Page 15 of Highland Seduction

Tor said naught.

“But I spoke of ye, no’ Adair.”

“Because ye didnae know him.”

Ainsley slowed until Tor was forced to do so. She did not want to like him. But in this moment, she could not resist doing so. He’d shown her his greatest weakness just now, which Ainsley could appreciate because, come nightfall, she was certain he would see hers.

All the preparation and years of steeling her mind would not matter once they entered those woods and darkness descended. It was that, the idea Ainsley would need him, that made her say, “I accept yer proposal of a truce, Tor.”

His eyes softened, and even through the discolored one that looked even worse today than it did last eve, she could see it clearly. Relief. Tor did not want conflict with her, and Ainsley did not wish to spend the entire journey fighting with a man who, though still her enemy, was also her husband. If temporarily.

“I am glad to hear it, lass.” He nodded into the distance, the open field waiting for them. “Now, those riding skills ye displayed earlier today. Could I see them once again? We’ve much distance to put before us by nightfall.”

That, at least, was something Ainsley could do well. She gently squeezed with her calves and tore off toward her greatest nemesis, which now lay ahead of them.

The woods.

Chapter 9

“How did ye learn to do that?”

Pleased beyond measure at how much ground they had covered, Tor was feeling more generous than usual. He rarely spoke of Adair, the pain in his chest at the mention of his brother’s name more than he could typically bear. But as he cooked the rabbit, Tor could not help thinking of the man that had taught the skill to him.

After finding a suitable spot for the night, Tor had hung the cloth tarp between trees on account of the clouds. If it did not rain this eve, they would be lucky. Perhaps they could have waited until morn, traveled on the morrow and pushed on to Fenwall St. Eastake and the village there, but this was not a journey of comfort or convenience. Time was not on their side.

“My brother, Adair, taught me to hunt. It was a great pleasure of his, but never for the sport of it alone. The cook at Castle MacRob always said when Adair was in residence, we would never go hungry.”

Ainsley, her simple riding dress tucked under her as she sat on the log he’d dragged toward the fire for her comfort, leaned forward. With her elbows propped on each leg, chin in her hands, she looked younger, more vulnerable, than he’d ever seen her. Perhaps he was just becoming accustomed to her face when she was not scowling.

A lovely face at that, perfectly shaped with lips made to be kissed. Deep brown hair with just a hint of auburn was neither tied back with a ribbon nor piled atop her head. It flowed freely, and earlier today, as she rode beside him, even Tor could admit the woman, though a Shaw, was as beautiful as he’d thought when first spying her in the hall.

“Tell me of him.”

Tor turned the rabbit and looked at her, his glance discouraging an answer to her question. Instead, she urged him on. “Go ahead. Was he like ye, with a smile to all the women, or like yer brother, the laird?”

“Ye speak of Royce as if he is the very opposite of happy.”

“Is he no’?”

She would, of course, know all of his and Rhona’s history. But rather than ruin their discussion, knowing it was another topic on which they would heartily disagree, he said, “Royce is more serious than me, but less so than Adair. He was . . . the best of us both.”

“Ye miss him.” It was a statement, not a question, but he answered anyway.

“Every day.” Tor pulled the rabbit from the fire. “Where Royce was like a father to me, Adair was naught but my brother. He saw only the best parts of me even when the worst stared him square in the eyes.” For certain, that was the most he’d ever spoken aloud about his relationship with his brother.

To anyone.

“We’ve much history between us,” Tor said, changing the topic. “Most of it bad.”

“And yet, my brother and yer sister somehow moved beyond that hate. Do ye believe our clans can truly do so as well? If we find Ian and Marta, which I truly hope will happen, is such a thing even possible? Between Royce and Rhona, and years of animosity, then my cousin and yer clanswoman’s disappearance . . .” She shrugged. “Sometimes I think we were fated to hate each other.”

“And yet . . .” Tor tore off a piece of meat, stood, and handed it to Ainsley. For good measure, he sat beside her as well. “We are here, sharing a piece of meat and no’ staring daggers at one another.”

She finished chewing the meat. “I dinnae stare daggers at ye.”

A blatant lie. But instead of calling her on it, he said, “I spoke of me.”

Ainsley laughed. Oh what a sound, deep, like the cut of her bodice. Yet light, like her smile, one he’d never thought to see.