Highland Song (25 page)

"You never give up, do you?" Slade asked coolly. "Well, I've got bad news for you. Neither do
I
."

For a long time after that, nothing broke the silence but the sound of hooves striking the ground in a rhythm so familiar it was like a heartbeat, unnoticed unless it changed suddenly.

The farther the trail went to the north, the higher the cliff on the right side became, and the more narrow the passage. After a time, Slade slipped the bow he'd kept across his shoulder and notched an arrow in it before settling it across his lap.

Slade hoped his actions didn't tell
Lainie
there was no other way to go but straight ahead. And that one trail led farther and deeper into what was rapidly becoming little more than a path that was only a foot wide at its best. He watched her pull out the dirk she kept strapped to her leg, knowing it was probably not enough of a weapon to hurt anyone if it came to fight.

Slade didn't doubt Lainie's courage. He knew first hand from the tavern brawl that she'd stand her ground and fought along side him. How he knew he wasn't sure but his gut told him she would do whatever she had to do to survive.

Slade's eyes moved ceaselessly, probing shadows and the random turnings of the trail. The horse he rode liked the narrow trail no better than he did. Her ears swiveled and pricked at the least sound. Despite the long trail behind, she carried herself lightly, muscles coiled, ready to leap in any direction at the first appearance of danger.

Lainie's horse was equally edgy. Slade could sense the mare's wariness in her quick movements and nervously lashing tail. Even the two packhorses were skittish. They crowded up on her horse's heels as though taking no chance on being left behind.

Suddenly Slade reined the mare in, stopping beneath a low overhang where the trail widened far enough to let two horses side by side if necessary. The other horses stopped. When Lainie would have asked why, he gestured for to keep silent.

Long minutes later, the cry of a falcon floated on the wind. She watched the bird soar and dip with the wind currents. And then the silence pervaded everything once again.

To keep her horse quiet Lainie leaned forward in the saddle and clamped her fingers around the horse's nostrils.

The motion caught Slade's eye. He saw what Lainie had done, nodded approvingly, and went back to watching. Long after the bird had flown by, he waited.

Nothing else moved.

Slade considered the tiredness of the horses, the time of the day, and the map in his mind.

It didn't take long to decide.

"We'll camp just a little ways from here."

~ * ~

Around the bend, the trail opened out onto a small valley where a tiny fall of water dripped over the rocks above. He had scouted this land for the army many times. Too many years ago to recount, he had discovered this spot. He reminded himself that he had meant to return here. He had just never realized it would be with a woman like Lainie. A woman who could make his soul burn with a fever he didn't understand.

The fall of water ended in a pool. This time of year Slade knew the water would be so cold it would steal your breath. But he didn't think Lainie would care. She wanted a bath. He wondered if she had any rose scented soap in her bags. He didn't remember seeing any, but he wouldn't be surprised if she carried it with her.

Slade sat on his heels, studying the terrain around the pool of water. No tracks led into or out of the area except animal tracks. A few deer, some squirrels, maybe a wild cat. He didn't see any sign of horses. Then Jericho wouldn't leave sign. He didn't see any sign that Jericho had been here but he didn't see anything to prove that he hadn't either.

Reluctantly he stood, mounted Baby, and rode back up the hill to the place where Lainie and the packhorses waited. After a bit, he turned to look at his own back trail. Baby's shod hooves left clear marks in the damp, churned earth at the fringes of the pool.

"Do you think it's safe to camp here?" Lainie asked with outward calm as Slade rode up.

He had been expecting the question. The hours and days on the trail had taught him Lainie was accustomed to using her eyes and her brain. Even though there was no clear trail they followed, he was sure she knew where he was taking her. That her brothers could be following or that Jericho had gotten in front of them was always a strong possibility.

"Don't know," Slade said.

"If you could venture a guess?" she asked impatiently.

"If he's been here, he's left. Hopefully, he thinks we're ahead of him."

She let out a silent breath.

"Don't get your hopes up. He could still be on our back trail, waiting for us to make a mistake. He's got Red with him, and it won't take him long to figure out where we are."

Lainie made a sound of exasperation and licked her lips.

"Don't worry little fox," Slade said. "I'm not planning on making you go without your bath."

She smiled with apparent delight.

As he watched her, he realized somewhere down the long, hard trail, he’d lost the emptiness in the pit of his stomach he always felt when he called her by that nickname.

