The Ranger (21 page)

Their eyes met. The jolt of awareness cracked through her like a whip. The shock never seemed to lessen. Her breath hitched and the sharp flash of tightness wrapped around her chest, squeezing. She felt a poignant moment of longing rise inside her, before she quickly—harshly—tamped it down.

He didn’t mean anything to her. Not anymore. Not after what happened in the barracks. Not after he’d left at the first opportunity.

He’d showed her how wrong he was for her. She should believe him.

She schooled her features into an impassive mask, calling on every ounce of royal blood that flowed in her veins. She was the descendant of kings, including great-granddaughter six times over of the mighty Somerled. She gave a short nod of her head, and said coolly, “Sir Arthur, I see you have returned.”

Her attempt at imperiousness was somewhat ruined by the soft tremble in her voice. It was one thing to pretend not to be affected by him in a crowded Hall; it was quite another in a small stable. Alone. With him looking at her so ... intensely. Angrily.

His face was red—except for the lines around his mouth and his throbbing temple. Those, unfortunately, were white.

Her heart fluttered nervously. Where was Iain? The stable boy should be back by now.

He must have read her thoughts. His gaze darkened, which, as it was already forbidding enough, only unnerved her further. He had no reason to be angry at her.

“The lad’s not coming. I told him I would take you wherever you need to go.”

Good God, no!
She didn’t want to go anywhere with him. Or be near him, for that matter.

She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by the danger she sensed emanating from him. She’d done nothing wrong. But she hoped he couldn’t see her hands shaking. “That won’t be necessary.”

He took a step closer, and she had to force herself to stand still. But her pulse jumped in her throat.

And he saw it. The smile that curved his lips made her feel like a mouse in a cat’s eye. “I’m afraid it will. If you leave the castle, I’m going with you.” His gaze swept over her in a way that made her skin flush with heat. “I think you’ve forgotten something.”

Thoroughly discombobulated by the heat rushing through her veins, she stammered, “W-what?”

His eyes locked on hers. “Your basket.” She froze, her eyes widening. He couldn’t possibly know ...

She nearly sighed with relief when he added, “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave the castle without it.”

Too observant—
far
too observant. Sir Arthur Campbell was dangerous in more ways than one. Her father would be furious if someone discovered what she and some of the other women had been up to.

Angry for allowing him to rattle her, Anna quickly composed herself. “I only intended to go for a ride today—not visit any of the villagers.”

He held her gaze for a moment too long. Again, she wondered whether he knew something. This time, however, her expression betrayed nothing.

A series of excited barks shifted his attention down to the dog jumping on his leg. “Down,” he said, in a voice that brokered no argument. The dog immediately sat and stared at him with an adoring look on his face. “Your pup needs to learn some manners.”

Anna’s mouth pursed. “He likes you.”
God knows why
. Squeezing affection from Arthur Campbell was like trying to get water from a rock—doomed to frustration and failure.

His eyes narrowed as if she’d spoken aloud. “Animals usually have good instincts.”

“Usually,” she agreed, leaving him no doubt that in this case she thought differently.

The dangerous glint crept back into his eye. “And what about you, Anna? What do your instincts tell you?”

To run. To hide. To get as far away from him as she could so it would stop hurting. It hurt just to look at him, at the square, dented jaw, sensually curved lips, and dark, amber-flecked eyes.

She shifted her gaze, emotion welling in her throat. “I don’t listen to my instincts.” At least any longer. They were wrong. Her instincts had made her think there was something special between them. That he might need her. That he was lonely. And that he might be different from what he seemed: an ambitious knight, a battle-hard warrior, who lived by—and for—the sword.

Even now, her instincts led her to believe that this simmering tension between them meant something. That if only he would take her in his arms and kiss her again everything would be all right. But it was too late for that. “Instincts only make you do things you regret,” she added.

His jaw hardened, and the muscle in his jaw jumped ominously. He stepped closer. Close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. To smell the hint of sun and spice on his skin.

Her legs started to melt.

God, she’d forgotten how tall he was. It felt as though the walls were closing in. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think with him looming over her like this.

