Trapped with the Devil of the Highlands (Falling for Highland Villains #3)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“I cannae agree to an exchange if I dinnae ken what I’m agreein’ to,” the nun muttered, pulling herself forward for the hundredth time since they left the forest.

With her back to him, Camden did not need to hide his grin. If she could be vague, then so could he—not out of pettiness, but he had never been able to resist a game when one was set before him. He wanted to test her mettle, see if she was the sort of woman who could help him with his predicament.

It cannae be a coincidence that she stumbled into the clearin’ tonight.

He spoke of fate often when he was wooing the ladies he sought to bring into his bed, but since a nun could not be wooed, he liked to think that she had come from the Man himself to aid him in his greatest hour of need.

“I couldnae get ye to be quiet before,” the nun said curtly, twisting around to face him.

He dropped his grin, putting on a polite smile. “I told ye, it’s nae the time for tellin’. I need to ken that yer leg isnae goin’ to fall off before I seek what I desire from ye.”

She whipped back around, her back rigid. Beneath the slow clip-clop of Nyx’s hooves against the hard-packed mud of the road, Camden swore he heard the nun gulp.

The Lord certainly has a sense of humor.

Underneath all of the dirt and scratches, there was no denying the nun’s uncommon beauty. Her curly, burnished copper hair had spilled loose from the white wimple and dark veil that covered her head, so lustrous and sweetly scented that he wanted to gather it in his hands and bury his nose in the shiny strands.

Her green eyes reminded him of a soft patch of moss in the forest they had just left, where he had enjoyed some of his most serene rests, away from duty and bad tidings.

Her pale skin might have suggested a lack of sunlight, had it not been for the freckles that dusted her face—constellations of them that gave him the sudden urge to stargaze until he knew each one intimately, and had discovered if there was a greater universe of precious freckles below her modest habit.

And her curves; the narrow waist, the round hips, the ample bosom—he could not dwell on that, certain there was probably a place in Hell for a man who accidentally let a nun, novice or not, feel his arousal. Pressed close on horseback, no matter how many times she pulled herself forward, he would not be able to hide it if he let his mind wander too far.

“I think ye delight in teasin’ lasses,” the nun muttered, her arms folded across her chest. “I doubt ye could even talk to a lass without turnin’ it into somethin’… improper.”

“Enlighten me,” he purred. “What have I said that ye deem improper?”

She snorted. “I wouldnae deign to answer that.” She shifted against him, and he bit his lip to ignore the friction of ripe, round buttocks brushing against his loins. “Did nay one ever tell ye that help offered with caveats isnae really help at all? That’s without mentionin’ that I never asked for yer help in the first place.”

“Nay, but ye need it anyway.”

She shuffled forward once more, giving him some relief from the taunting press of her backside. “And what would ye ask from a woman of God?”

Her voice was as sharp as his blade.

Camden clutched the reins a little tighter and did not reply. She could think whatever she liked of him; her swift judgment would not detract him from getting what he wanted.

“Do ye feel daft now?” he asked a few minutes later, comforted by the sight ahead.

The nun made a soft sound in the back of her throat that might have stirred him if he had not been trying desperately to avoid it.

“Nay, I dinnae,” she said, sitting up straighter. “I didnae ken the village was so near. But ye should feel daft for trickin’ me and nae just pointin’ out the way to me. It willnae do yer immortal soul any good to hoodwink a nun.”

“A novice,” he corrected with a smile. “But I thank ye for bein’ so concerned about the condition of me immortal soul.”

“Concerned?” she blustered. “I couldnae be less concerned!”

“Nae very Christian of ye.”

“I… Well… But… Och, ye’re a torment, make nay mistake! Mother Superior warned me about the Devil’s underlings. I’d wager ye’ve got a pair of horns under that lovely hair of yers.”

Camden licked his lips; it was too delicious. “Ye think me hair is lovely?”

She paused, sitting as still as a statue in front of him. “It’s nae… awful hair, but I’m certain it’s the only pleasant thing about ye.”

“Och, but ye hardly ken me.”

She would, soon if he had his way.

Tightening his grip on her waist, feeling the half-frantic rise and fall of her ribs, he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “We’ll have somethin’ to eat and get the healer to tend to ye at that inn up there. If it’s clear enough that ye’ll get to keep the leg and ye’ll be nay worse for yer hapless wanderin’, I’ll tell ye what I want—” He lowered his voice to a husky growl. “Nay, need from ye.”

She writhed a little in his embrace, her buttocks more of a torment to him than he could ever be to her.

