Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (6 page)

Even if that meant getting her away from MacGregor.

Chapter Four

Caitrin stared at Jamie Lathan’s broad back. Since she’d been sent home from Lathan, his long, lanky frame had filled out most attractively with muscle, and he carried himself with more confidence than he had displayed as a lad. She admired this new Jamie still, like the lad she’d spent the last six years longing for, yet in many ways, more. Much more. Her grip tightened on the reins as she shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. She wasn’t sure what to think. On her way to meet the man her father intended her to marry, she had no business letting her adolescent longings overcome her good sense.

Jamie rode at the head of their small group, a dozen paces in front of her, into the coppery glow of the sun setting behind the mountains. One of his men rode beside her, watchful and silent except for the creak of his leather saddle. Will, who knew the way, having made the trip with her father before being sent to the Aerie, followed her at the moment, but often rode at the front with Jamie. Two more Lathans trailed behind. Another rode scout, ranging half a mile or more ahead of their group, beyond the crest of the small hill they were ascending.

She knew Jamie preferred to be out front. He’d always taken point when they were children, roaming the woods in search of adventure. Toran had flanked him, a step or two behind, then ahead, until they were racing each other, both vying to stay in the lead. Both determined to be the first to reach their objective, or to discover something new. Caitrin had chased after them in the hopes she could take part in their discoveries without irritating Toran into sending her home. Not that she would have gone. More than once, she’d taunted him that he was not the heir and could not order her to do anything. She stifled a snort at the irony, thankful he’d not known how things would turn out. He’d have been insufferable.

Now Toran’s men accompanied
her
, men she didn’t recognize. No matter, as long as Jamie trusted them to handle any trouble that might come their way, so must she. So far, trouble had not found them, but they had yet to make camp for the night.

Finally, Jamie called a halt and turned his mount in a tight circle to face the riders following him. Will pulled up alongside Caitrin.

“We’ll bide here,” Jamie ordered, catching Will’s eye.

Will nodded and Caitrin breathed a sigh of relief that they’d managed to reach some sort of accord on the trail. She was unused to so many hours in the saddle. Her backside had ceased complaining, finally becoming numb hours ago, yet now restlessness made her eager to walk.

They were just below the crest of a hill, deep in woodlands fragrant with the tang of pitch from the evergreens and with loam cut by their horses’ hooves, deep and earthy. They’d crossed a stream, just down hill. With a few men posted on the higher ground, they’d be safe from surprise and able to defend against attack from below. It pleased Caitrin that she remembered enough from her time tagging along with Jamie and Toran to understand Jamie’s choice of this spot.

Will approached, but Caitrin dismounted before he could reach her. He acknowledged her independence with a wave of his hand and went about his own business. While she watched Jamie post the guard and dispatch two of his men to hunt, she stamped her feet, trying to force out the tingles in her legs from sitting too long in the saddle. She’d help by gathering deadfall for the fire, but first she needed to find some privacy away from the camp.

“Dinna think to wander away.”

Jamie was suddenly beside her the moment she took two steps downhill. Without slowing, she told him, “I’ll no’ go far, but I wish to refresh myself in the stream we crossed.”

“Then I’ll go with ye.”

She stiffened, acutely aware of every sensation in her body as the numbness in her lower half wore off. “Jamie Lathan, hear me well. I’m no’ a fainting lass to be guarded night and day. I can find a clump of bushes and be back before ye ken I’ve gone. Besides, from here ye can be at the stream in moments, should I scream.”

Jamie appeared to be counting under his breath. Caitrin hid her delight at having aggravated him. She figured she owed him six years worth.

Finally, he pasted a patient smile on his face. “I ken ye’re a canny lass, I do. But I also ken what would happen were I to lose ye or see ye harmed on the way to yer betrothed. So I
will
go with ye—”

“Jamie,” Caitrin interupted, but he gave her no chance to finish.

“I’ll keep a proper distance, but I
must
be closer at hand than the top of this hill. Now go.”

Caitrin frowned but turned and made her way down toward the stream. Jamie’s expression had been pleasant enough, but she knew his iron will, and he had the right of it. Too much was at stake, now her father had involved the Lathans. Were anything to happen to her, not only would her father fail to make the match he hoped would improve his clan’s circumstances, but Lathan honor would be impugned. Clan war was not out of the question.

