Their ascent steepened. Marcus closed the circle of his arms around the woman's waist. She leaned into him. It was a shame she wore a cloak. Without it, her bare arms would lay against his chest. He hardened. Bloody hell. Shift even a hair's breadth and the challenge he'd seen in her gaze an hour ago would resurface, accompanied by a slap across his face.
She had betrayed no fear when he came upon her—other than her open assessment of his weapon. Odd his sword should be what frightened her. She must have known if he meant mischief, he needed no weapon save his body. An erotic picture arose of her straddling him, breasts arched so he could suckle each until she begged him to lift her onto his erection.
He forced back the vision and focused on her determination to defend the children with her life… or perhaps, her body. He smiled, then gritted his teeth when he further hardened at the memory of her leaning over Tavis's shoulders as she scanned the forest for the riders he'd sent. Hands braced on her knees, her posture revealed the curve of a firm derriere.
When she turned at their approach, the wind had blown her brown hair about her shoulders, bringing his attention to the sensual curve of modest breasts visible just above the edge of her bodice. He envisioned hips tapering into long legs and wondered what those legs would feel like wrapped tightly around his waist while he thrust deep inside her.
Her accent had caught him off guard. What was an American woman doing on MacGregor land, and how had she come to know Tavis and Bonnie well enough to track them through the woods? Hot fury shot through him. The little fool. Had the wrong man come upon her, she might well have ended up like Katie.
The majestic heights of Brahan Seer's west tower abruptly loomed in the distance. Marcus's steed unexpectedly faltered, then steadied. The woman tensed and Marcus's body pulsed. He closed his eyes, breathed deep of her hair, then looked again at the tower. For the first time in his life, he regretted the sight. His ride with her cradled in his arms would soon end.
Higher they climbed, until Brahan Seer's walls became visible. The gates were open. At their approach, his captain Daniel hailed from the battlements. Marcus nodded as they rode through the entry. Inside the courtyard, he halted and Daniel appeared at his side.
"Elise," he addressed the woman, surprise apparent on his features. He glanced at the children, his gaze lingering on Bonnie. His mouth tightened. "Mayhap Marcus can take a hand with you, Tavis. Get along, and take your sister. Your mother will be worried."
Marcus handed Elise down to him. Before Marcus's feet touched the ground, she had started toward the castle. He dismounted and clasped Daniel's hand while watching from the corner of his eye the sway of her cloak about her hips as she answered a welcoming smile from two of his men headed toward the stables.
"What were they doing out alone?" Marcus demanded of Daniel.
"I've ordered the boy not to go wandering the woods," he replied.
"And Bonnie?"
"This is the first. I imagine she chased after her brother."
Elise turned the corner around the castle and Marcus cut his gaze onto her the instant before she disappeared. Lust shot to the surface and tightened his shaft, but he turned back to Daniel. "Why is Shamus letting his children run wild—never mind. I'll speak to him. You look well."
Daniel hesitated, then said, "Chloe is with child."
Marcus smiled in genuine pleasure. "Congratulations, man."
Daniel smiled, then took the reins as Marcus turned toward the castle.
Through the busy courtyard, he answered greetings, but his thoughts remained on the image of Elise as she vanished from sight. She had a forthright, strong quality. Yet—he bent his head to breathe her lingering scent from his clothes—the lavender bouquet in her hair was decidedly feminine. It would be some time before he forgot the feel of her buttocks across his thighs. But then, perhaps he wouldn't have to. Marcus entered the great hall to find his father sitting alone in his chair at the head of the table.
Cameron brightened. "So, ye decided to come home?"
Relaxing warmth rippled through Marcus.
"Tired of wandering the land?" Cameron made a wide sweeping gesture.
"You knew I was on my way, but, aye." He stopped at the chair to his father's right and lowered himself onto the seat. "I am pleased to be home."
"How is my grandson? I see you did not bring him with you."
Marcus sighed. "Nay, Father. You knew I wouldn't."
Cameron snorted. "We would not want to offend the mighty Sassenach."
"Father," Marcus said in a low tone.
Cameron shook his head. "The clan never asked you to concede to the English, you know. I never asked for it. Did you ever wonder if the sacrifice is worth your son?"
"Aye," Marcus murmured. He'd wondered. Politics had ruled the MacGregor clan for centuries and that wasn't easily changed. He paused. "Have I been gone too long, or is something different about the great hall?"
"You have the right of it, lad." Eyes that mirrored his own looked back at him. "More than you can imagine."
Marcus looked about the room. "I can't quite place it. What's happened?"
Cameron took a long, exaggerated draught of ale.