Page 18 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Dahlia opened her mouth to speak but the words she uttered were lost in the sound of the torrent. He leaned in so he could hear what she wished to say.

“I want tae go down to the pool. Can ye take me there?”

He straightened, fixing her with his gaze. In return her eyes beseeched him. Although the way down to the pool was treacherous, he’d made the descent many times before. In hisboyhood he’d swum in the cool water of that glorious crystal-clear pool more times than he could count.

He shook his head. “There’s some danger in it, melady.”

She took his forearm in a despairing grip, her eyes focused below them to the deep green pool at the foot of the cascade. The mist swirled around them, enfolding them in its magic. “Please. I’m sure footed and I’ve nay fear of clambering over a few rocks. I can tell the pool is a place fer the water sprites tae play and ‘tis me fervent wish tae be among them.”

It was impossible for him to resist her pleas. All he could offer her was a brief respite from their journey and a slight delay before her fateful meeting with Laird Bairre. His heart longed for so much more. Without his fear for his mother’s safety, his heart would have bid him to take the Lady Dahlia wherever she wished and the devil to take Bairre.

After they’d discarded their boots, Arran rolled up his britches. Dahlia had fastened the hem of her skirt and petticoat above her knee so as to keep them out of the damp that lined their path. While she adjusted her belt to catch the fabric, Arran caught a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth, pale skin of her thighs that brought a flush of heat to his groin and set his pulse racing. Feeling the first stirrings of his manhood he did his utmost to distract his thoughts. Although, he mused, feeling himself growing hard was one battle he was in danger of losing.

“Come.” Dahlia grasped his hand and he took his first tentative step onto a moss-covered rock with her close behind. He couldonly hope she would not catch sight of the tell-tale bulge in his trews.

Slowly, they picked their way down the tortuous slope, carefully avoiding the splash and spray, until they at last arrived at the edge of the pool, where the water was calm and still.

Dahlia laughed with delight, first dipping her toes into the water, then wading further, until it was up to her knees.

“Oh, Arran. Ye should see this. In the water, there are tiny brown fish darting to and fro.”

“And d’ye see any trace of the water sprites?” He remained at the edge of the pool, enjoying the sight of her, as she reveled in the feel of the cool water swirling around her with not a jot of self-consciousness.

Rainbows danced in the mist from the spray where the sun’s rays dappled the water sending tiny darts of bright colors across her hair, enveloping her in a shining light.

“I’d love nothing more than tae throw aside me clothes and dive into the depths,” She called. “There I’d be sure tae encounter the sprites.”

He laughed, mentally wrestling with the vision of nakedness her words conjured. She was even more beautiful in this place he’d always loved, her face flushed from the effort of their climb, her curls flying free, her eyes sparkling with delight.

All his senses were on fire. He breathed in the forest-scented air, tasting it on his tongue, as he watched over her laughing and playing in the water. His entire being was consumed with wanting to take her in his arms. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining how it would feel to take those perfect, laughing lips in a long kiss and to press her naked body to his own nakedness.

He was lost in longing and a yearning for what could never be.

His snapped his eyes open, willing himself to the present moment and the unhappy reality of what was ahead. “Come,” he called “We’ve dallied too long in this place. Our delay will incur the laird’s wrath and I must dae me best tae hide ye from it.”

With reluctant steps she emerged from the water, looking for all the world like one of the sprites she’d hoped to encounter. She bounced up to him, slightly breathless, her face still alight with the pleasure of her precious moments of respite, raising her face almost as if she was ready for his kiss. It took considerable effort on Arran’s part not to seize her in his arms and take her mouth. Instead, he spoke more sharply than he’d intended.

“Hasten, Lady Dahlia. We mustnae keep yer husband waiting any longer.”

Even uttering the words caused a stabbing pain in his heart, but no matter what it cost him, he would never reveal his true feelings to her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Arran said very little as they made their way back up to the burn and along to the place where the horses were tethered. He seemed thoughtful and Dahlia was in no mind to disrupt whatever was on his mind. She was caught-up in her own struggle. Now that they were close to Castle Mackinnon her heart was in her mouth at the thought of what was to come.

“’Tis nay far from here tae the end of our journey. We’ll nay stop again so if ye need tae relieve yerself before we’re on our way best take yer time tae dae so now.”

Grateful for the opportunity she walked a small distance to be by herself and breathe deeply of the forest scents, knowing that this was her last taste of freedom. When she returned, Arran was already mounted and waiting for her.

They rode on in grim silence. Once or twice, she caught sight of Arran wincing as if he was in pain, but he said nothing and she made no comment.

They’ been riding for some time when they spied two horsemen ahead, approaching at a gallop.

The men drew alongside and identified themselves as scouts from Clan Mackinnon.

“We’ve been sent by the laird tae seek ye out. Laird Mackinnon has been concerned that his War Leader Craig Donald and the other men with him arrived at the castle last night. Ye were expected tae follow them. When ye did nae, the laird worried.”

Arran thanked the men for the message, adding. “I’ll explain all when we arrive. Tell yer laird that we’ll be there before the sun reaches the middle of the sky.”

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