The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(45)

“I don’t think so, but we’ll go a few more miles before we circle back to meet the others.”

“Others?”

“You did not think I would come alone? Your former brother-in-law sent four of his best men to find you, including your new brother-in-law.”

“Mary’s husband?”

She’d heard from Lamberton about Sutherland’s defection from the English and knew that her sister was safely returned to Scotland. If there was one good thing about being dragged back to Scotland like this, it was that she would finally be able to see her sister.

But beneath the excitement was also nervousness. Would Mary feel the same? Janet had caused her sister so much grief. She’d made a mess of everything, and Mary had been the one to suffer for it. She’d only narrowly escaped imprisonment and her son, Davey, had been taken from her again. Mary had every right to blame her for it.

Did she?

God knows, Janet did. Because of her, the man who’d picked her up and wiped her tears when she’d skinned her knee, who’d taught her how to ride a horse, who’d told her stories on his knee, was dead. The old servant had loved her like a father—better than a father and much better than her actual father. And what had he gotten for it? An arrow in the back.

Ewen must have been watching her face. When he spoke, it was in a far gentler voice than he’d used before. “Aye. Kenneth Sutherland, heir to the Earl of Sutherland.”

Janet nodded, having learned as much from the bishop. “Is … is she happy?”

He nodded, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of the softness in his eyes that she remembered. “Aye, lass. Very happy.”

Janet smiled. “I’m glad. No one deserves it more.”

He looked as though he wanted to say something. But when he turned away instead, Janet told herself not to be disappointed.

It didn’t work.

They followed the road south for a few more miles, encountering no one, before veering off the path near a small loch, where they stopped to water the horses. Not having ridden a horse for some time, Janet was grateful for the short reprieve to stretch her legs.

She tended to her needs, and then walked to the edge of the water. It was a small loch, no bigger than a mile in diameter, but pretty, with the trees shrouding it in shades of green and brown.

The light was beginning to fade, and she guessed it must be a few hours after midday. With winter approaching, the days were growing shorter. It would be dark before long. They would barely be back to where they’d started, when it would be time to stop for the night.

Ewen came up beside her, seemingly reading her thoughts. “We will travel at night.”

“Won’t that be dangerous?”

His gaze hardened. “Aye. But that shouldn’t bother you.”

Janet couldn’t stand it anymore. His not-so-subtle barbs were driving her mad. “I know you are angry about what happened before. Why don’t you just say what you have to say and get it over with?”

Then maybe he would stop acting like a stranger. Like nothing had happened between them. And then maybe they could … what?

Janet didn’t know, but it wasn’t this.

Not giving in to his anger was a hell of a lot harder than Ewen expected. Every time he thought of what she’d been doing—of what she’d done—he went a little crazed with it.

“Angry?” he repeated. “Why should I be angry? Because you let me kiss you, and then let me believe I’d committed a grave sin, or because you gave me your word you would stay out of this?”

She stiffened, pursing her mouth the way she did when she found something distasteful. In other words, when someone pointed out something she didn’t want to hear. “I didn’t say that. I said I would leave the fighting to the men—which I have.”

It took everything he had not to put his hands on her. No woman had ever riled his temper so easily. Hell, he hadn’t even known he had a temper. The muscles in his arms flexed at his side, shaking with the effort not to touch her. Not to take her by the arms and haul her up against him, where he was damned sure she would have to listen to him. “Don’t try that shite with me, Janet. You know bloody well what I meant!”

Not heeding the warning of his crass language, she gave a careless shrug of her shoulders and batted those big sea-blue eyes at him innocently. “Do I?”

He wasn’t aware that he’d moved until she gasped and took a step back—right into a tree. He loomed over her, a flurry of dangerous emotions firing inside him. Anger, frustration, and something that went far deeper. Something extreme and uncontrollable. Something wild. Something that roused every primitive and base instinct left over from his barbarian ancestors. Something that made him want to push her up against that tree, rip her clothes off, wrap one of her legs around his hips—what the hell was there about a woman wrapping her legs around him?—and ravish her until she vowed never to put herself in danger again. He could almost feel her shuddering against him. Feel the softness of her br**sts crushed against his chest. Feel the heat of her. The taste of her.

God, he wanted her, and restraint hurt. He was hot and hard, and pounding with need.

How did she do this to him? How could she strip him bare in a matter of minutes? Make him as out of control as …

As his father.

A sudden chill penetrated the heat.