Page 56 of Blood of the Thistle

Chapter Fifteen

Truth be told, Anna was fairly certain she would have warmed much faster beneath the heat of Bram’s gaze than she ever would in the icy water.

Wow. Had she imagined that?

No, she didn’t believe she had.

The way he looked at her was unmistakable. The careful, rigid self-control she’d come to expect had been stripped away with the grime, leaving something else exposed. It wasn’t a crude gawk, but a slow, unhurried attention that seemed to unravel her. His gaze didn’t linger long enough to be a provocation, but it was far too long to be an accident.

Her skin prickled, but beneath the chill, a startling warmth bloomed. He wanted her. The realization was a heady shock, making her breath catch. Seven centuries and a world of impossibility stood between them, but in this moment, she didn’t care. He liked what he saw. A smile tugged at her mouth. And God help her, she liked that he liked it.

But then, without his attention resting so intently upon her, she became abruptly aware once again of the temperature of the water—it really was freezing.

A violent shiver ran through her as she rubbed briskly at her arms before ducking beneath the surface. She pulled her fingers through the tangles of her hair, dislodging something brittle—what she hoped was only a leaf.

A moment later Bram began wading toward the shore, and unable to help herself, her eyes followed him.

Water streamed from his broad shoulders and down the powerful planes of his back as he emerged from the loch. His pants lay folded upon the rocks, leaving him clothed only in a close-fitting linen undergarment that clung unabashedly to his narrow hips and long, muscular legs. Buried up to her chin in the water, Anna stared without shame until he began to turn around, and she hurriedly dragged her gaze back to the water.

Good grief, she thought, her eyes widening, I’m in trouble.

Still, a small smile remained, and for the life of her, she couldn’t make it go away.

She turned around again when Bram spoke.

“I’ll walk off a bit,” he said, inclining his head toward the trees. “Call when ye are dressed.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He disappeared between the pines without another word, his footsteps soon lost beneath the gentle murmur of the lochan.

Only then did Anna wade toward the shallows. The evening air, though pleasantly warm, felt almost chilly after the cold water. She climbed onto the smooth rocks, wringing as much water as she could from her hair before glancing down at herself.

Her underwear had been rinsed, at least. She unclasped her bra, holding the dripping garment in both hands. They would remain damp until morning, and she wished for a moment she’d been brave enough to go into the loch naked. But the thought was fleeting, lost to the more pressing awareness of being alone, exposed, and waiting for Bram to return.

Now completely naked, she quickly used the outside of her jacket to dry her arms and legs before throwing her dry T-shirt over her head and pulling on her skirt. She frowned at the long tear running through her skirt, remembering when she’d first discovered it sometime after they’d crossed the bridge. Riding behind Bram, she’d carefully lifted the hem to investigate the persistent sting along her thigh and found both the slice in the fabric and the narrow line of blood beneath it. Only then had she realized one of the English swords must have caught her in the frantic dash across the bridge. The blade had done little more than nick her, leaving a long but shallow cut that smarted more than it truly hurt, and compared to the wounds Bram carried without complaint, she’d thought it hardly worth mentioning.

She wasn’t truly any warmer now for having dressed, and only slightly cleaner, she thought, wondering if her plunge had actually been worth it. As it was, she would have to go commando for a while—no bra or panties until they dried. She tucked both into her bag, and sat to put on her sandals, calling out to Bram that she was dressed.

Perhaps he’d gone fairly far outside that rock and tree opening, since he didn’t return within seconds but more than a minute later, just as Anna rose to her feet and reached for her oversized purse.

He moved toward the horse, saying, “We can gain further ground tonight with a few more hours of riding.”

She’d been hoping he might decide to call it a day here. She was exhausted and her body ached—her butt and thighs particularly—so unused to riding at all let alone for hours on end. But she smiled agreeably and nodded.

And then watched Bram’s eyes narrow and his lips compress as he stared at her.

“What?” She asked automatically, a bit defensively.

He approached her, his gaze fixed on her lower body. “What is that?” He asked.

Anna lifted her hands in question and glanced down, seeing the neat but long slit in her skirt.

“Oh, that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.”

“Happened at the bridge crossing?” he demanded, his eyes fixed on her as he closed the distance between them.

Anna nodded.