Page 19 of The Outlaw's Bride
Without realizing what she was doing, Adaira let her gaze slide from his face, down his chest and flat belly, to the thatch of dark auburn hair at his groin. Heat pooled in her lower belly as she did so.
“There’s no point in looking there,” he said with a teasing smile. “The freezing water’s done its work. I suggest ye take another look later when I’ve warmed up.”
His voice tore Adaira from her reverie. With a choked sound, she whipped her head away from him.
Mother Mary, what was I doing?
“Get dressed,” she rasped, mortified.
“I can’t yet.” The amusement in his voice made Adaira wish a chasm would open up and suck her into it. “My clothing needs to dry first. Hand me yer cloak, will ye?”
Sucking in a deep breath, Adaira did as bid, careful to keep her face averted.
A moment later he spoke again. “It’s safe now … ye can turn around.”
Reluctantly, Adaira twisted, her gaze settling upon him once more. Her cloak was too small, and too short to cover Lachlann properly, but it protected his modesty nonetheless. He’d wrung out his léine and braies and spread them out over two sun-warmed rocks.
Lachlann met her eye, his own gaze gleaming.
Adaira struggled to keep her composure. She was sure her face now glowed red like a lump of burning peat. Clearing her throat, she glanced away. “Shouldn’t ye try and get some sleep?”
“Aye … will ye keep a look out while I do?”
“Of course.” Adaira replied briskly, still refusing to look at him. Instead, she pulled her knees up under her chin and kept her gaze fixed upon the watery horizon.
“Thank ye, Aingeal.” The smile in his voice made her embarrassment burn even hotter. “Wake me if anyone approaches.”
Adaira gazed up at the castle perched upon the clifftop. “How strange,” she mused aloud. “It looks just like Duntulm.”
“There are many cliff-top fortresses on this coast,” Lachlann replied.
“Really?” Adaira tore her gaze from the high stone walls and the emerald-green hills that surrounded it. “I expected the mainland to look different to our isle. Ma always said it was softer, less dramatic.”
“Parts are.”
Adaira’s attention shifted to Lachlann then. He rowed in long, confident strokes. She took in the the way his shoulder muscles bunched and flexed under his still-damp léine. Heat rose within Adaira as remembered what he’d looked like naked.
Shoving the memory aside, she forced herself to focus on the present. “Can’t we take the boat ashore at the nearest settlement?” she asked. “I’m faint with hunger.”
He gave a curt nod. “Aye … once we round this headland.”
“Ye must be exhausted. Why don’t ye let me row for a while?”
Lachlann snorted, meeting her eye. “It’ll take us two weeks to reach Gylen Castle if we share the rowing.”
Adaira’s spine stiffened. “I’m not useless.”
“I didn’t say ye were. It’s just that we’ll get there quicker if I row.”
Adaira huffed. “Why don’t we leave the boat and get horses at the next village?”
“Gylen Castle sits upon an isle just off the coast. If we travel south, and traverse the Sound of Mull, we’ll reach it faster.”
Adaira frowned. She hadn’t realized that.
“How many silver pennies do ye have in yer purse?” Lachlann asked with a smile.
“Three.”
