She glared at him.
"But I'm not?" he inquired.
"Do you wish me to make a list of your gooddeeds and your bad deeds?"
"Nay, I fear my bad deeds far outnumber thegood." He gave her a dark look. "Do you plan to run again?"
"Wearing this? Barefoot?"
Dugald eyed his appealing captive. He couldnot forget she was deliciously naked beneath his plaid, with thevoluptuous body of a goddess. And she was the bravest lass he hadever seen.
"'Twas a bold and rash move," Dugald said. Amove like he himself would have made had he been in her situation.He frowned. How could a wee, annoying French lady be like him inany way? It boggled the mind. She was a little fighter, and shecould ride like the wind. He liked that a hell of a lot more thanhe should.
"Do not gloat," she said.
"I'm not gloating. Simply stating a fact."Though he refused to admit it to her, he admired her daring effort.She needed no encouragement to escape him… and perhaps get herselfhurt.
"'Tis not the first time someone has calledme bold and rash." She bravely looked him in the eye.
He lifted a brow. Nay, he did not need tohear her say that, for it only brought to mind that she mightindeed be bold and rash in bed. Hellfire, was that all it took tosend his blood pumping swiftly to his lower regions again? 'Twas adamnable shame she was married to that thief Lindsay.
"What is it?" she asked. "Why are you staringat me?"
Not wishing her to see his quandary, or howshe had peaked his interest, he said, "Why areyoustaringat me?"
Her mouth dropped open and her face turnedrosy. "I am not!"
"I beg to differ." He could not tell her theblue plaid looked fetching on her… and that she would look evenbetter lying upon it naked.
Damnation! He would go to hell for lustingafter a married woman. Approaching his horse, he removed her soddenclothing and hung it upon the nearby bushes. "'Haps these will bedry by morning… if it doesn't rain."
She sent him a narrow-eyed glare, which onlymade him want to grin. "You should wear wool, lass, instead of silkand you would not have this problem."
"I cannot. It chafes my skin."
He lowered his gaze toward her breasts. Wasthe wool irritating and abrading them, making her nipples hardagain? He turned away, absentmindedly checking his horse's saddle.'Slud, he couldn't think of her breasts. Even though he'd tried notto look as he'd stripped the wet clothing from her body, he hadseen a glimpse. Or maybe a moment longer than a glimpse. The full,creamy globes, set firm and high, with their hard dusky tips werethe most luscious things he had seen thus far in his life. He achedto see them again but… hell… he couldn't! A certain part of hisanatomy didn't care whether she was married or not. Beneath hislinen shirt and his sporran, his erection was growinguncomfortable.
But he was not a green lad. Surely he couldcontrol his reaction to a beautiful lass, or at least pretend to.The redness on her neck caught his attention. "Are you getting arash on your neck?"
She fingered the red blotch. "Oui, ititches. 'Tis the wool."
He had no clean linen shirt to offer her, buthe could trade clothing articles with her. The men almost had histent set up, but… when it came to exchanging clothes with her, hehad a problem. He couldn't go into the tent with her, else he'd seeher naked for the second time. And he didn't want to put himselfthrough that torture again. His sporran was all that was keepinghis erection from being obvious to her and everyone. He'd have tosend the men away.
"'Tis finished, m'laird," one of the men saidnear the tent.
"I thank you."
Dugald took the rolled up woolen blanket frombehind his saddle, then offered his hand to her. "Come with me,m'lady. We're going to exchange clothes."
"What do you mean?" The ivory skin of herface reddened.
"You'll go into the tent and hand out myplaid to me. I'll give you my shirt to put on. Then, you can wrapthis blanket over it for warmth. The linen of the shirt willprotect your skin from the itchy wool."
"Oh. How thoughtful," she breathed in acheerful tone, which only excited him more. She put her slipperson, stood and placed her slender cool hand in his.
"And you thought me a brute." He led hertoward the tent.
"No one would blame me for that assessment.Even your sister thinks you a brute at times."
