Page 29 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

She froze.

He chuckled aloud this time. “Ye’ll like what I plan to give ye.”

He spoke as if excited to give her a surprise, and yet, in his words hung innuendo that sent butterflies flitting memories through her stomach. Would he dare do again what he’d done last night? Face-to-face in the setting sun, when they could see each other clearly, both knowing what wrong they were committing with no haze of secrecy clouding their judgment? She squeezed him.

“’Tis nay fair to keep secrets,” she teased.

“I nay play fair,” he taunted back. “My game this eve. My terms, remember?”

She shook her head. “If that’s the only way ye can win, by stacking the odds.” But she settled against him and succumbed to the mystery.

Her hand migrated up beneath his pack, onto his chest, to hold him there, her other hand still in his grip while his thumb caressed her knuckles, snagging her skin with his calluses. They rode onto a forest path in a comfortable hold, through the trees, up and down inclines, and finally broke out onto a rolling flatland of freshly reaped fields and the distant rushing sound of…waves?

The steady crashing grew louder as the breeze kicked up into a gentle wind, washing over them with the briny smell of saltwater.

“The seaside!” she squealed, as he trotted through grassy margins. “I’ve nay seen the sea since I was a lassie! Our castle sits on Loch Moidart, and it’s a good three leagues to the Sea of the Hebrides, and I’m nay allowed to ride there unattended…” Because of the enemy laird of the Hebrides wrapped in her embrace right now, who used that waterway as his main thoroughfare.

The majestic expanse was framed by layers of greenery up the coastline, and barley-bathed beaches that extended as far as the eye could see beneath the rising harvest moon.

“Goodness, it’s lovely,” she breathed, and leaned around his shoulder to gaze onto the glittering water that reflected the moon to the east and the bright orange setting sun in the west, just kissing the tops of the distant peaks. Silvery orange ripples tremored like ribbons of fire on the black surface. “Where are we?”

He glanced back at her, hitching that brow in the darkness. “Ye nay ken?”

She swallowed, suddenly feeling ignorant, and looked away to the distance at nothing in particular. “As I said, I’m poorly traveled. If I could do anything, it would be to climb in a boat and sail away.”

His hand squeezed hers and, for a moment, they rested in silence, when he nodded to himself. “’Tis the North Sea, lass. Nairnside, and to the west there is the mouth of Moray.”

Her eyes widened. She’d only ever heard about the North Sea. To know the sea that separated Scotland from the Viking lands north of Europe-proper was only a few hillsides away from the faire was a revelation. “It’s magnificent. It’s as if it extends forever, to the end of the earth.”

Waves crashed and gulls bleated for their last meal of the day as he tapped Nykr into a trot again, the water growing closer, until the long, flat beach of yellow sands extended before them and kicked up onto the wind from Nykr’s hooves. Her arms tightened around him, her fingers toying with his upon his belts, his mingling with hers in that thoughtful way that they’d done last night. Why had he brought her here? And what was in his confounded sack? That excitement that had assailed her as she’d read his missive in her tent gnawed at her now. He seemed pleased with himself, and she was anxious to learn why—

“Good eve, mi laird,” said a man’s voice.

Tormund nodded curtly, drawing back on Nykr’s mane.

Leaning around Tormund once more, she noticed a silhouette standing nearby, next to a beached currach, hull overturned. A boat. Ocean. What was Tormund playing at?

“I began to worry ye wouldna come,” the man said. “The sun sets soon, and I thought ye’d arrive whilst the men were still afield.”

“It took longer for my lady to prepare herself than I expected,” Tormund drawled.

It had taken her longer than he’d hoped for her to discover his coin and note and come in search of him.

He lifted his hand from hers. Cool air replaced where his skin had warmed hers in his protective grip.

“I pray ye, good sir, bring her back unharmed.”

Bring who back? Her? Why would her safety concern this crofter? Her pulse began to trill faster. Her eyes darted around her. She took in the glowing sunset to their left, the smell of fish and waves tangy in her nose. At the torch lights in the distance illuminating the thatched roofs of a hamlet where faint music and calls of folk shouting could be heard, as hay carts were unloaded and bundles of grains pitched into their sheds.

“Tormund,” she said, testing out his name. Had she even addressed him as such? “What’s going on?”

She saw that mischievous twinkle glint in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder, though his gaze didn’t land on hers.

“Did he nay tell ye, milady?” the man asked.

She shook her head.

“He’s taking ye sailing. Labored in our fields all afternoon and scythed a fair amount of corn in exchange for the use of my boat.”