clean and to relieve herself after hours in the saddle.

Finn was carrying a lantern and led her to a spot beside the burn that was sheltered by some thick undergrowth. “Here,” he said softly. “Ye can bathe in the water if ye want. I have brought ye a towel, an’ I will turn my back an’ not look at ye, I promise.”

She nodded and took the towel from him, then hid behind the undergrowth and began to undress, but she had forgotten just how cold the water of a burn or a loch could be. When she stepped into it, its icy bite hurt so much that it took her breath away for a moment. She cried out in shock and immediately heard Finn’s voice calling her name as he rushed up to the edge of the water, thinking that something had happened to her.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was safe and well, but the glare she gave him showed him how much she had misinterpreted his good intentions.

The water was only waist deep, and Greta crouched down, instinctively covering her breasts with her hands as he looked down at her.

“Lass!” he cried anxiously. “Are ye all right?”

“I was ’til I saw ye,” she growled. “Ye said ye would keep yer back turned.”

“I thought ye were bein’ attacked or somethin’.” Finn was embarrassed. He turned away again. “I am sorry, hen.” He turned and walked away again.

When he had gone, Greta scrubbed herself all over with a pebble she had found at the bottom of the stream. She was shivering with cold, but she welcomed it; it was infinitely preferable to the scorching heat of the fire, and it cooled down the pain of her injured palm and the burn on her thigh which she had received from her smoldering skirt.

She came out of the water as quickly as she could, then toweled herself with the coarse piece of linen, keeping an eye on Finn’s back to make sure that he was not peeking at her. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought of dressing in her filthy, sooty clothes again, but she had no choice, so she shook as much dirt as she could out of them and put them back on.

“Ye can turn round now,” she told him irritably.

Finn turned around and looked at her. Her dress was black and burnt, torn in places with a great hole in one of the elbows of her undershirt, and the ends of her curly brown hair were black and broken. She should have looked an utter mess, but to Finn’s eyes, she was still lovely, and anyway, he could steal many more dresses for her if she needed them.

“My turn,” he announced, and he laughed and began to take his shirt off. “Ye can look if ye like, hen. We men are not as modest as women. We are closer tae bein’ animals than human beings.”

I will nae disagree wi’ ye,Greta thought, as she turned her back. She would have loved to stand staring at him if only to see that part of a man she had never seen before, but she lacked the courage.

Finn stayed in the water longer than Greta and scrubbed himself thoroughly until he felt clean enough to be presentable. However, there was only one towel and it was now damp, so as they went back to the campsite, he was still shivering with cold. He sat down as close to the fire as he could, but Greta, even though she was freezing, sat with her back to a pine tree far away from the men. She was too frightened to be among them, even though Finn was there.

7

“What is goin’ on, Finn?” Liam demanded as his brother sat down beside him, holding his hands out to welcome the warmth of the fire. “Why is that lassie even here?” He spread his hands, his expression mystified as he looked accusingly at his brother. “If Laird Donaldson finds out we have no’ followed his orders, there will be hell tae pay. What were ye thinkin’ about, bringin’ her along? It is madness.”

A chorus of agreement came from around the fire. The men were tired, disheartened, and angry and needed a scapegoat on which to take out their frustrations. Greta, the interloper, was perfect for the role.

“We lost some o’ our best men,” Davie Finnegan complained angrily. Then he had a thought. “Maybe we should go back an’ finish that place off. They will no’ be expectin’ tae see us again so soon, an’ they will no’ be ready.”

Finn looked around to see if Greta had heard, but she was sitting with her head against the tree, her eyes closed. Perhaps she was pretending, but it looked as though she was asleep. “Do nae talk so loud!” he hissed. “She is sleepin’.”

“Or pretendin’ tae be,” Liam said bitterly. “Do ye have a plan for this woman? Because I am sure we would a’ like tae know what it is!”

Liam sat for a moment with a million thoughts running through his head at once. At last, he shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. He felt ashamed and embarrassed. If they did not follow Laird Donaldson’s orders, all their lives would be in danger; they had sacked the village of Shieldaig and achieved less than nothing. Their spoils were minimal, and they had lost some of their best men.

Now Finn had brought along a useless piece of baggage in the shape of a beautiful woman who served absolutely no purpose except to tease and frustrate him by tempting him with what he could not have. It made no sense.

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