The man nodded his thanks. “Aye, we will.” He motioned to his companions and they dismounted.
Iain faced the lass, breaking the formation of his men around her. He tucked her beneath his arm and started toward their pallet. Her wary gaze tracked the Frasers as they led their horses to the MacPherson tether line.
“Who are they?” she asked. “Frasers.”
“They are friends?” She looked up at him.
“We made a recent treaty with them.” He halted in front of the tartan. “No shenanigans tonight, love. Resist, and they would assume no one had claimed you.”
She blew out a short breath. “Claiming does not denote ownership, Iain McPherson.”
He gave her a gentle nudge. “Aye, love, here it does.”
“Father Brennan said I have the right to choose.” “Not all men honor such edicts.”
She sloughed off his hand and lowered herself onto the pallet. Iain lay down beside her, slid an arm around her waist, and curved her body into his. She tried to scoot away, but he held firm.
“Make the most of this while you can,” she said. “There will be no other such opportunities.”
“Never fear, sweet,” he whispered against her ear. “I will not need them.”
*
Startled, Victoria’s sleep-clouded mind slipped into consciousness when her arm bumped something hard. She reached out in drowsy curiosity, her hand closing over the defined muscles of a man’s chest. Her eyes shot open and she startled at the sight of Iain MacPherson, propped up on an elbow beside her. He rolled onto her and his dark hair fell forward on either side of her face.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he whispered.
She stared. “You are mad.”
“Do as I say.” Iain threw a leg over her thighs and tugged the tartan over their heads.
Victoria stiffened. “What in Hades are you doing?”
He began nuzzling her neck. “Pretending to make love to you.”
Victoria jammed her hands between them and shoved.
“Lay still,” he said in a strangled voice. “I only want our guests to think it. I am not actually doing it.”
“But you are,” she bit back.
Iain chuckled. “Nay, love. But never fear, we shall remedy that.”
Victoria shoved harder. He groaned and she opened her mouth to scream.
He clamped a hand over her mouth. “I did not mean now. Christ.”
She pushed against his shoulders and his leg clamped even tighter around her.
“Enough,” he said. “Two of them have been watching you all night.”
“Watching—” Victoria froze at the feel of his hard length pressing against her abdomen. She turned her head aside.
Warm breath fanned her cheek as he pressed his mouth to her face and whispered, “Do not fuss. Go to sleep.”
When he planted a soft kiss on her ear, the smile she felt against her cheek turned to a stifled oath at the hard pinch she gave his stomach.
*
Victoria glanced heavenward. Hanging low in the afternoon sky, the Highland clouds dropped a light mist. The best part of the day had been waking to find the strangers absent. Their presence had been unnerving, and the safety of the two men she had slept between held more comfort than she liked to admit. Victoria hazarded a glance at Iain MacPherson, who rode a few feet ahead. How safe was she? A shiver ran down her spine. Dangerous. Too much like another man she’d once known.
Iain looked over his shoulder at her, and Victoria dropped her gaze. She pulled the tartan tighter around her shoulders. The MacPherson lord couldn’t have read in her eyes what even her husband Richard hadn’t guessed. There had been another man. Had Richard discovered the truth, the fact that the man was his brother wouldn’t have stopped him from running a sword through Edwin’s belly. Though Edwin would have been the victor—as he would have been in her life, had she not stopped him. Richard’s possessions weren’t all Edwin had expected to inherit when Richard died. She doubted Edwin had recovered from finding the one possession he hadn’t yet fully claimed gone. She wondered which would be worse: staying locked in a Scottish castle the rest of her days, or the prison her brother-in-law would erect around her.
“Halt,” Iain command.
Victoria jerked from her thoughts. He dismounted and strode toward her. She didn’t resist when he lifted her from the saddle. She scanned the tiny clearing for the rushing water that echoed in faint murmurs.
“I hear water.”
He motioned westward. “Inlets from Loch Ericht run throughout the land.”
“I need to bathe.”
“As you wish,” he said. “But do not dally. It will be dark soon.”
Victoria turned. Another night and day farther from Montrose Abbey.
Chapter Three