Highland Warrior

his full mouth curving into a seductive smile over white teeth, heat had slid down through Kára, like honey warmed in the sun. Now that was a reaction to capture a woman’s notice, but her plan was still ridiculous. What the hell was she thinking, baiting him to chase after her?
Her grandmother’s words rang in her ears. We need to find a warrior to lead us to victory against Robert Stuart.
Joshua Sinclair was the largest, deadliest warrior on Orkney, and probably all of Scotland. A shudder that had nothing to do with the cold ran between Kára’s shoulder blades at the memory of the Highlander’s downward strike that fell next to her nine-year-old son, Geir. Why had her brother, Osk, brought him to the village? Joshua could have easily killed him, killed them both. And foolish Langdon and Lamont were left in the dirt. No doubt they would wake with aching heads. Better than dead.
Her legs churned as she focused on her goal in the gloaming, the small barn that marked the entrance to her den, an earthen house under the thick peat field. The Highlander might find the barn, but he would need help finding her den.
Slow down so he can catch you. The whisper in her head teased the ache between her legs that had roared to life as his gaze traveled down her body in the tavern. Before Geir had run into the fray, Kára had marveled at the effortless way the Highlander had felled the three would-be horse thieves, even as she gave thanks that he wasn’t using his sword. She’d told the fools to leave his horse alone, but her brother had little self-restraint since their father had been killed last spring.
Her heart hammered with the run, but also with her hastily drawn plan. Seduction. What did she know of it? Very little. She’d already employed all the advice her friend, Brenna, had given her on attracting a man. Touching his arm, gazing down his body as if he were a honey tart she wished to lick, and touching her tongue to her lip the tiniest bit. And Brenna insisted that men liked to chase.
Kára breathed in and out through her parted lips as she leaped over the meandering berm that cut through the moorland on its way to the sea. A glance behind her showed that Brenna had been right. Even though he was way back at the village, Kára could see that Joshua Sinclair was following. Brenna would smile her knowing smile when Kára told her later.
Brenna had pushed Kára to find another man ever since Kára had become a widow nine years ago. And Torben Spence had done everything his foolish mind could come up with to get her to accept his proposal to wed. Even old Asmund was now trying to sway her to accept him. No one seemed to understand that she never would. She’d married once, and it had ended before she could lose herself in love. And yet, she’d mourned. In this uncertain world, she’d be a fool to chance it again.
Bed the Highlander. Would showing Torben that she wasn’t the type of woman who could be faithful convince him to stop trying to woo her? Perhaps. But that was not why she was going to seduce Joshua Sinclair. Nay, she was going to persuade him to lead her people to victory. And his arms are like warm, thick steel.
Instead of leaping down into the stone-lined hole that looked like an abandoned well, Kára dodged into the barn. She didn’t have a horse now, but it housed her few sheep and Ninny, her goat, who welcomed her with a long bleat.
“You had food two hours ago,” she whispered as the sets of expectant eyes turned her way. She ran to the back to leap onto a broken wagon that held a bag of oats and a shock of hay. Grabbing the rope that hung from the loft, she climbed by wrapping her feet in it and pulling herself up and onto the platform above.
The sound of rapid hoofbeats made her drop into a crouch to spy over the edge. She had jumped down from the loft many times, landing near the door; if she decided to escape instead of… What exactly? Now that her plan was succeeding, she wasn’t quite sure she could go through with seducing a stranger, even if he was the brawniest man she’d ever seen. Even though the look that the Highlander had given her had awakened a yearning she’d long since forgotten. Anxious energy made her hands tremble.
The door of the barn swung inward. “Dróttning, are ye in here?”
Dróttning? Old Asmund was calling her a queen because Erik had been taken by Robert’s forces that morn.
Lord. Poor Erik. He’d made them swear never to risk themselves to save him but to carry on. Maybe Joshua Sinclair could help them rescue him before he could be killed by Robert Stuart.
Her thoughts twisted into a single focus as the Highlander walked through the barn door. She peered down onto his head, his hair long and wavy, although it was almost impossible to see in the darkness of the barn. It had looked clean in the tavern, and his teeth had been white, indicating that he took care of his body. What did he look like under the furs and wool?
He stalked around the barn, glancing at her animals, and his eyes stopped on the rope where it swayed from her climb. “’Tis a cozy home ye have,” he said, and she almost snorted. He thought she lived with her animals. When she didn’t answer, he went back to the door and brought his horse inside. Perhaps he thought merely to shelter them both for the night, but the intensity of his eyes as he slid his gaze down her form earlier had spoken that he was game to much more than warmth and sleep.
Do not be too easily won. Smile as if you know things,