“What the ”-
The sun was approaching midafternoon now, and it cut across the valley at MacColla's back. The sharp angle lit him from behind, making the thin linen of his shirt glow with light.
It also made it see - through.
Haley gasped, seeing the size of him through the gauzy stretch of fabric. She turned away quickly, feeling her cheeks blaze red.
She told herself she'd seen a naked man before. Her first-year college boyfriend, to be precise. And it certainly hadn't been cause for any fireworks. If there was no magic to be had then, why should she shy away from the sight now?
Misunderstanding her uneasiness, he took the blade from his mouth and explained. “I'll need something to bind you, aye? Or were you of a mind to shred your own frock into ribbons?” Sticking the knife back between bared teeth, he unfurled the yards and yards of dingy plaid wool.
Haley realized she'd been holding her breath. Her eyes had inadvertently gone back to his shirt, and she was both a little relieved and a little disappointed to see that he'd shifted and was no longer backlit by the sun.
He took the knife and, first wiping his mouth roughly on his sleeve, began to saw long strips from the end of the tartan. The thick muscle of his thigh flexed inadvertently, and the sight of it snagged her gaze, pure instinct dragging her eyes mindlessly along the light dusting of black hair, and the solid column of muscle framed by the slit up the side of his shirt.
MacColla dropped to a squat, and, coming to herself, she quickly glanced away again. Her eyes went automatically to Jean, who was bustling about, nudging aside brush and rocks to clear a spot pristine enough to warrant her tender bottom. Haley once again tried out her best evil eye on the girl.
A throaty chuckle brought Haley's attention back to him. “Easy, lass.” he said, pitching his voice for her ears alone. Then louder, he added, “Jean, love, will you fetch us some water then?”
Jean looked at him as if he'd asked her to translate something from the Greek.
“Aye, you.” He nodded at her, a wide smile on his face. “You ken the word. I've a wee flask tied to the pony. We need water, and I'd have you refill it for me.”
Jean rose with a high-pitched huff.
“And you, caile bhorb.” MacColla stood and strode slowly toward Haley. Her heart gave a single sharp thump to attention as she watched that smile bleed first from his eyes and then from his lips.
He knelt just before her, placing his palm on the ground between her crossed legs. “I ken those daggers you shoot from your eyes would be caused by your injury. That it's simply your pain that I see darkening that bonny face of yours.” He leaned even closer. “I ken a lass like you knows better than to wish ill upon my sister, aye?”
“Mm-hm.” She nodded weakly. Sister? No kidding. Haley experienced a curious reaction to that last bit of information. A peculiar, brief quivering on the edge of thought. Not relief, not excitement, not anticipation, just an electric flash of awareness. Brother and sister.
He smiled, broad and easy. Haley noticed a chipped front tooth and tried to disregard the ache in her chest from the single sudden pound of her heart.
“What's to be done then?”
“Huh?”
MacColla held the wool strips up in answer. “What's to be done? You've that frock about you. I'll need to swaddle the skin directly, or the plaid will slip hither and yon.”
“Oh.” Haley glanced down at her dress. “I… give me a moment.” MacColla didn't budge, so she told him more explicitly, “Turn around.”
Haley swore she saw that thick black brow flinch just before he turned his back to her. She pulled one arm, then the other, through the neck of the stretchy black knit.
Despite her care, she heard the thin crackle of threads popping and frowned. So much for her favorite dress. At least she'd worn a tank top underneath.
She wondered what had become of her scarf and, with a pang, pictured the cobalt blue length of it tossed atop the storeroom table. Remembered how one of her brothers had loosened it for her at the bar. Who had it been, Colin or Conor? Their faces flashed in her mind's eye, bringing an ache to her throat. She sniffed sharply. She'd need thoughts of her family to gird her, not tear her apart.
She had to get back to them. She couldn't bear to have them worry anymore about her. She'd put them through so much before. Her whole family had been traumatized after her attack. She wouldn't put them through something like that again.
Haley tugged her dress hard to her waist, revealing a white cotton tank beneath. She'd let this man wrap her ribs. Rest awhile.
And then she'd run.
Chapter Six
He stole a glance, fascinated, as she wriggled her arms and torso through the neck of her dark dress. She shimmied and maneuvered, a look of such intense concentration on her face. It was amusing and arousing both.
The sort of shirt she'd worn underneath her gown was foreign to him. MacColla fought not to ogle, but that shirt clung to her, its white fabric looking soft to the touch, and not leaving much to the imagination.