Page 20 of Bound to a Warrior
“And presently, I wishonlyfor the safety and warmth of your arms,” she said.
“Does that mean you will still keep your promise of that kiss when we are free?”
She smiled. “A promise is a promise.”
“Then I promise you the safety and warmth of my arms for as long as you need them.” He grinned. “No matter how difficult it is for me.”
She laughed softly. “You are an honorable man, Highlander.”
“There you go forever reminding me.”
“I don’t think you need reminding. I believe it is your nature. It is simply who you are.”
“Keep that thought strong,” he said, his hand going to his waist. “Since I’m about to take this annoying wet wool plaid off and stand naked in front of you.”
Chapter 7
“You’re not even going to turn away?” Duncan asked as he unwrapped his plaid.
“There’s no need,” Mercy said. “I have nothing to fear from you. You gave your word.”
Duncan let his plaid drop and wondered if he should have considered more carefully what he had been agreeing to. She was a delectable morsel that tempted his appetite and challenged his civility. She was quite unique and he enjoyed her company, even though it had been forced on him.
And he was trying to keep his mind off the fact that she looked deliciously appetizing in nothing more than her blouse. Her creamy skin glistened like the early morning dew on flower petals and he knew it felt just as smooth, and damn if that didn’t make him itch to touch her.
To keep his hands busy he slipped his shirt on, not caring it was still damp and not caring that it didn’t fully cover him. They had been naked before in front of each other and no doubt would be naked again before their journey was done.
He felt no unease as he turned and took her hand and eased them down to sit.
He wasn’t surprised when she snuggled against his side. Even with the fire, there was still a chill in the small cave.
He kept hold of her hand giving it a slight squeeze as if reassuring her.
She rested her head on his shoulder in return.
And again they sat in silence.
The storm abated just before they snuggled beneath the dried blanket, and wrapped in each other’s arms, fell asleep.
The early morning brought with it a crisp chill and Duncan insisted that Mercy use the blanket to keep warm. She fashioned it into a shawl and they were soon on their way.
The day’s priority was food. They had to find something if they hoped to keep up the strength to continue their rushed pace. Already his stomach was grumbling loudly and he thought he heard Mercy’s give a protest or two. And while he wished to remain on a steady course, he felt it was wise for them to veer off so that the soldiers would find it harder to track them.
Mercy made no objections when he started them up a hill. She removed her shawl, shoved it into the sack and twisting the top, tucked it partially in her waistband. Then she kept pace with him as they climbed the hill, though he had to grab hold of her a few times and prevent her from sending them tumbling.
They stopped at the top to catch their breaths and take in the view and they both smiled. Tucked in a grove of trees not far from a stream was smoke billowing from a chimney, which meant a cottage.
“Food,” they echoed.
They descended faster than they had climbed, though they approached the small farm with caution. The last crop had been harvested from the small field and the ground prepared for winter’s rest, but a few flowering plants still grew in a garden patch beside the cottage. A neatly stacked pile of wood sat to the side of the front door and a rough hewn bench sat on the other side.
Not seeing anyone about, they waited from their perch at the edge of the woods. Duncan kept hold of her hand; not only did it alleviate the burden of the heavy chain, but it helped them work more in unison, not to mention that he had grown accustomed to holding her hand. Her small, delicate one fit so perfectly in his large calloused hand, like she belonged there and always had. And for the moment that’s where he intended to keep it.
He peered past the foliage, focusing on the cottage and its quiet surroundings. He didn’t want to take a chance and approach before determining how many occupied the place, and if there was a chance that anyone posed a threat.
“You’re welcome in my home.”
Duncan immediately swung Mercy protectively behind him as they swerved around, forcing her against his back. He almost shook his head in dismay that he had allowed this woman to sneak up on them. A mass of white curly hair was piled on top of her head with several curls falling around her aged face. Her broad smile deepened her many wrinkles, though showed a fine set of teeth. Her wide, bright green eyes held the inquisitiveness of a child rather than a crone, and she was as petite as Mercy, though slimmer. And she wore a dark blue skirt, white blouse and pale green vest, belted at her thin waist.
