Chapter 7
Agreeing to travel with the two of them had been a mistake.
Greer realized that now. Drake was no ordinary man.
He saw her more deeply than anyone else.
Beyond the layers that she’d built like calluses over the years, past the prettiness most men allowed themselves to be distracted by and straight into the sloughed away rawness of her heart.
She’d expected he would be a man who would try to work an advantage over her, as most did.
To her dismay, he was far, far worse. His unassuming nature edged past her defenses, and somehow, he managed to see who she was inside.
He could identify the emotions she tried to hide from—the fear and the wounded hurt—and offered her something she knew she should never again bother with. Hope.
Once, long ago, she had held hope, as if a flickering flame in the cradle of her soul. Back when Mac had first been born. Before her mother had left and her father lost himself in the bottle. When days had been sunny, and their food stores had been sufficient.
But when she had to start stealing to feed them, it had slipped away, as if a cloud passed over the sun, blotting its warmth and light.
Foolishly, she had dared to hope again when she bought the tiny cottage with her earnings from laundering clothes in the village. A hard living to be sure, but an honest one. That life had brought her happiness and hard-won pride.
But that bliss had been precarious, balanced on the whims of their unjust lord who captured Mac, leaving them at the mercy of laws that did not favor the poor. In an instant, that joy had been snuffed out. And with it, her hope.
She was not so foolish as to let it be reignited so easily.
“Have ye had enough?” Drake indicated her half-eaten pottage, which was growing cold where it congealed against the side of the wooden bowl.
She’d avoided glancing at him thus far but now forced herself to as she nodded. No sooner had her gaze settled on his dark eyes than the memories from the previous night flooded her mind.
The way he had touched her cheek so gently, not with ownership or intent, but with affection. Compassion. A band of emotion compressed around her.
He had promised to protect her. She looked away suddenly as a prickle of tears warmed in her eyes. No one had protected her for as long as she could remember. She had protected her. No one else.
While she could not even fathom what such a thing must feel like, there was a part of her that yearned with palpable longing to find out.
And if ever there was someone capable of such a thing, it would be a man like him—one whose body was etched with muscle. Not noticing such had been impossible when she’d been in his room. He’d worn only a pair of linen trews, his torso stripped bare and carved like granite in the moonlight.
She had never found herself interested in intimacy, not when so many men had been readily drawn to her. But seeing Drake thus had made her curious for the sensation of his naked skin beneath her palms, for the slight rasp beneath her fingernails as she traced the lines of muscle.
A strange feeling tightened in her stomach and heated her blood. One she did not welcome or recognize.
She kept her focus on the floor as they rose from the table, as though the dark stains in the grooves of wood from years of ground-in dirt were overly fascinating. They had only two more days and one more night before they would arrive in Lochmaben.
Mac.
He was her sole concern. Him, and acquiring enough coin to ensure his freedom.
The day before, she’d thought her task accomplished with what she had stolen from Drake and Bean, only to have it all taken away. She was once more back where she started with not much more than a couple of coins jingling in her otherwise empty purse.
The sun had risen by the time they departed the tavern.
The light of a new day was brilliant in the clear sky as they resumed their journey.
Only this time, Greer found herself wishing Drake’s hands weren’t as far from her as they had previously been when she rode with him.
She wondered at the heat of those strong arms enfolded around her, offering the protection he had promised.
As they rode, she did not keep herself as stiff as she had before. Instead, she relaxed in the saddle, so her bottom grazed his crotch. Immediately, he jerked back and readjusted his position, so no part of his body connected with her.
It only made her want to touch him more, but she did not wish to force him so far back that he fell from the horse. She resolved to stifle her interest and remain still in the saddle. At least, until the previous night’s sleeplessness overtook her, and exhaustion tugged at her lids.
The thick foliage overhead provided coolness from the direct glare of the sun, dappling their path with flecks of gilded light. The damp scent of rich soil and wet leaves from the woods rose around her, clean and welcoming. Were it not for the sway of the horse, she might have been fine.
Her head nodded first, bowing over her chest before falling backward. She snapped awake, only to repeat the awkward gesture.
