The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(24)

Not wanting to chance leading the English to Bruce on Islay, Erik had decided to put in on one of the numerous small isles along the Scottish coast between the tip of Kintyre and the Ayrshire. He could see to his men and wait for the English to grow tired of their search before joining Bruce and the others.

He should have had Domnall fetch the lass to him, but he was so angry that he stormed over there himself.

He waited for her to turn around, but she sat there as if she didn’t know he was standing right behind her. Yet she was aware of him. He could see it in the slight stiffening of her back and hitch of her breath—a hitch that was strangely erotic.

Suddenly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat.

She gave him a regal turn of the head that made the muscles in his neck and shoulders bundle up in knots.

“I bid you to come to me,” he said.

She tilted her head to look at him. “Did you? Hmm … I didn’t notice.”

His jaw clenched until his teeth hurt. Something about this lass grated on his normally unflappable good humor. He took a threatening step toward her, looming over her. “Next time I call for you, you will bloody well listen,” he said in a low voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded.

All of a sudden Erik realized two things at once: she wasn’t quite as confident as she appeared, and he was scaring her. He swore under his breath and took a step back, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. He couldn’t remember ever trying to use his size to intimidate a woman.

His anger cooled as suddenly as it had sparked. He didn’t intimidate women; he didn’t need to. Realizing they’d started off on the wrong foot, he smiled and took a seat on a chest opposite her. “You can stop looking at me like that; I’m not going to eat you.”

She eyed him warily, one side of her mouth quirking. “I was thinking more along the lines of pagan sacrifice.”

He laughed. The lass was obviously still stuck on his Norse blood. “I assure you, I’m thoroughly tame.” She gave him a look to suggest she didn’t believe him for a minute, and he grinned. Smart lass. “If you think I’m bad, you should see my cousins.”

The MacRuairis made even their Viking forebears seem civilized. He’d been just as surprised as anyone else when his cousin Lachlan had decided to join the Highland Guard. His war name of Viper wasn’t far off the mark. Lachlan had the heart and the morals of a snake—in other words, he didn’t have any. Erik wondered how he was faring up north. He’d been surprised when his bastard cousin had volunteered to go with the ladies when they’d been forced to separate. Like him, Lachlan had been born on the sea. Being land-bound so long would make his cousin half-crazed—if Bella MacDuff didn’t do it first. The defiant Countess of Buchan, who’d risked everything by crowning Bruce, couldn’t have made her disdain of MacRuairi more obvious.

The lass shivered. “Thank you, but I think I’d rather not.”

He waited for her to look at him. “You’ve nothing to fear. I meant it when I said you would be safe.”

Their eyes held for a moment, and he sensed that she believed him.

She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the fur around her feet. “I thought you would be angry after what happened.” She peeked up at him from under her lashes and said shyly, “Thank you for rescuing me. I got a cramp and couldn’t move.”

Ah, he’d wondered what had happened. “What you did back there was rash. The English boats would not have reached you in time. If I’d been a few minutes later, you would have drowned.”

She quirked a delicate brow. “You are lecturing me on rash?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “It’s not rash when you know the outcome. I’ve got the wind at my back. Always.”

She dismissed his boast with a not-very-discreet roll of the eyes. “How could you be so sure the English captain would take your challenge and not simply wait for you to come to him with his archers ready?”

His gaze turned appraisingly. If the lass had captained that ship, the English might have fared better. Waiting is exactly what the English should have done. Not only would it have given time for the other boats to come to their aid, but coming about and setting all their bowmen on them would have resulted in many more injuries to Erik’s men. “Superior English pride,” he answered with a smile. “It will get them every time.”

“And what about superior pirate pride?” she asked archly.

He let out a sharp bellow of laughter. “You can bloody well count on that as well.”

The lass was proving to be surprisingly amusing. He wasn’t used to women challenging him. They usually bent over backward to please him. He studied her pale face, half-expecting something to have changed. But the same pale, nondescript features stared back at him. He was glad, however, to see the fear was gone from her eyes.

He couldn’t resist challenging her right back. “You don’t fool me one bit, you know.”

She eyed him quizzically. “I don’t?”

He shook his head. “Nay.” He hadn’t missed the look on her face when they were flying over the waves. For the first time, she hadn’t looked as though her laces were pulled too tight. He kicked his feet back and folded his arms across his chest. “You were having fun.”

Even in the dark he could tell she was blushing. “I was terrified,” she protested. Holding his gaze, she gave him a small, conceding smile. “But it was thrilling. I’ve never gone that fast in my life—in the daylight, let alone at night.” Her gaze fell on his face, and he had the strangest sensation that she could see right through him. He had to force himself not to shift uncomfortably. “Who are you?” she asked thoughtfully.