Dugald shrugged. "My sister is spoiled."
"And who is responsible for that?"
"My father and my brother."
"And you had no part in it?"
"Of course not." After giving her theblanket, he pulled back the tent flap and she entered. He knew hissister being spoiled was partly his fault, but he didn't want herto know that. She must not think him too lenient or she would be aneven more troublesome captive.
"Go, hunt some rabbits or grouse," Dugaldcalled to his men. "Find more firewood." The last thing he wantedwas for them to see how profoundly the lady had incited hislust.
"Aye, m'laird." They hastened away.
Owen hung back.
"You too, Owen."
"But you need a guard, m'laird."
"Nay. I'm fully capable of protecting myselffrom the lady."
Owen chuckled then followed the others.
"'Haps you are overestimating your skills,Chief." The lass watched him from the tent opening.
He was tempted to yank the shirt off over hishead while she watched. That would silence her fast, especiallywhen she saw how hard he was.
"Give me the plaid," he said.
After ducking back inside for a moment, sheheld it out to him. He took it and dropped it on the grassy ground,then after removing his sporran, belt and baldric, he grabbed thebottom of the shirt. He halted, thinking she could be watching himthrough the crack by the tent flap. He didn't care if she saw himnaked, but since she was a married lady… 'haps it would be best forher not to know how strongly she affected him. He stepped away,beside the tent, then pulled off the shirt. After wrapping theplaid around his waist, he belted it into place.
"Here's my shirt." He held it before the tentopening.
She snatched it from him, only her handappearing this time before disappearing back inside.
He stood before the tent, facing away,imagining her wearing his shirt. Although he did not enjoy wearinga plaid without a shirt, he could tolerate the scratchiness againsthis skin far easier than she could. And it provided better coveragein the groin area.
Although he was a man like most any other,with a healthy sexual appetite, he detested that Lindsay's wifefired-up his blood as no woman had in a long while. No wonder thegray-beard had wanted to marry her.
Inside the tent, Camille pulled Dugald's warmlinen shirt over her head, noticing his enticing male scentpermeating it. 'Twas not a sweat smell. The weather was so cool,she doubted Dugald had sweated much anyway. No, the scent was hisown masculinity, which did insane things to her.
I'm not attracted to my abductor, sherepeated silently, over and over.
What disturbed her even more than hisdelectable scent was when, through a small hole in the side of thetent, she had peeked at him disrobing outside. She had told herselfnot to watch. She was above such base, wanton behavior, but shecould not help herself. His chiseled arse appeared to be carvedfrom marble. But the glimpse of his large shaft standing atattention had stolen her breath.Sacrebleu, he had to befully aroused. Why? Because of her? Because he had stripped the wetclothing from her body a quarter hour ago?
Good heavens! She had to pretend she hadn'tseen him nude. If he knew, what would happen?
"M'lady?" his deep voice rumbled fromoutside. "Are you well?"
"Oui. Of course." Shoving her carnalthoughts aside, she wrapped the blanket around herself, over theshirt, and emerged from the tent. "Merci.This is muchbetter."
His intent gaze lit upon her. "Your hair isnot completely dry. 'Haps you should sit by the fire."
"Oui." When she took his bare,proffered arm, she realized how very large it was. Both of herhands would not reach around his upper arm muscle. He had formedthe plaid into a sash over his upper body but most of his chestremained bare. Heavens! The light dusting of dark hair over hispectorals only made her remember what was now covered by plaidlower down.
Merde, she had not realized she wassuch a wanton. 'Haps she had been too long without a man.
She sat on the log by the fire, watchingwhile Dugald led his horse away. She was about to lapse intoanother sensuous fantasy, but four kilted men leapt from the bushesand rushed toward Dugald. At first, she thought they were hisclansmen, but no, they were strangers and their plaids were adifferent color. She leapt to her feet.
