They barely spoke for the first part of the ride. It wasn’t extremely far to Darfield, but he went at a much slower pace than he typically would have ridden it himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her skills on a horse, but more so that he didn’t want the stitches in her leg to open up if there was too much jarring. His mother had given him fairly precise instructions.
They had just crossed over onto MacTavish land — though, really, it was all now one and the same since Finlay and Kyla had married and the agreement between the clans had been forged — when the first raindrop fell. Adam felt it on his bare shoulder, as he also noted the heat had dissipated from the wind. It was not cold, per se, but nor was the day warm any longer. Perhaps the unusually warm weather was finally breaking.
He looked back. Rachel wore only her light summer gown, and he cursed himself for not having more foresight on her dress in case the weather should turn inclement. In the Scottish Highlands, no weather was guaranteed, no matter the time of year.
He looked up at the sky, which had grown darker by the minute, and he prayed the rain would hold off until they arrived.
“How does your leg fare?” he called back to her. “Can we pick up the pace some?”
“I’m fine,” she said back to him, over the wind that had begun to pick up. “Do not worry about me. I shall stay right behind you!”
Of course he would worry about her. The woman looked liable to be blown away by a breeze, let alone this stiff wind. He urged his horse into a fast canter and looked back to ensure she was following, as she said she would.
She was a determined one, that was for sure. As fast as they rode, however, it seemed they were only going deeper into the eye of the gathering storm, and before long the rain was coming down in droves, drenching both of them. Adam knew they were not far from Darfield, but when a crack of lightning rent the sky, he realized it was more imperative that they find shelter — and quickly.
He looked around him, taking stock of where they were. They had neared the hunting lands, and he knew there were makeshift shelters in case of such events. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, picturing their location.
“There’s a hunting cottage nearby!” he yelled back at her. “We’ll stop there until the storm clears. Follow me!”
He knew the storm might be over in moments, but one could never be sure. He crashed through the brush of the woodland as he left the path, taking her through the trees, where the effects of the storm had lessened, but where they were more at risk of being hit by a falling tree.
He was relieved when the small shack popped into view, and he helped her down before tying the horses to a branch under the overhang of the shelter. Adam grabbed his saddlebag and ushered her inside, closing the door behind them. The silence was instant, taking the place of the howling wind that had assaulted their ears, until Adam could begin to hear the pelting of rain upon the roof.
He looked over at her, and as he did so, he quickly averted his gaze and tried not to stare. The rain had melded the entire thin gown to her skin, and he could see every curve of her body. No longer did he think of her as having a childish build, for he was now very aware that she was all woman.
He took in their surroundings. There was a small wood stove, a couple of chairs, and a cot. The shack was here for moments such as this — when inclement weather arose and kept hunters waylaid for usually a few hours, at most. He dumped the contents of his saddlebag on the bed, taking his extra plaid and passing it to Rachel.
“Here,” he said gruffly. “This should help you stay warm.”
She nodded her acceptance and wrapped the garment around herself as he set to starting a fire in the wood stove.
“I can show you how to tie that if ye’d prefer to wear it while you dry your dress,” he said, realizing she’d get a chill in her cold garments despite the summer weather. She looked on as he instructed her on how to tie the wrap, and she nodded her understanding.
“I’ll wait outside while ye change,” he said and made for the door.
“No,” she stopped him. “No need to go out there again. If you turn your back, that will be fine. But first — could you untie me?”
She turned around and he swallowed as he walked toward her, taking in the laces that were keeping her sodden dress together. His fingers, so agile with his fine tools, deftly untied the knotted, wet lace before he loosened it enough that she would be able to slip out of it on her own. He tried not to think of her body under the gown, which would be revealed as she slid out of it.
“Should be fine now,” he said, then walked away with his back to her, torn between needing to get as far from her as possible to keep from acting on any foolish impulses — again — and from not wanting to return to the rain.
He tried to focus on something — anything — else.
“You can turn now,” she said after what seemed like ages. “I’ve tied it properly — I think.”
He did turn then, and was shocked by the sight in front of him. He was taken aback at the feeling of possessiveness that overcame him when he saw her standing there in his clan colors. She had draped the
