Highland Promise Read Free Page B

blue.
    After swiftly examining her form from her small but tempting breasts to her tiny waist, he glanced at the baby behind her. The little boy had strikingly red curls and green eyes. Eric suddenly found himself keenly interested in whether or not the child was hers and where the father was. He looked back at the woman and smiled as she began to shake free of her shock.
    Bethia had been stunned when the tall, lean knight rode in and sent the robbers fleeing for their meager lives. It took her a long time to shake aside her astonishment. She knew he was studying her and found herself carefully studying him back.
    He was a beautiful man, she mused, knowing there was no other word to describe him. His long, reddish gold hair fell below his broad shoulders; it was so thick that even tying it back could not fully contain or hide it. His face was one of the most perfect she had ever seen, with its smooth, high forehead, high, wide cheekbones, long, handsomely unbroken nose, strong chin, and mouth that even she, in all of her innocence, recognized as dangerously sensuous. Deep, rich blue eyes were framed by surprisingly long brown lashes and set perfectly beneath faintly arced light brown brows.
    His face was not all that was beautiful either. His body, attired handsomely in a crisp white linen shirt and a plaid she did not recognize, was tall and leanly muscular. Broad shoulders, a trim waist and hips, and long, well-shaped, muscular legs were enough to make any maid’s heart beat faster. It was not surprising that she had thought him a vision. Men like him did not simply ride out of the trees and save one’s life.
    That started Bethia wondering what he was doing there, at this spot and at this opportune time. She held her dagger at the ready as her suspicions began to grow. Just because he was a pleasure for her eyes did not mean he was a good man. He could be working for William. She might not have been rescued at all—she might simply have changed one danger for another.
    “Who are ye, sir?” she demanded. “I dinnae recognize your plaid or your clan badge.”
    “Such a sweet thank-ye for my aid,” he murmured.
    Bethia refused to let his soft reprimand over her apparent ingratitude embarrass her. There was too much at stake to be overconcerned with courtesies. “I am nay sure I have been rescued yet.”
    Eric bowed slightly in the saddle “I am Sir Eric Murray of Donncoill.”
    “I dinnae recognize the name or the place, so ye must be verra far afield, sir.”
    “I seek out my mother’s family. And what are ye doing in the depths of the forest with naught but a bairn and a dagger?”
    “A fair question, I suppose.”
    “Verra fair.”
    She eased her wary stance only a little, trying not to let the man’s deep, attractive voice lull her suspicions. “I am taking my nephew to his family.”
    The word nephew made Eric a little happier than he thought it should. “With no one to aid or guard you?”
    Bethia tensed again as he sheathed his sword and slowly dismounted. There was nothing threatening in his movements, but she dared not trust anyone. James’s life was at risk and that was something far too valuable to gamble with.
    “There was no one I felt I could trust with his life.” She backed up, planting herself firmly between James and Eric as he took a small step toward her. “I think ye may understand that, at this moment, that also includes you, sir.”
    “Ye dinnae recognize my name or my clan, lass. I cannae believe ye dinnae ken exactly who your enemies are and ’tis clear that I dinnae number amongst them.”
    “Not yet.”
    Eric smiled faintly. “I have told ye who I am, but ye havenae returned the kindness.”
    Bethia wished the man would cease smiling at her. That beautiful smile threatened to steal away her wits, soften her wariness, and make her ready to believe he was trulyher savior. His deep voice was almost like a caress, making her feel unforgivably rude for not trusting in him