Ravished by a Highlander (14 page)

“What?” Rob asked, taken aback for a moment that she would so boldly seek a compliment from him.

“The bow.” She held hers up to him. “I’d like to see if you are as good with it as you are with a blade.” Her smile widened
into a grin. “It will be fun.”

Rob shook his head, thinking of a thousand different things he’d rather do with her for fun. “We have nae time fer pleasure.
We have to keep movin’.” He looked over her shoulder rather than at the disappointment on her face. “Will, get rid of that
target and let’s get this place cleaned up.”

He didn’t look back at Davina again as he strode away. ’Twas best not to, else he might end up like her captain, languishing
after something that was forbidden. Hell, he’d had a hard enough time remembering that she was a novice of the Order when
she was draped in His robes. Her soft curves, so delicately defined now in her kirtle… He stopped and turned back to where
she was still standing with the captain.

“Where did ye change yer garment?”

She pointed to a thick stand of trees in the distance then looked down at herself. “It’s a bit snug. It must have belonged
to one of the younger novices.”

He knew he was scowling but he couldn’t help himself, just as he couldn’t stop himself from thinking no lass in all the world
ever looked so fine in something so plain.

“It looks… ye look bonnie in it.” He tightened his jaw to keep himself from smiling at her like some besotted, dimwitted fool.
But he knew ’twas already too late.

The next few days were hell for Rob. More difficult than any raid or training time with his father had ever been. He ate little
and slept less, battling with himself night and day against feelings that threatened to control him. He was happy that Davina
had put aside her grief and was enjoying herself on their journey. Though she sometimes fell into a silence so deep he thought
he could almost hear her thoughts, ’twas her laughter that filled the air, and his heart, while she practiced archery each
morning with Will or tried to learn how to ride a horse on her own under Colin’s careful instruction. But despite his best
efforts to prove to Davina that he too was good-natured, Rob found himself snapping at the others for minor offenses. The
fact that he was trying to prove anything to her at all goaded his temper, but riding with her was the true cause of his foul
mood. It wasn’t the feel of her pressed to his chest and clutched in his arms that did it, although he was certain that having
her so near, as if she were his, helped to fan the flames.

It was Asher. The captain rode at their side constantly, usurping Finn’s place. At first, he pretended interest in the MacGregors,
but soon his true purpose for rubbing stirrups with Rob became clear. He talked to Davina ceaselessly, preventing her from
speaking overmuch to Rob, or him to her. At first, Rob told himself he didn’t mind. Davina and her captain were friends. They
shared a past together. It meant nothing. He certainly wasn’t going to let some childish emotion cloud his reasoning. But
Asher did nothing to hide the fact that he was in love with her. Da—vina knew it and cast all her smiles Asher’s way. She
even laughed when he reminded her of a day two summers ago, when he had tried to shear one of St. Christopher’s sheep and
the woolly beast bit him on the arse.

Rob wanted to punch him in the mouth. What kind of man couldn’t shear a damned sheep? It wasn’t any better when they stopped
to eat or sleep. In fact, ’twas worse. Every step she took found Asher right behind her. Twice Rob had to block his path when
she left to relieve herself.
That
had almost cost Rob his temper, but his resolve held firm… and he was damned proud of it.

When Asher didn’t have her ear, Finn usually did, and if the lad wasn’t so young, Rob would have worried most about the effect
that particular male had on Davina. Twice Rob was sure he’d seen her wipe tears from her eyes while she stared at the lad,
thinking she went unobserved.

Not so. Rob’s eyes were ever on her, taking in every gesture, every smile, every flawless curve that shaped her. He knew how
she breathed because he lay awake at night watching her sleep, aching to hold her, kiss her, make her his own. She was crafted
of stardust and secrets and he was lost. He knew it, and he didn’t like it.

