Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“ N ow, that is a beautiful sight, tae be sure,” Ewan said as they emerged from the trees. He found himself standing in a clearing, where the pond lay shimmering beneath the sliver of moon hanging above them in the dark, star-studded sky. On instinct, he paused and looked around, listening carefully, checking to make sure no one was there.
Once he was sure they were alone but for an owl hooting in a nearby tree and the odd rustling of some small nocturnal creature in the undergrowth, he allowed himself to relax. “What a tranquil spot. It must be lovely durin’ the day,” he observed, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, cool air.
“Mmm, I’m sure it must be,” Annie agreed, even in her man’s disguise, looking radiant under the silvery light cast from above. She was smiling too, which was nice. He felt a strange sort of companionship with her, even though she had tried to kill him and he still had no idea who she really was. He could not recall experiencing it with any other woman. Not knowing what to make of it, he dismissed it, putting it down to them sharing a confined space for over a week now.
I suppose sleepin’ in the same bed will dae that tae ye.
Side by side, they walked slowly down to the water’s gravelly edge and stood looking out over the water. “’Tis lovely at night though,” Annie murmured. “I think I prefer it like this, so quiet. I cannae wait tae get in the water. Will ye turn yer back while I undress? And nay peekin’.”
He raised his brows and grinned, more at ease than he had been even at the party. The brief respite from the strains of war and the siege was very welcome. What harm could it do to embrace the moment? “Well, I wasnae even thinkin’ about it, but now ye mention it…” he said, allowing his voice to trail off suggestively.
“I mean it!” There was a warning edge to her voice as she began taking off her boots.
“Aye, I ken it,” he replied. “But the same goes fer ye,” he added, smiling as he turned away and began stripping off his coat and waistcoat.
“’Tis far too late fer that,” Annie informed him.
“Oh? How’s that?” He pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it on the ground.
“Because I get an eyeful of ye with naethin’ on every mornin’.”
“Ach! And ye have the cheek tae tell me nae tae peek!”
He heard her snort with laughter and could not resist glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. What he saw was… exhilarating! A torrent of golden hair cascaded down a slim, white back, all the way down to a neatly nipped waist, curving hips, and… as she stepped out of her trousers… a pair of peach-like buttocks and slim thighs. Instantly, his manhood stirred. Better get in the water quick before she notices, he thought, shocked by his own response.
She caught him looking, gasped, and clutched her hair around her. “I said nay peekin’!” she chided, her eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Sorry, but fair’s fair,” he retorted, turning around again. A second later, he cried, “Ow!” and ducked as a shower of gravel lightly peppered his back. “I though ye promised nae tae hurt me again,” he pretended to grumble.
“I’ll drown ye if ye’re nae careful,” she threatened, but he could hear laughter in her voice. It seemed she too was being affected by the feeling of freedom.
He had just shucked his trews when he heard splashing as she entered the water. Suddenly, she squealed, “Sweet Jesus, that’s freezin’!”
“That’s Scotland,” he joked. Naked now, he cupped his hands over his private parts for modesty’s sake—hers, not his—turned and ran down into the water to join her. She was already swimming sedately in small circles when he plunged straight in. “Christ Almighty!” he exclaimed, gasping with shock and laughing at the same time as the chilly waters engulfed him. He ducked under and came up again, shaking his head like a dog. “My, that’s invigoratin’!”
The feeling of liberation as the cold water caressed and cleansed his body was thrilling. He found he could not stop grinning, and he felt grateful to Annie insisting they come to bathe. He could not remember feeling so alive for a very long time.
She too ducked under the water, to wash her hair. It floated out gracefully around her head like a golden halo. Her smile flashed white as she dived under again, then resurfaced moments later, water cascading over her white skin. Ewan could not take his eyes off the graceful movement of her slim body through the dark waters. It was entrancing, like a beautiful dream he never wanted to end.
“’Tis glorious,” she breathed, resuming her circular swimming. He joined her, and they swam around for a while like that, not speaking, with nothing but the soft hoo-hoo of the owl, the rippling of the water, and the gentle soughing of the breeze in the trees to break the silence. “’Tis like we’re in a magical place. D’ye feel it?”