He was using his fierce masculinity against her with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

“And do you regret it, Anna?”

She did not mistake the deceptive softness of his voice. She could feel the anger radiating off him—almost as if her change of heart mattered to him.

Why was he doing this? Why was he trying to confuse her? He was the one who’d told her to stay away.

“What difference does it make? Especially now. You made yourself brutally clear before you ran off with my brother.”

She tried to brush past him, but he blocked her with the implacable shield of his chest. She could tell by the white lines around his mouth that he hadn’t missed her taunt.

“So you are done with your spying, is that it?”

Her eyes scanned his face. Is that what he thought? God, what did it matter? She dragged her gaze away and looked past him to the door. “Yes, that’s it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to leave.”

She pushed against his chest with the heel of her hand, but he was about as yielding as a rocky cliff. A cliff with lots and lots of sharply cut rocks.

“I told you I’m going with you.”

“Your
services
are no longer necessary. I’ve changed my mind; I won’t be riding this morning.”

She could tell by the way his eyes flared that he didn’t appreciate being dismissed. Well, too bad. He was the one who’d appointed himself her knight errant.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and she wondered whether she might have pushed him too far. But with a twist of his mouth, he bowed dramatically and stepped aside. “As you wish, my lady. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

She swept past him, chin high. “I won’t change my mind. I’ve much to do before I go.”

A hand on her arm brought her to a jerking halt. But even the harsh touch made her senses explode.

“Going somewhere, Lady Anna?”

She tried to wrench her arm away, glaring at him when he wouldn’t let her go. “It’s none of your business.”

His eyes flashed, and he drew her near. She could feel the energy pulsing between them, dragging her under. His mouth was so close. “Tell me.”

He couldn’t kiss her, she thought in a panic. She couldn’t let him kiss her. “I’m to be married,” she blurted.

Arthur dropped her arm as if she’d scalded him.

Married?
The word landed like a hammer in his gut. He couldn’t seem to move. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve ending had turned to stone.

“Who?” The toneless, vaguely menacing voice didn’t belong to him—it sounded like MacRuairi’s.

Anna wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her hands started to twist nervously in the thick woolen folds of her skirt. “Sir Hugh Ross.”

A knife wedged between his ribs would have skewered less sharply. The Earl of Ross’s son and heir. Arthur knew of him, of course. The young knight had already made a name for himself. He was a fierce warrior—a tactician on and off the battlefield. The fact that he was worthy of her made it worse.

Arthur didn’t understand the rage pouring through him, nor the feeling of betrayal. She didn’t belong to him, damn it. Could never belong to him.

But that didn’t mean he could forget that not a fortnight past he’d held her in his arms—and come damned close to taking her innocence.

“It seems you had an eventful week, my lady. You work fast.”

A hot blush stained her cheeks. “The details have not all been worked out yet.”

His eyes narrowed, hearing something in her voice. “What do you mean, details? Are you betrothed or aren’t you?”

She lifted her chin. Despite the blush staining her cheeks, he read the defiant glint in her eye. “Sir Hugh proposed to me last year, soon after my betrothed died.”

“I thought you refused.”

“I did. I’ve reconsidered.”

All of a sudden, Arthur realized what this was about. With no help coming from King Edward, the MacDougalls had decided to turn to Ross for help, offering up Lady Anna to provide added incentive for an alliance.

Whether she’d reconsidered or her father had done it for her didn’t matter. He couldn’t let them join forces. An alliance between Ross and the MacDougalls would hurt Bruce’s chances for victory. It was his job—his duty—to stop it.

Arthur gave her a hard look. “And how do you know that Sir Hugh will be amenable to your sudden change of heart?”

“I don’t.” She gave him a pointed look. “But I will do what I must to persuade him.”

He didn’t need to guess what she meant. His reaction was instantaneous. Primitive. For one split second, rage took over and he lost control. His mind went black. She was one hair’s breadth from being pinned up against that stable wall with her lips crushed to his, his manhood wedged between her thighs, and his tongue plunging deep inside her mouth. Exactly where she belonged.

