Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(21)
Abruptly, warm covers were yanked off my body, frigid air biting into my exposed skin.
Holy shit! I’m naked!
I gasped, grabbing fistfuls of covers, trying—unsuccessfully—to cover my bared chest. My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, catching Iain’s delighted smirk as he pressed a knee onto the bedding he’d stolen. I dropped my losing end of the tug-of-war and folded my arms in a huff over breasts whose nipples had hardened as if for his viewing pleasure. My growl met his turned back while he laid out with great care something he’d held bundled under an arm. As soon as he shifted his weight, I jerked the sheet back up to my chin.
Fragments of last night’s ending flashed through the sludge of my brain. Iain had escorted me to my room. A tender good-night kiss followed. Hot teasing lips had trailed down my neck, searing my skin, as we stood in the doorway. I failed to remember anything further. Like how I got undressed, for example.
Hell, I was still catching up to the fact that I’d awoken in the thirteenth century.
“Iain, did we . . .”
He chuckled, shooting a devilish look my way. “Nay. Your virtue’s still intact, for now. But I did properly tuck you into bed last night.”
Images of him peeling off my clothes taunted a sluggish mind ill equipped to handle details. “Iain Brodie! I can’t believe you took that kind of liberty.”
He drew to his full height, towering over me. “I’ll take every kind of liberty I want. I never proclaimed to be, nor have I ever been, a gentleman in any time or place. You’re damned lucky I want you sober, and we’ve only got a couple more days, or you’d have been a lot more than merely naked at my hand.”
Iain lunged forward. Startled, I fell back onto bent elbows, exposing myself down to the waist again.
He hovered over me, his lips almost touching mine. “But, if you try me, Isa—if you tempt the beast within me—nothin’ in any world will hold me back from takin’ what’s already mine.”
I’d gone breathless. The meaning of his words, and his dominance over me, paralyzed my caffeine-deprived ass. He smirked as he slowly extricated his body from the position he’d forced us into. His gaze roved over every inch of my nudity. The barely controlled heaving of his chest, the repeated clenching of his fists, and the uncontained, low growl rumbling from that beast within him told me I was damned lucky indeed.
He stopped just below the foot of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I doona want to have to dress you, but I will.” That crooked smile told me he imagined no great hardship in manhandling my nakedness.
“No, thank you. I’ll manage. Do I get privacy? Or are you going to stand there and stare?”
“Oh, I’m gonna stare, lass. Your discomfort amuses me in no small measure.”
“Wonderful,” I snarled.
I flung the rest of the bedding off my legs and walked to the foot of the bed, giving him my backside to view. Mmm-hmmm . . . and you can kiss it too.
A toffee-colored suede outfit lay innocently on the bed. I grabbed the supple pants and shimmied into them, their thin weight stretching over every curve. “Damn, Iain. What’d ya do? Have Elven seamstresses take measurements and sew through the night? This feels like it was painted on me.” I pulled a matching top with cuffed sleeves over my head.
Another low growl rumbled behind me. “Aye, and it looks it.”
I spun around, glaring at the man ogling my ass for the millionth time.
He smirked. “I’ll never tell my secrets.”
What a loaded statement. I’d bet all-in there were plenty of secrets to tell too.
All in good time, Laird. All in good time.
By torchlight, we left the castle through a back exit—a secret underground tunnel. Iain led the way, ducking his head down with the low clearance. At the end of the passageway, he slid the torch into an iron fitting affixed to the wall.
Iain climbed a wooden ladder secured into the side of the earth, and I followed up behind him. We emerged into dense forest well beyond the curtain wall. Iain dropped the scrub he’d held back, concealing our exit point, and I spun around at the unexpected rustling sound.
My hand flew to my forehead as pain throbbed over my eyes, the dull headache I’d been trying to ignore shouting its presence with attitude. Too bad they didn’t have coffee makers here. Or a caffeine patch . . .
The sky turned an ever-lightening dusky blue as the coming sun inched toward the horizon. A black wool cloak and divinely warm suede pants that I’d tucked into my favorite boots guarded against the morning chill.
I jogged forward to catch up with Iain as he disappeared into the swirling mist. He wore a similar leather outfit, absent the warmer outerwear. A large satchel hung from his right shoulder.
We picked our way through nearly impenetrable foliage until we reached the end of the trees. Iain threw an arm out, blocking my path, signaling our stop. He cast a glance over his shoulder, nodding once. I begrudgingly went along with his bossy nonverbal commands, unwilling to be the one to startle any prey.
Twenty feet away, on a rise to the right, a brook bubbled up from the ground and flowed gently along the forest’s edge. Moss-covered rocks lined both sides of the stream. A distinct game trail had been worn into a flat area of ground on the other side of the water.
Iain hung his bag on a broken stub jutting from a tree trunk and opened the gathered top. He removed a slender leather quiver filled with arrows and a curved wooden bow.