Suddenly, the strong wall of Drake’s torso was there.
“Ye can rest against me to sleep.” His voice was gentle and low in her ear.
A shiver of chills tickled over her skin. But nothing like the revulsion that assaulted her with other men. Nay, this was far warmer and certainly welcome.
Sensual.
But he mistook the shiver for something else and stiffened. “I willna take advantage of ye, Greer,” he said vehemently. “I meant what I said last night, lass.” His voice was a whisper to keep Bean from hearing, and it was like velvet against her ear. “I’ll no’ let anyone hurt ye.”
She nodded in acknowledgment and relaxed back against Drake’s strong chest, letting her head rest to the side. He was warm and solid, with his light scent of leather and horse and a spicy, unfamiliar yet entirely pleasant smell that made the place between her thighs begin to pulse.
Her nostrils flared slightly as she breathed him in, reveling in his heat and power. She recalled how he had promised to protect her, and a strange sensation loosened in her chest.
Safe.
For the first time in her life, she felt safe.
His heartbeat thudded against her cheek where she lay her head. It was to that rhythmic beat that she finally found herself drifting off to sleep.
She didn’t know how long she remained thus, but her awareness roused when the horse’s steady swaying came to a stop.
“Greer,” his voice was scarcely a whisper in her ear as if he worried that he might frighten her.
Only then did the bustle of people and chatter of voices fill her awareness. She blinked her eyes open to find they were on the outskirts of a village. But it was not yet night.
“What are we doing?” she asked, her mind still addled with exhaustion.
“We need provisions,” Drake said. “I thought ye’d prefer to wake before we went into the village.”
Heat flooded Greer’s cheeks, and she sat upright. “Aye, thank ye.” She frowned. “I thought we had provisions. The meat and cheese from this morn.”
Drake cleared his throat. “They were consumed.”
Bean shrank into his shoulder guiltily as his cheeks flushed. “I was still hungry,” he offered by way of scant apology.
She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Mac was always the same way, eating whatever he could lay his hands on, oftentimes even when it was meant to be supper.
“’Tis the way with lads,” she offered in sympathy, which earned her a grateful smile from the adolescent.
In truth, she did not mind the diversion. It would offer her an opportunity to pilfer a few items. While she would be arriving in Lochmaben sooner, her purse would still be near empty and lacking the bribe needed to free her brother.
Drake leapt from his horse, and she accepted his help down, unable to keep from noticing how he handled her as though she were something fragile that might break.
Together they led the horses into the village, where the press of people at its center indicated market day was in full swing. How fortuitous!
Pockets were heavier on market day, and larger crowds were the perfect shield for her clandestine acts.
She brushed past a man in a leather jerkin and slid the purse from his side. It was not weighty enough for its absence to be noted but still had several coins within. It passed easily into her bag. She scanned the square to confirm no one had seen her.
She wandered toward a woman wearing an elegant silk gown, the hem dusty from where it carelessly dragged in the dirt.
A sweep past her with a steady hand loosened the thin gold chain that had been clasped around the woman’s kirtle.
It fell into Greer’s palm, the metal cold against the heat of her skin.
Except she was not as lucky as before and her action did not go unnoticed. Nay—this time, she had been snared by Bean’s pointed gaze.
“She’s stealing again,” Bean hissed.
“How do ye know?” Drake turned to where Greer glanced nonchalantly away from them and wandered toward a small stand of pastries shimmering with a coat of honey over their flaky crusts.
“I saw her.” Bean didn’t take his eyes from her as he spoke. “She slipped the woman’s gold belt off.”
The woman he referenced continued to walk about the market, inspecting a bolt of fabric with a slight scowl before moving onto a merchant selling ribbons in myriad colorful streamers that danced in the breeze. She appeared unaware of her lost item.
The trip into the village was supposed to be a swift one, most especially not one steeped in thievery. Drake didn’t bother to hide his wariness as Greer approached them with two pastries in her hand.
“Did ye steal those?” Bean asked.
Her mouth fell open in offense. “Of course no’, but I did get ye one.” She handed a pastry to Bean.