Or maybe it was simply that his voice had lost its cutting edge when he called her little fox. Now his tone was darkly caressing, as though she were indeed a cunning fox being coaxed closer and closer to his hand. He hardened at the thought. If she came too close, she would not escape. He didn't want to give this well-used woman his heart but he was afraid he already had.

The next moment brought a flush to Lainie's cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun shinning brightly on her.

"Watch the trail while I get water," Slade said. "When I'm finished, I'll water the horses."

By the time Slade finished, the sun could no longer be seen above the rugged cliffs and towering trees, nothing remained to give away the camp's presence but a faint fragrance of smoke fire. Lainie ate quickly and gathered up what she would need for a bath.

Silently Slade watched Lainie walk out into the darkness with a satchel, a small metal pan, a soft rag, and a piece of soap. Once again, he wondered if the soap was rose scented and if she'd come back smelling of roses and reminding him that he burned for her.

"Don't go far," Slade
said,
his voice too husky for his own liking.

Though he had spoken quite softly, Lainie froze.

"And make sure you keep your dirk close by."

Slade followed the small sound Lainie made as she moved into the darkness. She didn't go far--just far enough to be well beyond the reach of light from the fire.

Slade heard the muted splash of water and told himself he could not possibly hear the subtle whisper of cloth against skin as Lainie undressed. Nor could he hear her sigh of pleasure as the cold water caressed her. He most certainly couldn't hear her breath shiver when her nipples peaked in response to the wet cloth but he could imagine it.

He was a man sure and truly damned.

Chapter Ten

Lainie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Her skin tingled as she walked from the cold pool of water that left her refreshed and feeling clean all the way to the tips of her toes. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. The moon, bright and full, gave chase to the shadows dancing around the pool. She jumped, startled by a sound, suddenly realizing she was no longer alone. She slipped the pants on, quickly sucked in her breath and pulled her shirt over her head.

"Water cold?" Slade's husky, mellow voice came from only a few feet away.

Lainie spun toward him. He was standing close enough to her to touch if she reached out. He had clean clothes bunched in one hand. His smile sent a wave of hot shivers rippling through her as well as thoughts she couldn't believe she was having.

"Yes," she whispered, moistening her dry lips with her tongue. "The water is freezing."

"Then you won't mind if I use the basin."

"How long have you been…" she breathed.

"Long enough."

Lainie inhaled a deep shaky breath and reminded herself she wasn't disappointed Slade had followed her merely because he, too, wished to refresh himself after the long ride. Quickly she held out the basin.

"It's yours," she said and turned to leave, wishing Slade wasn't so dangerously handsome.

"May I use the cloth, too?" he asked.

The throaty huskiness of Slade's voice sharpened Lainie's awareness of him until it was almost painful. Her skin tingled as though he had stroked her. She wanted to both flee and stay. And she didn't want to feel as if an inferno swept through her.

"Aye," she spoke softly, her nerves frayed.

"And your soap?"

Mesmerized by the subtle play of his voice, she nodded.

Her hair tumbled from the loose knot she'd made earlier. She gave an impatient sigh and pushed her hair behind her back, knotting it and hoping it would stay in one place.

"And your hands, little fox. Can I use them too?" He reached out and tucked a wisp of hair she had missed behind her ear.

Lainie's breath caught deep in her throat. She watched Slade, wishing she could see his eyes. She wanted to know where his thoughts were headed, whether he taunted her or perhaps had begun to believe she was not the tainted woman he had once thought she was.

"I'll understand if you say no," he said, his voice dark and compelling, "but I would appreciate a shave."

He watched her with shimmering green eyes that challenged her in ways she didn't understand.

"I can do that," she said, wishing she had not let her heart betray what she knew to be true about Slade. He would always think of her as a thief and a whore. She had already spent too much energy and invested too much hope in her cause to change his mind.

"Have you shaved a man before?"

His question was innocent yet provoking with sexual innuendos that sent shivers of crazy anticipation tumbling through her.

Moonlight danced on the water like liquid silver when she looked away from him for a moment. She wanted so much for him to think of her in a different light, and he denied her in every way. He wanted only what the moment could give nothing that would last a lifetime.

Yet she made excuses for him. She knew his heart had been hardened beyond repair by a woman.

"And cut hair," she said.

He ran his fingers through his hair. She watched and inhaled sharply knowing she had no business wishing for what she couldn't have.

"Bertram enjoy your fingers running though his hair?"

The sharp edge in Slade's voice made Lainie flinch. Unable to look at him she turned away for a moment.

