Taking long and powerful strides, Duncan made his way toward the bank. She didn’t think she had ever seen anyone so beautiful, or so wild. It seemed that he belonged in the forest, and was perhaps not a man but an immortal. But she was spying on him, she realized, and a guilty blush bloomed across her cheeks. Still, her eyes continued to lock onto the scene that unfolded in front of her. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to miss a single detail. At any moment, he could turn around, and she could view him from another perspective.
But Duncan continued to present his back to her. As he clamored down the bank, he waded into the loch until it came up to his waist, and rippled around his athletic form.
After scooping up a handful of water to wash his face, he dove into the clear water. He seemed to disappear for long minutes, and she waited almost impatiently for him to re-emerge. But then he burst through the surface, facing her way. Shaking the water from his hair, the droplets sprayed every which way. Duncan raised his hands, and ran his long fingers through his damp locks.
Adrina’s eyes traced the curve of his biceps, which bulged slightly from the movement. He was the epitome of male splendor. From this new angle, she could see that his massive chest was muscular and chiseled, as if he was cut from stone. Along his tanned, smooth flesh, she could discern the ridges of his sculpted abdomen. How would it feel to trace her palm over his solid contours? She plucked at the front of her kirtle, unexpectedly feeling as if she had stood too long in the mid-day sun.
Suddenly Duncan looked up, and stared into the direction of the trees, an alarmed expression on his face.
Adrina’s hand on the stick tightened as she leaned closer to see what it was that disturbed him. But then a large black mass descended, obscuring the picture.
She blinked, and the image of Duncan was gone. All that remained were a few faint wisps of smoke.
“What happened?” she asked out loud, the question sounding shrill to her ears. But there was no one in the woods to answer her.
“Show me Duncan,” she demanded, poking at the embers with her stick. “Reveal what has happened tae him.”
But there was nothing.
“’Tis because ye are thinking obsessively about him,” she muttered to herself, trying to push away her doubts. She thrust the stick into the embers, watching the sparks fly into the air. She didn’t need to concern herself with him. After all, he was a trained warrior, a man who was more than capable of taking care of himself.
Adrina directed her attention back to the fire pit, resolving to finish building a fire that would satisfy Duncan. If he returned to camp, and discovered that the fire wasn’t ready, he likely would think that she was incompetent.
She picked up another stick, absently jabbing at the burning wood in the fire pit. But even as she tried to occupy her mind with mundane things, doubt continued to grow and churn inside her belly. And then the whispers in her mind, became louder and more persistent with each passing second.
Evil was afoot.
Was there really something wicked looming about? Certainly she could recall the sinister feeling she had experienced earlier. What if something horrible happened to Duncan, and he needed her help? She was the only one nearby who could come to his aid. If the situation was reversed, she was certain that he would come to her rescue.
Throwing the stick into the middle of the fire, she stood up. That was it; she had to see if Duncan was all right.
CHAPTER 8
Why did she hesitate for so long? As the minutes passed, different scenarios entered Adrina’s head until her mind became seized with many fears. Still she crashed through the hazel bushes and hart’s tongue ferns, running as if a dark fae creature was chasing after her. But by now she was convinced that it wasn’t the sprite that she dreaded. It was Fingal. Instinctively, she knew that her father’s advisor was somehow behind the disturbance. He had learned to conjure black magic, and there was a very real chance that he would use his newfound powers to harm Duncan. She didn’t know exactly what she would do when she got to her highlander, but if she ran fast enough perhaps she could warn him of the danger. It didn’t matter that the branches whipped and scraped against her flesh as she raced through the underbrush. If something happened to Duncan, she would forever blame herself.
Adrina broke through the line of standing trees, and saw him at the side of the river bank, folding the pleats of his kilt. He seemed unaware that he was in jeopardy. With urgency driving her, she ran to him even though her lungs burned and were ready to explode. But before she could call out his name, he had already reached for his claymore, which rested beside him. He brought the blade over his right shoulder, and started to swing it down at her.
Adrina shrieked and raised her arms over her head, even knowing that her protective gesture did little to protect her from the blade.
But the fiery rage in his eyes dissipated instantly when he recognized her.
“Get behind me,” he barked.
“I —”
He shook his head, and grabbing her wrist, he yanked her behind him.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to catch her breath. Her body shook with the realization of how close she had come to dying.
“Who’s after ye?” he demanded, his head moving slowly back and forth, scanning the thicket as if searching for the assailant. All the while he stood with his legs in a fighting stance, his body rigid with predatory strength.
“Nay one is after me,” she said, still struggling to catch her breath.
“Nay one…?” He lowered his sword and pivoted to face her. His green eyes swept across her countenance. “Explain yourself.”
She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling foolish. “I was preparing the fire, and I — I had a belief that ye were in danger.”
“Ye had a belief thatIwas in danger?” he said, irritation entering into his voice. He lifted a finger as if to scold her, but he dropped his hand, and let out a sound of disgust. Throwing one more glance at the direction in which she emerged, he shook his head. He twisted his lips to the side. Appearing convinced that there was no threat, he thrust the tip of his sword into the ground.
