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Yet James had not.
These worrisome thoughts swirled in her head as they walked, clouding out the beauty of their surroundings. James lifted a branch and Davina ducked under it. She strolled ahead, halting at the edge of a grove of trees. Gazing down, her eyes followed the looping river as it meandered through the valley and then emptied into the loch.
’Twas a beautiful, tranquil scene. A blush rose to her cheeks with the month-old memory of the morning she had spied James swimming in those clear, blue waters—wearing not a stitch of clothing. Concealing herself behind a tree trunk, she had boldly watched him traverse the entire width, swimming with long, powerful strokes, before rising from the water like a pagan god of old.
Beads of water had rolled from his broad shoulders down his lean, hard, muscular arms and legs, sliced over a taut stomach, and finally trickled through a whorl of springy hair at the juncture between his legs. Her breath caught and held, for cradled there was the most fascinating piece of male anatomy she had ever seen.
The image of that proud display of manhood had raised her maidenly curiosity to a fevered pitch. Lacking the courage—and confidence—she dared not approach James, but instead retreated into the anonymous safety of the woods. Yet the memory of what she had seen had kept her awake for more nights than she could count.
At the sound of a snapping branch, Davina pulled herself back into the present. Feeling an odd sense of guilt, she turned her attention back to James.
He took a step toward her, extending his arm. “Davina, give me yer hand.”
She smiled and set her hand in his and his warm, strong fingers closed around it. Eyes locked with hers, he went down on one knee and then bowed his head respectfully over their clasped hands.
Merciful heavens!Davina’s heart began pounding in an erratic rhythm. Could this truly be happening?
“Davina Armstrong,” he said, “my dear, sweet, lass. The affection I held fer ye has grown into a deep love. Will ye make me the happiest man in all the Highlands and do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
For an instant she couldn’t think straight. The emotions and intensity of the moment were almost too much to bear. She squeaked. A short, nervous yelp. James lifted his head. Their eyes met again, and Davina experienced a burst of joy so pure, so profound it brought a rush of warm tears to her eyes.
She tried to calm her heart, to capture this nearly perfect moment in time, when everything in her world was filled with hope and bright with promise.
“Aye, James, I’ll marry ye. Gladly.”
He leapt to his feet. She threw her arms around him, pressing herself so tightly against him it felt as though the heat of his body entered her own.
“Ye must promise me one thing,” he said solemnly. “Ye are not to be too biddable a wife.”
“What?” Davina lifted her head to gaze at him, deciding that he had to be teasing her.
James combed his fingers through his hair and gave her an embarrassed grin. “Pay it no mind. ’Tis something my brother Malcolm once said to me, but I realize it has nothing to do with ye. With us.”
Not caring that she didn’t understand, Davina nuzzled into James, savoring this incredible moment. James was holding her heart, along with her body, and it made her feel like the luckiest woman alive.
Her mind raced with plans for their future. How quickly could the wedding be arranged? It need not be a grand celebration, though the McKennas would expect something befitting a son of the laird, even if James was not the heir. Her uncle would not be pleased to spend a great deal of coin on her wedding, especially with his own daughter still unwed.
Yet he could not appear miserly and he would be pleased with the alliance. The McKennas were wealthy, respected, even feared. This would bode well for the Armstrong clan.
“Now then, lads, what do we have here?” a booming male voice inquired.
Davina whirled her head so quickly it smacked James on the chin. Ignoring the pain, she felt her eyes widen as she beheld a group of men climbing up the hill toward them. Five, nay six, all heavily muscled and armed with both swords and dirks. They wore no clan colors; their clothes were worn and stained, their eyes bright with the haunted look of outlaws. She recognized none of them.
Quick as a flash, James drew his sword and pushed Davina behind him. She stumbled on watery legs, yet managed to stand. Frantically, her eyes darted to the horizon, her heart sinking when she realized how far they were from the keep. From help.
“What business do ye have here?” James challenged.
“We want a taste of that fine morsel ye’ve got, laddie,” said the man standing in the lead. His lips parted in a perverted grin, revealing several rotting teeth.
“This woman is a lady,” James snarled. “My lady.”
His reply brought a chorus of hoots and jeers from the men.
“Did yer mother not teach ye to share yer possessions, lad?”
“Nay. But my father taught me how to defend what was mine,” James declared as he positioned his sword to strike.
Davina swallowed back the fear that was closing her throat and willed her heart to slow its thunderous pace. James was studying the men with a watchful expression on his face. It gave her a momentary confidence, until she took the full measure of the six men he faced.
