Page 18 of The Outlaw's Bride
But right now he needed to think of himself, his own future.
Lachlann turned the boat north and started to row.
Chapter Eight
By Water
ADAIRA AWOKE TO the warmth of the sun bathing her face.
For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or why there was a hard plank digging into her back—but then a familiar male voice intruded, and it all came back.
“The aingeal awakes.”
Lachlann Fraser.
Adaira pushed herself upright in the boat, rubbed her eyes, and looked around her. They were no longer on the water. The boat sat upon a pebbly beach, beneath sculpted cliffs and a wild sky, where seabirds wheeled overhead. Lachlann was sitting nearby, long legs stretched before him and crossed at the ankle.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“I'm not quite sure. I brought the boat ashore a short while ago.”
Adaira massaged a stiff muscle in her shoulder. Her body ached, and her belly was hollow with hunger. She wished now she’d brought more provisions with her. What she would do for a plate of fresh bannocks, slathered with freshly churned butter and heather honey.
Adaira cast Lachlann a shy glance. “So … how long will we stay here?”
“Long enough for me to bathe and get some rest.”
“Bathe?” Adaira tensed. “But ye don’t have any soap, or a fresh change of clothes.”
Lachlann cast her a roguish grin and rose to his feet. As she watched, he pulled off his boots and started to unlace his braies. “Then I’ll have to wash both my body and clothing with fresh sea water. It will be bracing, but at least ye won’t have to suffer my stench.” He finished unlacing his braies and paused. “Ye had best turn around, lest I offend yer innocent eyes.”
Adaira sucked in a shocked breath, but hurriedly did as bid, shifting round so that her back was to him. Heat suffused her, and she was glad Lachlann couldn’t see her burning face. She felt out of her depth, flustered.
Behind her, she heard the sounds of him undressing, then a splash as he entered the water.
A muffled curse followed.
Despite her embarrassment, a smile curved Adaira’s mouth. “Is it cold?”
“Freezing,” came his choked reply.
Adaira coughed, masking a laugh.
More splashing ensued, and she assumed he was washing his léine and braies. Washed in the salt water of the loch, the clothing would be stiff and uncomfortable when it dried and would likely chafe his skin. Still, at least he would smell fresher.
While Lachlann bathed, Adaira distracted herself by taking in her surroundings. She wondered where they were exactly. She hadn’t realized that the Isle of Raasay or the shores of the mainland had cliffs like these. It reminded her of home.
After a while Adaira grew bored of staring at the cliffs and the green headland beyond. Eventually she grew impatient. If Lachlann wanted to rest, he needed to get out of the water and dry his clothing. They’d never get to Argyle at this rate.
When the splashing finally subsided, Adaira let out a long sigh.Good. Surely he’s done now.
She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder—and froze.
Lachlann was approaching the shore, just a few yards behind her, thigh-deep in water and completely naked. Sensing movement, he stopped, and their gazes met.
Adaira stared, her lips parting in shock.
His body glistened in the morning sun, highlighting each plane of muscle across his chest, shoulders, belly, and thighs. His body was lean and hard. His red hair was much darker when wet, and slicked back from his face.
