The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(32)

I want him. Her words resonated. Hell, for a second he’d almost envied a damned dog.

The lad shrugged as if to say What can you do? Clearly, he thought the lady was foolish, but she was the lord’s granddaughter so he wouldn’t argue with her.

Arthur took one look at her cooing gently to the dog in her arms and wanted to agree—mostly because he didn’t want to see her go through the frustration of trying to nurse the creature back to life—but he couldn’t.

A long time ago he’d been that runt.

Odd that he was even thinking about it. He never thought about the past. The struggles of his boyhood had made him the warrior he was today. He’d worked harder. Trained harder. Taken the abilities that had set him apart and honed them into something extraordinary. He’d forged his own destiny. He might not have been born a warrior, but he’d made himself one of the best.

It had been his focus for so long, he hadn’t thought of anything else.

But it hadn’t always been so.

Arthur watched her fuss over the small, pathetic creature in her arms and felt a stirring of ... something.

He turned harshly away, irritated by the twinges of sentiment provoked by the lass’s compassion. She was the enemy, he reminded himself. But it rang hollow even to his own ears.

Sir Arthur had retreated back into his shield of silence and indifference, but Anna was too busy trying to soothe the squirming ball of dark fur in her arms to notice. Well, perhaps she’d noticed, but she was busy. The pup seemed to have realized he’d escaped danger, and his terrified shaking had turned to whimpers of hunger.

They were only a few miles away from the castle when she asked to stop. She had to try to feed him; his pathetic little cries were tearing at her heart.

Though the sun would not set for at least a half hour, deep inside the thick forest that sat to the east of Dunstaffnage it was dark already. She didn’t like the forest at night and was suddenly grateful for Sir Arthur’s insistence on accompanying her.

He and Robby saw to the horses while she saw to her new charge. She’d wrapped the pup in the plaid she’d brought in case the summer evening drew chill and used it to make a little bed for him as she went about trying to fashion something for him to eat. Pulling off her thin leather glove and tying it at the wrist, she filled it with water from the stream. She wished she had milk, but water would have to do for now. Using a needle from her basket, she poked a hole in one of the fingertips. Then, after tearing a few pieces of bread from one of the rolls, she turned back to the pup.

Bollocks! She muttered one of Alan’s favorite oaths. The little scamp had wandered off. Lying the glove and pieces of bread down in the blanket, she gazed around frantically.

There. She smiled. He hadn’t wandered far, she could see him just beyond a big tree.

She called to him but he ran from her, obviously still frightened. His little paws scooted through the leaves and dirt like wooden pegs. But he was too weak to go far, and Anna caught up to him after a few minutes.

Scooping him up in her arms, she cradled him against her chest. “Naughty little boy,” she cooed. “I won’t hurt you. Don’t you want to eat?”

He licked the tip of her nose in answer, and she giggled.

“Then I’d better get you back.” She looked around, realizing that she’d gone farther than she thought. She hurried her step, anxious to return to the stream, trying not to notice that the shadows were growing darker and more menacing as the forest closed in around her.

Her heart jumped when Sir Arthur suddenly stepped out in front of her. Dear Lord, he’d come out of nowhere! She hadn’t heard a sound.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demanded.

Anna’s eyes widened. The coarse language even more than the glint in his eye surprised her. He looked concerned. Worried. Definitely not indifferent. It was the same way he’d looked when he’d caught her. She’d almost convinced herself that she’d been imagining it.

She nuzzled the puppy in her arms, planting a soft kiss on his head. “I put him down to get some food and he wandered off.”

To her surprise, he reached down and stroked the puppy under his chin. The unconscious gentleness made her heart catch.

His touch on her would be just as gentle, and the sharp pang of yearning that hit stunned her. She’d never craved a man’s touch before. But she wanted to feel those big battle-scarred, callused hands on her skin. Her face. Her neck. And ...

Her br**sts.

Heat rose to her cheeks. Saints preserve her, where had that come from?

Their eyes caught, but she quickly looked away, fearing he would read her wanton thoughts.

“Next time let me know where you are going,” he said roughly. There was something tight and husky in his voice that she didn’t understand. “It isn’t safe—”

He stopped suddenly and stilled as if he’d heard something. Anna listened, but didn’t hear a sound. Indeed, it was oddly quiet.

She clutched his arm, instinctively moving closer to him. “What is it?”

“We need to get back to the horses. It’s the puppy.”

He pulled at his sword and tucked her against him. Despite the sudden hammering of her heart, she felt safe. Protected. And something else. He felt familiar.

“What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly, trying to keep up with him. “What do you mean, ‘It’s the puppy’?”