Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
T hey had been riding fast for about half an hour when Blaine decided they could stop. It was a plausible amount of time. Now, he only had to work on gaining some of her trust—just enough to make her feel comfortable in his presence and urge her to desire his help. At the sight of a small lake, he turned from the main road down the overgrown path that led there, Kathleen following close behind on her own horse.
“Let us rest here fer a while,” he called to her and saw her nod before she dismounted her horse. Blaine did the same, leading both creatures to the water, where they could drink and rest. Then, he rummaged through his bag, producing a small jar of ointment. “This should help with yer cut.”
Kathleen still eyed him and the jar warily, but she said nothing as Blaine approached her, where she stood under the shade of a large oak. The dappled light seemed to set her auburn hair on fire, the strands glittering under the sun, her eyes following his every move as though she expected an attack.
Instead of an attack, Blaine dealt a gentle caress to a strand of hair that had fallen over her cheek, where the man’s fist had cut her. He pushed it behind her ear and he could have sworn that her cheeks were suddenly painted with the subtlest shade of pink, so soft that he would have missed it had it not been for the light.
Blaine dipped the pad of his finger into the ointment and applied a thin layer over the cut. At the first touch, Kathleen drew in a sharp breath, the pungent ointment undoubtedly stinging her. Blaine knew the sensation well—he had used the ointment many times, and so he knew the sting. But it was well worth it, none of his cuts had ever been infected.
Blaine could have stayed a few steps back. He could have kept some distance between them, but instead he had chosen to stand close to Kathleen; close enough for them to share the same air, for him to look into her eyes and see the gold flecks in the pools of blue.
From the gap in her cloak, Blaine could see her chest rise and fall with every breath. The pale expanse of skin over the neckline of her dress drew his gaze no matter how much he tried to fight it, his eyes straying back to it time and time again. There was something irresistible about her—not only her looks, but her aura, or something Blaine couldn’t name .
His heart beat faster in his chest. His skin suddenly felt hot, restrictive, as though it could hardly contain him. When Kathleen’s gaze met his, those blue eyes staring right through him, he felt as though he would burst right out of it.
What am I thinkin’?
A man like him could never have a woman like her. Not only that, but he most certainly couldn’t have this specific woman. He should never even dare think about falling into the temptation.
Abruptly, he pulled back from her, leaving a small smear of ointment on her skin. He didn’t mention it; sooner or later, it would be absorbed, so he didn’t have to touch her again. He didn’t even need to be so close to her. He turned on his heel, heading back to the horses to place the ointment jar back in his bag, just so he had something to do.
“Should I take ye back tae the castle?” he asked her, without even turning around to glance at her. Instead, he focused on fiddling with the clasp as an excuse to not turn around just yet. The exchange, short as it had been, had excited him far more than it should have.
“How dae ye ken I’m from the castle?” Kathleen asked, a hint of tremor in her voice .
Damn it tae hell.
He had done so well up until then. If Kathleen was going to start asking questions, he had to be careful about what he revealed to her.
One wrong word and she could find out the truth.
“Well, a lass like yerself can only be noble born,” Blaine said, without missing a beat. He didn’t enjoy speaking much, but when he did, he thankfully tended to say the right thing. “Look at ye… just yer cloak must cost as much as me horse. Moy Hall is the only stronghold around here, so I suppose that’s where ye came from.”
His heart beating wildly, Blaine turned to look at Kathleen to find her cursing quietly as her gaze slid up to the sky with a frustrated sigh.
“It’s nay wonder the Campbell soldiers recognized me, then,” she said, as if speaking to herself. “I thought I would be safe, especially so close tae the castle, but…”
Blaine had to swallow a sigh of relief. He had said the right thing, after all .
“Ye shouldnae have come out here without guards,” Blaine pointed out, this time giving her the warning he hadn’t managed to give her before. It didn’t matter, of course; it was far too late for that. “How did yer family let ye travel on yer own?”
Now Kathleen’s blush was clearly visible, her cheeks heating wildly. “They dinnae doesnae ken,” she said. “But I must go tae this weddin’. It’s very important tae me… tae me friend.”
“How important can a weddin’ be?” Blaine asked. “More important than yer safety?”
“Very important,” said Kathleen. “It is almost a matter o’ life an’ death.”
Blaine was quite certain that was far from the truth, but he didn’t tell Kathleen so. Whether she went to the wedding or not was of no importance to him. If anything, it would be better if she didn’t, but he didn’t try to convince her to head back to Moy Hall. He only shook his head and refilled his water canteen in the lake as he heard Kathleen’s light footsteps behind him.
“I wouldnae mind travelin’ with ye if ye’re headin’ the same way as me,” she said, sounding a little hesitant. “It’s better tae travel with company, is that nae so? ”
Blaine smiled to himself before finally schooling his expression into a neutral one and turning to face her. “So it is,” he agreed. “I’m goin’ the same way. I dinnae mind makin’ sure ye’re safe.”
