Part 22 (2/2)
He didn't speak. His eyes bulged ever so slightly as his gaze fastened on the small amount of cleavage her position afforded him.
”You have no idea what you're playing with,” he said, his voice an octave lower.
”Aye, but I do.” She wrinkled her nose at him as she playfully bit her lower lip, imitating his earlier gesture. ”You'd never force yourself on an unwilling woman, now, would you?”
”Of course not,” he said, his tone offended.
She sat back on her heels and trailed one hand slowly over the laces of her s.h.i.+rt. ”Then look all you want, for that's the only pleasure you'll ever get from me.”
To her dismay, he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
”Oh, Maggie,” he said after he sobered. ”If I dinna know better, I'd swear you were an experienced little minx. Now go to sleep. I already told you, I have no interest in tupping with you in the woods. But when I find a bed...”
She'd run as fast as her legs could carry her. After what had already happened, she knew she couldn't resist him for long once he touched her.
And his kisses...
It was enough to make a woman forget herself, for sure.
Realizing the virtue of retreat, she settled herself down before the fire. She had just begun to relax a bit when Braden joined her.
”What are you doing?” she asked hurriedly as she remembered the way his body had felt s.h.i.+elding her from the ground.
”I'm bringing you an extra plaid,” he said, draping it over her.
”Thank you,” she whispered, trying her best not to notice the way his scent clung to the fabric. Or worse, the way his hands felt on her body as he smoothed the material over her.
When he left her, she could feel her entire body temperature drop.
Her heart felt torn as he settled himself across from her. The rational part of her was grateful, but her heart ached at the loss of his comfort.
Sighing, she forced herself to concentrate on what she would say to the MacDouglas when she met him.
That was a relatively safe topic. One that diverted her thoughts from Braden.
At least for a little bit.
That night, Maggie slept from sheer exhaustion.
She came awake just after dawn to see Braden looking straight at her, his face unreadable.
Self-conscious from his attention, she brushed her hair with her hands and wondered what he had been thinking as he watched her sleep.
”Good morning,” he said in greeting.
”Good morning,” she responded, pus.h.i.+ng back the plaid as she stood. She glanced to where Sin slept a few feet away. ”Should I wake Sin?”
”Not if you're of a mind to be keeping your head on your shoulders.”
She frowned at his words.
Braden moved to stand between her and his brother. Instead of reaching out to touch Sin, or speaking, he pulled his sword an inch out of the scabbard, so carefully that only a tiny, barely perceptible rasping sound disturbed the air.
But it was enough.
Lightning quick and in one fluid motion, Sin rolled to his feet. With the toe of his left foot, Sin caught his scabbard and kicked it from the ground into his hands, where he unsheathed his long sword in a quick, graceful arc and whirled to face them.
The blade came to rest a mere inch from Braden's neck as Maggie froze, too scared to breathe.
His face deadly and tight, Sin only relaxed when he realized it was she and Braden who had disturbed him.
Sin cursed. ”I really hate it when you do that,” he said to Braden, sheathing his sword.
Braden gave her a warning stare. ”Never touch him while he sleeps. Or if you do so, duck.”
”I will remember that.”
As if unperturbed by the strangeness of his actions, Sin stretched casually, then yawned. ”Still no sign of our bandits?”
Braden shook his head. ”Not yet.”
”Pity. I feel the urge to kill something.” Sin left them to tend to his needs.
”Kill something?” she asked Braden when they were alone. ”Is he jesting?”
”Most likely not,” he said, matter-of-factly.
A chill went down her spine as she left Braden and rolled her plaid up, then placed it into her pack. Sin was a scary, scary man. But then, Braden could be so as well.
Dismissing them from her thoughts, she made herself concentrate on the task ahead.
Once Sin returned, the men gave Maggie her privacy as Braden prepared food to break the morning fast.
Braden glanced longingly into the trees where Maggie had vanished. He'd spent half the night just watching her. Watching the way her chest rose and fell with her deep, even breaths. The way her arm gracefully curled under her head to support it.
The way she had gently reached up in the middle of the night to scratch at her cheek and rub her eye like some adorable little child.
Sleep did the most incredible things to her. It softened the tautness of her face and made her appear like a fey imp. The same imp who had once filled his boots with flour. He laughed.
Where had the time gone?
One day they had been children, running through the heather-filled moors together as they chased b.u.t.terflies, and now she was grown. Grown into a strong woman who captivated him.
And this attraction he felt for her. What was it? Where did it come from?
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