A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (2 page)

Suddenly eager for an activity, he wandered over to Muira
’
s horse and picked up each of the mare
’
s hooves to examine.  He cleaned out some grit and stone from under one of the iron horseshoes, but the animal was still far too lame to ride.

“
They
’
ll be no riding her back to the castle,
”
Lachlan announced, more to break the silence than anything else.  Muira glanced over at him.  She was still sat on the damp grass, looking decidedly sorry for herself.

“
I know,
”
she sighed. 
“
I was walking her- back- when I tripped and sprained my ankle,
”
she grumbled, glaring accusingly at the offending joint. 
“
I was just sitting here catching my breath-
”

“
When I came along?
”
Lachlan finished helpfully, flashing Muira a brilliant smile.  He chuckled lightly at the colour that rose to her cheeks against her will, and then laughed further at the amusing way she looking obstinately in the other direction. 
“
Well, no matter.  You
’
ll just have to ride Fiadhaich,
”
he shrugged.

“
Who?
”
Muira asked uncertainly, but her eyes had already alighted on the great bay brute of a horse that Lachlan had been riding.

“
He
’
s as gentle as a kitten.  Are you Faid?
”
Lachlan said cheerfully, patting Fiadhaich sounding on the rear.  The horse gave a loud whinny and stomped at the ground.

“
You know, my ankle
’
s not-
”

“
I should probably take a look at that ankle of yours actually,
”
Lachlan mused, tying the grey mare
’
s reigns to the back of his gelding
’
s saddle. 
“
Just to check that you haven
’
t done any serious damage,
”
he said, turning back to Muira.

She shook her head quickly, smoothing her skirts down over her foot. 
“
I really don
’
t think-
”
she began modestly, but Lachlan had already knelt down on the grass and was gently, but intently, prying her fingers away from her leg.

Muira had already taken her boot off.  A rather fine leather ladies riding boot, Lachlan noticed, supporting his opinion that this girl was wellborn.  He wondered if rescuing the damsel would earn him any favours with the Cameron laird?  He wondered if her cared.  It was Graem who was in such a rush to form a tenuous peace between their two clans before he died.

His thoughts ceased their wonderings however when Muira gasped sharply. 
“
Does that hurt, lass?
”
Lachlan frowned.  He was barely touching her ankle.  His fingertips had only just brushed her skin after absentmindedly rolling down her woollen stocking.

“
No,
”
she chocked. 
“
I mean yes- I mean-
”
she clamped her mouth shut, and then, blushing furiously, stared down at her lap.

Lachlan smiled to himself as he gently prodded and poked her ankle.  She was an innocent little thing indeed if this had sent her into a fluster.  She did look very fetching though, he had to admit - with her eyes bright, and her skin flushed, and her breath coming in shallow little gasps.  He found his gaze lingering on her lips.  Their plump, crimson swells looked far too luscious and inviting
…
he wondered how old she was, seventeen- eighteen?  He didn
’
t imagine that she could be much older than that, but he couldn
’
t really judge the shape of her body, hidden as it was under the layers of her bedraggled clothes.

“
Well, is it broken?
”
Muira
’
s soft voice snapped Lachlan to attention.  He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“
No, just badly twisted, lass,
”
he assured her. 
“
It really needs bandaging to lend it some support though,
”
he said, patting her knee in what he hoped was a caring fashion as he got back up onto his feet.  He rummaged through his saddlebags for a minute or two before finding something suitable.

“
You seem to know a bit about these things,
”
Muira murmured, her voice much quieter, less confident, than it had been, now Lachlan was so much closer to her.

“
Well, I
’
ve had some practise,
”
he muttered, seeing to her ankle quickly and efficiently.  His face darkened in a frown as he remembered the battle wounds he
’
d had to dress, the injuries he
’
d seen, the bodies he
’
d buried
…
and Graem thought that those things could be
forgotten, forgiven
?

“
MacRae?
”
Muira whispered uncertainly, reading his black expression and shivering slightly at what she saw. 

Lachlan tried to shrug himself out of the grimness into which he fallen.  He forced a grin. 
“
All done then, lass,
”
he said brightly. 
“
You
’
ll want to keep that boot off during the ride back though.
”
  Muira gave her head an obedient nod. 
“
Let
’
s get you up on Faid then,
”
he continued, moving to lift Muira up into his arms.

“
Oh!  I think I can manage!
”
she said quickly, her blush turning crimson. 

Lachlan
’
s grin widened. 
“
You think so, do you?
”
he chuckled, looking from the tiny woman to the great horse. 

He got to his own feet in indication that he was at least willing to let her try at least, watching as she heft her chin in the air, once again brimming with confidence now that he wasn
’
t so close, now that his hands weren
’
t touching her skin
…
 

He knew perfectly well that she would never be able to hoist herself up onto the animal.  She wasn
’
t nearly tall enough.  What Lachlan was less certain of was if she would be able to stand to put any weight on her foot.  He waited, close enough to catch her if she stumbled, as Muira gingerly stood up. 

She used her good leg to bear her weight, but the second she tried to walk she crumbled like a house of cards.  A little cry of pain filled the air, but Lachlan
’
s arms were around Muira
’
s waist, holding her upright, long before she had a chance to hit the ground.

“
Oh!
”

Lachlan listened as Muira let out a little puff of breath as her body collided with his own.  The way that she had stumbled propelled her against his chest, pressed her tight, enabling him to feel the exceedingly generous curve and swell of her breast.  A spike of heat flared unexpectedly in his groin as she wriggled against him, innocently trying to find her balance, but setting fires pulsing through his veins.

“
I knew you
’
d need help,
”
Lachlan grunted, more harshly than he
’
d intended, but his body
’
s enthusiastic reaction to Muira
’
s touch had taken him by surprise. 

He hadn
’
t gone so long without a woman that he was in danger of falling victim to the innocent enticements of this wench, this innocent
Cameron
wench!   Or that was what Lachlan firmly told himself as he lifted Muira up into the saddle.  She seemed to be balanced rather precariously, insisting on riding sidesaddle, but when he asked if she was all right she (
of course
, Lachlan thought to himself with a roll of his eyes) said yes.

He picked up Muira
’
s boot, the dagger that he
’
d taken off of her, and stowed both away in Fiad
’
s saddlebags, and then he caught his horse by the reigns, and with just a gentle tug got both animals slowly walking down the road behind him.

“
I don
’
t suppose you want you tell me what it was that you were doing out here on your own, lass?
”
Lachlan called over his shoulder after five minutes of total silence from his companion.

“
I don
’
t suppose I- oh! do,
”
Muira answered back.  Lachlan glanced back to see what the problem was, an amused smile tugging at his lips when he caught Muria struggling to keep her balance.  Her long skirt was slipping on the smooth leather of the saddle, making it a constant struggle for her to keep her balance without the proper saddle.