Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(13)
“And your maidservant?”
She smiled wanly. “I'm afraid I couldn't pry her from her husband's side. Alys won't hear of leaving her Donnan.”
He frowned, counting the remaining guardsmen. “That will leave you with only a few men as escort.”
“There's no help for it. We'll manage. It's not that far.”
He lifted his gaze to the sky meaningfully. “It will be dark in a few hours.”
Her eyes shot to his as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Do you think … ?”
“They won't be coming back.” Instinctively, he moved to calm her fear and took a step toward her. Close enough to inhale her sweet perfume. To reach out and slide his hand over the milky soft curve of her cheek. But he didn't. He kept his damn hands to himself.
Unaware of his thoughts, she asked, “How can you be sure?”
“From the looks of their leader, he will have other matters to attend to. Namely fixing the hole in his belly.”
A strange look crossed her face, part embarrassment and part uncertainty. “I know it's silly, but I've never had to hurt anyone before.” She bit her lip again, a habit he was becoming too fond of. “He meant to abduct us.”
Patrick cursed his blasted brother once again. “You defended yourself well. Very well. Where did you learn to throw a blade like that?”
“My brothers. I was about twelve or thirteen when they taught me. They said one day I might have need of it.” He saw the small shudder that racked her. “I guess they were right.”
He stanched the reflexive spark of anger at the reminder of his enemies and instead focused on the lass. On his mission. “You were very brave.”
The observation surprised her. She tilted her head and studied his face as if she weren't quite sure whether he was jesting. “Do you really think so?” Her voice dropped. “I've never been so scared in my life.”
“That's precisely why you were brave.”
“I don't understand.”
He tried to think of a way to explain. “A lad will train for years to become a warrior, learning to use his weapons, training, becoming stronger. But it isn't until he goes into battle for the first time that you can know what kind of warrior he will be. Bravery and courage are easy to find on the training field, it's not until you are tested in battle that your true character emerges. It's not that you were scared that matters, but how you reacted to that fear.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I'd say you have the heart of a warrior.”
Her smile started out slow and tentative, then spread to her cheeks and eyes with brilliant intensity. It took his breath away. It felt as if the sun had just broken through the clouds and shone a ray of sunlight on a place inside him that had been buried in darkness for a very long time.
“I think that is the nicest praise that anyone has ever given me.”
The way she was looking at him was dangerous. A man could get used to being looked at like that. He shifted uncomfortably, turning his gaze back to the guardsmen readying the horses. “My men and I will escort you back to Castle Campbell and see that you are safe.”
She shook her head. “No, you've done so much already. I couldn't ask you to do that.”
“You didn't, I offered.”
“But what about your journey to Glasgow?”
A shadow fell over him at the reminder of the deception. “It can wait.”
He wasn't Elizabeth Campbell's hero and would do best to remember it.
Lizzie peeked out from under her lashes at the man riding beside her, more relieved than she wanted to admit that he'd agreed to accompany her and her guardsmen back to Castle Campbell. Night was falling, and the realization of what had nearly happened had only just begun to hit her. She didn't think she'd ever forget the MacGregor scourge's face. His cold, bleak eyes devoid of humanity. She'd seen more compassion in a snake. But Patrick Murray's presence helped. He made her feel safe. She couldn't explain it, but he did.
More than once she'd found herself studying him, not knowing quite what to make of the formidable warrior. Undoubtedly, he was one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. The kind of handsome that made your belly flutter and your knees weak. The kind of handsome that inspired allusions to Greek gods and dark angels.
Her first impressions had only improved on closer study. On the battlefield, she'd noticed the thick black hair cut short to frame perfectly chiseled features, but it was only up close that the full magic of the combination was revealed. And his eyes … surely the most brilliant green eyes she'd ever seen. A dark, mossy green that made her think of pine trees in the afternoon. Of glens rich with grass. Of the Highlands.
Physically, he was impressive as well. Broad in the chest and shoulders, with powerfully wrought legs and the thick-muscled arms of a man who lived with a sword in his hands. She was used to tall, muscular men—her brothers certainly qualified. But never had she been so deeply aware of a man's strength. His raw masculinity made her feel her own femininity in a way that she never had before.
He surely must have his pick of beautiful women falling at his feet. But Lizzie could have sworn she detected something beyond politeness in his gaze—something hot and intense. Something that made her pulse race and her skin feel too tight.