“Ye could no’ ken she had no’ been fed or watered properly while at Kerr,” Roderick said solemnly.
“Watered?” he asked with faint amusement. It was like the man was talking about a horse or dog.
Roderick just shrugged and said, “There’s a clearing west o’ here. We could set up camp for a bit. Let the horses rest while we hunt up some food for her.”
“Or we could just cook the rabbit we have,” he said dryly.
“I somehow do no’ think she’d be happy with that,” Roderick said with amusement.
Conall grunted in agreement, but found himself lifting the plaid again to check on her as he realized she hadn’t even noticed that the bunny, Brodie, was missing. He’d removed it from her lap and passed it to Hamish when she’d fallen asleep the first time. The man had placed the creature in his saddlebag and assured him it would be perfectly happy there. Conall didn’t really care other than he, for some reason, didn’t want Claray upset. He definitely didn’t want her choking again either. That little episode had scared ten years off his life, he was sure. Her face had gone past red to purple and she hadn’t been able to catch her breath. It had been quite alarming. The way she had gone limp against him afterward hadn’t done much to reassure him either. He couldn’t tell if she’d fallen back to sleep or was in a faint, but despite the amount of sleeping she’d been doing since they’d ridden away from Kerr, she was still very pale and still had those black pouches under her eyes.
“So?”
Conall let the plaid drape back over Claray again and glanced to Roderick. “Aye. The clearing in the west. Lead the way,” he said, and followed when the man pulled out ahead to do just that.
Chapter 4
Claray murmured sleepily, smiled and cuddled into the warmth wrapped around her. Only to blink her eyes open with surprise when her shifting brought on a responding movement that saw her suddenly on her back with something heavy thrown across her legs and something else almost equally heavy across her chest just below her breasts. There was also a sleepy grumbling in her ear that blew the hair around her face. It was followed by a smacking of lips and a murmur of unintelligible words.
Despite all of this, it took a full moment for her to realize that the warmth wrapped around her was the Wolf. She’d been resting on top of his chest; however, her squirming around had made the man roll and now he was the one on top. Well, sort of, she acknowledged wryly. Really, he was on his side next to her. But his one arm and leg were cast over her and cuddling her close, while his lips were now . . . well, she wasn’t sure what his lips were doing, though it felt like he was chewing lightly on her ear.
And why was that sending little arrows of heat and tingling through her body?
Claray had no idea, but it did seem to her that getting out from under the Wolf might be a good thing. Especially since she had a terrible need to relieve herself. Fortunately, that was the only discomfort she was experiencing at the moment.
This was the third time Claray had woken up since they’d stopped in what was the prettiest glade she’d ever seen. The first time it had been close to noon, and she’d barely opened her eyes before the Wolf was plying her with ale and mead. Enough to near drown her. Once he’d decided she’d had enough liquids, he’d then produced an entire pheasant for her.
Still warm and on the stick used to roast it over the fire, it had been bursting with the scent of fine seasonings and wild spices, and had honestly smelled like heaven. But despite how hungry she was, Claray couldn’t eat pheasant. She didn’t eat meat and hadn’t for some time. Rescuing, mending and befriending a wee bird with a broken wing had made it impossible for her to eat the meat of flying creatures, and helping Edmund, the stable master at MacFarlane, mend a bull with a broken leg and then having it follow her everywhere like a dog had added beef to the list of things she wouldn’t eat either. By the time Claray was fifteen years old, there wasn’t any meat she could bring herself to consume. She’d explained this quietly to Conall and, much to her relief, while he’d looked surprised, he hadn’t raised a fuss, and she’d then gone into the woods to find wild berries, mushrooms, wood sorrel and elderflower to munch on to ease her hunger. When she’d returned with her selection of foraged food, Conall had been waiting with a couple of oatcakes still warm from cooking on a stone by the fire. Thanking him gratefully, Claray had eaten her meal quickly, and then had curled up on the ground to rest while Conall and his men ate their meat.
Instead of just getting the few minutes’ rest she’d expected, Conall had let her sleep through the day. Claray had woken again as the sun was setting to find the Wolf pressing another round of oatcakes and drink on her. This time he’d also offered her fish someone had caught in the river. Again, it had been seasoned and cooked over the fire. Fortunately, fish was something Claray had no issue eating. She’d never befriended a fish, so she’d gobbled up the food without hesitation. But much to her embarrassment, once finished eating, she’d again just curled up and fallen asleep.
Now, was the third time she was waking, and it appeared to be the crack of dawn. The sky was just starting to lighten, the darkness overhead turning a deep red that lightened to orange and then a thin streak of yellow as it reached the horizon, but there was no sign of the sun yet.
A glance around showed her that nearly a dozen fires had been built in the large and pretty glade for the men to sleep around. They were now reduced to embers, and the hundred or so men bedded down around them were still sleeping. There were also half a dozen or so men sitting or standing about, obviously standing guard over the others while they slept, but she had no idea where the rest of the men were. She was sure though that there were more somewhere. It had looked to her like at least two hundred men had been following them when she first woke up after leaving Kerr.
Claray turned her gaze to the Wolf again and bit her lip as she looked over his sleeping face. She’d thought that he was handsome the first time she’d seen him, but now, asleep and with the grimness missing from his face, he was more than handsome. He was perfect, with full, pouty lips, high cheekbones and a strong chin. Claray thought she could look at him for hours if she didn’t really, really need to get up and relieve herself. The problem was how to slip out from under the Wolf without waking him.
After some consideration, it did seem the only thing for her to do was to slide to the side until his arm and leg were no longer on her. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she began her maneuver. It was a very slow process, and by the time she was free, Claray was in imminent danger of wetting herself, which would be most embarrassing. Desperate to avoid that, she lunged to her feet and made a dash for the woods, hopping and jumping over the bodies stretched out around the glade rather than taking the time to weave around them. She probably woke a man or two in her rush, and she certainly startled the men who had been left to guard the sleeping party, but much to her relief, none of them moved to stop or question her and simply watched wide-eyed as she fled into the woods.
Claray’s need was so great that she didn’t flee far. She went perhaps ten feet into the trees before stopping and squatting. She barely had time to make sure her skirts were out of the way before her body decided it had waited long enough and began to do what it wished. The reduction of pressure was such a distracting relief that it wasn’t until she’d finished and straightened that she noticed the warm squirming going on between her breasts.