As she walked, she collected deadfall twigs and small branches in her skirt. Jamie gathered larger branches in his left arm, leaving his right hand free. He did that, she knew, not just to pick up more wood, but to wield the short sword on his belt if need be.

On the mossy slope, her foot suddenly slid out from under her. She gasped and fought for balance as her gathered twigs went flying. The slope of the hill defeated her. But instead of landing flat on her back as she expected, Jamie’s hands scooped under her arms and lifted. Distantly, she heard the clatter of dropped branches as he pulled her back against his hard chest.

“Caitrin!”

The concern in his soft cry thrilled her. His heat against her back nearly scorched her through both their clothes. Her heart beat fast - from the near fall or from Jamie’s strong hands? The reason didn’t matter. This was a close as she’d been in years to the lad she’d never been able to forget. Her knees wanted to give way beneath her, but he held her securely as he shifted his hands to her waist. Being in his arms was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. She wanted this too much.

“Have a care, lass. Ye willna wish to limp to the MacGregor.”

She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against Jamie’s shoulder, promising herself she’d only steal this moment with him. Even with his arms around her, his fingers splayed on her ribcage, he was intent on delivering her to another man. The affection that had existed between them as youths was not enough to make him risk both their clans by claiming her for himself.

Then he lifted one arm across her breasts to grip her shoulder, pulling her tighter against his chest. “Are ye well, Caitrin lass? Did ye twist yer ankle?”

She dared not answer. His breath warmed her cheek so she knew he’d canted his head to the left to peer at her face, likely seeking tears of pain, thinking her injured.

She held herself still, soaking in the sensation of being in Jamie’s arms, if only for this moment. Finally, Caitrin shook her head and opened her eyes to the waning daylight and the end of her dreams. “Nay, Jamie. I’m well.”

“Wha’ the hell?” Will’s tone conveyed his outrage as he stomped down the hillside toward them.

Caitrin stepped from Jamie’s embrace and put herself between the two men, the warmth of the previous few moments replaced by the chill lash of Will’s tone and her fear of how Jamie might react. A glance over her shoulder relieved her mind.

Jamie stood with his hands open at his sides, his posture relaxed.

She faced Will and held up her hands, halting him a few paces away. “I slipped, Will. Jamie kept me from falling flat on my back, ’tis all. So
haud yer wheesht
.”

“That’s no’ what it looked like.” He shook his head, glancing from her to glare at Jamie behind her. “And ye on yer way to yer betrothal.”

Caitrin planted her fists on her hips. “Dinna think to lecture me, Will. Ye should be thanking Jamie, no’ charging down here like a coo with a bee sting on its arse.”

“Jamie, is it?”

“Aye, Jamie.” Caitrin sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. “Ye ken I fostered with his clan. What do ye think I should call an old friend?”

“Yer lady is unharmed.”

Jamie’s voice entering the conversation surprised her and she glanced over her shoulder again then back at Will. “Aye, that I am. Now be on yer way, Will,” she added, waving, “and take these sticks with ye for the fire.”

Will did as she ordered, though not without grumbling.

Jamie remained silent at her back until he moved out of earshot. “He cares for ye.”

She pursed her lips. “He’s a friend, nothing more. As are ye.” She didn’t wait to see Jamie’s reaction to her declaration. Instead, she brushed past him and continued down the hill.

His heavy footsteps followed her.

Staying within arms reach, she supposed, in case she slipped again. Above the stream, she found a thick stand of undergrowth, perfect for the privacy she sought. She narrowed her eyes at her companion, but took small comfort in her victory as he backed away. He’d backed away when she was sent home and never again approached her until his laird ordered him to. The thought of it hurt her heart.

When she emerged, she headed for the shallow burn, still savoring the sensation of Jamie’s touch, though it saddened her. When he did not immediately join her, she glanced around. Where had he gone off to? As she rinsed her hands, she spotted him on the opposite bank. Relieved, she splashed cooling water on her face then patted her skin dry on her sleeve.

“Shall I stand sentry for ye?” she asked. “I’ll turn my back.”

“Nay. Let’s rejoin the others.” He crossed the water and paused only to pick up more kindling.

