Page 28 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
An image of his face moments before their lips had crashed together. How his eyes had glinted in the flickering lantern light as he’d considered his next chest move. She felt the ghost of a touch, the memory of his hands fisting in her hair. The feel of his body melding to hers as she pressed her chest against him.
“Are ye goin’ to climb up on the horse or nae?”
The Laird’s voice dragged Eliza out of her fantasy, her vision clearing as her attention returned to the present. She blinked rapidly, clearing the last of her memory, and her eyes latched onto the man before her.
His brown eyes sparkled as he stared at her, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a knowing grin.
He kenned exactly where me thoughts had wandered.
Heat rushed into Eliza’s face as embarrassment washed over her. She turned back towards the horse, hoping that he wouldn’t see the color now painting her cheeks. But the glimpse of his widening smile right before she turned completely told her he hadn’t missed a thing.
“I daenae ken why I cannae get me own horse,” she complained, but it didn’t stop her from climbing onto the horse anyway.
The beast was tall, and she had to stretch to reach the pommel of the saddle. Gravel crunched behind her, followed by heat warming her back the split second before strong hands gripped either side.
“I can do it meself,” Eliza protested, freeing one of her hands to swat at the Laird.
He paid her no more mind than he would a fly, and she felt his muscles ripple as he flexed, lifting her up onto the saddle with ease. Her already heated cheeks flared further, and she refused to glance in his direction.
In one swift motion, the Laird climbed atop the saddle behind her. He settled in, his massive body shifting with ease as he righted himself.
“Ye daenae get yer own because I need ye to be safe,” the Laird explained.
His chest was pressed to her back, the warmth of his body threatening to overwhelm her entirely. His breath danced over her skin, stirring a tendril of blonde hair that had come loose from one of the plaits she’d pinned at the nape of her neck.
“I can be safe while ridin’ on me own,” Eliza scoffed.
“Aye,” the Laird’s voice was laced with sarcasm, and she could all but hear the roll of his eyes. “And what happens when someone rides up next to ye and tries to abduct ye? If Councilman Auld’s village needs help, perhaps there’s more. Maybe there’s a whole kingdom in need of savin’ and word has gotten out that ye ken how to help ‘em. Do ye think I’m the only one opposed to snatchin’ ye for me own needs?”
He paused in his lament, clicking his heels into the horse’s side and guiding it to a slow, steady trot. He was waiting for her to respond; Eliza could sense it. But she did not want to.
Now that the beast beneath them was moving, so was his body. With every shift and sway of the horse, the Laird’s hips moved in time. As did hers.
And she felt every inch of movement down to her very core. Eliza knew that if she spoke now, her voice would shake. And she would not be giving him the satisfaction.
Keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead of them, she tightened her grip on the pommel. Her knuckles were white as she fought against her body’s reaction to the man hovering so closely behind her.
Eventually, he understood that she would not be answering. He let out another sigh that she felt dancing along her neck, the hair on her body rising on end as it caressed her.
“I daenae mind admittin’ that I’m not,” he continued eventually. “There are many men, not all of them as nice as me, that would snatch ye in a minute. And they wouldnae think twice about nae allowin’ ye to go back home. Once ye healed their people, they’d keep usin’ ye for whatever it is their mind cooked up. So for as long as I see fit, we’ll be ridin’ on the same horse.”
Christ, will there ever be any escapin’ him?
“Ye plan on keepin’ me safe all by yerself?” Eliza quipped, finally deciding that speaking might serve to distract her addled mind. “Where’s Eliot? Why is he nae guardin’ me like ye ordered?”
The Laird grunted. “Eliot is stayin’ behind. Someone needs to protect Kate and the bairns and make sure no one else tries to poison ‘em further. And as for bein’ by meself…”
As if on cue, the sound of hooves fast approaching filled the air. Against her better judgement, Eliza shifted in the saddle. The movement pushed her up against him further, and she felt his length pressing into her backside.
The flush in her cheeks flared, the heat of it spreading down to her jaw and further around her neck. She felt the Laird’s chest vibrate with a deep chuckle, causing her stomach to start tying itself in knots.
She did not look at him, though. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder.
Two guards were riding toward them, the MacKinnon crest emblazoned on the sashes across their chest. They pulled up beside Eliza and the Laird before tugging on the reins, guiding their steeds to a speed that matched their own.
“I willnae be protectin’ ye on me own,” the Laird finished, smirking when her eyes finally flickered to his face.
“I can see that for meself,” Eliza grumbled, turning back so she faced the road ahead.
