Page 23 of The Outlaw's Bride
But Lachlann Fraser was an outlaw, the son of her father’s arch-enemy. They shouldn’t be kissing at all.
And yet she couldn’t stop watching him. He observed her too, those moss-green eyes deepening to jade. She noted the sharp rise and fall of his chest, the slight flush across his high cheekbones. He dragged a hand through his shaggy dark-red mane—hair that Adaira longed to run her own fingers through.
Mother Mary, what’s wrong with me?
Perhaps she should go straight to a nunnery the moment she reached Argyle. If a man’s kiss unraveled her so quickly, she’d be easy prey in future.
Adaira swallowed, reached for her cloak, and wrapped it about her. The evening, which had seemed mild earlier, now felt chill. Since leaving Dunvegan, she’d often felt overwhelmed by Lachlann’s presence, but now she felt completely lost.
If he hadn’t pulled back, she’d have let him ravish her.
Lachlann cleared his throat and moved back so that around two yards of pebbly beach separated them. “It grows late.” His voice was more subdued than usual and still carried a hoarse edge to it. “We should both get some sleep.”
Lachlann pushed the boat out into the water and climbed in. Then he glanced Adaira’s way and caught her watching him. Her look was veiled, and she hurriedly averted her gaze, but he’d seen enough. He’d avoided a number of entanglements over the past few years and knew when a woman had gone soft on him.
Dolt … ye shouldn’t have kissed her.
He’d not cared at the time, for lust raged through his veins, demanding to be sated. But now, in the cool light of morning, he realized he’d unwittingly created a situation for himself.
Suppressing a curse, Lachlann settled himself upon the plank and picked up the oars. However, before he did so, his gaze fell once more upon the young woman seated a couple of feet away. She was deliberately avoiding his eye now. This situation would only get more awkward if he didn’t address it.
“Adaira,” he said softly. “Look at me a moment.”
She turned her face, her gaze meeting his.
“About last night,” he began, “let’s forget it ever happened.” Adaira’s hazel eyes widened. For an instant Lachlann could have sworn he saw hurt flare in their depths. However, he pressed on. “I overstepped the boundaries of our agreement … I won’t touch ye again.”
“Very well,” she replied softly, although the edge to her voice warned Lachlann that he’d just offended her.
Lachlann loosed a sigh.Great. He’d only succeeded in making things more uncomfortable than before. The easy rapport they’d developed during the journey had evaporated. It was just as well they wouldn’t be traveling companions for longer than today.
Wisely, he decided to end the conversation there.
Lachlann maneuvered the boat out into deeper water and began to row. His shoulder muscles protested, as did his back, but he clenched his jaw and rowed on. The first thing he’d do upon his return to Talasgair would be to have the servants prepare a hot bath for him. Then he’d soak in it with a tankard of ale at his elbow.
Glancing once more at Adaira, he saw that she was looking away again, her attention focused upon the green headland they were circuiting.
What will happen to her?
The thought was fleeting, yet it irritated Lachlann. Adaira MacLeod’s future wasn’t his concern. He had more pressing things to worry about—like ensuring Lucas wasn’t taking up their father’s chair in the Great Hall.
Looking away from her, he concentrated on steering the rowboat past a cluster of rocks and along the last stretch of coast that would lead him home.
“Why are we landing here?”
Adaira’s gaze swept the wide bay they’d just entered and shifted to the foaming line of surf rolling into the shingle beach before them. To her right rose a rocky headland. The landscape was distinctive; centuries of wind and rain had carved it into great stone terraces, and behind it reared a huge tawny mountain.
It’s so similar to Skye, she mused.How strange.
Her attention shifted to the sloping hillside to her left. A hamlet of stone cottages with sod roofs sat at its base, while a fortress perched upon a crag above.
“Lachlann … where are we?” Adaira glanced back at her escort, however, he wasn’t looking her way. After his stinging words earlier that morning, the rest of the journey had passed in silence. Hurt by his obvious regret at kissing her, Adaira had felt foolish. She now resolved to keep him at arm’s length, although he seemed to have made the same decision, for he wouldn’t meet her eye.
Lachlann jumped out of the boat into the waist-deep surf and began to haul the boat into shore. “We’ve arrived at our destination,” he announced.
Adaira’s heart leaped in her chest. She glanced back up at the grim-looking fortress that loomed over the bay. Surely this wasn’t Gylen Castle? Her mother had described it as a great stone tower perched on the edge of a rocky coast, surrounded by emerald-green. This place looked too stark to fit such a description. “Are ye sure?”
“Aye.” He pulled the boat through the last of the waves and dragged it up onto the beach.
