Page 13 of A Scot for Bethan
She was falling indeed. Hard.
It had been a lost cause from the start, she had to admit. At the tavern, his solicitude and manly presence had struck her. Once she had seen his face in the sunlight, the attraction had become stronger than was wise. And now that she knew about his penchant for mischief and his protectiveness, she wasn’t sure how she could resist the lure of him.
A rainbow. Abloodyrainbow. Cameron shook his head in disbelief.
What was the woman doing? She was not above talking about servicing men on her knees yet here she was, displaying incomprehensible enthusiasm for an arc of colors thrown haphazardly over the horizon. She’d brought a company of armed men to a halt in order to admire something only a child would get excited about. And the worst of it was, he’d allowed it.
Forget her, what the hell was wrong withhim? He’d never been so foolishly weak before, especially when he had a mission to accomplish.
“Come,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended, pulling her back from the edge of the cliff. His heart had jumped in his throat when she’d bent over the abyss, and this reaction had fanned his annoyance anew. What was he doing, worrying about her thus? He had better come back to indifference where she was concerned, and fast. But how? It already seemed too late.
Last night at Castell y Ddraig he had been unable to detach his gaze from her. Being with her brother had brought out the best in her. She’d been relaxed, she’d smiled, she’d laughed, she’d been even more beautiful than usual—and he’d been utterly entranced. As if that weren’t enough to make him feel bad, in the morning he’d had to be the one to put an end to the moment. Feeling like he was doing something wrong always brought out the worst in him and today was no exception.
“We’ve wasted enough time already.”
Seeing the light die in her eyes when she finally looked at him pierced his heart.Mo chreach! Did he really have to be such a bastard? What harm was there in her enjoying a beautiful sight before starting her new life? A life she hadn’t chosen and didn’t want? None. He was too unsettled in her presence, that was the problem. But it wasn’t her fault he found the idea of her being married to Dougal increasingly hard to bear, it wasn’t her fault he was battling ill-advised feelings for her. He shouldn’t unleash his temper on her.
Bethan walked away from the cliff edge without a word.
“Wait,” he called, intent on telling her she could enjoy the rainbow for a little bit longer. After all, it would not be long before it disappeared.
“Why?” The word was as biting as the icicles hanging from tree branches on a winter’s day. “As you say, we’ve wasted enough time already. After seven long years and countless delays, having sent his uncle to escort me, I wager Dougal is eager to meet his bride. I would hate to keep him waiting for a moment longer than necessary.”
Thoroughly chastened, Cameron turned around to face the valley.
The sky was clear once more. As if nature had decided there was no point wasting its best colors if no one was there to appreciate them, the rainbow had vanished into the air.
The day was unseasonably warm. After the downpour earlier, the sun had started to shine with fierce intent. More used to the stark climate of his native land than sunny afternoons, Cameron soon decided to call for another halt. The horse needed a drink, and he needed a break from looking at the lady riding in front of him. All day long he had looked at her straight back, betraying a courage he could not help but admire, at her hips swaying in unison with the horse’s movement, betraying a sensuality he could not help but want to explore.
Perhaps he should ride ahead of the company, from now on, or at least by her side. Then he might not be so affected by the arousing sight.
“I was about to ask for a halt myself,” McBain replied. “My head is pounding something fierce after the excesses of last night. I’m afraid I overindulged in the excellent ale we were offered.”
“Aye. So I noticed,” Carmeron said dryly. The man had made a fool of himself, just like that night at the tavern. It was quickly becoming a habit.
Bethan gave a side smile, looking almost glad to hear of McBain’s suffering. Apparently, she didn’t like the man any better than he did himself. Ah, so she was a good judge of character, also.
“Our grandfather was a brewer, so Siaspar knows a thing or two about good ale,” she told the men.
“Indeed, it was delicious. That doesn’t mean his guests should ridicule themselves by drinking three times more than they should, though. I suggest a dunk in the river to clear your head,” he added, addressing himself to McBain once more.
And if you drowned, that wouldn’t be the end of the world.
What a bloody fool. Cameron couldn’t wait to arrive and be rid of the man. He would be sent where he belonged, back to his father’s cottage on the other side of thelochto tend to his sheep. It was all he was good for. No wonder the clan had preferred to ask Cameron to succeed the old laird. That Dougal gave his trust to men like McBain was proof enough of his inability to surround himself with competent advisors. God only knew what would have happened if he’d been put in charge of the clan. His nephew might well be as brave as any soldier on the battlefield, having taken part in sieges and ambushes from a young age, but he lacked the ability to choose trustworthy men to administer his domains. Ah well, he supposed, everyone had their purpose in life. At least the Campbells’ loss was the Bruce’s gain.
Having spotted the perfect place for watering the horses, Cameron called a halt.
Bethan made her way toward the river as soon as she had jumped from the saddle. Graceful as a water nymph, she knelt down on the gravel beach. Cupping the crystalline liquid into her palm, she drank, closing her eyes as if to better savor the flavor of the water. Cameron’s groin tightened. God on the cross, if she made him hard by drinking water from a stream, what could she not achieve if she ever decided to seduce him? Would she ever dare? Of course not, yet it seemed to him that every time their gazes met, the same spark ignited in her as it did in him. Damnation, why did the first woman to provoke his desire in such a shocking manner have to be the one promised to his blasted nephew? For years he’d heard her name mentioned, and not once had he thought that he would lust after her when they finally met.
But lust he most certainly did.
Was it because they had met outside Mistress Elen’s house, before he’d known who she was? Because of her unfortunatecomment about never having gone down on her knees for a man? Because of her incredible beauty? He had no idea, but he suspected there was more to it than mere physical attraction. If he only wanted to bed her, he would not want to talk to her while they were on horseback, would he? If he only lusted after her, he would not want to tease her about demons’ bowels and crooked teeth, would he? That was certainly not his usual method for wooing females.
The scene by the cliff that morning had made him understand that the irritation he felt in her presence was not due to her, but to him and his inability to cope with the desire she stirred in him, and he’d been uncomfortable ever since.
And then, as if he’d needed another reason to be irritated, McBain planted himself in front of him.
“Laird. A word with you, if I may.”
