The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(2)

He listened harder. Two sets of footsteps. One light, the second heavy. A twig cracked, and then another. They were getting closer.

A moment later, the first of two cloaked figures came into view on the path below him. Tall and bulky, he stomped forcefully up the winding path, pushing branches out of the way for the soldier trailing behind. As he strode past, Arthur could just make out the glint of steel and the colorful tabard beneath the heavy folds of wool. A knight.

Aye, it was them all right.

The second figure drew closer. Shorter and slimmer than the first, and with a much more graceful step. Quickly dismissing him as the lesser threat, Arthur started to turn back to the first when something made him stop. His gaze sharpened on the second figure. The darkness and hooded cloak blotted out the details, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. The soldier almost seemed to be gliding along the path below him. There was something under his arm. It looked like a basket—

His stomach dropped. Ah, hell. It wasn’t the courier, it was a lass. A lass with extremely bad timing.

Arthur’s senses hadn’t failed him. Something bad was going to happen all right. If the lass didn’t get out of here, he had no doubt Bruce’s men would make the same mistake he had. But they wouldn’t have time to correct it. They’d be attacking as soon as she and her knightly companion came into view—which would be at any moment.

He tensed as she swept right by him, the faint scent of roses lingering in her wake.

Turn back, he urged her silently. When she paused and tilted her head slightly in his direction, he thought she might have heard his silent plea. But she shook it off and continued along the path, walking right into a death trap.

Christ. What a damned mess. This mission had just gone straight to hell. Bruce’s men were about to lose their element of surprise—and kill a woman in the process.

He shouldn’t interfere. He couldn’t risk discovery. He was supposed to stay in the shadows. Operate in the black. Not get involved. Do whatever he had to do to protect his cover.

Bruce was counting on him. The prized scouting skills that had landed him in the elite fighting force known as the Highland Guard had never been as valuable as they were now. Arthur’s ability to hide in the shadows and penetrate deep behind enemy lines to gather intelligence about terrain, supply lines, and enemy strength and positions, was even more important for the surprise attacks that had become a hallmark of Bruce’s war strategy.

One lass wasn’t worth the risk.

Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be here.

Let her go.

His heart hammered as she drew closer. He didn’t get involved. He stayed in the shadows. It wasn’t his problem.

Sweat gathered on his brow beneath the heavy steel of his helm. He had only a fraction of an instant to decide ...

Bloody hell.

He stepped out from behind the trees. He’d been playing a knight for so long he must have started to believe it. He was a damned fool, but he couldn’t stand by and let an innocent lass go to her death without trying to do something. Maybe he could intercept them before they came into view. Maybe. But he couldn’t be sure where all of Bruce’s men were positioned.

He moved stealthily through the shadows, coming on her from behind. In one smooth motion, he slid his hand around to cover her mouth before she could scream. Hooking his arm around her waist, he jerked her hard against him.

A little too hard. He could feel every one of her soft, feminine curves plastered against him—particularly the nicely rounded bottom saddled against his groin.

Roses. He smelled them again. Stronger now. Making him feel strangely lightheaded. He inhaled reflexively and noticed something else. Something warm and buttery, with the faint tinge of apple. Tarts, he realized. In her basket.

Her struggles roused him from the momentary lapse. “I mean you no harm, lass,” he whispered.

But his body was responding to her in a manner that might be construed otherwise, crackling like wildfire at her movement. A hard shock of awareness coursed through him. She had a tiny waist, but he could feel the unmistakable heaviness of very full, very lush br**sts on his arm. A rush of heat pooled in his groin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman.

Hell of a time to think about it now.

Her guardsman must have heard the movement. The knight spun around. “M’lady?”

Seeing her in Arthur’s hold, he reached for his sword.

“Shhh ...” Arthur warned softly. He kept his voice low, both to avoid being heard and to disguise his voice. “I’m trying to help. You need to get out of here.” He relaxed his hold on her mouth. “I’m going to let go of you, but don’t scream. Not unless you want to bring them down on us. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and slowly he released her.

She spun around to face him. In the tree-shrouded moonlight, all he could see were two big, round eyes staring up at him from under the deep hood of her cloak.

“Bring who down on us? Who are you?”

Her voice was soft and sweet, and thankfully low enough not to carry. He hoped.

Her gaze slid over him. He’d traveled lightly tonight as he always did when he was working, wearing only a blackened habergeon shirt and coif of mail, and gamboissed leather chausses. But they were fine, and from his helm (which he’d lowered to cover his face) and weaponry, it was clear he was a knight. “You’re not a rebel,” she observed, confirming what he’d already guessed of her sympathies. She was no friend of Bruce.