Graeme stared at Anna, trying to keep his teeth clamped together. If he didn’t, he feared his jaw would hang as loose as hers did at present.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered—nay, more so. Though the inside of the covered wagon was dimmer than the dusky evening outside, her golden hair still shone lustrously. Her dark blue eyes were wide with surprise, her pink lips parted.

Her hand fluttered to her heart in what appeared to be an unconscious gesture of shock. His gaze dropped down to the lush curve of her breast just below her hand, and unwanted heat suddenly surged through him.

Biting down on a curse, he ripped his gaze away from Anna.

“Why would Laird Munro send ye?” the man who seemed to be in charge of the convoy said, his dark eyes narrowing on Graeme. “Or the King, for that matter?”

“And ye are?” Graeme returned, grateful to have someone else to focus on besides Anna.

The man’s already rigid body went straighter. “Jerome Munro, the Laird’s second in command.”

“Graeme MacKay.” Graeme didn’t bother extending his forearm. Instead, he gave Jerome a curt nod. “As to why I’m here, as I said, I’m just following orders. I was sent to protect the lass on her journey. Yer Laird seemed to think that ye and the others weren’t enough.”

Jerome’s nostrils flared, his eyes blazing at the insult. Graeme wouldn’t apologize, though. Aye, he was blunt, but that didn’t make him wrong.

“I am to join the King’s Bodyguard Corps,” Graeme went on. “He thought this would be a good first assignment, seeing as how the lass needs to reach the Lowlands safely for yer clans’ alliance to go forward.”

Jerome huffed a little exhale. “Aye, well.” He slowly re-sheathed his sword, and the other guards followed. “Ye may have been sent by the King, but I am in charge of this mission.”

Dropping his voice, Jerome stepped closer. “Dinnae question me or get in the way, else even the King’s favor willnae protect ye from my wrath.”

Graeme considered stepping nose to nose with Jerome and testing just how far the surly Munro commander could be pushed, but instead he gave another brusque nod.

“We might as well make camp for the night,” Jerome said, raising his voice so that the others could hear him once more. He turned to his horse and began unsaddling the animal, and the men did the same, though some sent sideways glances at Graeme.

“Graeme.”

He whipped his head around at the soft, velvety voice that still haunted his dreams.

Anna had apparently recovered somewhat from her shock at seeing him, for her bonny mouth no longer hung open. Her rounded gaze was still fixed on him as she scooted forward across the wagon’s bottom, however.

When she reached the edge of the wagon, she brought trembling fingers up to her lips. “Is it true? Were ye sent here to escort me to the Lowlands?”

Graeme’s hand clenched around the canvas he still held back from the wagon’s opening. “Aye.”

He saw her mouth curve into a wobbling smile behind her fingertips.

“I ken ye cannae be genuinely happy to see me, so ye must be smiling in discomfort,” he said, his voice hard and low.

It was a trait he used to find charming and endearing. Whenever Anna felt uncomfortable or awkward, a nervous smile would take control of her delicate features.

When he’d discovered this little quirk, he’d quickly developed a love of teasing her about it, trying to find ways to make that lopsided grin appear on her lips. He’d once lifted his kilt and flashed his naked arse at her just to win one of those silly smiles. Another time he’d broken into song in the middle of a busy market square, bellowing off-key at the top of his lungs as she shushed him and covered her smile with one hand.

Now, as she fought against the strained curve of her lips, his heart twisted painfully. Aye, it was nerves and not happiness that made her smile. No doubt she’d hoped never to encounter him again. How awkward this must be for her, to have her former beau escorting her to her new fiancé.

“I-I never thought I’d see ye again,” she murmured.

“Aye,” Graeme ground out, hardening himself against the soft caress of her voice. “Yer silence after my last missive made yer wishes clear.”

Her hand dropped from her mouth and once again fluttered to the spot just above her heart. “Graeme, we need to talk. I need to tell ye—”

“MacKay.” Jerome’s sharp voice cut Anna off. The Munro commander strode to the back of the wagon where Graeme lingered.

“Lady Anna, ye need yer rest,” Jerome said evenly, keeping his dark gaze fixed on Graeme. “We have another long day of travel ahead of us, and the wagon can only go so fast.”

Jerome’s eyes flicked briefly to Anna. “See to yer needs for the night, my lady,” he said curtly. “Then return to the wagon and sleep while ye can.” His gaze slid back to Graeme. “I need to apprise MacKay here of our route.”

Jerome jerked his head to the side, indicating that Graeme step away with him. Reluctantly, Graeme released his hold on the wagon’s canvas covering and moved off.

He gritted his teeth against the ache in his leg from riding. Though he tried to smooth out his gait, he felt both Jerome and Anna’s eyes on him as he limped several paces away.

Once they were off to the side, Jerome waited for Anna to slip unassisted from the wagon and receive a portion of biscuits and dried meat from one of the other men. Against his will, Graeme’s gaze followed Anna as she moved through the little camp the guards were making.

“Graeme MacKay,” Jerome said, quiet enough that no one else could overhear. “I’ve heard of ye before. Ye were the man courting Lady Anna before her engagement to Laird Munro.”

Though Jerome’s tone was soft, Graeme didn’t miss the subtle edge to it—or the unspoken warning. He turned fully to Jerome, meeting his gaze evenly.

“Aye, I was.”

“And now Lady Anna will wed my Laird,” Jerome went on, his voice hardening. “So there is no place for ye here. Mayhap ye should have stayed away.”

“I’m just following orders,” Graeme ground out. “It was yer Laird who requested that the King send a member of his Bodyguard Corps.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Graeme noticed Anna moving toward the wagon once more. She wearily hoisted herself back into it and scooted through the canvas flaps. When the flaps closed, she was cut off from his gaze, but his eyes lingered on the gently swaying canvas for a moment.

He turned back to find Jerome watching him as a hawk eyed its prey.

“Ye are devoted to yer clan—yer Laird—are ye no’, MacKay?”

The question was spoken lightly—deceptively so.

“Aye.”

“So am I,” Jerome said. “I’d give my life for my people—or take life. My Laird wants Lady Anna to be delivered safely to him. He wishes to marry her. So as his most loyal warrior, I’ll see both done.”

Jerome shifted just a hair closer, but the air suddenly felt thick with the unspoken promise of aggression. “And I willnae let anyone get in the way of doing my duty. Ye understand, MacKay?”

“I have no intention of interfering,” Graeme replied tightly. “We are on the same side for once, Munro.”

A long moment passed, and Graeme felt his whole body pulling tauter than a bow string.

At last, Jerome rocked back slightly on his heels. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

Jerome stalked off toward the others as they began to bed down on the ground, wrapping themselves in their Munro and Ross plaids.

Graeme walked slowly back to where he’d left his horse, trying to work the knots out of both his leg and his head.

He removed the saddle and bridle from his horse and tethered the animal among the others on the edge of their little camp, but even after he’d drawn an extra length of plaid from his saddlebags and settled on the ground with the other men, his mind was still a tangled mess.

He thought he’d feel different seeing Anna again after the news of her engagement. He thought he’d feel…angrier. That his fury at her silent rejection of him would burn away any last vestiges of desire and tenderness he’d once felt for her.

Instead, it was as if no time had passed—and naught had changed. Her soft voice still made his innards turn to porridge. Those dark, deep blue eyes sent ripples of awareness through him. And her sweet curves ignited a familiar fire in his veins.

Bloody hell, this was going to be the longest five days of his life.