Page 29 of Sins of the Highlander

Pink.

He frowned.

The pink bit of foolishness along the bottom of the wine velvet was completely gone.

“Part of your skirt is missing.”

It was dim in the upper room of Angus Fletcher’s house, but Rob noticed she visibly paled.

“Aye, ye cut my skirt when I was trying to get away from that wolf,” she said, her voice tight. Then she rushed on, chattering like a magpie. “Do ye no’ remember? The skirt is ruined beyond repair, but I thought mayhap to save the fabric. ’Tis too fine a length of velvet to throw away. Angus gave me a skirt that had belonged to his mother. ’Tis hopelessly old-fashioned, but at least ’tis wearable and—”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he said, his suspicions making him shove all thought of how tempting she still looked from his mind. “The silk on the bottom of your skirt isna there anymore.”

She worried her lip and took a step back. “I used it to tend your wound and—”

“Not all of it. Ye used only a small bit for that.” Their tramp over the heath and through the woods might have torn off some of the silk, but not all of it. He closed the distance between them and grasped her shoulders. “What have ye done, wench?”

“Take your hands from me.” She twisted out of his grasp, lifted her chin, and met his gaze with defiance. “What do ye think? I did what I could to let my father know where we’d gone. Tell me ye wouldna do the same if ye were taken against your will.”

“Ye stubborn, willful…” The fact that he’d braved a wolf pack for her meant nothing to this woman. He grabbed her and held her against his chest. She struggled to free herself, but he’d captured her arms. “If I were another sort of man, ye’d pay dearly for this.”

He tried to ignore the softness of her bare back or the way her breasts molded against him. The velvet skirt had slipped during their scuffle, and when he looked down at her, he realized only his shirt separated them.

But he couldn’t let his lust temper his judgment. He’d been so sure no one would guess that he’d gone north instead of south, directly to Caisteal Dubh. They’d traveled at her footpace for the first half of the night. Then they’d been delayed by the wolves, and he’d been forced to carry her toward morning.

Once Drummond and Elspeth’s father picked up their trail, they’d be riding as fast as they dared without overrunning another sign. Rob hadn’t put enough miles behind him to keep them from catching up. They might arrive in Angus Fletcher’s cove at any moment.

“Angus!” he bellowed. “We have to go. We’re about to have company.”

“Aye,” his friend called back. “But give me a bit to pack the haggis. They’re too good to leave.”

“Get dressed,” Rob told Elspeth as he released her. He settled himself on the end of Angus’s long string bed.

“But I can’t get dressed while ye watch me!” She pulled the velvet up to cover her breasts once again.

“Obviously, I havena watched ye close enough up to now. ’Tis an error I dinna intend to repeat.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Ye dinna wish to continue our journey naked, do ye?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I suggest ye hurry.”

If she could have shot fire bolts from her eyes, Rob knew he’d be but a pile of smoldering cinders. He smiled at her and almost saw smoke curl out of her ears.

She let the velvet fall to the floor and pulled her chemise over her head. Rob was treated to a quick glimpse of her whole body, quivering with rage. Her nipples flushed a deep rose.

Then, studiously avoiding Rob’s gaze, she wiggled into Fletcher’s mother’s skirt, which was long enough to bunch on the floor at her bare feet. The bodice was designed for a woman with smaller breasts, and it laced in the back. Rob watched her struggle with it for a few moments, enjoying her frustration.

But if they were going to stay ahead of the men who were undoubtedly on their trail, they needed to be gone.

“Turn around, lass.” He crossed the room and took her laces in hand.

She fisted her hands at her waist while he worked the leather strips through the eyes and cinched the bodice tight. A quick glance over her shoulder showed him her breasts pushed up and overflowing the old-fashioned bodice.

“There.” He tied the laces off and whirled her around to face him.

Rob kissed her hard and thoroughly—a seal of ownership. Until he finished his revenge on Drummond, Elspeth Stewart belonged to him. The sooner she realized that fact, the better she’d fare.

He released her mouth and looked down at her. The loathing he saw in her face made him step back a pace.