He had always wondered if his charms could convert a nun back into the world of carnal delights, persuading her to break her vow of celibacy. Jack, the Laird of Clan Dougal, had once drunkenly wagered that Camden probably could if he ever crossed paths with one. Noah, the Laird of Clan MacAllen, had placed a bet to the contrary, convinced that no one, not even Camden, could perform such a feat.

But ye’re nae likely to be the one.

For one thing, she had told him not to touch her—he had a slight bruise on his chest to prove that she meant it. All the touches afterward were merely circumstantial. If they had been down on the ground and he had tried to put his arm around her, he did not doubt that he would end up with another bruise somewhere.

“Wait…” The nun patted her hands down the front of her ruined habit. “Me coin purse… It’s gone. I dinnae have enough coin for an inn. I dinnae have any coin at all.”

Camden urged his mare onward regardless. “Then ye can repay me for that an’ all.”

“With what? I just said I dinnae have any coin.”

He stifled a smirk. “Let’s say… ye give me yer name, and I’ll take care of some breakfast for ye and the healer. Sounds fair to ye?”

“ Just me name?”

“Aye.”

She hesitated. He felt the vibration of it in her body, thrumming back in his chest.

“Paisley,” she said after a moment. “Me name’s Paisley.”

“Interestin’. I wouldnae have guessed it.” He played with the name in his mind and mouthed it, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. “Camden,” he told her in return, but she did not seem to notice.

“Oh, and what would ye have guessed?” she asked drily.

He shrugged. “Ye look more like a Ruth I once kenned. Maybe a Cecilia.”

She gasped at that, attempting to twist around to look at him once more. “Me friend. I was with a friend, but I lost her somewhere in the forest. Somethin’ bad might’ve happened to her. We have to turn around. We have to look for her!”

He held her more firmly. “Did ye have a plan to meet if ye were separated?”

“What? Um… aye, we did.” Her beautiful green eyes flitted elsewhere, her demeanor suddenly cagey. “We said we’d meet on Morris lands.”

“Then let’s hope she was followin’ the path that ye werenae. Ye can start frettin’ if she’s nae where ye said ye’d meet,” Camden remarked blithely. “She isnae a young novice like ye, is she?”

Paisley nodded.

“Is she likely to lose her nerve?”

“Nay. If anyone would’ve lost their nerve, it would’ve been me,” Paisley replied, her voice tight. “Is this the closest village to those woodlands?”

The dirt road blended into the smooth flagstones of the village. Nyx’s hoofbeats announced the two riders’ arrival at The Eagle , an inn that Camden had frequented often enough when the thought of spending the night in a hunting cabin had soured.

“It is,” he replied.

Paisley clasped a hand to her chest. “If she’s still nearby, she’ll find her way here. She has the map. And she did say that if we were separated, we should carry on without the other, since we both kenned where we were meant to end up. Aye, she’ll be well. She’ll be on her way there.”

Camden sensed she was not talking to him anymore, but talking to herself to ease the nerves that still wracked her. The tone of her voice was different—not as cold or clipped as it was with him. Whoever the missing friend was, she was clearly dear to Paisley.

“Of course, if she’s followin’ the map, she’ll be nowhere near here,” he pointed out. “It’s a wee bit late now, but perhaps ye should have acquired two. But, if it’ll ease yer mind, we can talk about searchin’ the road north for her after we’ve rested.”

Her pretty eyes widened, a softness thawing the ice in her expression. “Do ye mean it?”

“Have I lied to ye yet?”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, a touch of frost returning to her gaze. “I havenae kenned ye long enough to be sure.”

With a gentle pull on the reins, Camden brought Nyx to a standstill in the coachyard at the rear of the inn. The scent of hay and beasts cut through the fresh air of the early morning, the village awakening.

Sliding down from the saddle, Camden raised his arms to Paisley.

“To spare yer leg,” he said, seeing reluctance flicker in her eyes.

Apparently deciding that it was not worth the fight, she swung her leg over and swiveled to face him. Bending at the waist, she braced her hands against his shoulders, his hands resting on those forbidden curves.

“Thank ye,” she mumbled, dusting her waist with the palms of her hands as if to remove all trace of his touch.

A sleepy-eyed stablehand lumbered over and led Nyx by the reins into one of the stalls, while Camden corralled Paisley toward the glowing lights of The Eagle .

Breakfast, a hot bath, and a comfortable bed beckoned.

There was no one inside the main area of the inn, where, of an evening, laughter and strong drinks spilled across the timeworn tables. But the smell of stale ale lingered, the sole of Camden’s boots sticking to the stone floor as he approached the long wooden bar. A shaggy dog raised its huge head from a blanket in the corner, sniffed the air, and settled back down to sleep.