Unfortunately, his brother Colin knew it, too, and did his best to reassure him not to fret about it, they all were a wee
bit lost to her—a truth that only made Rob more irritable. Still, he hadn’t cracked any heads yet. He worked harder than he
ever had in his life at harnessing his emotions. When he didn’t, bad things usually happened; like breaking Donald MacPherson’s
arm after he shot Tristan with his arrow, or when he left Davina at Courlochcraig and then had to kill six men to get her
out.

There was one bright light in his gloom, though. He was pleased to discover that Davina had indeed taken notice of his balanced
temperament when they stopped for the night outside of Dumbarton.

He was sharing a word with Will after they made camp when she came up behind him. “You’ve been very patient with Edward.”

Rob wasn’t entirely happy to hear her bring up the captain—since it was the first time in days her guardian wasn’t stationed
at her side—but he refused to behave like a sulking boy. “Why should I no’ be patient with him?”

She shrugged her shoulders and offered her usual smile to Finn when he sat across the fire. She hadn’t smiled at Rob in days.
“I just thought that his not including you in our talks might have angered you.”

“Why should it?” Rob asked her, sparing her a brief, uninterested glance before he turned back to Will. He wasn’t completely
certain that if he continued looking at her above the firelight he wouldn’t crack and confess to already having thought of
a solution to Captain Asher.

“You might,” she said with a marked sting in her voice, “because it can seem a bit rude and you
have
been snarling about like a bear with a thorn in his paw.”

Rob turned to her, a smile of detached amusement narrowing his eyes. “Ye just told me how patient I’ve been.”

“I was being pleasant”—she smiled back at him to prove it—“with the hopes that it might rub off on you.”

Hell, the last thing he wanted to do was grin at her like some heart-struck lackwit, but he enjoyed her flashes of temper,
even at the cost of Will chuckling at him. She had strength in her she wasn’t even aware of, passion he wanted to feed.

“I simply wanted you to know,” she said, trying to look as uninterested as he, “that Edward means no offense. He has been
at my side for a long time and it’s difficult for him to just hand over my well-being to you—especially when you hold me as
if…”

“As if what?” he prodded when she grew silent.

“As if I belonged to you.” She didn’t look anywhere near as angry as she tried to sound. “I don’t, in case you had forgotten.”

He hadn’t, and that was part of the trouble. He wanted her—God forgive him, and he was growing tired of fighting it.

With an oath on her lips she was sure would cost her a month of confession, Davina returned to the fire and took a seat across
from Finn. She tried to keep her eyes on the hare roasting over the spit, but they kept flicking back to Rob. Saints, but
the man was as rigid as an arrow. She knew how close Edward had come on several different occasions to getting swiped by the
snarling bear. She’d felt the tightness of Rob’s muscles behind her whenever Edward commanded all her attention. Why was he
trying to convince her that he was unfazed by it? On the other hand, what if she was wrong? What if he truly didn’t care one
whit if Edward tossed her over his arm and kissed her senseless—the way Rob had at Courlochcraig? And, dear God, why couldn’t
she get
that
out of her mind? Every blasted time she looked at his mouth, she wanted him to kiss her again. He didn’t. What if he didn’t
like her and was just following some sense of duty? It would explain why he scowled at her whenever she caught his eye. She
really shouldn’t have been cheeky with him. Whether he admitted it or not, he didn’t like Edward. If he didn’t like her either,
there would be nothing to stop him from leaving both of them where they sat while he returned home. “Please God, don’t let
him do it.”

“Don’t let who do what?” Edward appeared over her, holding a handful of red berries and wearing a tender smile that should
have been soothing. It wasn’t. How could she tell him how just being near Rob made her feel safe and cared for without wounding
Edward to his heart?

Rather than lie to him, she took the berries he offered and patted the ground beside her, inviting him to sit. When he did,
she moved a bit closer so that the others could not hear her. “I would like you to try and get along better with Rob. He isn’t
trying to take your place.”

