Unfortunately, she appeared to have got herself turned around somehow and had gone in the wrong direction. Claray had only realized that when she’d found herself trekking through a patch of boggy ground she was quite sure she hadn’t passed through on the way out. However, she’d rushed quite a distance into the waterlogged area before the liquid had soaked through her shoes to tell her that she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.
Claray had paused to actually take a good look at her surroundings. It was only then she’d realized that it must have rained at some point during the night, and quite heavily too from the looks of things. She was several feet distance into a large puddle that could have passed for a small shallow lake or pond if it weren’t for the trees everywhere.
Not wanting to traipse any further into the puddle and find out how deep it might be, she’d started to turn, intending to head back the way she’d come, only to find that she appeared to be stuck. Now she peered down at where her feet had sunk into the mud to her ankles and wondered how it had happened so quickly.
Holding her skirts up to keep them safe from the mud, Claray put all her weight on her left foot and tried to pull her right foot out of the sucking muck. It was ridiculously hard to do, however. Her foot didn’t seem to move at all, so she was grateful when she heard what she was quite sure was the Wolf calling her name.
“Here!” Claray shouted, so relieved that help was coming that she didn’t even care if that help came in the form of a cranky man.
“Where?” he called, but his voice sounded closer.
Since she had no idea where she was, all Claray could respond with was another, “Here!”
“Aye, but where the hell is—? Oh.”
Claray peered over her shoulder to see the Wolf staring at her from some ten feet away. His gaze was fixed on her lower legs with a sort of heated interest that made her look down. It was only then that she realized that she was holding her skirts rather high. They were actually halfway between her knees and her nether region, leaving an indecent amount of leg on view. Groaning, Claray quickly let them drop until they were just an inch above the mud and tried not to blush as she turned back to see him finally drag his gaze up to her face.
“I’d be guessing ye’re stuck in the mire,” he said after a moment, and started forward again.
“Aye,” she murmured, glancing down at her feet to see that they, thankfully, had only sunk a little further into the mud since she’d realized she was stuck. “It appears to have rained while I was sleeping.”
“Oh, aye, it rained,” he assured her dryly. “Verra hard and for a verra long time. Our plaids kept the worse o’ it off o’ us, but the horses were no’ as lucky. Aside from getting soaked, the storm made some o’ them anxious. Unfortunately, there was no cover nearby or I would ha’e brought a halt to our journey until the storm ended.”
He stopped next to her, grasped her by the waist and lifted upward, his eyes widening with surprise when nothing happened.
“Aye, ye really are stuck,” he muttered, releasing her. The Wolf bent to grasp one ankle in both of his hands and instructed, “Try to lift yer leg as I pull. Hopefully between the two o’ us, we can—” His words ended on a grunt of pain as her knee suddenly slammed up into his face. It wasn’t deliberate. Claray had felt him start to pull as he spoke, and had followed his instructions by trying to yank her foot upward out of the muck. She’d put all of her effort into the pulling, and this time it had worked. Too well. While her shoe stayed, her foot was yanked out of it so abruptly that her knee slammed up into his nose.
The Wolf immediately jerked upright and a step back, leaving Claray swinging her arms wildly as she tried to balance unexpectedly on one foot.
Hearing her cry out as she lost the battle and started to tumble backward, he made a grab for her, stumbled over the foot that was still stuck in the mud and they both went crashing down into the puddle.
Chapter 6
Claray breathed out slowly and stared up at the trees overhead, mentally checking for pain or injury from her fall, but there didn’t appear to be any. The landing hadn’t exactly been soft, but it hadn’t been as bad as she’d anticipated when she’d realized there was no saving herself either. She hadn’t had the wind knocked out of her, or hit her head on a stone or log hidden in the mud and knocked herself out. All in all, her fall hadn’t been too bad . . . except for the mud squishing up around her back and sides, cold and wet and incredibly foul smelling.
She was grimacing over that when an irate squeaking caught her ear. Lifting her head out of the muck to look at her chest, Claray found herself nose to nose with Squeak. She’d forgotten that the baby stoat was sleeping, cuddled between her breasts. Apparently, the fall had woken the wee creature, and while he didn’t appear to be hurt, he was definitely irate at being disturbed. At least that was what Claray was guessing from the way the little kit was squeaking away and trying to climb her face. On the other hand, she didn’t speak stoat, so he could just as easily be exclaiming over her fall and checking to be sure she was all right.
Spitting sounds distracted her from the stoat, and Claray turned her head to look at the Wolf. The warrior had landed next to her, face-first in the mud. Now he’d pushed himself onto his elbows to get his face out of the muck. Claray bit her lip as she took in his mud-covered face and the way he was trying to purge more mud that had apparently gotten into his mouth.
Giving up the effort after a moment, he sighed unhappily and turned to look at her. His gaze traveled over her lying in the mud next to him, and then he said, “Well, that did no’ go at all to plan.”
When a startled laugh slipped from her lips at his words, Claray instinctively covered her mouth with her hand to silence it for fear of upsetting him. Unfortunately, her hand had landed in the mud and her action had slapped mud across her face and inside her own mouth. It tasted as disgusting as it smelled and Claray stared over her hand, wide-eyed with horror.
“Spit,” he said at once, pulling her hand away from her mouth, and tugging on it as he added, “Come, roll on yer side and spit it out, lass. It’s fair foul.”
Desperate to remove the godawful taste, Claray did as he said and rolled toward him to spit as much of the muck out of her mouth as she could into the small open patch of mud between them. Very aware that ladies did not spit, she blushed as she did it, and ignored the angry tirade of chirps coming from Squeak as he scrambled up onto her side to avoid being dumped in the mud.
Much to her embarrassment, Claray was still spitting when Roderick, Payton and Hamish found them. Groaning at the humiliation of it all, she gave up her spitting and simply waited to see what new embarrassment would be visited on her.
As several more men poured out of the woods around them, Roderick announced, “We heard yer shout and Lady Claray’s scream, and came to investigate.”
“Aye.” Payton’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a mostly solemn expression as he asked mildly, “Is there a reason the two o’ ye are rolling about in the muck?”
“Shut it, MacKay, and give me a hand,” the Wolf growled. “I swear I do no’ ken why I’ve suffered yer presence fer so many years.”