Page 5 of Kilty as Sin
“Och, thank ye,” she snapped. “I hadnae noticed.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, but she couldfeelhis stare behind the empty eyes of his helmet. Finally, one shoulder twitched.
“Ye’re naught like I expected ye to be.”
Well,thatwas a bit alarming. “What…did ye expect?”
“Ye are beautiful, lass. Ye must ken that. Beautiful and sweet-looking and refined. Like a lady.”
The muck had reached her knees, and she scowled at the man, who seemed determined to rub it in. “Do I now?”
“Well, nay, no’ rightnow.” She could hear his grin again. “And no’ before, when ye kneed that bastard in the cock.”
Cock.
Despite her determination to appear strong and brave, Grace felt her cheeks heat at his brashness. “Well, apparently my stature—lady or nay—has nae effect on yer language.”
A sound very much like a chuckle echoed from inside the helmet. “I thought we were dispensing with formalities, milady. What with ye being dragged to yer death by a bog, and whatnot.”
Oh dear. Grace turned back around so she could glance down at herself. Shehadsunk further, hadn’t she? At least this position gave her back a bit of relief.
“I dinnae believe I’m inimminentdanger,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than him.
As if to mock her, there was a sucking noise beneath her right foot, which was followed by a distant roll of thunder.
Behind her, the man clucked his tongue. “Opinions may vary, milady, but I suspect ye could use some help getting out of that bog.”
She twisted around again to meet his eyes. Or where his eyeswouldbe, if she could see through the darkness of that helmet. “And are ye here to help me, Sir Hunter?”
“Ye ken who I am?”
He sounded surprised. “Aye, of course. Anyone could recognize one of the King’s Hunters. Were ye sent to save me?”
He hesitated.
Grace didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he inclined his chin slightly, and she exhaled in relief.
To cover her vulnerability, she gave him her back once more. “Excellent,” she announced primly. “Kindly begin. I seem to be stuck.”
‘Twas galling that she couldn’t see his expressions, couldn’t read his thoughts and reactions. His stance seemed easy-going, but she’d learned enough of men in the last months to know it would be folly to try to guess what was hidden by that helm.
Still, the King’s Hunters were known to be honorable men. She could trust him.
Couldn’t she?
Grace shuddered, and pulled her bound hands against her chest, to try to hide the evidence of her helplessness.
Thunder rumbled again, closer this time.
Curse this unforgiving country! And curse her for leaving the safety of the convent—double curses on her stupidity of not heading right back into the arms of the sisters when she’d learned her father’s men had tracked her to the tiny town on the shores of the loch.
But she hadn’t wanted those good women to come to harm, so she’d run. And look where it had gotten her.
Chilled through, thanks to this mist, with rain on the way. Up to her thighs now in muck, and still very uncertain about her future!
“Do ye have particular affection for yer shoes, lass?”
She didn’t have to twist to look at the warrior any longer, for he was carefully picking his way around the edge of the soggy ground. Grace couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself, as if certain he wouldn’t put a booted foot in the wrong place.
