Page 4 of Bound to a Warrior
Mercy was quite a woman.
“Your turn,” she said, and gave him the same privacy.
“We just might make it through this,” he said as they were on their way.
Near dusk he began to change his mind. The temperature had dropped more than he had expected and while normally it wouldn’t cause a problem, with their garments being wet it chilled them to the bone.
They found a spot by a cropping of rocks that provided good shelter and they both gathered twigs, fallen branches and what dried leaves they could to start a fire.
Duncan had one going in no time and they both snuggled close to it, not only to get warm but to dry their garments.
“You must be hungry,” he said, recalling what little if any food the soldiers had given them.
“I had a nibble of bread early this morning.”
“Why a nibble?” he asked. “A slice was passed to each person.”
“There was a young lad…” She didn’t finish.
That she would share her food with a starving lad spoke much about her nature, though she hadn’t shared, she had surrendered it. “It’s too late for me to hunt,” he said, disappointed since he was hungry himself.
“Tomorrow is soon enough.”
“You have the most agreeable nature,” he said.
She laughed. “Truly I don’t.”
“You’ll have to prove that to me.”
A shiver accompanied her laugh.
“This fire isn’t drying our garments fast enough,” he said concerned. “In the meantime we’re getting more chilled.”
“There’s not much else we can do.”
There was something they could do, though he warned himself it wouldn’t be easy since he found her so damn attractive. But it could very well save their lives. And if not it would be a lovely way to die. He rolled his eyes to the heaven and couldn’t believe what he was about to say. He never got to say it, because she did.
“We need to get out of these wet garments.”
Chapter 2
Mercy shivered, her skin prickling with gooseflesh, not only from the wet chill, but from her own suggestion. But what choice had she? They both needed to get warm and they couldn’t do that by remaining in sopping wet garments.
She had to remind herself that if she had trusted him enough to save her from drowning, then she could trust him enough to be naked in front of him.
Along with that thought came another shiver that sent her body trembling. Before she could reach for the ties of her soft green blouse, his hands were there, trying to force the stubborn, wet strings apart.
His hands were large and far from delicate. They bore the scars of a warrior used to battle, some faded with time, some more pronounced, and one or two bright with the color of more recently healing wounds. His scars and their predicament made her wonder about this stranger who had been so suddenly thrust into her life and bound to her with no present means of separation.
With curiosity, her glance shifted to his chest. His wet tan shirt was plastered to it. He had a nice chest, thick and solid with muscle, and she wondered if, like his hands, it bore battle scars. His shoulders were wide as was his neck and she realized then the size of him.
He was a big Highlander, a good inch, maybe two, over six feet. Next to her meager four inches over five feet she was a bit of a thing. With his sizable width and height, she could easily take cover behind him and not be seen.
While he continued to diligently work on her ties, her inquisitiveness turned too potent to ignore, so she took the opportunity to peruse the rest of him. His long hair was dark and because it was wet she wasn’t certain of the color, deep brown or black?
He caught her gaze then and she startled, though certainly not because he caught her examining him. No, it was his strikingly dark eyes and the intensity of his look that made her realize that he truly was concerned for her well-being. And his words confirmed what she felt.
“I’ll have you free of these stubborn ties soon, I promise,” he said and his eyes quickly shifted to where his hands continued to work.
