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"I did no' choose this spot fer her," Dougall lied to discourage teasing. "I told ye, I wanted to camp by water fer the horses."
"Oh . . . aye," Conran agreed with obvious disbelief, and then his expression grew somber. "Just . . ."
"What?" Dougall asked when he didn't continue.
Conran considered him briefly, seeming to have some kind of inner argument, and then he straightened his shoulders and advised, "Have a care with her."
Dougall narrowed his eyes. "What do ye mean?"
"I mean she's an unmarried lady without chaperone or even her lady's maid, and I ken ye're attracted to her."
Dougall considered denying the claim, but in the end just said a wary "So?"
"So I do no' blame ye fer wanting her; she's an attractive woman. But she's also a lady born who is depending on us to see her safely to Saidh and Lady Sinclair. Her hope is that they may come up with a way to save her from a brother who apparently thinks and treats her as little more than a lightskirt."
"I ken all o' that, Con," Dougall said dryly, annoyed at the lecture. "What's yer point?"
"I just think ye should step lightly," Conran said quietly. "Do no' follow yer instincts and unintentionally make her think ye see her as a lightskirt too." He didn't wait for a response, but moved to help Geordie and Alick set up camp.
Dougall watched him go, then turned to peer toward Murine, his heart sinking. He hadn't stopped here with the intent of seducing Murine, but as they'd ridden that day, his mind had wandered to this spot and he had found himself imagining certain scenarios once they reached the waterfall. Murine being as over pleased at his choosing the spot as she'd been at Geordie's giving her the linen. Of her giving him what started out as an appreciative hug, but turned into much more.
Closing his eyes, Dougall rubbed a hand wearily around the back of his neck. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he really had intended on seducing her with kisses and caresses, of laying her in a clearing, stripping her clothes, kissing her protests away and taking her there in the grass. It had seemed an exciting and even beautiful thing when he'd imagined it, but now Conran's words made him feel as lowly as her brother. Murine was a lady, and a damned fine one at that. She had courage as she'd proven both when she'd saved his sister and when she'd fled her evil brother on that damned cow of hers. But she also had revealed intelligence and kindness to himself and his brothers. She deserved more than a roll in the grass by the side of a waterfall. He just couldn't treat her like the lightskirt her brother had tried to make her, Dougall thought with self-disgust. Especially when he had offered his escort and protection. So he would have to marry her to have her, or keep his hands off.
Oddly enough, the prospect of marrying Murine wasn't nearly as distressing now as it had been when his brothers had first suggested they would be willing to do it themselves. He could certainly do worse for a bride, and began to think he would never find better.
A little stunned by his own thoughts, Dougall started toward the woman, intending to catch up to her ere she fainted, fell in the water and drowned herself, removing the option of marriage before he could even decide if he wanted to do it. He had barely taken a step when she started to drop. Heart lurching, Dougall burst into a run, but slowed just before reaching her when he realized that she was crouching, not fainting.
Wondering what the devil she was doing, Dougall came to a halt behind her and peered over her shoulder. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the mess of baby rabbits huddled together.
She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at him. "Are they no' lovely?"
Dougall stared at her blankly and then pointed out, "They're rabbits."
"Aye, but just wee babes, and so soft. Feel it." She popped up and turned, holding out one of the wee beasties. When Dougall merely stared at the little ball of fur with dismay, she pressed it closer, nearly against his chest. "Go on. Feel how soft 'tis."
Dougall shook his head. "I do no' usually pet me dinner."
Murine snatched it back with alarm. "Ye're no' eating it."
"Nay, but we'll be eating one o' its older cousins shortly," he pointed out dryly and then nodded toward the nest where at least nine others nestled together, their eyes all closed. By his guess they were only a week to ten days old. "Ye'd best put it back, lass. 'Tis probably terrified and'll die from fright."
"It's no' terrified," she said, holding the ball of fur to her chest and smiling as she petted the animal.
"Still, its ma may no' take care o' it if she smells you on it," he pointed out.
