She nodded and tried to do as he bid, but 'twas not easy. The feel of him was doing strange, heated things to her body and she was starting to like the sensation far too much.
"I'll try to find you more clothes," he whispered.
Glancing aside, she eyed him in the dimness—his dark eyes and short beard, which hid his square jaw. "I told you the odor of thisarisaidwas foul."
"'Tis not so bad. I've smelled a lot worse."
She blushed, hating that she smelled horrible, though 'twas his fault, not hers. She always made a point of bathing daily and wearing a fragrant rose water or lavender essence. "'Tis obvious now why thisarisaidwas left on that clothesline to air out all night. They could've at least washed it first."
He snorted. "Aye, because they should've guessed an elegant lady wanted to borrow it," he said dryly.
She looked heavenward, praying for patience. Was he teasing her? Or did he truly have no respect for her because of her refined ways? What did he expect? From the time she was a small lass, her mother had raised her to be an elegant lady. 'Twas all she knew.
The longer she sat on Darack's lap, the warmer she became. It was as if her reserve melted away mile by mile, but she could not say she was relaxed. She simply grew more and more aware of him. She enjoyed the whiffs of his masculine scent, far more appealing than the scent of herarisaid. In fact, she wanted to throw off her cover-up and sink into Darack's manly smell.
Her body memorized the feel of his—the lean muscled wall of his chest she leaned against, his firm thighs that supported her. His strong arm around her made her feel safer and more protected than she had since she'd left home.
Darack's soft breath stirred her hair, tickling her ear and sending shivers down through her body. It was an exciting and enchanting sensation which made her heart pound harder. She wanted to look into his mysterious, dark eyes again, but dared not. Her face was too close to his, which made her wonder what his lips would feel like on hers. Was she insane? She had just ended her betrothal; she was in no position to be drawn to another man already.
Alec was the wrong man for you.That thought blasted through her mind.
Well, obviously he was. She only wished she'd known that weeks ago, before the betrothal ceremony. She could've saved herself and her clan a lot of trouble. Everyone in her clan had attended the betrothal ceremony; therefore they were not on their way to attend the wedding. In many ways, she was glad for that. At least they wouldn't come into contact with Alec.
A half hour later, Darack turned to the driver and called, "We'll get off here." When the wagon drew to a stop, Darack helped her slide to the ground then got off. "I thank you again, friend!"
The driver waved to them and drove on.
She was glad to be standing again, stretching her legs, though she did miss Darack's closeness. "Had enough of the jolting, aye?" she asked.
"Nay, it did not bother me. This is a short cut to the harbor and the docks. We need to take a ferry up the River Tay as the tide's coming in." He took her hand. "Pull that cowl over your head again. We have to slip through a disreputable part of town."
"Oh, joy," she muttered. "My scent will fit right in."
He laughed softly, distracting her. His smile made him even more handsome and his laugh was contagious. It gave her a little thrill in the pit of her stomach.
She wanted to smile, but she had an important question for him. "Why did you tell that man I was your wife? You could've saidsister."
His close observation in the moonlight disturbed her. "You ended up sitting on my lap." One corner of his lips lifted. "I made the right decision."
That was true. Her face burned again, and she was glad it was too dark for him to see the blood-red shade of her skin. Did he always have to be right? She ground her teeth in frustration.
"Besides, I don't think of you as a sister," he said.
Well, nay. She didn't think of him as a brother either, but what did it matter?
"'Tis simpler." He took her hand and looped it through his elbow and they set off walking through the moonlight, across a meadow toward some cottages. "People will leave you alone if they believe you're my wife," he whispered. "And we won't draw suspicion."
"I see."
"'Tis naught but a role, like in a play."
No doubt he'd made up such lies the whole of his life, out of necessity. "How many roles have you played?"
"I have no inkling. I reuse some of the same ones, over and over."
"How much fun it must be to pretend to be someone else. Your life must be fascinating and filled with adventure."
"I would not call it that. But now is your chance to pretend to be someone else. What name will you choose?"
