All thoughts of escape fled her mind. She wanted to be a part of this beautiful new day. And she wanted to do so in private.
Surreptitiously Katrine glanced around her. The yard was deserted, but the equine whickers and the murmur of sleepy male voices coming from the stable mews were a strong indication that the MacLean clan was stirring.
Praying she wouldn’t be seen, Katrine quickly skirted the mews and made for the well-used path that led to the burn behind the house. When she reached the edge of the yard and slipped behind a clump of rhododendron bushes, she paused again to stare at the magnificent scene.
Before her the mist-shrouded slopes of the Ardgour mountains rose abruptly toward the sky, their peaks tinted with the rosy blush of dawn. Much nearer, flanking the path, was a delicate wilderness of flora—fronds of bracken and shrubs of yellow Scotch broom amid a scattering of birches and tall rowan trees.
Bending, Katrine caught up the hem of her long skirt, looping the sides and tucking them in at her waist so she wouldn’t trip. Then crossing the rippling burn by way of a log bridge, she set out eagerly.
Upstairs, Raith witnessed her furtive departure from his bedchamber window.
“What the devil is she up to now?” he muttered, his fingers momentarily gripping the windowsill.
With a low oath, Raith strode naked across the floor and grabbed his hunting plaid from the clothespress. Draping it around him and belting it at the waist to form a kilt, he flung the long end across his chest and hastened from the room, intent on pursuing Katrine.
He was grateful for the restlessness that had made him leave his huge bed, for otherwise he would have missed seeing her. As it was, he’d been startled to notice her emerging from the shadow of the house below him. For a moment he had watched, wondering if she meant to try to steal a horse. If so she would find it difficult, since his men were on the alert for just such an attempt.
She would find it even more difficult to escape by way of the mountains, for the terrain was wild and treacherous for those unfamiliar with it, and even an experienced hunter could become lost. Raith didn’t think she could find her way out, yet from the first he had underestimated her resourcefulness. He didn’t intend to do so again.
And so he followed her, his sentiments the same turmoil of feelings he had harbored for her since the moment he decided to take her hostage. Apprehension that she might actually escape. Vexation that he should be put to the trouble of preventing her. Self-disgust for the attraction her hot-tempered spirit and soft radiance aroused in him. And, though he was reluctant to admit it, concern for her safety. It was this last that was uppermost in Raith’s mind as he followed the path Katrine had taken, his strides long and determined.
He crossed the log bridge over the burn; after some hundred yards, the path spilled out into a glen. Even before he reached it, he could hear the rush of another burn as it tumbled over a mass of boulders into a small but deep loch. When he came to the glen, Raith paused, his gaze searching the misty light for a slender, roy-haired wench.
He had no immediate success. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of the shimmering blue of the loch, but he saw no sign of Katrine Campbell.
Raith was halfway across the glen when he spotted her far to his left. She was sitting quite still on a flat, moss-covered boulder above the loch, near the cascading waterfall of the burn, her knees drawn up as she watched the lightening sky.
She saw him coming. He could tell by the startled way she raised her head, the sudden tensing of her body. Yet she didn’t try to flee. Instead she watched warily as he began to climb the rocks to her side.
Katrine was indeed startled by his sudden appearance—and dismayed at the effect he had on her senses. It was absurd, the way her heart leaped whenever she laid eyes on the man, she scolded herself. Even if he did possess a lion’s share of virility, Raith MacLean was her abductor, her clan’s enemy. She had no business allowing herself to think of him as a normal man, and certainly no business developing an attraction to him.
But she was unable to look away. Her gaze followed his progress as he made his way upward, watching the powerful flexing of sinews in his arms and shoulders, the firm knotted muscles in his bare calves. Then he raised a knee to negotiate the next rock and the kilt fell away, exposing a long length of bare thigh. He was naked beneath the plaid, Katrine realized with a sense of shock.
A blush flooded her face, even as she mentally chided herself again. His mode of dress might be unlawful but not so unusual. Before the Forty-five it had been common for a Highlander to wear nothing but his plaid, especially those too poor to afford cloth for shirt and jacket. Although it was usual to accompany the kilt with checkered hose and leather brogues. At the moment Raith boasted neither, so it was easy to see that his feet were strong and graceful, and his long powerful legs were sprinkled with black hair. His chest, too, was lightly furred, from what she could glimpse beneath the plaid.
Confronted with so much masculinity, Katrine didn’t quite know how to react. Certainly, she reflected, staring at him like some daft halfwit was not at all appropriate behavior under the present circumstances. Dragging her gaze from him, Katrine forced herself to look away, and by the time he reached the boulder where she sat and pulled himself up, she was intently studying a cluster of yellow primroses that grew in a shaded crevice of the rock. She was quite conscious, however, of Raith’s unsettling primitive state of dress as he stood towering over her.
“Would you mind telling me just what you are doing here?” he asked in a tone that was deceptively mild.
Katrine was grateful for the splashing gurgle of the waterfall below, for it drowned out the pounding of her heart. “I wanted to watch the sunrise.”
“You wanted to watch the sunrise.” The skepticism in his tone was laced with antagonism.
Too late Katrine became aware of his irritation. She glanced up at Raith, startled to see his black brows drawn together in a frown. “You said I could leave the house, since there’s no way I can escape.”
When he didn’t immediately reply, she wondered if he meant to withdraw his permission. Worriedly she met his gaze, her own questioning and uncertain. Raith stared at her for a long moment, before his harsh expression relaxed.
“I didn’t expect you to embark on an excursion to view the sights,” was his dry remark as he lowered himself to sit on the rock beside her.
Dismayed to find him so very near, Katrine took a steadying breath. “You’re accustomed to all this—” she waved her arm at the panorama spread before her “—but I’ve only dreamed of it.”
Raith didn’t even glance at the sight. Feeling his penetrating blue gaze on her, Katrine shifted uncomfortably and hastened to direct his attention elsewhere. “I saw a red deer. Down there,” she added with a gesture of her head. “It was drinking at the loch.”
“You’re fortunate not to have come across a wildcat.”
“A wildcat? Here?”
At the concern in her tone, the corners of Raith’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “Yes, here. Not that you have to worry. No doubt you could hold your own in any scrap.”