Murine raised wide, alarmed eyes to him. "Nay!"
"Aye," he said with a shrug, and then suggested, "Put it back. Hopefully it'll rub up on the others and the smell o' its siblings will cover yer smell ere she returns."
When she hesitated, he almost expected her to refuse and insist on bringing the creature with her rather than risk it being abandoned by its mother. But after a moment, she heaved out a sigh and set the little ball of fur down in the center of its siblings. They all immediately shifted and jostled around until you couldn't tell which one she'd picked up. Apparently reassured that her smell should be eliminated or absorbed by them all, she then moved away from the nest and farther along the shore to peer at the water.
"'Tis a beautiful spot," she commented on a happy little sigh.
"Aye," Dougall agreed, following her. He then pointed along the river to the right where it curved out of sight. "There's a waterfall just around that bend. "
"Really?" she asked with interest, leaning out a bit as if she could crane her head far enough to see it. She couldn't, of course.
"Aye, 'twill offer privacy do ye wish to bathe there," he said, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from grabbing her arm to prevent her tumbling into the water. He just as quickly unclasped them and let his left hand hover near her arm to be prepared in case he did have to save her. When she didn't seem to notice and leaned even farther out, he gave in to his worry, caught her arm and turned to march her back to the horses. "But ye can attend to that later. Ye should eat now."
"But I'm no' hungry," Murine protested and his lips twitched. Honestly, she sounded like a child balking at being sent to her bed, he thought as she added, "Can I no' take a bath now?"
"Nay," he said, escorting her toward the fire his brothers were building. "Ye'll eat first, and this time ye'll no' get away with a couple bites. Ye'll eat proper and like it," he added firmly. The lass needed looking after and he was the man to do it, Dougall decided and when she didn't comment, was satisfied that it would be as he said.
"This is not privacy."
Dougall gave up scowling at the trees and turned to arch one irritated brow at the woman presently plaguing his life. Murine stood in the small clearing next to the waterfall, hands on hips, glaring at him as if he was the one being difficult. Him! When she was the one who would not do as he ordered and refused to eat until she'd bathed. She hadn't started to argue until they'd reached his brothers. She'd probably been thinking of what argument would best work, he thought. And find one she had. She'd claimed she could not possibly enjoy the delicious food with her own foul stench assaulting her nose. It would ruin her appetite.
Well, once she'd said that, Dougall's brothers had looked to him with alarm, a reaction he'd fully understood. Anything that threatened to take away her appetite was to be avoided, for they were sure that was the reason she kept fainting.
Dougall had given in and led her to the waterfall, intent on remaining in the clearing, near enough to rescue her should she faint and fall in. But it seemed she was taking issue with that as well.
He tried reasoning with her. "Ye can no' swim alone. 'Tis dangerous what with yer fainting all over the place."
"I do no' faint all the time," she said sharply. "I have fainted once since meeting ye."
Dougall raised his eyebrows in disbelief that she would make such a claim.
"All right, perhaps it has been twice," Murine said, blushing.
"Ye wer
e in a faint all the afternoon through yesterday," he pointed out dryly.
"I was not. I told you I woke up several times while we were riding."
Dougall nodded. "And then fainted dead away again and again."
"I could no' breathe," she stressed impatiently, then shook her head with disgust. "This is stupid. All yer presence here does is make me uncomfortable. 'Tis no' as if ye would hear me drowning over the pounding water."
Dougall stiffened at the claim, recognizing the truth behind it. Lord knew they'd been practically yelling at each other to be heard over the rush of water.
"Very well," he acknowledged and promptly began to remove his sword and sporran.
"What are ye doing?" Murine asked warily.
"Undressing. Ye can no' swim alone. As ye pointed out I'd no' hear ye if ye faint and fall, so I shall swim with ye."
"Oh, nay!" she cried, rushing forward to catch his hands as Dougall reached to undo the pin that held his tartan in place. "I will no' swim naked with ye. Are ye mad?"
