“Pity?”
“Aye. For having such poor taste.”
His laugh rolled deep, low enough she felt it in her bones. “Lass. Ye ken exactly what ye’re doing, don’t ye?”
Scarlett sniffed and lifted her chin. “If ye mean keeping ye in check, then aye. Someone has to.”
Robert leaned close enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Careful, Scarlett. Keep talking like that, and I might start enjoying it.”
Her whole body went hot. The warmth of his voice slid down her spine like a touch, pooling low in her belly. The faint scrape of his breath at her neck made her shiver though she fought to stay still, to look unmoved.
God help me, he kens exactly what he’s doing.
She tried to summon a retort, but none came. Instead, she clutched her colors like a shield and marched forward, her necklace bouncing with every hurried step.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Scarlett’s fingers kept straying to the necklace at her throat. The green stone was cool against her skin, and every time her hand brushed it, she felt Robert’s thumb again at the back of her neck when he’d fastened it. It was ridiculous, really. A trinket. A bauble. And yet she couldn’t leave it alone.
“Ye’ll wear the shine off it if ye keep stroking it like that,” Robert muttered from behind her, his voice rumbling low against the rain-washed silence of the woods.
Scarlett’s chin lifted though he couldn’t see it from his seat behind her. “I’ll have ye ken, I’m only making certain it stays in place.”
He huffed, the sound half a laugh, “It’s clasped well enough. I wouldnae have bought a poor chain.”
She bit back the sharp retort on her tongue then let it loose anyway. “Aye, the great Laird McLaren, judge of silversmithsand savior of wandering wives. Should I bow me head in thanks every time ye spend coin on me?”
His arm shifted where it rested at her waist, steadying her as the mare picked its way down a muddy slope. “Nay,” he said simply. “Only wear it. That’s thanks enough.”
Scarlett pressed her lips together, her fingers brushing the pendant again.
“Once we’re back home. I’ll take it off; I’ll keep it safe. It would be foolish to risk losing something so fine on a whim.”
But the word caught in her mind and lingered, home. Strange that she was already thinking of Gundor as that.
The rhythm of the horse’s gait filled the silence that followed. Robert said nothing more, and she found herself stealing glances at his hands on the reins, the firm set of his jaw when she dared twist her head slightly.
He was unreadable, maddeningly so, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him, scream at him, or kiss him senseless. The choice was taken from her when the sky split.
A clap of thunder cracked above them, so sudden that the mare tossed her head. Rain followed, thick and heavy, drumming the earth in great sheets. Scarlett gasped as the first drops pelted her skin, soaking her hair in moments, her gown plastering itself indecently to her curves.
“Oh!” She tipped her head back to the heavens, closing her eyes, laughing as water streamed down her cheeks. “Saints, it’s glorious!”
Robert swore behind her, hauling the reins to keep the horse steady. “Glorious? It’s a bloody downpour.”
Scarlett spread her arms wide for a moment, letting the rain soak her through. “Better than brooding silence.”
His chest rumbled against her back. “Ye’d prefer I chatter like Leon? Fill yer ears with nonsense till ye beg me to stop?”
Her eyes flew open, and she twisted enough to glare at him over her shoulder. Rain dripped from her lashes, and she saw his gaze flicker, briefly, to her mouth. “Och, so ye can speak after all. I was beginning to think the thunder would say more than me husband.”
Robert’s lips quirked. “I speak when there’s worth in words. I daenae waste breath.”
She scoffed, turning forward again. “Saints forbid ye ever waste breath on yer wife.”
His hand tightened at her waist, not harsh but firm. “Careful, Scarlett.”
She flushed, not from fear but from the pull of his voice, threaded with something that made her belly twist.
