The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(81)

She was rather fond of those calluses …

Her skin tingled, and she had to force her mind away from why.

Before the Englishman could ask more questions, she heaved a weary sigh, not missing the way his gaze fell to the tight bodice of her gown. She looked up at him tearily, giving him her best helpless, maiden-in-distress look. It took some effort. “My husband … he is worried about me and the child,” she said by way of apology for Ewen’s manners. “It has been a difficult journey.” Her voice went higher and faster with her increasing distress. “The storm came, and then I lost the horse, and you see he was so angry—rightly so, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

The soldier shot Ewen a look as if he didn’t agree at all. Janet regretted having to cast him in the role of bully, but it was necessary to bring out the soldier’s chivalrous nature. “I had to keep stopping every mile, and then I said I couldn’t go on—not until we found another horse. I’m sure it is horrible of me, but the thought of taking one more step across those mountains … I’m too heavy to carry, you see. And then he called me round?” The men gasped in understanding. A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I just couldn’t do it.” She blinked up at him, pleased to see that he seemed to have forgotten all about Ewen. “I’m just so very …” She swayed dramatically, as if she might swoon. “Tired.”

Barely was the word out of her mouth than the soldier had jumped down to take her arm and steady her. “Do not distress yourself, dear lady.” He shot a glare to the old farmer. “Why are you just standing there? Quick, get the lady something to drink.” He led her over to a stool that sat by the door. “Rest here; you should not stand for so long in your condition.” Janet smiled as she looked up into the soldier’s concerned gaze, knowing she had him.

Ewen didn’t know whether to throttle her or stand and cheer. By the time they rode out of the village a few hours later, they not only had a horse but full bellies as well.

Watching her had been something of a revelation. No actor upon the stage could have performed better. She spun her story with such ease and confidence, even he had started to believe it. He’d actually found himself telling the old man and his wife that the child would be named James if it was a laddie, after the man who’d taught him everything he knew. James Stewart had indeed taught him everything. Of course, the farmer didn’t realize that Ewen wasn’t talking about building, but about being a warrior and a chieftain.

Aye, she’d done well, but he could never forget the heart-stopping moment when he’d first seen her. It had been a shock. Not just that she’d disobeyed him and put herself in danger, but also how she’d looked. She didn’t look anything like a nun or a lad. Dressed like a lady for the first time since he’d known her, he’d been riveted by the sheer feminine sensuality of her long golden hair tumbling over her shoulders in loose ringlets, and the sweetness of the curves revealed by her form-fitting gown. Her br**sts were spectacular. The gown seemed to have been constructed to make a man think they were being presented just to him, like some kind of bounteous offering to the gods. Jesus, he’d wanted to toss his plaid around her shoulders and bury his head in them at the same time!

Of course, one large curve had been rather a surprise. Pregnant. It felt like a boulder had slammed into his chest. It squeezed. Tightened. Burned with an emotion he’d never felt before. A kind of fierce possessiveness came over him that dwarfed anything that had come before.

He wasn’t as skilled as Raider or Saint in hand-to-hand combat, but he would have taken on every one of those soldiers bare-handed to protect her. Hell, he would have taken them on bare-arsed naked, as his father had done with the wolves, to protect her.

He’d been nearly out of his mind with anger—and probably jealousy, damn it—when she’d purposefully started to ploy the English captain with the feminine charms he hadn’t yet finished admiring.

Only the realization that it was working had stayed his hand. But it had taken every ounce of self-restraint that he had (and some he did not have) not to go over there and smash his fist through the bastard’s appreciative gaze. The fact that the captain knew exactly how angry Ewen was only seemed to fit the part she’d cast for him as the harsh, overprotective, short-tempered husband.

Who in the hell could mistake him for that?

So he fumed silently, if not invisibly, as Janet went about dispelling the soldier’s suspicions, enlisting the farmer’s help to find a villager who might have a horse for sale, charming the farmer’s dour wife into cooking them a hot meal, and somehow getting them out of there without a blade drawn. He wasn’t foolish enough to wish differently, but right now, with the way his body was teeming with restless energy, he would have welcomed the fight.

Once he was certain they were not being followed, he circled back to collect his armor and weapons from where he’d left them by the burn. The detour was regrettable, but even with the weight of two on the horse, they should be able to reach Sundrum just outside of Ayr by nightfall. There was a safe house there for them to spend the night, where he hoped the others would catch up with them.

Though he was holding her securely about the waist in front of him, and his body was painfully aware of her, he hadn’t said a word since they left the village. With all the strange emotions twisting inside him, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself.