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When Dougall merely shrugged, Geordie asked, "What the devil was she doing all the way out here?"
"I thought ye left yer log with her earlier," Conran pointed out as Dougall started back through the brush.
The comment made him pause and turn back. It had been unusually dry of late and an open flame left unattended could start a forest fire. "Could ye--"
"I'll take a look about," Conran assured him, then handed the log Dougall had been carrying to Geordie, the only one not carrying a log. "Ye and Alick head back with Dougall. I'll be along directly."
Turning, Dougall carried Murine back the way he'd come.
"Ye do no' think she's ailing, do ye?" Alick asked with concern. The younger man was nearly treading on Dougall's heals. He was also holding his burning log high to help light the way for Dougall. "I mean, Saidh did say Lady Sinclair's tincture was helping, but Murine was in a dead faint all afternoon as we rode, and just the sight o' us made her faint dead away again just now."
"Mayhap she needs to eat," Geordie suggested from behind. "If she left directly after we did, she'll ha'e missed the nooning meal, and the sup too."
"That does no' explain the first faint," Alick pointed out. "We had only jest eaten ourselves at that point."
"True," Geordie sounded like he was frowning. "Then mayhap she had trouble breathing under the plaid and that's why she fainted then."
"So ye're suggesting she fainted the first time because she could no' breathe, and the second time because she is faint with hunger?" Alick asked.
"Aye," Geordie agreed. "That or she's ailing."
"That is what I suggested to begin with," Alick pointed out with exasperation.
Dougall spotted the campfire ahead and began to move more swiftly, eager to get away from the arguing duo behind him. He had no idea why the woman had fainted this time. Saidh had said it happened when Murine got overexcited or got to her feet too quickly, but she'd already been on her feet, and there had been nothing to get excited about that he knew of. Although she had looked terrified just before fainting, he noted, and then shook his head. Despite knowing this was normal for Murine, he found it a bit disconcerting that she kept dropping as she did. She was likely to hurt herself if she kept it up. He wouldn't always be there to catch her.
Chapter 3
Murine sighed sleepily and snuggled into the furs surrounding her, then stiffened when those furs tightened around her in response. Waking up fully now, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at the white linen shirt she presently had her nose pressed to. Raising her eyes, she peered up at the bottom of a chin that was sprouting dark stubble.
Biting her lip, Murine took a deep breath and started to lever herself away from the man, but paused at the delightful scent that filled her nostrils. Whoever she was cuddled up to smelled quite lovely, sort of woodsy and spicy and . . . well, she couldn't identify the other scent she was inhaling, but it was very nice.
The chest in front of her vibrated against her breasts as a rumble of sound that could only be called a snore hit her ears and then the man rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Murine suddenly found herself lying on top of him, her chest plastered to his and her lower body splayed over his legs and something else that was rather hard and a bit uncomfortable against her stomach.
Holding her breath now, she raised her head a little to try to get a better look at just whom exactly she was lying on. For some reason she was actually relieved to find that it was Dougall Buchanan. For some reason she found herself trusting the man. Still, it was just wrong for her to be relieved that he was the man she was sleeping on. There was no male she should be happy to find herself sleeping on. She was an unmarried lass, after all, and this was completely inappropriate. Actually, it was also completely inappropriate for her to be traveling alone with the Buchanan men. In effect, if anyone found out about this, she would be ruined, but since she wasn't likely to marry, that mattered little. And at least she was only ruined in reputation, not in fact. Had she stayed at Danvries, Murine was quite sure she would have been well and truly ruined by Muller by now.
Murine sighed unhappily as she thought of Montrose's neighbor and dubious friend, Lord Muller. The man had been leering at her ever since Montrose had brought her to Danvries to live. He'd even tried to corner her a time or two and grope her. Thank goodness Saidh had taught her that move with her knee. She'd left him moaning on the floor as she'd rushed off to her room that night. Even so, Murine was sure Montrose was right and Muller would have jumped at the opportunity to pay a few coin to take what she was unwilling to give . . . and with Montrose's blessing, she thought bleakly. While they'd never been close, they were still half siblings and she would have expected he would feel at least some protectiveness toward her. Apparently not.
"Good morn."
Murine blinked away her thoughts and shifted her gaze back to the man she was lying on. Dougall was awake. At least his eyes were open, though in truth he was peering up at her rather sleepily. He looked much younger and very handsome without the stern expression he'd seemed to wear every time she saw him before this.
Pushing these irrelevant thoughts away, Murine forced a smile, cleared her throat and then said, "Good morn." Grimacing, she added a little tentatively, "Do ye think ye could let me go so that I can get up?"
One eyebrow rose on Dougall's face, and then he released her, opening his arms and spreading the plaid she'd mistaken for furs.
Smiling with relief, Murine immediately scrambled off him. She then froze and gaped when she saw that it was his own plaid he'd wrapped around them, the one he'd been wearing yesterday, and that without it he was dressed only in a shirt that did not quite cover--
"Do no' faint!"
Murine glanced to his face at that roar and then abruptly turned her back on him. Her gaze slid over the other men, and she was much relieved to see that they were all still sleeping. Or at least they had been. They were beginning to stir now thanks to Dougall's roar.
Muttering that she would go take care of her morning ablutions, Murine rushed blindly away into the woods.
Dougall sighed and then shifted to his knees, laid out his plaid, and began to pleat it in preparation of putting it on. It had been chilly last night and Murine had been lying shivering where he'd set her when he started to bed down a few feet away. He'd tried to ignore it at first, but when her teeth had begun to chatter, he'd scooted closer to her and then drawn her into his plaid with him. She hadn't even stirred at the action, though her shivers had stopped and she'd cuddled into him with sweet little sighs. He, however, had lain there for a long time, very aware of her warm body against his, cuddling back against him, her bottom rubbing--
Cursing, Dougall finished donning his plaid and strode into the woods after the woman. He could hardly leave her wandering around by herself to faint without someone there to catch her. Besides, he didn't trust her not to get lost. Not that she seemed a featherhead, but the woman did have that tendency to faint and had apparently done so for some time. She'd no doubt hit her head a time or two and . . . well, it just seemed better to not take any chances.
Dougall soon realized he should have paid more attention to which direction she'd gone, or just wrapped his plaid around his waist and set out after her at once. The thickets here grew close together and were the devil to get through. On top of that, there was no way to tell which direction she'd gone. Cursing, he paused, propped his hands on his hips and then shouted, "Lady Carmichael!"
Birds went winging into the air on every side of him, but there was no answering call. A frown slowly creasing his forehead, he called out again, and then began to move. The damned woman had obviously fainted again and was no doubt lying unconscious somewhere, waiting to be rescued.
Shaking, his head, he called out again as he pushed his way through the trees.
Murine ducked lower behind the bushes she was crouching in as Dougall's voice sounded again and the man six feet in front of her turned to look in her direction at the sound. Part of her felt foolish for ducking behind the bushes as if she was a child playing hide-and-seek. Murine wasn't even sure why she had. She'd been moving through the woods in search of a likely place to relieve herself when her dress had got caught on a branch; she'd paused to tug at it, but instead of freeing her gown, the branch itself had snapped and stayed tangled in the gown. She'd noticed that when she'd started to walk and the damned thing had dragged behind her, pulling at her skirts. She'd ignored it at first, thinking it would drop away after a couple of steps. Instead it had caught between the branches of another bush a couple steps later and she'd been forced to stop and try to untangle herself.
