Read Online Quinn: A Scottish Outlaw (Highland Outlaws Book 2) by Lily Baldwin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lily Baldwin
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James’s bottom. I promise ye.”
She crossed her arms and looked away.
He released a heavy sigh. “Forgive me, my lady, but let me put it this way. Ye’ll go behind those trees there and change, or I will change ye myself.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He took a step forward, holding out the bundle of clothes. “Ye’ve one more chance to make the right decision, or else I’ll make it for ye.”
“I am not a child,” she snapped.
“Prove it.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. Then, at last, she reached out and snatched the bundle from his hands and stalked toward the tree, disappearing behind it.
When she was out of sight, he leaned back against a nearby tree and expelled a heavy breath while he slunk to the ground, letting his head rest against the trunk. This was going to be harder than he had first thought. Not one minute had passed when she came back out from behind the tree still clad in her soiled but fine attire.
He groaned. “Ye can’t be serious.”
“No,” she snapped. “It is not that.” She looked away, seemingly unable to meet his gaze. “I cannot change without assistance.”
His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and stood. She eyed him warily as he slowly walked toward her. “Do not fash yerself, my lady,” he said. “One does not have to be a gentleman to know how a lady need be treated.”
First offering her what was meant to be a reassuring smile, he turned her about and set to work on her laces.
“You certainly do not untie laces like a monk,” she bit out.
He smiled at her insinuation that his fingers appeared well practiced but resisted the many jests that came to mind, and, instead, worked quickly to loosen her surcote. Gently, he eased the fabric from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She stepped free from the folds, but kept her back to him. He reached for her headdress, unwinding layers of gauzy silk. Next, he removed several pieces of stiff fabric and netting.
“Turn around,” he said.
She pivoted on her foot, presenting herself to him but kept her eyes closed. He reached for the pins near her temples. “I ken ye’re in here somewhere,” he said, as he unpinned the layers of fabric fitted around her chin. When he pulled the silk away, his fingers grazed her velvety neck. In every detail, she had been made to tempt, from the exquisite lines of her face to the fullness of her red lips to the richness of her ebony hair. Still tightly wound at the nape of her neck, he could not help wishing to see her hair unbound. His eyes swept over the swell of her full bosom and womanly curves. Unable to resist, he leaned close, inhaling the scent of her hair. “My lady,” he whispered.
Her eyes jerked open. She drew a sharp breath. A slow smile curved his lips before he retreated several steps. “I believe ye can manage from here.” He bowed low and turned on his heel to head down to the river. She needed her privacy, and he needed to douse himself in the cold water.
~ * ~
Catarina’s eyes followed after Quinn. She stood there, still staring even when his strong, bare back had passed from view. Ignoring her racing heart, she crossed to where James slept. She knelt to brush her fingertips across his forehead, but her hand shook. She balled her fingers in a tight fist, hiding the evidence of her fluster. “I hardly know what to think anymore,” she whispered.
Remembering herself, she stood, her spine poker-straight, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted the hem of her tunic and circled around the tree where she set to work removing the remainder of her finery. The wind rustled through the trees carrying the scent of bluebells. She inhaled deeply and listened to the forest. How odd it was to be naked out of doors. She felt like Eve standing amid Eden, but who did that make Quinn—her Adam? Her skin tingled, and her heart raced. A short distance away, Quinn likely crouched near the river, beads of water
She crossed her arms and looked away.
He released a heavy sigh. “Forgive me, my lady, but let me put it this way. Ye’ll go behind those trees there and change, or I will change ye myself.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He took a step forward, holding out the bundle of clothes. “Ye’ve one more chance to make the right decision, or else I’ll make it for ye.”
“I am not a child,” she snapped.
“Prove it.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. Then, at last, she reached out and snatched the bundle from his hands and stalked toward the tree, disappearing behind it.
When she was out of sight, he leaned back against a nearby tree and expelled a heavy breath while he slunk to the ground, letting his head rest against the trunk. This was going to be harder than he had first thought. Not one minute had passed when she came back out from behind the tree still clad in her soiled but fine attire.
He groaned. “Ye can’t be serious.”
“No,” she snapped. “It is not that.” She looked away, seemingly unable to meet his gaze. “I cannot change without assistance.”
His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and stood. She eyed him warily as he slowly walked toward her. “Do not fash yerself, my lady,” he said. “One does not have to be a gentleman to know how a lady need be treated.”
First offering her what was meant to be a reassuring smile, he turned her about and set to work on her laces.
“You certainly do not untie laces like a monk,” she bit out.
He smiled at her insinuation that his fingers appeared well practiced but resisted the many jests that came to mind, and, instead, worked quickly to loosen her surcote. Gently, he eased the fabric from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She stepped free from the folds, but kept her back to him. He reached for her headdress, unwinding layers of gauzy silk. Next, he removed several pieces of stiff fabric and netting.
“Turn around,” he said.
She pivoted on her foot, presenting herself to him but kept her eyes closed. He reached for the pins near her temples. “I ken ye’re in here somewhere,” he said, as he unpinned the layers of fabric fitted around her chin. When he pulled the silk away, his fingers grazed her velvety neck. In every detail, she had been made to tempt, from the exquisite lines of her face to the fullness of her red lips to the richness of her ebony hair. Still tightly wound at the nape of her neck, he could not help wishing to see her hair unbound. His eyes swept over the swell of her full bosom and womanly curves. Unable to resist, he leaned close, inhaling the scent of her hair. “My lady,” he whispered.
Her eyes jerked open. She drew a sharp breath. A slow smile curved his lips before he retreated several steps. “I believe ye can manage from here.” He bowed low and turned on his heel to head down to the river. She needed her privacy, and he needed to douse himself in the cold water.
~ * ~
Catarina’s eyes followed after Quinn. She stood there, still staring even when his strong, bare back had passed from view. Ignoring her racing heart, she crossed to where James slept. She knelt to brush her fingertips across his forehead, but her hand shook. She balled her fingers in a tight fist, hiding the evidence of her fluster. “I hardly know what to think anymore,” she whispered.
Remembering herself, she stood, her spine poker-straight, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted the hem of her tunic and circled around the tree where she set to work removing the remainder of her finery. The wind rustled through the trees carrying the scent of bluebells. She inhaled deeply and listened to the forest. How odd it was to be naked out of doors. She felt like Eve standing amid Eden, but who did that make Quinn—her Adam? Her skin tingled, and her heart raced. A short distance away, Quinn likely crouched near the river, beads of water
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