“Aye, I dae. I’m awful glad ye nagged me intae bringin’ ye here,” he told her as they drew closer and circled each other, neither of them seemingly able to stop smiling.
“Nagged, me foot. Persuaded , I think ye mean,” she said, giggling. “’Tis so good tae escape from the cares of the world just fer a short time.”
“Aye, I havenae felt this good fer ages. We’ll come again, shall we?”
“If ye want tae. Let’s come again at night, when ’tis—” He jumped when she let out a sudden shriek of terror, and was taken completely by surprise to find her in his arms, clinging to him, her arms clasped around his neck tightly and looking out at the water with panic in her eyes.
“What is it? Are ye hurt?” he asked, feeling a little panicked himself but nevertheless enjoying the sensation of having her cool, slick, nakedness pressed against his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her above the surface, marveling at her shapely limbs and how light she was. He imagined it was like holding a real live fairy or a kelpie, a wild, magical creature of the water that would vanish if he breathed or moved too suddenly.
“S-something touched me leg,” she said nervously, continuing to cling to him as she scanned the waters around them. Their faces were mere inches apart, her ethereal, womanly beauty casting a spell on him, and he loved it.
“’T’was just a fish swimmin’ by, I expect,” he said, wanting to comfort her, but not too much, because part of him was enjoying the situation and did not want to let her go.
“It didnae feel like a fish. It felt like… somethin’ bigger, longer.”
“An eel maybe,” he suggested. “They can get quite big, but they’re harmless. They cannae hurt ye.”
“Aye, I ken, but whatever it was, it took me by surprise, I suppose. ‘Tis unnervin’ when ye cannae see what it is in the dark.” She shuddered against him, and he could not help but notice the soft trembling of her breasts. He found himself staring at the small, rosy nipples and wondering how they would feel if he touched them, kissed them.
He shook himself out of the spell and directed his eyes to her face. Her luminous aquamarine eyes were looking straight into his, from about two inches away, and her lips were slightly open. Droplets of water adorned her skin like tiny diamond stars. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
They stayed like that, simply looking into each other’s eyes, for several long moments, moments Ewan felt were outside time, removed somehow from the real world, with all its strife and struggle. But then his body began to stir as desire rose within him, breaking the spell between them. Embarrassment suddenly gripped him, and he silently thanked God that the cold water was keeping his arousal at bay.
She too must have sensed the change in the atmosphere, for he felt her body stiffen just before she let him go and slipped out of his arms, back into the water, striking out at once for the shore. He put his feet on the sandy bottom of the pond and watched her pale body slicing rapidly yet gracefully through the water, sending illuminated ripples circling outward in its wake.
She reached the shore and grabbed her clothing and the bundle of clean things before disappearing behind a bush to dress.
Ewan felt flustered but at the same time strangely bereft as he followed her, swimming slowly back to shore. He walked out of the pond, his body still tingling all over from its immersion in the refreshing waters—or maybe from the moment of intimacy they had just shared as man and woman.
He found his clothes, to see she had dropped a clean shirt and stockings next to them for him. He marveled at her presence of mind as he dried himself off with his old shirt as best he could and began the laborious process of dressing while still damp.
He was putting on his coat when she reappeared from behind the bush, transformed once more into Harris, the boy soldier. Her golden tresses had disappeared, banished beneath her woolen cap again, and she clutched her soiled clothes beneath her arm. He felt he had lost her, Annie Dean, or whoever she was. The magical creature he had held in his arms had been snatched back to cold reality, just as he had.
He tugged on his boots and ran his hands through his hair. “We should get back to the camp before anyone notices we’re missing,” he said, surprised his voice sounded so normal. Because he felt far from normal inside.
“Aye,” she replied, her tone subdued. She would not meet his eyes, so he did not try to force it. She waited for him without speaking, and they went back through the trees, following the same path as before, back to the camp. This time, Ewan noticed he could smell it before he saw it. Before the incident in the water, he knew he would have cracked a joke about it, and she would have laughed. But not now. The atmosphere between them had completely changed.