She ground her teeth and passed him, continuing up the hill to the camp, Jamie stayed a few steps below her. How ironic that he followed her now, after all the years she’d spent chasing him. And Toran, of course. To no avail. Jamie had not wanted her then. He certainly did not want her now she was promised to another man.

****

Jamie tossed another twig onto the fire, watching the yearling doe Bram and Ewan had killed roasting for their supper. Hunger eluded him. It was all he could do not to run into the woods and howl at the moon like a lonely wolf calling its mate. While the indignity of the idea made him snort, he had good reason to feel that way. Caitrin’s lush body in his arms, her tiny waist in his hands, her breasts pressed against his forearm, had stolen his breath, his voice, his reason.

But rather than give in to his urge to ravish her in that moment, he’d let her go back up the hill by herself and stopped to pick up the kindling he’d dropped, giving himself some space, not looking at her, not feeling, or smelling her. His body’s response had been instantaneous, yet he’d managed to step away before she noticed. And following her up the hill had given him time to get his unruly flesh back under control without the embarrassment of arriving in camp dripping wet from a dunking in the creek’s cold water.
Damn her
.

Surely, that slip had not been intentional. As a lass, she’d been as sure-footed as the deer roaming these hills. Did she now toy with him, even though she was promised to another? He scrubbed a hand over his face. She’d always had an independent streak. Did she intend to dally with him before bending to her father’s will? Or her betrothed’s?

What had happened to Caitrin Fletcher these last six years? Besides the obvious. She’d grown into a breathtaking young woman. As a lad, he’d fancied her. Now, he had no words for the hunger that consumed him each time he looked upon her. Holding her in his arms had been torture—a torture he’d give anything to suffer again and again.

But he told himself that could not be. He was here because her father meant to promise her to another, and Jamie had only one recourse. He must see her safe to her father and her betrothed. Not have her. Not touch her in any way. No matter how much he wished to.

Irritated, he stood and paced away from the fire, heedless of his path. Caitrin, he noted, stood at the edge of the firelight, deep in conversation with her father’s taciturn ghillie. Which meant she was doing most of the talking, since Jamie had not heard the man utter more than four words in a row the entire trip from the Aerie to Fletcher and from Fletcher to this campsite, except when he argued for more men to accompany them. For a moment, Jamie entertained the notion of listening in, since Caitrin appeared to be continuing the lecture she’d given Will on the hillside. She could rant and rave all she wanted. It wouldn’t matter. Jamie was quite certain the man took his duty to her seriously.

Will, she called him. Willful might be a better choice. Willfully determined to see to Caitrin’s safety. To keep Caitrin out of Jamie’s clutches. Just as Jamie should do. Which meant keeping his distance at all times. Like now, when his body still hungered for hers, and his mind liked the crackle and spark of her temper and wit—at least as long as that temper remained directed at Will.

Jamie averted his gaze and kept walking. Away from her and the temptation she represented. The darkness outside the circle of firelight beckoned. He doubted he’d be hungry any time soon. He expected sleep would be elusive, as well. He might as well relieve one of the sentries and take the watch. That would keep him occupied with something he knew how to do, rather than trying to deal with the conundrum Caitrin now represented. He’d have to keep his gaze away from their camp, focused out into the night.

Aye, he’d keep her safe. From himself.

****

Where was Jamie off to? Over Will’s shoulder, Caitrin saw him as he stood and marched out of camp. Aye, marched. There was nothing casual in his movements. Had he heard or seen something outside the perimeter of their firelight?

She could barely focus on anything Will said. Jamie stole her attention every time he came near.

“What are ye dreamin’ about, lass?”

It took a moment for Caitrin to realize Will stopped talking. She pulled her gaze from Jamie’s retreating back and focused on the man in front of her. Her father’s distant cousin and most trusted kinsman. They hadn’t so much as grown up together as grown up in parallel. She, spending years with the Lathans, Will learning what he could, helping her father and being the son Fletcher never had. They were almost of an age, she and Will. He had two winters on her. When she’d returned to her Fletcher home from her fostering, Will had at first ignored her, and then he tried to woo her. But her father would have none of that, ambitious as he was for her to make a much better marriage for Fletcher.