As his arms came around her, she offered no resistance. Just this once, she told herself, she would allow herself to be weak. In fact, she was grateful for his strength, for her own was quickly failing.
“Am I so terrible to look at, Campbell?” she muttered against his throat.
A rush of feelings surged through him. Anger. Dismay. Followed by a surge of tenderness. Incredible tenderness.
He swallowed loudly. “Aye. It fair tears my heart out to look at you.”
She pushed a little away to stare up at him. “You do not look much better. I do not know what looks worse. The mud or the blood.”
He grinned. “We are a fine pair. A sword-wielding, knife-tossing firebrand and the oaf whose life she saved.”
“Aye. Do not forget ‘twas I who saved your miserable life.”
Suddenly she found herself weeping for no good reason. Tears flooded her eyes and ran in little rivers down her cheeks. Her body shook with sobs, and Shaw’s arms tightened around her.
With all her remaining strength she lifted a hand to his mud-streaked cheek. “My fearless, heroic oaf. I have ne’er seen such courage.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the bloodstained palm. “It does not take courage to wield a sword, my lady.”
“Nay. I do not mean the sword. Though you were truly splendid when you wielded it.” Her tears fell faster as she whispered between shudders, “It took such courage to play the fool. My heart nearly broke as I watched you, for I knew that you were allowing yourself to be... humiliated for... my sake.”
“Shh. Hush now. You must rest,” he murmured. “You are overwrought.”
“I will ne’er forget this, Campbell. Ne’er,” she cried with such vehemence it shook her entire body.
He gathered her against his chest and held her while the tears ran their course. And when at last she had grown quiet, and her breathing grew soft and steady, he looked down at her and realized that she had slipped into unconsciousness.
Merritt awoke in a cocoon of warmth. For long minutes she lay unmoving, savoring the heat of morning sunshine against her face. Her lids fluttered open and she peered around.
She was wrapped in Shaw’s cloak on a bed of furs and fragrant evergreen boughs. Nearby a stag roasted over a fire. The wonderful aroma perfumed the forest. Overhead a chorus of birds entertained, flitting from tree to tree, filling the air with song.
Memories of the previous night came flooding back and Merritt felt her cheeks flame. She could recall being lifted in strong arms and deposited gently in a warm, soft pallet. She had a vague recollection of murmured words and whispered endearments, and the gentlest hands she had ever known removing her blood-soaked garments, while leaving her chemise, and her dignity, intact.
She remembered something else. A warm body lying beside her, and muscled arms cradling her all through the night, and a voice, low, deep, crooning to her as if she were a wee bairn.
Hearing the splash of water, she turned her head. On the banks of a nearby stream she saw Shaw pull on his shirt and tunic and run a hand through his hair before turning toward her.
When he saw that she was awake, he hurried to her side.
“Good morrow, my lady. How do you feel?”
She knew her face was flaming, but she hoped he would blame it on the sunshine. “As though I had been through a war. How do I look?”
“Much better. There is color to your cheeks now. Last night, your pallor had me concerned.”
She smiled up at him. “You look better, too, Campbell, without all that mud and blood.” In fact, he looked like a magnificent golden warrior, with droplets of water still glistening in his hair and his broad shoulders straining the seams of his linen shirt. “I see you washed your garments.”
“And yours.” He pointed to a low-hanging bush near the stream, blooming with shirt and breeches and tunic.
“Astra would be proud of you.”
“Aye. As would the housekeeper of Kinloch House, Mistress MacCallum.”
“Has she taken care of you since you were a lad?”
Shaw handed her a hollowed-out gourd filled with water and settled himself beside her, leaning his back against the trunk of a tree. “My parents were killed when I was but a few years old. After that I went to live at the monastery of Saint Collum. There, every lad had to see to his own needs. There were no women to wash or cook or clean for us.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, thinking about her own carefree childhood.
“Do not be, lass. Though it was far from idyllic, it could have been so much worse, had not old Father Anselm taken us in. We were safe and warm and well fed, and educated by the finest scholars in all of Scotland.”
“But was there no one to soothe away the hurts, or comfort you when your young world fell apart?”
He stretched out his long legs beside her, and she found herself staring at his muscled thigh as he crossed one foot over the other.
“Sutton and I always had each other,” he said simply. “We always felt we needed no other.”
“How strange it would be to have another share your face. Astra thinks—” She suddenly stopped, appalled at what she was about to reveal. “Forgive me, Campbell.”
He chuckled, and she was aware of how pleasant was the sound of his laughter. “You may tell me, lass, for I’ve probably heard it said before. Most people fear twins. They think we are the spawn of the devil.”
She stared at the gourd in her hands, afraid to meet his eyes. “Astra thinks that you and your brother possess but one soul.”
“Ah. And she fears that it is an evil soul, does she?”
“I think, perhaps, in the beginning, she believed that. But I am certain by now she realizes that there is goodness in you.”
“Careful,” he cautioned, though the word was warmed by a smile, “or the next thing you know, you may be saying nice things about a Campbell.”
