Page 49 of The Outlaw's Bride
Adaira craned her neck, peering up at the mountains that rose either side. They had become the heavens, with only a thin strip of blue sky between them. The morning sun gilded the peaks, turning some tawny and others red as if they were aflame. Their craggy, carven bulk made Adaira feel small and insignificant—even so, she loved to look upon them.
She would leave these shores soon, but this isle with its great mountains and wild landscape would always have a piece of her heart.
Adaira must have fallen asleep for a while, for she found herself jolted awake against Lachlann's back as the horse stumbled. The stallion had slowed its gait on the uneven footing. However, they had crested the highest point of the pass and were now making their way down the long slope north-east.
As they rode, Adaira found herself reliving their confrontation at dawn and the heated kiss that had followed. It was impossible not to think about it.
I should still be wary of him, she cautioned herself. He’d seemed sincere as he’d gazed into her eyes—but the past two months had taught her that trust had to be earned.
She wasn’t sure what to think, what to say, or how to react. Instead, she took refuge in silence.
Even so, Adaira was keenly aware of the heat of his strong back pressed against her breasts, the texture of his fiery hair that kept tickling her nose, and the male musk of his skin that made her breathing quicken.
Desire. He’d given her a heady taste of it.
Adaira closed her eyes and breathed Lachlann in. She shouldn’t want him, yet she did.
That afternoon, when they lay deep within MacLeod lands, Lachlann drew the stallion up for a proper rest.
Leaning forward, he patted the horse’s slick neck. It had done well, but now the beast needed a breather. They’d stopped on the edge of a stand of pines, where a shallow creek bubbled over grey rocks. The landscape had changed during the day’s journey, gradually growing less barren and arid, and more wooded—a sign that they were approaching the north-eastern coast. Despite that the sun had shone on them all day, the air was cool.
Lachlann unsaddled his horse, while Adaira sat down on the ground upon a bed of pine needles a few feet away.
“Lachlann,” Adaira spoke up, breaking the lengthy silence between them. He could hear the nervousness in her voice. “About what ye said earlier …”
Lachlann tensed. Removing the saddle, he cast a glance over his shoulder. She was sitting, watching him, her brow furrowed.
“Do ye actually care what happens me?” Her cheeks pinkened as she said these words. It embarrassed her to bring this up, but he could see she was determined.
Lachlann set the saddle down on its pommel and turned back to the stallion, rubbing it down with a twist of grass. “Ye speak as if such a thing is impossible,” he replied. “Do ye think it strange that a man would want to protect ye?”
“No … but it shocks me thatyewould.”
Lachlann huffed. “Ye must think me a cold bastard.”
Her answering silence made him grimace. Pausing in his work, he turned to Adaira. Around them the wind sighed through the pines, yet Lachlann paid it no mind. He couldn’t take his gaze off the young woman seated upon a bed of pine needles. She looked like a woodland fairy maid, caught resting in a glade by an unsuspecting traveler.
Lachlann grew still, his gaze feasting upon her.
He could see the signs of fatigue upon Adaira: her face was paler than usual, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. But even so, she was still lovely; her long brown hair spilling over the shoulders of her cloak.
“Have ye ever been completely ignorant of something … and then wondered how ye could have missed what was right before ye?” he asked softly.
Her head inclined. “No … I don’t think that’s ever happened to me.”
Lachlann dragged a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t brought up to be sentimental,” he admitted with a wince. “It took me too long to realize that I’d made a terrible mistake.”
To his surprise, Adaira’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “Is that the beginnings of an apology I hear?”
Lachlann snorted. “Aye … Frasers aren’t just known for our stubbornness. We also have difficulty admitting to our mistakes.”
He broke off there, realizing that he felt on edge, nervous. Pushing the sensation aside, he went to Adaira then and knelt down before her, reaching for her hand. Adaira’s gaze widened, and he felt her stiffen under his touch—yet she didn’t pull away.
“I did ye a great wrong Adaira MacLeod,” he said, his voice low and firm, “and I’m truly sorry for it. Now, I will do everything in my power to put things right.”
It seemed strange to see Kiltaraglen again.
So much had befallen Adaira since she was last here. She felt like a different person, as if years not months had passed.
