If You Desire

Chapter Thirty-one

As Jane bent down to the crystal-clear creek, cupping water to her mouth, a branch cracked behind her. She whirled around, but saw no one in the dying light of the day. She knew Hugh would have announced himself, and he wouldn't have been finished unpacking the horses for the night. It must be an animal—the forests they'd been traveling through were teeming with roe deer.

She sat on the bank, pulling her skirts up to dip her stockingless legs and a cloth into the chill stream. As she brought the cloth to her face, she reflected over the last four days, during which Hugh had taken them racing through thick woodlands and over craggy rock plains.

The scenery continued to grow more and more breathtaking as they passed ancient Celtic fortifications and sweeping vistas. The leaves were staggering in color—shot through with scarlet, gold, and ochre. Now that they were officially in the Highlands, everything seemed crisper, sharper. Even the air was sweeter. London was dingy by comparison.

Late each night, they'd stopped to camp beneath the trees. Each morning, she'd watched Hugh rise in stages, wincing in sympathy as he clenched his jaw against what must be marked pain. And still he'd set to work, quickly readying them so they could make their way—as he'd told her—toward his brother Courtland's property.

Over each mile, as she rode beside him, she'd watched him study the land, much as he had done when he'd taken her hunting years before. He used every amazing skill she'd ever seen him demonstrate as a hunter, and she'd realized she was as awed by him as she had been at thirteen.

And now he was herhusband .

His intense, focused expression drew her eyes again and again, reminding her of how he'd looked at her those last two nights at Ros Creag. Unfortunately, he'd made no move to touch her since then.

She knew he would deem their last encounter a close call and be thankful they'd dodged a bullet. She deemed it anif at first you don't succeed encounter.

As she brought her wet towel to her face, she contemplated her future, wondering, as ever, if it would include him. The facts: He found her attractive, and he'd wanted to make love to her. He would die for her. That first night he'd returned to London, he'd been so dirty because he'd ridden for days to reach her.

So why wouldn't he desire her for more—

Footsteps over crackling leaves sounded just behind her. Before she could whirl around, a hand covered her mouth; other hands seized her, dragging her away from the water and deeper into the shadowy woods.

She dug her heels into the ground, furiously biting at the hand over her mouth, clawing wildly. The man holding her grunted and cursed. Just as his hand moved, she twisted around to see her attacker; cold metal pressed against her throat and she stilled in terror—

"Get your hands off my wife," Hugh said with a steely calm.

The men froze. Jane frantically blew hair from her eyes and saw Hugh with a rifle, raised and steady, his eyes as cold as ash in the dying sun. He had it aimed at one of the two men who'd grabbed her, the one who had a hunting knife against her neck and a soiled bandanna hanging down around his own. The second man trained his pistol on Hugh. "Let her go, or I'll kill you."

Raw fury emanated from Hugh, but somehow he controlled it.

These two must be bandits, some of the very unheroic ones Hugh had mentioned. Why weren't they hiding their faces with the cloths they wore?

Because she and Hugh weren't only to be robbed.

Rattled by Hugh's killing look, the man holding her swallowed audibly, his bandanna rising with his Adam's apple, and pressed the blade harder to her skin. When she felt blood dripping down, she gasped.

Hugh's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, just waited. Jane realized that she'd seen him go utterly still like this before—when he'd been hunting and had a target in sight.

Time seemed to slow. How many times had she seen this uncanny concentration just before his forefinger smoothly pressed the trigger? When she saw Hugh's thumb brushing his rifle, she realized these men were about to die.

The one clutching her began dragging her away. The knife wasn't so tight at her neck as they stumbled back. She should hit him…kick him…give Hugh his chance to shoot.

Jane felt the bandit's rank breath waft over her as he said to Hugh, "Yer bonnie wife's about to be my—"

The boom of the rifle made her jerk with fright, but the knife was gone. The man lay crumpled to the ground behind her, blood oozing from a hole between his sightless eyes.

She glanced back at Hugh.

Never taking his gaze from the second man's shaking pistol, Hugh emptied the cartridge from his rifle as if he had all the time in the world. "Pull the trigger, then," Hugh demanded,impatiently .

Jane screamed when the bandit shot; a bit of dark cloth flew up, but she couldn't tell where Hugh had been hit. When the man saw Hugh was still standing, he paled and hurled his gun at Hugh before spinning around to run.

Jane tottered on her feet.So close. But Hugh must have been unharmed, because he tossed his empty rifle to the ground and caught the man in three long strides, his movements contained, lethally silent.

Everything's as silent as he is. The woods hushed by the shot. Or is my hearing weakened from the report?Then she heard a whimper, and didn't know if it came from her or the wide-eyed man struggling to free himself. But his thrashing was useless—Hugh's grip was unyielding, his massive hands and forearms clamped around the man's head.

How can Hugh move so quietly? What an odd grip he's got on the bandit—

Jane flinched as Hugh's strong arms twisted in different directions. Suddenly, the thick pop of breaking bone was deafening. The man dropped to his knees, head lolling at an unnatural angle, before his body slumped to the ground.

After a heartbeat's hesitation, Hugh turned to face her.