In Bed With A Stranger(17)

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice squeaked as her blush deepened. She felt like every pair of eyes was focused on her as she walked toward the rocks. Returning took a great deal of discipline as she ordered herself to stop being so childish. The body had needs; it was no reason for blushing.

More of the men were turned her way now, studying her as she drew closer to the water. The earl was already back on his steed, watching them from several feet above. He scanned the horizon, his face set in hard lines. He wasn’t relaxed or jovial. Solid determination radiated from him as he swept the entire surrounding area before letting his gaze settle on her.

Her cheeks warmed again, the tiny response tingling as it went through her flesh. She worried her lower lip as she found herself staring back at him, unable to break the connection. He actually frowned before looking away. Her pride bristled, the hot stain on her cheeks annoying.

How could she blush for him?

And why did he find her unpleasing?

Her anger stunned her, numbing her mind as she tried to decide why she cared what the man thought of her. If he found her ugly, all the better. It would certainly make avoiding the bedding easier.

Yet she could not deny the surge of disappointment that went through her. It was as real as the kilt-wearing men near her. Quite unexpected but still a firm reality.

“The two of you will just have to wait.”

There was a male chuckle as the earl’s brother returned leading her mare. He smirked at her while offering her a hand to mount. Anne reached for the saddle horn instead, lodging one foot in the stirrup and pushing her body up into the air on her own.

Humph, she’d be very well and good on her own.

“Well now, I’ve never seen an English lady who could do that. Maybe my brother made a better choice than he thinks.”

Looking down at the Scot, Anne was tempted to flip her veil back so that he might see the frown she was aiming at him. It was another impulse, one that was very hard to resist. She found the man grinning from ear to ear, his sky blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Her anger fled as she noted how much he reminded her of Bonnie.

“You know a great deal about English women, do you?”

His lips lowered into a pensive line. “I’ve attended yer queen’s court with my brother, so aye, I know a wee bit.” His eyes flickered with something that looked like distrust. “Ye’re not exactly what I expected when my brother told me we were off to fetch ye home.”

He looked at her with a critical eye that made her wonder just what she was lacking in his opinion.

“As we are strangers, I declined to form any opinions of you or your brother before I met you both.”

One of his eyebrows rose. A soft scoff pasted his lips and his eyes glittered with amusement.

“Och well, there’s a tone I recall well. Ye English lasses must be descended from Valkyries because ye have the north wind living inside ye. Icy as snow ye are when ye’re of the mind to freeze a man with your words.”

Anne bit back an apology. Philipa’s words rose above her impulse. Becoming too familiar with any of these men was unwise considering the precarious position of her family. Still, she was not the one casting rude comments about. No matter the situation, she was not weak willed.

“My name is Cullen.” He offered her a folded cloth. “Here’s something to eat. It’s a two-day ride to Sterling castle. Ye’ll need yer strength.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was low as she took the offering. Cullen hooked a leather cord attached to a full wine skin over the saddle horn. Her cheeks heated again, this time in shame for being so outspoken. She shouldn’t allow Philipa to turn her into a bitter-hearted person. But she held her comments, sealing them behind her lips for fear of what might yet happen to her family. She had to play her role, at least until her sire discovered her plight.

Cullen nodded. “Welcome to the family.”

His voice was gruff. She deserved it for being so haughty. Regret pierced her as he walked toward his own horse. She had regret for so many things that weren’t in her power to change. Everything about where she found herself was frustrating. She’d heard a lot of sermons on kindness being the key to unlocking good solutions, but today she was hard-pressed to figure a way to deal with her dilemma in a Christian way.

There was nothing virtuous about her position. It was steeped in sin and the stain was smearing with each word she spoke. Philipa had truly poisoned herself with hatred because no woman with a heart could send someone into such a situation.

But being correct didn’t help her. All of her reasoning and justifications of being the victim failed to fend off the guilt chewing on her. Truly, speaking to the saints was unlikely to bring her any help. Not when she considered that all of those holy figures had martyred themselves rather than act unchristian.