Page 49 of Beloved Enemy
She hadn't expected to find him like this, stripped down and utterly magnificent. He looked every bit the fierce Highland warrior, a man born to command and conquer—apparently two massive bulls as easily as he did reivers and the hearts of twenty-first century women.
Okay, that’s a bit over the top, she chastised herself.
Still, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer physicality of him, his chest broad and defined, tapering down to a lean, powerful waist.
In light of his magnificence, Charlotte became acutely aware of her own appearance—her hair was a tangled, sweaty mess from working in the garden, her gown was soiled and crumpled, and her hands were still smeared with dirt. Compared to Reid’s commanding presence, she felt disheveled, out of place, and...girlishly self-conscious.
Charlotte swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on his rugged beauty. Several others were shirtless as well, but no other held her attention as Reid did.
Walking across the ploughed fields was not super easy, her feet sinking into the soft, turned earth even as she tried to stay in what looked like depressed tracts to walk upon. When she was within twenty feet of Reid, he turned slightly, catching sight of her out of the corner of his eye.
Immediately though not with any great haste, he stopped pulling on the lead rope and pushed his hand against the chest of the larger bull.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said. Reid’s voice carried across the field, commanding and calm. The oxen responded instantly, their massive bodies slowing to a halt. “Fergus,” he called out, motioning for one of the other men, “take over the lead here.” Fergus nodded, stepping forward to guide the oxen as Reid relinquished the rope.
As he walked toward Charlotte, Reid reached for the horn of water hanging from his belt. He uncorked it and tipped it over his head, letting the cool water cascade down over his sun-kissed skin. The droplets followed the contours of his broad shoulders, trailing down his chest and catching the light as they slid over the hard lines of his abdomen.
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him.
Every movement was so effortlessly masculine, so completely natural, and yet to her, it felt like the most deliberate display of raw, unfiltered seduction. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, utterly transfixed by the sight of him.
Reid, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on her, took a long, slow swig from the horn as he continued toward her, his eyes locked on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken even more. By the time he reached her, Charlotte was struggling to maintain her composure, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t quite control.
When he finally stood before her and lowered his drinking horn and was close enough that she could swear she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, she realized she hadn’t spoken a word. All she could do was stare, dumbfounded and ridiculously turned on—he’d just turned the simple act of drinking water into something impossibly sexy.
“Well, now I’ve forgotten what I came to tell you,” she said to his glistening, sculpted chest.
And instantly, realizing what she’d just admitted, heat suffused her cheeks, and she jerked her gaze to his.
Reid’s gaze bore into her, his expression a familiar scowl, the furrow between his brows deepening as he looked down at her—and somehow, he seemed even larger and more imposing at this moment, or maybe she only felt smaller.
But there was something else in his eyes, something that sent a jolt of awareness through her. His hazel eyes, usually so stern and unreadable, held a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place—was it pride? Satisfaction? Or perhaps a touch of arrogance? It was as if he knew exactly the effect he had on her, and that knowledge only added to his already formidable presence.
His eyes traced the blush that had crept up from her neck into her cheeks, and a ghost of a smile—more of a smirk, really—tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to make her stomach flutter. It was as if he took a certain satisfaction in knowing that he could rattle her so easily, his scowl softening ever-so-slightly.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, the air between them charged with a tension that was both thrilling and unnerving. Reid didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes, and Charlotte had the unsettling sense that he was indeed fully aware of his effect on her, and that he arrogantly was thrilled to have his intense gaze make her pulse race even faster.
“Will ye recall it forthwith?” He drawled. “Or shall ye return at a later time?”
Charlotte clamped her mouth closed, further humiliated to have realized it had hung open for so long.
“I wanted to ask if you intended to honor your promise to return me to Ben Nevis?” She asked, beginning to regain her equilibrium.
“Aye, I do.”
Both Charlotte’s brows rose into her forehead when he didn’t expound on that.
“But when? It’s been more than a week.”
“Soon,” he said, lightly tapping the horn of water against his thigh, his gaze raking over her in a way it never had before, leaving her feeling as if she were the one without a shirt on.
She swallowed and blinked several times. “Soon is kind of vague,” she stated. “Can we go tomorrow?”
No, I don’t want to go home, some voice inside her screamed.
Reid’s responding frown and hesitation prompted Charlotte to lay out the persuasion she’d prepared, having expected that he might not be willing to make the trek to the mountain.
She smiled brightly and cajoled, “You can be rid of me. Think of it. I only need a ride there and you can be done with me. If all goes well—poof. I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