“Aye. I’ll be careful.” She handed back the gourd and started to sit up. At once her head swam, and a low moan escaped her lips.
Shaw caught her by the shoulders to steady her. His eyes were troubled. “You must take things very slow and easy today, lass, until your strength returns.”
“But I must get home.”
“Not today,” he said firmly, as he lay her back against the pallet. “Today you will eat and sleep. And tomorrow, when you are feeling stronger, we will return to Inverene House. Now sleep, and I will see to our food.”
She thought about arguing, but she had not the strength. Instead she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Shaw’s footsteps as he moved around their encampment. Within minutes she had returned to her dreams.
“Have you had enough to eat, my lady?”
Merritt sighed. “More than enough. If you keep plying me with food, Campbell, I shall soon be as plump as a stuffed goose.”
“You must eat if you are to regain your strength.”
“Aye. So you keep telling me.” Content, she leaned her head back against the fur robes that Shaw had folded beneath her head for her comfort.
“You do not fear for the sheep?” he asked.
“Nay. Kale would never rest until he returned them to their home. Knowing that, the thieves had kept him penned up, else he would have begun the trek home a fortnight ago. Once I knew the flock was safe in his care, I returned to the forest, intending to lend a hand to whatever you had planned.”
“Until Lysander caught you.”
“The lout managed to land a lucky blow,” she muttered, touching a hand to her head.
Shaw wisely said nothing, knowing the lass thought herself a better warrior than most men. If truth be told, she was.
Starlight filtered through the branches of trees and a ribbon of moonlight trailed a path of gold along the ground, casting their campsite in an ethereal glow.
She sighed. “’Tis peaceful here.”
Shaw nodded and stretched his feet toward the fire.
“It is difficult to believe t
hat there are those who use this place to rob and kill.”
“Put such thoughts from your mind, my lady.”
“Aye. I know it does no good to dwell upon what is past. But when I think about what almost happened...” She shivered and he immediately drew his cloak around her, allowing his hand to linger overlong at her shoulder.
After a moment he reluctantly moved his hand away and sat back.
“Last night, Lysander suggested that you might be out in the darkness assisting the Highland Avengers.” Shaw chose his words carefully. “I do not suggest that such a villain could be correct. But... you have often defended them to me. Could he be close to the truth?”
Her tone rang with righteous indignation. “I spoke the truth, Campbell. I was merely taking back what was mine.”
“And you did not see these Avengers on your quest?”
She shook her head firmly. “I did not.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Now I have an important question for you.”
He arched a brow.
“How did you learn to make those shadow pictures?” he asked.
“These?” He lifted his hands to the light of the fire and the image of a flying bird appeared on the rock face.
“Aye.” She watched, amazed, as he made the bird fly away, then return.
“It was something Sutton and I did at night to amuse ourselves. There was little time for play in the monastery.”
“Could you teach me?”
“It is simple enough. Here.” He caught her hands in his and lifted them to the firelight. Bending two fingers down, he left the other two up, so that they resembled the antlers of a stag. Forming her other hand into four legs, he showed how to put the two together to form a complete animal. As the creature began to move across the face of the rock, she laughed in delight.
“More.” she cried happily. “I want to do more.”
It was so good to hear her laugh. She had become a lass again, young and carefree. “This, then, is a tortoise,” he told her as he brought her thumb through her closed fist.
“Indeed.” She wiggled it, then turned to him excitedly. “Oh, Campbell. I want to learn more. When we return, we will entertain Edan. Oh, how he will enjoy it. Teach me another.”
He taught her a hare, a fish swimming, a horse and rider. And with each lesson, she became more animated. She moved her hands and fingers as he instructed, turning to him in triumph with each success. She looked up at him, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, and in that instant he knew that he had never seen anyone so fresh, so vital, so beautiful in his life. And never had he felt more stimulated, or more alive. It was as though he’d been asleep for all these years and had suddenly been awakened to all the awe and wonder and beauty around him.
“Is there more, Campbell?” She turned to him, brows delicately arched, lips parted.
“Aye.” He reached a hand to a wisp of hair that drifted across her cheek. He hadn’t meant anything by the gesture. It had been a purely reflexive action. But now that he’d touched her, he couldn’t seem to stop. He moved his finger along her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. His tone softened. “So much more, my lady, that I could teach you. That we could learn... together.”
He saw the way her eyes went wide. “Nay. You mustn’t, Campbell.”
“Aye, my lady. I know ‘tis wrong. But I must at least hold you.” He drew her into his arms with exquisite tenderness and moved his hands across her shoulders, down her sides, along her back.
With each movement, her resolve wavered, as shivers of pure delight pulsed through her.
“When I saw that madman threatening you,” he murmured against her temple, “I lost all sense of purpose except to set you free.” He closed his eyes a moment against the pain in his heart. “I knew that nothing else in life would ever matter again if I failed you.”
Her objections were forgotten. Even as she brought her hands up between them to push him away, her limbs betrayed her. Her arms encircled his waist and she drew him close with a sigh. “I have never been so overwhelmed with feeling as I was when I beheld you offering your life for mine. My heart... my heart was filled to overflowing with feelings...”