Immediately, Paisley broke away from Camden and went to the dog, crouching down to offer her hand for a sniff. The hound thumped his furry tail and nosed her palm, inviting her to scratch him at her leisure.

If I offered ye me hand, would ye pet me?

Camden laughed inwardly at the ridiculous thought. The lack of sleep, the exertion of chasing down a MacDunn man only to get nothing out of him, and the unexpected meeting with a novice nun had evidently caught up to him. It would not be long before he was properly delirious.

“Ye’re too early,” a crackly voice said, accompanying a burly bear of a man out a door at the far end of the bar. “Me wife doesnae serve breakfast ‘til the sun’s up.”

Camden leaned on the bar, risking the threat of splinters. “While I will be needin’ somethin’ to eat, I need two of yer rooms first.”

“Only got one left,” the proprietor replied, frowning at Camden with something like recognition.

“Two beds?”

“Just a big one.”

Camden glanced at Paisley, who was still lavishing attention on the dog. “And if I were to tell ye that I’m Laird Cairn?” He turned back. “Would that change aught?”

“I kenned I recognized ye, M’Laird!” The proprietor smoothed a hand over his thinning red hair, his manner shifting from dismissive to courteous. “Och, if there was aught I could do, I would. But we’ve only got two rooms as it is, and a maither and her bairn are sleepin’ in the other one. I cannae wake them, M’Laird. They came in late last night, fleein’ that fire in the north. I wouldnae have the heart.”

Nor would I.

Camden nodded slowly. “Let me pay for their room if they havenae already, and ye let me ken when they depart, but for now, I’ll take me?—”

“Sister?” the innkeeper guessed, peering over at the nun in the torn and muddied dress.

Camden narrowed his eyes at the man. “Cousin. I’ll be leadin’ her to our room now. Have a warm bath and food prepared.”

“Aye, M’Laird. At once.” The man bowed his head. “Me wife will be beside herself when she learns that ye’ve graced us with yer presence.”

Camden plastered on a practiced smile. “Ye’ll be paid handsomely for keepin’ yer enthusiasm quiet. Me cousin doesnae like a fuss.”

“Of course, M’Laird.” The innkeeper nodded, pretending to turn a key into his mouth. “Ye dinnae run an inn for long if ye cannae stay silent about a thing or two. Please, follow me.”

“Cousin, let that poor dog be. There’s a bath about to be drawn with yer name on it,” Camden called to Paisley, who frowned up at him.

She pointed to herself.

Camden rolled his eyes and nodded, smiling.

Let’s get ye out of those clothes…

A few minutes later, up in the sparse but comfortable bedchamber, he did not have the heart to tell her that they would be sharing. He would shock her with the news after she had bathed and eaten—when she might be more amenable to the revelation.

But she did not seem to mind his presence as a robust young woman darted in and out with buckets of water to fill the wooden tub that sat before a blazing fireplace. Maybe the other woman’s sporadic entrances and exits made Paisley more at ease with a man like Camden.

“I ken ye said I’d gone the wrong way, but is Clan Morris fairly near here? It cannae be too far, can it?” Paisley asked, peeling off the ruined veil and wimple that had already revealed her hair to him.

Camden perched on the windowsill, drawing a face in the condensation on the pane. “On the contrary. Ye’re lookin’ at a week’s ride on swift mounts in good weather.”

“What?” Paisley stared at him, stricken. “That cannae be true. Are ye toyin’ with me again?”

“I wouldnae tease ye about a distance like that, considerin’ I’ll have to ride with ye.”

She twisted her veil into a knot around her hands, a maelstrom of emotions flashing across her face, none of them good. “Then ye should have left me to just… give up and return to the convent! Ye should’ve told me it was so far instead of givin’ me hope!” She turned her back on him, trembling. “I have nay money or clothes, or any means to travel there, and I willnae be ridin’ on the one horse with ye, so dinnae suggest it.”

Camden pushed off the windowsill and moved toward her, glancing at the door to make sure the other woman did not intrude. Once he was practically flush against her back, towering over her, he reached his hand around to take gentle hold of her chin.

Slowly, he turned her face toward him so she could meet his eyes. The rest of her body followed until she faced him properly, her eyes gleaming with distress.

“I told ye, sweetlin’. I’ll help ye,” he purred.

Her throat bobbed, but she made no move to take his hand away. “At what cost?”

“A small price, really,” he whispered, his thumb daring to brush her jaw. “In return, ye just have to be mine for a month.”