She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust in the dim light provided by the moon, and once his face came into focus, she gasped.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “Get off me this instant!”
“I will when I’m sure ye willnae attempt to escape again,” he answered. “What were ye thinkin’? A wild beast or brigand couldhave happened upon ye, and ye would have gotten hurt. Are ye tryin’ to cause a war?”
“The only brigand I see is ye,” she spat. “Ye’ve treated me with naught but impropriety since we met.”
“If ye werenae such a harridan, then I wouldnae have needed to use such force with ye,” he shot back with a hard glare.
A harridan?
The nerve of him.
She glared back at him with as much anger as she could muster. But as she looked at him, she noticed the things she was better off not seeing. The rich darkness of his hair curled in an unruly fashion on his head. The deep, dark brown of his eyes, and even the rugged handsomeness of his face. How his dark beard gave him such a severe older look, even though she didn’t think him that much older than her.
She swallowed at the thought that she actually found him… attractive.
No. She refused to be swayed because of his good looks.
She squirmed against him, trying to wrench free, but he groaned exasperatedly, pinning her with his arms.
“Stop moving,” he bit out.
“Then you have to get off me,” she insisted, still squirming.
He groaned again and pressed her shoulders down even harder. “Stop moving, damn ye!”
She glared up at him, wondering why he’d use such a hard tone. But then she noted the strain on his face and the hungry wildness to his eyes, and stiffened. Indeed, his hips were cradled between hers, and a long hardness was pressing against her sex.
Her face flamed at the realization.
She recognized the look in his dark eyes very well. Lord Westall had the same one whenever they were alone, and he had let his hand linger inappropriately on her thigh on more than one occasion.
The Laird was attracted to her, and they were all alone in these dark woods, with no one to stop him from ravishing her if he so desired.
She swallowed as her heart began to thud in an unsteady rhythm, dreading his next move. But when he pushed himself to his feet and extended his hand to her, she was shocked.
“I ken ye may be comfortable on the ground, but ‘tis cold, and ye will surely catch yer death if ye stay here,” he muttered.
She eyed him warily, wondering at the sudden change in his demeanor and the fact that he didn’t try anything untoward with her.
Just who was this man?
She accepted his hand with a frown and stood, dusting off her dress and her hair. She was glad there was no mirror nearby, or she would have seen how much of a fright she looked.
“Well, lead the way back to camp, because I?—”
He took her arm, pulling her back towards the camp as though irritated with her.
When they stepped back into the clearing, he released her and moved towards where her bed furs lay.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, watching him drag her bed furs close to his.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
“I will do no such thing,” she said, affronted.
“Lie down, lass,” he grunted. “Or so help me God, I will force ye down and tie us both together. Let me see if ye’ll complain about impropriety then.”
