Down the Rabbit Hole

“Perhaps.” Ian looked directly at Colin. “Or perhaps you merely wish to save that trophy for yourself?”

Hamish looked astonished. “Have you ever actually dared to hunt the Beast, m’laird?”

“I have not.” Colin drained his tankard. “And I would ask that none of my guests dare to attempt such a dangerous thing.”

“Because you fear for our lives?” Ian persisted. “Or is it the Beast you worry after?”

Colin’s tone was brisk. “I have graciously provided you with enough fowl to satisfy your appetite for the hunt. I now command that you refrain from hunting the four-legged animals during this mating season, so that the forest will continue to feed our people for generations to come.”

“Ye’ve heard it. The laird . . . commands.” Ian’s tone was sharp with sarcasm. “And we all know the laird’s command must be obeyed without question. Without regard to the fact that this command will cost me one hundred gold coins.”

Hamish flushed, as did several others, who were aware of the sting of anger in the young man’s words, directed at their host.

“I’ll choose to overlook that for now, brother.” Colin pushed away from the table. “Let the hunt continue.”

As the men mounted their eager steeds, the women treated themselves to slices of rich brandied cake, dotted with currants and drizzled with honey, before facing their return by wagon to the lodge.

Colin turned to Beth. “If you are weary of the hunt, you may remain here with the ladies. They will soon be back in the comforting care of my servants.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’d prefer to ride with you.”

He seemed pleased with her choice. “Very well.” He offered his arm and she placed a hand on his. “Jamie, lad, fetch the lady’s mount.”

“Aye, m’laird.” The boy raced off to separate Beth’s horse from the others tethered nearby.

When they were away from the others, Colin leaned close to whisper, “Perhaps, once the hunt is underway, you would permit me to taste your lips again, my lady.”

Caught by surprise, Beth knew he could see the heat that rushed to her cheeks. She tried to cover it by saying, “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Perhaps not wise.” As Jamie drew near, leading her mount, Colin leaned closer, the warmth of his breath feathering the hair at her temple. “But speaking for myself, ’twould surely bring me a great deal of pleasure, my sweet Bethany. And I would do my best to pleasure you, as well.”

He lifted her to the sidesaddle, allowing his hands to linger at her waist before pulling himself onto the back of his stallion and leading the way toward the forest, with Beth and Jamie following behind.

And all the while, Beth’s poor heart kept up a steady rhythm that matched the pounding hoofbeats of the hunters’ horses as they raced into the thickets.

The mere touch of this man did the strangest things to her. She couldn’t recall another man who had ever had this effect on her body, her heart, her very soul.

She wanted, more than anything, to taste his kiss again. Wanted, in fact, a whole lot more than a chaste kiss. But what she wanted would have to be sacrificed for what she needed to do here.

She would have to guard her heart carefully. Once their business was concluded, she had no doubt that Colin Gordon’s feelings for her would equal his feelings for the woman he held most in contempt—Darda Campbell. Surely her reason for coming here was every bit as selfish as Darda’s motive for marrying the old laird. They both wanted the same thing. Ancestral lands that were, to the men who cherished them, more precious than gold.

The thought of seeing the light go out of Colin’s eyes when he realized what had brought her here sent a shaft of pain through Beth’s poor heart.

CHAPTER SIX

For the next hours, as the sun slowly made its arc across the sky, the forest was filled with the voices of the hunters, directing the lads to their kill, or shouting in triumph as they boasted to their friends of their prowess.

Their host joined in, bringing down a bevy of quail and pheasants before setting aside his bow. With a smile he urged his horse across a meadow to the place where Beth and Jamie sat watching the hunt.

As he approached, he couldn’t hide the smile of appreciation as he took in the sight of Beth, sitting in a patch of heather, her skin kissed by the sun, her hair dancing about her shoulders on the gentle breeze.

He dropped down beside her. “You look like a beautiful butterfly, my lady.”

“And you look very much like the lord of the manor.”

“I care not for the title. But I do care very much for my clansmen, who trust me to look out for their well-being.”