Giving up, and feeling the bitterness crawl deep into her soul. "Aye," she said, throwing his taunt back to him, her heart thundering at the implication of Slade's words. The thought of touching Bertram willingly in any way left her stomach churning.

I shouldn't bait him. He thinks the worst of me without my sarcastic words. And why on earth would I want him to think differently? He is nothing to me save my captor and tormentor.

Fool. Because he has somehow touched your heart.

Then, hoping to change the direction of his thoughts, she added. "It was my brothers. I used to cut their hair. I've never touched Bertram in that way."

"And who else? Did the little gang of thieves you ride with enjoy your hands as well?"

Her brows furrowed together. It seemed he wouldn't let it go. "No, everyone knew I kept my dirk close and wouldn't hesitate a moment to use it." Then she inhaled sharply. "How dare you accuse me? You don't know me, and you don't want to know me."

Slade shook his head. "Quit fighting this battle you won’t win. I do want to know you. I know how you looked a few minutes ago, little fox. You were standing in the moonlight, naked, all glistening from the water droplets on your skin, with curves that make a man have thoughts that are anything but innocent or pure."

"You had no right to watch."

"But I did. I wanted to see what Bertram saw. And I want to touch what Bertram touched"

Lainie flinched once again at the harshness of his words and turned away. Even the darkness and the dancing shadows didn't mask Slade's opinion of her. His words told it all. Lainie wasn't deceived. Her shoulders squared and she forced herself for the distance she knew she should keep between them. Wearing her heart where he could rip it apart was for a fool.

"I never sold myself, Englishman," she told him, her anger flaring despite the hopeless despair settling in the darkness of her soul. “Bargain or no bargain, I won’t be your plaything.”

Slade's smile flashed sardonically. "I want to believe you, little fox. But my gut instincts all cry out little liar. No, I don't blame you. Someone dealt you a rough hand and you've got to play with those cards. But you don't have to lie to me."

Abruptly Slade turned and walked to the smooth blunt shelf that Lainie had used as a table for her basin of water. He sat on the rock ledge, put the clean clothes aside, and started undoing his shirt with quick, angry motions of his hands.

"What do you want me to use?" Lainie asked, watching him. She knew what he meant to do, seduce her. She knew better than to let that happen.

"Is that little dirk you carry all the time sharp?"

She nodded, "Aye, my brothers taught me well. What good would it be if it wasn't sharp?"

"Then use it. And try not to slit my throat."

Lainie moved closer to the dark man who by his words seemed so far away he had become a stranger to her once again. She was afraid to touch him, yet she knew she had to show Slade she had more courage than good sense. She wet Slade's hair and heavy beard stubble and began to work soap into both.

In the past, she always stood behind her brothers to do this, but Slade was making that impossible. He sat on a smooth stone outcropping rather than a chair. She had no choice except to stand in front of him.

And, Lainie thought to herself, she had no real desire to stand elsewhere. Despite her hesitancy, she liked watching Slade's closed eyes, seeing the expression on his face and knowing her touch seemed to please him.

Before she realized what Slade was doing, he had shifted position as she worked. Suddenly without her understanding what had happened, she found herself standing between his legs.

She made a startled sound, her knees buckling. "What--?" she began, but she couldn't finish the sentence.

Slade's hands conveniently rose to her waist to steady her. He played games she didn't understand--games she knew she could never win.

"Steady," he said, his fingers gently and ever so slowly flexing around her, teasing her with subtlety and finesse. Touching her and sending an intense rush of heat through her.

"Slade," she whispered and swallowed hard, her hands shaking.

His eyes opened. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," she murmured. "I forgot--"

Slade raised a single black eyebrow and flexed his hands again, one more time sending slivers of penetrating heat through Lainie. She felt the fire from his fingers clearly. There was only one fragile layer of cloth between his hands and her skin. Beneath the shirt, she was naked and he was taking exquisite advantage.

Lainie's breath rushed in and remained until she felt dizzy. She had never imagined there would be pleasure in a man's hands on her waist. And she had never thought she would want him to keep them there.

"
Your
touching me," she said, her voice wavering. "Should you do that--touch me?"

Slade grinned and flexed his fingers again. Slowly he moved his hands higher and then back down. "Of course," he said his voice warm.

"But," she meant to object.

"Remember our agreement? I intend to touch you a whole lot more," he told her. Then he leaned towards her and spoke softly against Lainie's breasts, "Where else would you like me to touch you? I'm sure you have favorite places."