Once again, that seemed to be the right thing to say, as Kathleen gave him a small, shy smile. Blaine returned it, jumping on his horse and waiting for her to do the same, then heading back up the path to the main road with her close behind.
He deeply hoped she didn’t notice that he had not asked her the direction she was going, nor had she told him.
Her savior was a strange man.
A strange, handsome man.
Kathleen stared at him openly as the two of them trotted up the path, since he couldn’t see her anyway. She could only gaze at the back of his head, his shiny dark hair, his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His arms seemed strong enough to lift her right off her feet as though she were a feather. She felt her heart racing in her chest. His green eyes, the sharp line of his jaw and the strong, slightly crooked nose—even the faint scars on his face and hands whose origin Kathleen couldn’t help but question—all worked together to give him a striking look .
And yet, the most striking thing about him was not his appearance, perhaps, but rather his behavior.
The moment they were back on the main path, Kathleen caught up to him, falling into step right next to his horse.
“How dae ye ken where we’re goin’?” she asked. “I didnae tell ye where the weddin’ is.”
For a moment, Kathleen could have sworn that she saw a flash of panic in his gaze, in the clench of his jaw. But then, he turned to her with a smile and a shrug, both so disarming that she forgot all about it.
“I saw ye head down the path afore ye were attacked. I wasnae too far from ye,” he said. “An’… I’m guessin’ we’re goin’ tae the same weddin’.”
Kathleen frowned at that, tilting her head to the side in confusion as she looked at him. “The same weddin’?”
“Aye,” he said. “I can only imagine ye’re a Mackintosh, since ye’re in these parts an’ dressed the way ye are. ”
Kathleen was uncertain of whether or not she should take offence. Looking down at herself, Kathleen decided that it was a fair assessment—no commoner would be dressed in the luxurious fabrics and rich colors she was wearing.
“I’m goin’ tae Fenella Stewart’s weddin’. Is that where ye’re goin’?”
Kathleen’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion. It all seemed a little too convenient for her, being saved by a man who was going to the exact same place as her—the wedding of a noble woman, no less! Who was this man? Kathleen observed him closely, taking in every detail about him; his clothes, the way he carried himself, his countenance. Had she ever met him before?
“Aye, that’s the one. From which clan did ye say ye come?” she asked, hoping his response would shed some light on the mystery.
“I’m a Farquharson,” Blaine said without hesitation. “Out o’ all the Farquharsons, they decided tae send me tae the weddin’, so… here I am.”
As he spoke, Blaine turned to smile at her and Kathleen found herself smiling back.
This explains it. Couldnae he have said so sooner ?
The Farquharsons were good allies of the Stewart Clan, and it was no wonder they had been invited to the wedding. If Blaine had been sent as their representative, then that could only mean he was from a noble line—perhaps not an heir to the lairdship himself, but surely the son of someone important. Their lands were also close to the Mackintosh lands, and the only road leading from their keep to Clan Stewart passed through Mackintosh territory, so luck had brought them together at just the right time for him to save Kathleen from those savages.
“I’ve been tae the Farquharson lands,” Kathleen said, remembering her brief travels there with her father. It must have been a great occasion—another wedding, perhaps, or some sort of celebration which had required her presence. It had been a while since then and she couldn’t quite recall the purpose of her visit, but she could recall having a great time. “It’s a very bonnie place.”
“Och aye, that it is,” Blaine agreed. “When did ye visit? I imagine we would have met each other there.”
Kathleen thought so too, but she was certain she would remember a face like his. But Blaine seemed to be a good decade older than her by the looks of it, with the crow’s feet that appeared around his eyes when he smiled and the faint lines on his forehead. She doubted he would have given a young girl much attention. Had they met briefly back then? Had she not given her much attention either, too preoccupied with her peers to spare him a second thought?
“It must be over a decade now,” she said. “I was a very young lass back then.”
“I see,” said Blaine, nodding slowly as if to himself. “Then perhaps our paths never crossed.”
Perhaps it was better that way. Kathleen would rather Blaine know her as the woman she was now than the girl she had once been. She doubted she had even come of age when she had visited Clan Farquharson, while he had most likely been in his twenties.
“Dae ye ken me faither, then?” Kathleen asked. “Laird Mackintosh?”
“Aye, I ken him,” said Blaine. “I’ve met him afore.”
“An’ me cousins?”
“Nay, I cannae say that I have.”
“An’ Fenella?”
Blaine turned to look at her, dragging his gaze off the road slowly, the corners of his lips ticking up in amusement. “Nay,” he said. “Dae ye always ask so many questions?”
Heat creeped up Kathleen’s neck, all the way up to her face. She snapped her mouth shut and moved her gaze to the road, but Blaine only laughed softly.
“I didnae mean tae offend.”
“Nay offense taken,” Kathleen assured him.
And yet, as they rode together down the path, their horses side by side in a leisurely pace, she kept the rest of her thoughts to herself.