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “It is over, lass. And now... I can wait no longer, for I’ve needed to do this for a very, very long time.”
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. But once his lips touched hers, need swept through him, startling him with its intensity.
Her mouth moved under his, eager, avid. She kissed him with a hunger that matched his. She clung to him, eager to taste, to feel. To give.
He kissed her until they were both breathless. With teeth and tongue and lips, seducing, possessing. And still he could not stop. He wanted to fill himself with her, to give and take and give until they were both sated.
And wonder of wonders, she kissed him back. And returned passion for passion. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.
The night had become so quiet that she could hear the roar of her heartbeat in her temples. The fire had grown dangerously hot, until she longed to rid herself of all her garments and lie, naked and cool, beside this man.
Somewhere on a distant treetop, a night bird cried and his mate replied. A hound bayed to the moon. A forest creature stepped into the circle of firelight, then disappeared in a rustle of leaves. But the man and woman who clung to each other were so lost in the wonders of their newly discovered passion, they were aware of none of these things.
When Shaw moved his hands along her back, she could feel his touch over every inch of her body. Her breasts tingled with unexpected need. Her thighs pressed to his, sending liquid fire surging through her veins.
He tore his mouth from hers and pressed it to the soft, sensitive hollow of her throat. When she moaned softly and moved in his arms, he became even more aroused and pressed moist kisses down her neck and across her shoulder.
His fingers paused at the ribbons that laced her chemise. God in heaven, what was happening to him? He wanted her. Desperately. He struggled to hold on to some sense of sanity. But he could feel himself slipping over the edge. He wanted to feel her, warm and moist and willing. The need for her was so great, he thought he must take her. Or go mad.
“I want you.” His words were an impassioned plea whispered inside her mouth. “Say only that you want this, too, and let me taste paradise.”
“I... cannot think.”
She struggled to remember why she should object, but her mind refused to cooperate. All she could think of was the way he tasted, dark and mysterious, and the way she felt in his arms, safe and warm and... cherished.
Cherished? By a Campbell? Had she gone daft? Was not this man her father’s sworn enemy?
“Nay, wait,” she cried.
As quickly as the words were spoken, they were swept away on a tide of madness, as his hands and lips worked their magic. He took the kiss deeper, and she experienced a hunger unlike anything she’d ever known. A hunger that only this man could feed.
Aye. Cherished. Loved.
Shaw thrilled to the eagerness with which she returned his kisses. But even as he did, he thought of her muttered exclamation, raised in protest. What had come over him that he would ignore a lady’s plea? Even her cry of resistance hadn’t been able to cool his ardor but had driven him further into insanity. Was he a man of honor, or was he no better than the men he’d fought?
Calling on all his willpower, he lifted his head and drew a little away. Framing her face with his hands, he tenderly brushed her swollen lips with his thumbs.
For several moments he took in deep drafts of air to clear his mind. When he could trust his voice he said, “Forgive me, my lady. ‘Twas but a moment of madness. Rest now. I’ll walk the perimeter tonight, to assure our safety.”
She blinked and watched as he got to his feet and strode away. Within minutes he blended into the shadows of the forest.
Madness? Was that all this was to him? She pressed a hand to her eyes. And
she, like a fool, had thought it love.
For more than an hour she lay on her pallet and listened to the rustle of leaves and the sound of his footsteps as he kept watch.
It shamed her to admit that, had it not been for the Campbell’s strength of will, she would have spent the night in his arms. And in his bed.
Chapter Fifteen
Curtains of mist danced low over the water. Dawn light streaked the eastern sky. Distant ribbons of pale pink and mauve heralded another perfect spring morning.
Deep in thought, Shaw leaned his back against the trunk of a tree and watched as Merritt slept. His brow was furrowed, his mind greatly troubled.
What had nearly happened between them last night had left him badly shaken. The lass was an innocent. And he... He experienced a wave of revulsion. He had thought himself a man of God, but his experience last night had taught him that all his years of prayer and discipline had not prepared him for temptation in the form of Merritt Lamont.
So what was he to do about it? He allowed his gaze to move over the lass, indulging himself for a moment in the breathtaking sight of her. The ribbons of her chemise hung loose, revealing a shadowed cleft between high, firm breasts. Even in repose, there was a sense of energy, of vitality about her. Perhaps it was the way she sighed in her sleep and shifted positions in a most seductive manner. A tangle of red curls kissed one cheek and she brushed them away with a sweep of her hand before burrowing deeper into her nest of fur.
He forced himself to turn away from the tempting sight of her. As he walked to the stream, he resolved that what had nearly happened last night must never be allowed again. If he were truly a man of honor, he was obliged to leave the lass as he’d found her—unsullied, unharmed and unfettered by guilt.
As for himself, he must remember always the path he had chosen. A commitment awaited him when he returned to Kinloch House. A commitment that did not leave room for the feelings he’d experienced in the arms of this woman.
Stripping off his clothes, he strode into the frigid waters and swam until the bone-chilling cold forced him back to shore.