The Ranger Read online

  Thoroughly discombobulated by the heat rushing through her veins, she stammered, “W-what?”

  His eyes locked on hers. “Your basket.” She froze, her eyes widening. He couldn’t possibly know …

  She nearly sighed with relief when he added, “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave the castle without it.”

  Too observant—far too observant. Sir Arthur Campbell was dangerous in more ways than one. Her father would be furious if someone discovered what she and some of the other women had been up to.

  Angry for allowing him to rattle her, Anna quickly composed herself. “I only intended to go for a ride today—not visit any of the villagers.”

  He held her gaze for a moment too long. Again, she wondered whether he knew something. This time, however, her expression betrayed nothing.

  A series of excited barks shifted his attention down to the dog jumping on his leg. “Down,” he said, in a voice that brokered no argument. The dog immediately sat and stared at him with an adoring look on his face. “Your pup needs to learn some manners.”

  Anna’s mouth pursed. “He likes you.” God knows why. Squeezing affection from Arthur Campbell was like trying to get water from a rock—doomed to frustration and failure.

  His eyes narrowed as if she’d spoken aloud. “Animals usually have good instincts.”

  “Usually,” she agreed, leaving him no doubt that in this case she thought differently.

  The dangerous glint crept back into his eye. “And what about you, Anna? What do your instincts tell you?”

  To run. To hide. To get as far away from him as she could so it would stop hurting. It hurt just to look at him, at the square, dented jaw, sensually curved lips, and dark, amber-flecked eyes.

  She shifted her gaze, emotion welling in her throat. “I don’t listen to my instincts.” At least any longer. They were wrong. Her instincts had made her think there was something special between them. That he might need her. That he was lonely. And that he might be different from what he seemed: an ambitious knight, a battle-hard warrior, who lived by—and for—the sword.

  Even now, her instincts led her to believe that this simmering tension between them meant something. That if only he would take her in his arms and kiss her again everything would be all right. But it was too late for that. “Instincts only make you do things you regret,” she added.

  His jaw hardened, and the muscle in his jaw jumped ominously. He stepped closer. Close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. To smell the hint of sun and spice on his skin.

  Her legs started to melt.

  God, she’d forgotten how tall he was. It felt as though the walls were closing in. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think with him looming over her like this.

  He was using his fierce masculinity against her with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

  “And do you regret it, Anna?”

  She did not mistake the deceptive softness of his voice. She could feel the anger radiating off him—almost as if her change of heart mattered to him.

  Why was he doing this? Why was he trying to confuse her? He was the one who’d told her to stay away.

  “What difference does it make? Especially now. You made yourself brutally clear before you ran off with my brother.”

  She tried to brush past him, but he blocked her with the implacable shield of his chest. She could tell by the white lines around his mouth that he hadn’t missed her taunt.

  “So you are done with your spying, is that it?”

  Her eyes scanned his face. Is that what he thought? God, what did it matter? She dragged her gaze away and looked past him to the door. “Yes, that’s it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to leave.”

  She pushed against his chest with the heel of her hand, but he was about as yielding as a rocky cliff. A cliff with lots and lots of sharply cut rocks.

  “I told you I’m going with you.”

  “Your services are no longer necessary. I’ve changed my mind; I won’t be riding this morning.”

  She could tell by the way his eyes flared that he didn’t appreciate being dismissed. Well, too bad. He was the one who’d appointed himself her knight errant.

  The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and she wondered whether she might have pushed him too far. But with a twist of his mouth, he bowed dramatically and stepped aside. “As you wish, my lady. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  She swept past him, chin high. “I won’t change my mind. I’ve much to do before I go.”

  A hand on her arm brought her to a jerking halt. But even the harsh touch made her senses explode.

  “Going somewhere, Lady Anna?”

  She tried to wrench her arm away, glaring at him when he wouldn’t let her go. “It’s none of your business.”

  His eyes flashed, and he drew her near. She could feel the energy pulsing between them, dragging her under. His mouth was so close. “Tell me.”

  He couldn’t kiss her, she thought in a panic. She couldn’t let him kiss her. “I’m to be married,” she blurted.

  Twelve

  Arthur dropped her arm as if she’d scalded him.

  Married? The word landed like a hammer in his gut. He couldn’t seem to move. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve ending had turned to stone.

  “Who?” The toneless, vaguely menacing voice didn’t belong to him—it sounded like MacRuairi’s.

  Anna wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her hands started to twist nervously in the thick woolen folds of her skirt. “Sir Hugh Ross.”

  A knife wedged between his ribs would have skewered less sharply. The Earl of Ross’s son and heir. Arthur knew of him, of course. The young knight had already made a name for himself. He was a fierce warrior—a tactician on and off the battlefield. The fact that he was worthy of her made it worse.

  Arthur didn’t understand the rage pouring through him, nor the feeling of betrayal. She didn’t belong to him, damn it. Could never belong to him.

  But that didn’t mean he could forget that not a fortnight past he’d held her in his arms—and come damned close to taking her innocence.

  “It seems you had an eventful week, my lady. You work fast.”

  A hot blush stained her cheeks. “The details have not all been worked out yet.”

  His eyes narrowed, hearing something in her voice. “What do you mean, details? Are you betrothed or aren’t you?”

  She lifted her chin. Despite the blush staining her cheeks, he read the defiant glint in her eye. “Sir Hugh proposed to me last year, soon after my betrothed died.”

  “I thought you refused.”

  “I did. I’ve reconsidered.”

  All of a sudden, Arthur realized what this was about. With no help coming from King Edward, the MacDougalls had decided to turn to Ross for help, offering up Lady Anna to provide added incentive for an alliance.

  Whether she’d reconsidered or her father had done it for her didn’t matter. He couldn’t let them join forces. An alliance between Ross and the MacDougalls would hurt Bruce’s chances for victory. It was his job—his duty—to stop it.

  Arthur gave her a hard look. “And how do you know that Sir Hugh will be amenable to your sudden change of heart?”

  “I don’t.” She gave him a pointed look. “But I will do what I must to persuade him.”

  He didn’t need to guess what she meant. His reaction was instantaneous. Primitive. For one split second, rage took over and he lost control. His mind went black. She was one hair’s breadth from being pinned up against that stable wall with her lips crushed to his, his manhood wedged between her thighs, and his tongue plunging deep inside her mouth. Exactly where she belonged.

  But even out of his mind with rage, the urge to protect her was stronger. He didn’t trust himself to touch her, not like this.

  Anna’s eyes widened, and she took a prudent step back.

  But he held her in the trap of his piercing gaze. “So you have it all planned out?”

  She nodded.