Unlike Rob, who was as difficult to read as the Latin scrolls burnt to ashes, along with everything else at St. Christopher’s,
Edward’s emotions played openly across his face.

“Can he take my place?”

“Of course he can’t, but he isn’t trying to, Edward.” She took his hand, trying to convince him. “I don’t think he even likes
me.” He certainly didn’t look at her the way Edward did, with his whole heart exposed at her feet.

“He has gone out of his way for someone he doesn’t like. Wouldn’t you say?” Edward chuckled mirthlessly.

“Not really,” Davina told him with a soft sigh that she didn’t know she expelled. “He’s a noble man with a deep sense of duty
to those around him. That’s all. Will told me that Rob is firstborn and will someday lead his clan. The task of protecting
them will fall on his shoulders. He is merely doing what he has been taught to do—the same as I.”

“You sound disappointed that it is not more than that,” Edward said softly, looking away from her gaze.

“Edward, please don’t be a fool.” She hushed her voice when Colin and Finn glanced at her over the sizzling hare. “You know
that my life is not my own.”

“Yes, I know it,” Edward whispered and glanced across the flames at Rob. “But does he?”

“He doesn’t know who I am, Edward,” she said following her friend’s gaze. “For whatever reason, I don’t think he cares.” She
smiled, dipping her gaze to the flames. “It is odd, but it makes me feel as if I don’t care either.” And oh, how could she
ever explain to Edward how wonderful it felt not to care? “I should tell him,” she said, looking up into her dearest friend’s
eyes again. “He deserves to be told. I want to tell Finn that he is my cousin.”

“You cannot tell them the truth,” Edward warned her, shifting his gaze to Rob once again when the Highlander began to walk
toward them. “Do you think he will still bring you to Skye knowing he might bring the entire realm down on his family’s name
once again?”

There it was, her fear spoken aloud. She shook her head.

“He is right. Skye is most likely the only place safe for you, my lady,” Edward said quickly. “Remember who you are.”

Davina stared at him until the sting behind her eyes began to ache. Then she dipped her gaze to her lap. She didn’t want to
remember. For once, she just wanted to be Davina, and not James of York’s true firstborn daughter and heir to the throne of
the three kingdoms.

J
ohn Henry Frasier grinned when his wife bent to kiss his cheek, and then continued counting the coins stacked in his palm.
“Thirty-three…” His thick, gray brows drew together in a moment of forgetfulness. “Or was that thirty-four?”

“Twenty-nine,” his wife called over her shoulder, untying her apron behind her back as she left him.

“Twenty-nine?” He shook his head and drew out a long sigh. “’Twas another slow day in the tavern.”

“I know, but soon the festivities in England will be over and our patrons will return.”

He glanced up from his small bundle and smiled at his wife’s generous rump swaying beneath her skirts while she climbed the
stairs to their rooms above the small tavern. What would he do without his Millie, always reminding him of brighter things?

“Come to bed now, John. ’Tis late.”

“In a moment, my love. Let me wallow in my poverty.”

She laughed from the second landing, setting his poor memory to ruin once again. “You never wallow, John. Don’t forget to
lock up,” she added, disappearing around a corner.

“Aye. Now where was I?” He plucked a coin up in his beefy fingers and gave it a thoughtful look. “Thirty-four, thirty…” He
stopped counting when a gust of cool night air swept his silver hair over his forehead.

“My apologies,” he said, turning in his chair toward the door. “We are closed.”

The figure framing the doorway sent an even icier chill down his spine. The patron made no motion to suggest he heard John’s
words, but slowly stepped aside to allow four men behind him to enter.

John stood up and shoved his coins into the pocket of his apron. “I’ve only a few coin if you mean to rob me.”

A low chuckle came from the doorway as the figure stepped into the soft light of the tavern. John narrowed his eyes, getting
a better look at the man. He wore breeches and a coat that hung well past his knees. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed half his
face, but his eyes flickered a pale gray in the firelight.