To Ewan, it seemed they had been gone a lifetime, but when they crossed the perimeter, he could hear the party was still going on. Silence hung heavy between them as they entered the tent, to see the remains of their feast still on the table. Neither of them moved to clean it up. Both simply threw down their dirty clothes, and within ten minutes, they were lying once more in the darkness, side by side, in the narrow cot.
Isla awoke the following morning surprised that she had slept at all. She put it down to tiredness and the effects of the midnight swim. Whatever the cause was, she was grateful for it because the tension between her and Ewan had returned with a vengeance. But this time, there was a new awkward, worrying quality to it.
The weight of words unspoken hovered between them like a cloud. What words they were exactly, Isla was unsure of, but it was a relief when Ewan did not have his usual naked wash but got dressed straight away when he got up. Isla did the same, as unobtrusively as she could. She suddenly felt very prudish, having the fervent wish to keep her flesh covered, to be irrevocably Harris.
For Annie Dean was in disgrace. Annie who had flaunted herself naked like some wanton woman of the night. For Isla, the memory of the way she had screamed like a baby and leapt into his arms with not a stich on still burned, as did her cheeks whenever she thought of their wet, naked bodies pressed together. Which was all the time.
In fact, the only good thing that had come out of it was that she felt clean and smelled fresh for the first time in days.
Seeking distraction from the weight of the tension, she found small domestic tasks to occupy herself, clearing away the remains of last night’s feast, making the bed, tidying the tent, and a host of other needless things. And all the while, she felt his presence as though it were a blazing fire from which she could not move away. Worse, in her heart of hearts, she felt she was betraying Gregory, because she was no longer sure she wanted to.
It was worse when tea and oatmeal were brought in as always for breakfast. Usually, they would chat as they ate. Today, when they sat in their accustomed seats a foot or so away from each other, an awkward silence reigned between them. When she dared to glance at him, she would find him doing the same to her. Flustered, she would quickly look down at her porridge, her cheeks burning with fresh embarrassment at being caught out.
After breakfast was done and she had cleared the things away, Ewan remained at the table, drinking more tea, shuffling papers, poring over maps, sketching diagrams of goodness knew what, but which appeared to be all absorbing.
Isla was grateful when Colin came in for the day’s orders and joined Ewan at the table. It gave her breathing space to shift her thoughts away from her guilt at what part of her admitted was a growing attraction to the enemy and back to her original aim to help her brother defeat Ballentine.
As she pretended to be fully occupied with polishing Ewan’s boots to a high shine, she set herself to listening carefully to the two men’s conversation, seeking any morsel of information that might aid her brother. But once again, she was frustrated when they showed their lingering distrust of her by speaking in hushed voices, their heads close together, so she could not make out a word.
She’d done naethin’ so far tae help Gregory, she silently chided herself after a while, giving up trying to listen and feeling a complete failure. Finally, she came to one conclusion. Only killin’ Ewan would justify her presence there.
But deep down, just as she had feared it would, she was painfully aware that her growing attraction to the enemy laird, though she fought against it, was slowly making the thought of actually carrying out her resolution to assassinate him seem increasingly impossible.
Anxious not to dwell on that disturbing thought, she instead turned her attention to what she could do to relieve the privations she was sure Gregory and their clansfolk were now experiencing under the siege. They had been incarcerated within the castle walls with no food supplies going in for the best part of two weeks. She prayed the arrangements she had put in place for the domestic side of things before leaving the castle were working efficiently. But she was eager to do more, and after giving the question a lot of thought, she had an idea.
That night, she lay next to Ewan, her body tense with expectation as she stared into the darkness, listening to his breathing. It felt like an eternity before it slowed and deepened, finally telling her he had fallen asleep. Still, she forced herself to wait a little longer before she dared to move, sliding her body by slow increments off the side of the cot, inch by inch, until her feet were resting on the floor.
He stirred. Isla froze in position, holding her breath. Though she already had an excuse for leaving the bed—answering an urgent call of nature—fear of the possible consequences if he caught her and did not believe her explanation chilled her blood.
She only breathed out again when he settled back into sleep. Then, she picked up her boots and outer clothes, which she had earlier carefully placed within easy reach, and stole out of the tent.