Scottish Devil (Brethren of Stone 1)

But as his body came into c

ontact with the lad, he realized in a split second that it was no child at all and certainly not a boy. Arms around his neck and the crush of breasts against his bare chest couldn’t be mistaken. He looked down at the delicate features of a bloody woman. Her wide green eyes stared at him as her full lips opened in a tiny O. Not just a woman but a beautiful one at that.

Hell and damnation.

Elle clung to the neck of the man who’d swum out to rescue her, wishing for the thousandth time that morning she could just go home and begin this day again. It had gone wrong from the first and was only getting worse with each breath she took.

“Let go of my neck,” the man’s deep voice rumbled through her near frozen body.

The last thing she wanted to do was let go. “What?”

“I need to put ye on my back tae swim ye in. Let go.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond as they both dipped under the water while he grabbed her hands to pull them from his neck then shifted her around his body.

Settling her on his back, he gave a powerful kick, muscles rippling underneath her as they shot through the water toward the shore.

Despite the cold and the pain radiating out from her ankle, she couldn’t help but be aware of the man who now carried her to safety. He was handsome as sin and muscled like few men she’d ever met.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t need a man to help her through life. Well, except for right now, of course. But in general, she was determined to raise her brother on her own. Help usually came at a cost.

Oh dear lord, what would be the cost for this man’s help today? Surely there would be some form of recompense required. Life had taught her there always was.

“Is there anyone else wit ye?” he asked as they neared the shore.

She nodded and then realized he couldn’t see her head. Between chattering teeth, she answered. “No, just me.”

His chest rumbled, the vibrations travelling through her, but she couldn’t say what it meant.

Using the waves, he brought them into shore, and stumbled out of the water with her still on his back. Elle sucked in her breath as the cold air hit her back. It was worse than the water.

Hardly able to breathe, she didn’t have a moment to tell him that her ankle was hurt when he set her down on the shore.

Pain like she’d only experienced once before shot through her leg and with a scream, she fell into the sand.

“Hell and damnation,” the man cursed, turning back to her. “What is it?”

“My ankle,” she cried as she curled onto her side to clutch at the hurt limb.

He dropped down next to her and carefully lifted the leg. “We’ll have to get the boot off. If yer ankle is too swollen, we might need to cut it away.”

Her eyes bulged. “We can’t cut it. It’s the only pair I have.” They had once been beautiful leather boots and while they were now worn, they were at least whole.

“All right, lass. We’ll try to remove it now.” Working quickly, he loosened the laces and then began to remove the shoe.

She scrunched her face as she watched his massive hands work, but to her surprise, they were achingly gentle as they pulled the boot away. Without a word, he handed her the shoe and scooped her into his arms.

The feel of his heat made her aware of how cold she’d become and she snuggled down into his massive chest. Sneaking a peek, she looked up at his features again. She’d only noted in the water that he was handsome, but now she took a better look. Dark brown eyes, fringed with dark lashes, drew her eye from the hard lines of his face. His square jaw and thick neck might have frightened her, but his lips softened them, full and near perfect. He was a man of contradiction, looking formidable and fierce but with a gentleness that had surprised her. Not that she’d allow that to lull her into feeling safe. She’d trusted a man to rescue her once, and she’d been far worse off for his supposed help.

His long strides carried them up the hill and she had a moment to wonder how he moved so quickly with her weight in addition to his own.

She didn’t realize her teeth were chattering until he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “We’re almost there.”

“W-w-where?” she managed to push out between near-frozen lips.

“My cottage,” he replied.

She tried to make her mind work. She’d been near Laird McCullen’s lands, though the old laird had sold them. But McCullen had a large house on the water and the man holding her had said cottage. This must be one of the new laird’s workers? “McCullen’s lands?”