But even out of his mind with rage, the urge to protect her was stronger. He didn’t trust himself to touch her, not like this.

Anna’s eyes widened, and she took a prudent step back.

But he held her in the trap of his piercing gaze. “So you have it all planned out?”

She nodded. “Aye. It will be for the best.”

The fact that she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself didn’t give him any solace. “There is one problem with your plan.”

She looked at him hesitantly. “What’s that?”

“Ross is in the north. The roads are too dangerous for you to travel. The risk is too great. Bruce and his men could be on the move at any time. Your father won’t sanction this.” Lorn was a cold-hearted bastard, but he seemed to genuinely love his daughter.

“He already has. My brother Alan and a score of guardsmen will escort me. King Hood might be a murderous brigand, but he does not make war on women.”

Arthur fought to keep his temper under control. Lorn had to be desperate to have agreed to this. The bastard would do anything to win, even put his daughter in jeopardy. “
If
the rebels know you are a woman. In the dark, you will not be so easy to discern. You might be mistaken for couriers.”

Had she forgotten already what had nearly happened to her in Ayr? Jesus, when he thought of the danger ...

His blood chilled. He thought about pressing her up against the stable wall again, this time to shake some sense into her. She could be hurt. Killed.

“My brother will protect me. I’m sure it will be fine.”

A vein drummed in his temple. A hundred men could not keep her safe. His struggle for control failed. “Don’t be a fool. You can’t go. It’s too dangerous. Send a messenger instead.”

From the way her eyes narrowed and the set of her chin, he knew he’d made a mistake. For such a sweet-looking lass, she had a surprisingly formidable stubborn streak.

“It’s already decided. And you, I’m afraid, have nothing to say about it.”

Women should be meek and submissive, damn it. But here she stood toe-to-toe with him, not backing down one inch. He’d admire it, if he weren’t so furious.

This time when she spun on her heel and flounced through the door, he didn’t stop her.

Nothing to say about it
. We’ll see about that.

If Anna wouldn’t see reason, perhaps her father would.

Bruce’s men were roaming all over the area—raiding, reiving, interfering with the supply lines—doing whatever they could to cause chaos and spread fear in the heart of the enemy. War took place not just on the battlefield but in the mind.

A party of MacDougall guardsmen would be irresistible. Anna would have an arrow in her chest before they were close enough to realize their mistake.

It was the threat to his mission that was twisting him in knots, he told himself. Preventing this kind of alliance—keeping MacDougall alone—was why he was here.

But it wasn’t the messages or alliance he was thinking about. All he could see was Anna lying in a pool of blood.

He had to turn Lorn from this foolish path.

And if he couldn’t ...

There was no way in hell he’d let her go alone. If Anna took one step outside this castle, he was going to be right by her side. Where he could protect her and keep an eye on her.

He knew one thing for damned certain: There was no way in hell she was marrying Hugh Ross.

“Is something wrong, Annie? You seem upset.”

Anna gazed over at her brother Alan, who’d come up to ride beside her.

After traveling the first part of the journey by
birlinn
this morning, the rest of the trip would be made on horseback. The sea route from Dunstaffnage to the village of Inverlochy by way of Loch Linnhe had taken less than a half-day, a journey that would have taken days by land.

She wished the rest of the trip would be so easy. Although three lochs and numerous rivers traversed Gleann Mor, the Great Glen, which bisected Scotland from Inverlochy at the head of Loch Linnhe to Inverness and the Moray Firth, the waterways were separated by enough land to make travel by ship infeasible. Instead, they would ride the roughly seventy-five-mile journey from Inverlochy to Nairn. With luck, they would arrive at Auldearn Castle just east of Nairn in four days. She was slowing them down, she knew, although it was a far more punishing pace then the leisurely one she was used to.

Ironically, they would travel along much the same route King Hood had followed last autumn as he cut a swath across the Highlands, taking the four principal castles along the way: the Comyn castles of Inverlochy and Urquhart, and the royal castles garrisoned by the English at Inverness and Nairn.