"Feel better?" Dugald asked her.
"Oui." She glanced up into his darkgreen eyes, so close to her own. His expression was neutral insteadof gloating at her ridiculous blunder and his easy recapture ofher. "Merci.Thank you for your help and your… warmth."
"You're welcome. I hope you've learned alesson this day."
A lesson? She ground her teeth. "Do notlecture me, you kidnapper. I but wanted my freedom. Naught wrongwith that."
That smug look appeared, a lift of his browand one corner of his lips. "Aye, well, there are better ways toescape."
"Do tell," she challenged.
Dugald gave a dark chuckle. "I'll nay begiving you any more ideas. You have enough of your own." He pulledthe plaid closed in front of her throat. "Hold it there." As heturned away, she noticed he only wore a long white linen shirt. Itreached to the middle of his muscular thighs—too long in herestimation. As he bent forward to pick up his belt, leather armor,weapons and baldric from the ground where he had tossed themearlier, she quickly averted her gaze. She was indeed senseless,eyeing her abductor. She would blame the cold water.
Leaving her standing, wrapped in his plaid,he picked up her clothing from the ground and wrung the water fromeach piece. Her face burned when she remembered he'd stripped herbare in daylight and even removed her thin shift. He'd seen hernaked, blast him.
He slung her clothing over his horse'shaunches, then turned back to her. Before she knew what he wasabout, he lifted her onto the saddle. "Hold on and don't be fallinginto the river again."
"Très drôle. You think that isamusing?"
He smirked.
Despite his abduction of her, 'haps he wasn'tsuch a brute. After all, he'd dragged her from the river's edge andwarmed her. So very warm. And his heat still lingered on the plaidwhich surrounded her like a comforting embrace.
She did not want to be grateful to herkidnapper, but she was.
He led the horse along the muddy pathwaytoward a trail of smoke.
She would have to wear his plaid until herclothing dried, unless he had a blanket she might use instead. Whenthey arrived at the camp the men were setting up, they all stoppedand stared bug-eyed at her. They could easily figure out she wasnaked beneath the plaid. Her face felt afire. Heavens, how was shesupposed to dismount without exposing herself indecently?
"Back to work," Dugald called out in apleasant tone then lifted an amused brow at her.
He thought the situation funny, did he?
At least the men obeyed him. She was glad notto have their eyes on her, imagining her naked. She shuddered.Dugald stopped the horse near the newly laid campfire.
Owen approached, a short chunk of log uponhis massive shoulder. "Are you all right then, m'lady? I fearedyou'd break your neck afore the chief caught up to you."
"Merci. I am well. And I'm sorry Iborrowed your horse."
"Och. Do not fash over it, m'lady." Hedropped the log to the ground near the fire. "'Tis for you to situpon."
"I thank you, Owen," Dugald said before shecould.
He bowed and scurried away.
"What a considerate guard you have," she saidinstead.
"Aye." He lifted her down from the saddle."'Haps a wee bit too considerate when it comes to you."
Trying to ignore the appealing strength ofhis body, she moved toward the fire, then sat on the log andremoved her sodden slippers. "You wish him to treat me poorly?"
"Nay, of course not, but you must admit theman goes out of his way to help you."
So did Dugald, when he'd rescued her andgiven her his plaid, but she refused to bring that up now. Ofcourse, he didn't want his hostage to die either, else he wouldlose whatever leverage he imagined he had.
"Owen is a gentleman," she said.
Dugald gave a brief laugh.
