The Highlander Series(22)

The evening repast had been a stressful event. She’d taken one look at the laird’s youngest brother and thought better of her promise to sit next to Crispen at the table. He scowled at her, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been treated to scowls from the other McCabe brothers, but there was a darkness to Caelen’s frown that unnerved her.

She’d uttered an excuse about not feeling well and had immediately retreated above stairs. Undaunted by her departure, Crispen brought a plate of food to her door, and the two of them had sat cross-legged in front of the fire to eat.

Afterward, she pleaded fatigue and sent Crispen on his way. And she waited. For hours she listened for the sounds of the keep to diminish. When she was sure everyone was abed, or at least safely ensconced in their quarters, she snuck down the stairs and out the entrance that faced the loch.

She breathed easier when she entered the shelter of the trees that divided part of the loch from the keep. Here she could move with relative obscurity and follow the loch until she was away.

A great splash startled her, and she turned in the direction of the water. She went still, holding her breath as she peered through the trees toward the inky black water. There was barely a moon this night, and only a slim light was cast onto the rippling surface.

It was enough for her to see that three men were taking a late swim. It was also enough for her to see who was taking the swim. Ewan McCabe and his brothers were diving into the loch, and God have mercy on her, they didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

She immediately covered her eyes with both hands, mortified beyond all measure that she’d just seen the backsides of three grown men. Were they mad? The loch had to be incredibly cold. She shivered at the mere thought of just how icy such a swim would be.

For several minutes she sat, hunkered down by a tree, hands covering her eyes until finally she eased them away only to see Ewan McCabe come walking from the water. Her eyes rounded in shock, and her hands hung limply at her sides as she stared, transfixed by the sight of a fully naked man. He stood, drying himself with a cloth, and each stroke only drew attention to his muscled body. And … And … she couldn’t even bring herself to think about the area between his legs.

When she realized she was staring quite unabashedly at his … his … manhood, she promptly clapped both hands over her eyes again and sank her teeth into her bottom lip to stifle the squeak that threatened to spill out.

Her only hope was that they would finish their swim and go back to the keep. She couldn’t risk moving about in the trees and attracting attention, but neither did she want to sit here staring immodestly.

Heat suffused her cheeks, and though she kept her eyes firmly covered, the image of Ewan McCabe without clothing burned through her mind with astonishing clarity. No matter what she did, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of him walking from the water—completely and utterly naked.

It would take at least three confessions to atone for this much sinning.

“You can look now. I assure you I am fully clothed.”

The laird’s dry voice slid with agonizing precision over her ears. Mortification billowed over her, and her cheeks grew so tight with humiliation that all she could think to do was sit there, hands still covering her eyes. Maybe if she wished really hard, when she opened her eyes, the laird would be far, far away.

“Not likely,” came the amused reply.

She dropped one hand to her mouth, which is where it should have been all along so nothing stupid slipped out, like the fact that she’d just wished the laird to be a great distance away.

Now that she had one eye uncovered, she chanced a look at him to see that he was indeed clothed. With that established, she let her other hand slip down as she looked nervously at the laird.

He stood, legs apart, arms crossed over his chest, and, predictably, he was scowling.

“Want to tell me what you’re doing skulking around in the dark?”

Her shoulders sagged. Apparently she couldn’t even muster a good escape. How was she to know he and his brothers liked taking idiotic swims so late?

“Do I have to answer that?” she mumbled.

The laird sighed. “What part of me telling you that you weren’t leaving my protection did you not understand? I don’t take kindly to those under my authority blatantly disregarding my orders. If you were one of my soldiers, I’d kill you.”

The last didn’t sound like a boast. He didn’t even say it with any flair, so she was sure it wasn’t said to impress her. Nay, it was God’s truth, and that served to scare her even more.

Some demon prompted her to deny his claim. “I’m not under your authority, Laird. I’m not sure how you came to that notion, but ’tis quite untrue. I’m not under anyone’s authority, save God’s and my own.”