Chapter 3 #2
“If ye tear open a wound or yer infection worsens, I’ll be there to heal ye,” she said.
“’Tis too dangerous.”
She tried to hide her smile. “I assure ye, I can take care of myself.”
He lifted a brow, clearly skeptical.
It was her turn to fold her arms over her chest as ire tightened the muscles at the back of her neck. Did everyone have to presume she was helpless?
“I helped ye to this cave, hunted for our meal and prepared it with items found in the forest,” she replied.
“As well as reclaiming yer horse to ensure he would be well cared for. Might I also remind ye, I sank a blade in ye.” She hadn’t intended the latter part to sound so proud.
Truly, she did feel wretched about having caused him injury.
He scoffed. “A lucky shot.”
“An accurate shot,” she countered. “I never miss.”
Clara had never been one to brag, but her humility was coloring people’s perspectives of her. If these people in Dumbarton were to receive the warning that would save their lives, she needed to prove her ability to fight. That she would not be a liability on the journey.
Reid, however, still did not appear convinced. “Everyone misses at some point.”
“I never have,” Clara admitted, her face going hot with the boast.
He shook his head, not believing her. If she had been hot-tempered like Kinsey, she would have huffed out a growl of irritation. Except that Clara always fought away such emotions. Instead, she swallowed the bulk of her frustration and approached her pack of daggers, removing several.
They clanked in her palms as she returned to Reid’s side. “Tell me what to hit first.” She faced the forest, where the sun had cast delicate shell-pink hues against a golden sky.
He pointed to a tree several paces away. So close, it was nearly insulting.
Clara drew back her dagger and let it sail directly into the rough bark center with enough force to split a vertical line in the tender wood.
“There.” He pointed to a tree twice as far.
She sent the next dagger into that mark as well.
This happened two more times before he pointed to a tree impossibly far away—for most people.
Clara aimed and loosed her weapon.
Reid smirked. “Ye missed.”
“I assure ye, I did not.”
Together they strode deeper into the woods. Even as they did so, it did not escape her notice that Reid moved somewhat slow, his back still giving him a great deal of discomfort due to his injuries.
Aye, she was making the right decision in insisting that she join him. Even if it did mean she had to be somewhat arrogant about her skill with her daggers.
Reid stopped, his gaze locked on where Clara’s dagger protruded from the center of the tree and uttered a low curse. Light streaming through the trees caught his hazel eyes, displaying myriad flecks of green and amber.
She wanted to stare forever, to learn every color and lose herself in them. Abruptly, she turned from him to break the temptation, and instead reclaimed her dagger. Now was not for acknowledging the warrior’s appeal. Especially not before giving herself over to a convent.
Once there, she would be able to offer aid to people.
Without distraction, without being a burden to anyone.
Her life had always been intended for one of service to others, ever since she’d been a child and learned she could soothe those around her, that the ability to heal came to her so naturally. She was meant to help.
The reminders of her purpose bolstered her and provided her with the strength to face him once more. “I don’t miss. And I’ll not take nay for an answer. I’m coming with ye.”
“Throwing a dagger doesna mean ye willna get hurt,” he argued. “Even if yer skill is exceptional.”
The compliment made her go hot once more. “But it does mean I can care for myself.”
He trudged back toward the cave but didn’t argue again. It was as much of an acquiescence as she was likely to receive.
“Ye may wish to dress.” Her eyes swept down his naked chest before she could stop herself, unable to help marveling at how the early morning light played over his sculpted physique.
He reclaimed his pack from beside the cave wall and dug through the contents, his back muscles flexing and rippling as he did so.
Clara’s pulse quickened, and she had to drag her gaze from him to keep from staring.
It was ridiculous that he drew her attention in such a manner. No man ever had before.
Finally, Reid withdrew a leine and tugged it over his head.
The linen was heavily wrinkled from being crumpled in his bag, but he was still a sight to behold with his dark auburn hair hanging loose about his shoulders and around his face where whiskers shadowed his unshaven jaw.
It wasn’t only his physique that was fine.
So too was his face, all angles and hard lines, softened by the benevolence in his eyes and his generous mouth.
She was staring again.
He found his gambeson where it had been draped over a rock. Clara had tried as best she could to clean some of the blood from the thick cloth. It would need to be boiled to truly clean the thing.
“I dinna like the idea of ye coming with me.” He thrust his arms into the heavy garment and secured it into place. “I should be protecting ye, no’ putting ye in danger.”
“I don’t need protecting.” Clara tried to keep the hardness from her words. But it was true. No one ever seemed to realize that about her.
He bound his hair back in a thong, making the sharpness of his jaw all the more apparent. “Ye’re verra stubborn.”
She smiled at him. “Does that mean ye agree to let me come?”
He sighed and lowered his head in defeat. “Aye.”
With so little left to pack, it did not take much time to prepare for the journey.
Within several minutes, they mounted their horses, Clara with ease and Reid with a stiffness she chose to ignore, refusing to coddle him.
Men like Reid did not do well with such treatment.
But she would certainly be observant of how he moved and reacted through the journey to ensure he remained in good health.
They stayed silent as they rode out, long enough for Clara’s thoughts to wander amid the steady thump of horse hooves over the forest floor.
Except it was not her family she’d left who occupied her thoughts, or the convent she intended to join or even the people they hoped to save with their journey to Dumbarton.
Nay, it was the way Reid had looked down at her hand when she’d touched his bare chest. How he’d drawn her touch back to him and stared deeply into her eyes.
She’d been so tempted then to let her fingers wander over his torso, to explore the dips and valleys of his muscles, to see if all of him was just as hard.
As these thoughts teased her mind, desire played its havoc on her body.
Her breath became shallow, her pulse ran faster, and an echo of its quickened pace thrummed between her thighs.
She ought to have been mortified by her reaction, but its effect was too pleasant.
It was appealing how a simple thought of him could bring on a fresh wash of excitement through her.
What would it be like to touch him again? Mayhap even to kiss him?
To…possibly…let his fingers brush over her sex where her newfound lust ached?
“Why were ye out in the woods?” He asked abruptly.
She startled at the sudden interruption to her wicked musings, and humiliation scorched through her. “What do ye mean?”
“Ye’re nowhere near yer manor in Castleton.” He glanced toward her.
She looked away to keep him from seeing her thoughts in case they were written as plainly on her face as they felt.
“Why are ye so far from home?” he asked.
“I was making my way to a village on the outskirts of Glasgow.” She took a deep breath to cool the heat in her blood, to clear her thoughts of intimacy. “To join a convent.”