“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?”
“Not anymore,” he rumbled.
Her insides tightened with uncertainty. Where was she being taken and with whom? And how much more could go wrong?
Chapter Two
Who was this woman resting so comfortably in his arms? While he’d seen little of her shape, he felt her supple curves through her damp clothing. She wore a man’s shirt and breeches along with the godawful hat that blocked his view of her face now. The clothing, however, gave him a unique ability to feel every curve against his bare chest. He noted there were a lot of them. “What’s yer name, lass?”
She’d placed one of her hands on his biceps. At his question, she flexed her fingers, kneading his flesh. It was a simple touch but it near made him groan aloud. He had to get rid of this one in a hurry. He was far too aware of her for his liking. “My name is Elspith McIntyre but most around here just call me Elle. What’s yers?”
She tilted back her head then and looked up at him. He was struck again by her beauty. Her large green eyes were highlighted by long, dark lashes. Her high cheekbones were only accentuated by a light pink staining that matched the sweeping curve of her lips. They parted now as she waited for his answer. “Blair Sinclair.”
She closed her eyes and then opened them as her perfectly arched brows scrunched together. “Blair Sinclair? You’re not from the village.” It was a statement not a question so he didn’t bother to respond. “But your name is familiar to me.”
She didn’t know who he was.
He debated telling her but they’d reached the cottage. Kicking open the door, he carried her inside. Coals still burned in the fireplace and he gave a small breath of relief. It would be easy to heat the place and get them warm again.
“I’m going to set ye down so that I can stoke the fire.” Then he placed her on one of the chairs around the table. He’d have put her closer to the fire but the only seats around it were upholstered and he wanted to save them until they were in dry clothes.
Working quickly he tossed several logs on the fire and then crossed to the only bedroom to get some blankets. As he walked back out, she sat huddled in the chair, shivering and pale. “Take off yer clothes,” he said, worried he’d taken too long.
But any color left in her cheeks drained at his words. “I…I don’t…I haven’t…I owe you my life of course but…” Her eyes were huge as she stared up at him.
I owe you my life? Hell and damnation did the woman think he was demanding payment for the rescue? “Do I look like the type of man who’d take advantage of a woman about to freeze to death?”
He heard her suck in her breath as her gaze dropped to the floor. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Her words made his gut clench. They most certainly could, but it hurt to think a woman like her had likely learned that lesson. “Lass…Elle, I need to get ye dry so I can get ye warm because right now, yer still in danger.” He knelt down so his face was below hers. “I’ve got to take off yer clothes but I won’t look and I won’t touch ye.”
She looked at him again. Nibbling her lip, her eyes scrunched as she assessed him. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“I’m afraid ye don’t.” He reached for the buttons of her shirt. He tried to keep his promise but it was damn hard to undress her without seeing anything. He started with her other boot and he couldn’t help but notice how swollen her ankle was, not to mention the rainbow of colors blooming on her pale skin.
He stripped down her pants next, having her use her hands to prop herself up on the seat. Her legs were long and shapely and he had to take several deep breaths to keep his racing heart in check.
Grabbing one of the blankets, he held it up between them. “Can you take off yer own shirt?”
“Aye,” she replied. He held the blanket higher so he couldn’t see, not that he needed to. He’d felt her tiny waist, the flair of her hips, the rather ample chest. His mind was drawing a picture that he was doing his best to erase.
“Once it’s off, I’ll cover ye in the blanket,” he said but his voice betrayed him, rough and gravelly.
The fabric rustled and landed with a soft thump on the floor. “It’s off,” she called and he dropped the blanket on her.
Then, tucking it round her, he lifted her again. Holding her from his body, he set her in one of the stuffed chairs by the fire.
She sighed, the sound raising his flesh all along his arms. “Thank you,” she murmured barely above a whisper.
“Ye’re welcome,” he grunted back as he began stripping off his shirt.
She squeaked. “What are ye doing?”
He tried to hide a grin. Somehow, her discomfort was amusing. It meant she’d no experience seeing a man without his clothes. He liked that thought, though it shouldn’t matter. “I’m frozen lass. Who will git ye home if I perish from the cold?”
Elle sucked in a breath. Home. Her brother. He’d be expecting her soon and he’d worry if she didn’t return.