Free Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) by Michelle Willingham Page B

beside her. And he had no doubt that he’d tempted her.
    Cain guided the horse to the top of the hillside, shielding his eyes as he searched for his bearings. He was torn between wanting to take Margaret back to Ballaloch and allowing her to continue toward Falsham. Although he could leave her behind at her sister’s estate, he questioned the wisdom of it. So far as he knew, Juliette was still in London. He didn’t want to bring Margaret to Falsham without a family member there to protect her.
    A moment later, the clouds opened up and began to pour down the rain. Margaret let out a sound of dismay, and he unpinned the brooch from his shoulder, freeing a length of plaid so she could shield herself from the downpour.
    “Don’t you need something to cover up from the rain?” she asked, glancing back at him.
    “I’m used to it, lass. It doesna bother me.” Thankfully it was summer, when the weather was somewhat warmer. Autumn rain was terrible, so cold it could freeze a man’s blood.
    He led the horse through the open land, following a silvery stream north. After a few hours, he stopped to get water. He filled a small flask that he’d taken from his sporran and brought it back with him. Margaret had pinned up her sodden hair and was waiting calmly for him.
    Cain handed her the flask and said, “Have some water.”
    She took it and ventured a slight smile. Glancing upward at the rain shower, she offered, “I believe I have more water than I need, thank you.” But even so, she drank. “Is there any food?”
    “Did you bring any of the gruel?” he teased.
    Margaret grimaced. “I will be glad when I never have to cook again. I haven’t any talent in the kitchen, it seems.”
    In response, Cain handed her some bread that he’d taken from the cottage that morning. He suspected it might not be very good, for Margaret had made it out of flour and water, cooking it in a cast-iron pan near the hearth. The bread was flat and hard, but Margaret accepted the small loaf. She tried to break it in half, but it was like trying to break a rock apart.
    “I don’t have any faith in this,” she admitted.
    “Soak it in water and see if that softens it.”
    Margaret poured water from the flask and eventually was able to separate the two halves. Cain took his, waiting for her to take the first bite.
    The moment she did, Margaret spat it out. “Ugh! It’s like eating paste.” She tried to offer some to the mare, but even the horse wrinkled its nose and turned aside.
    He decided that now was a good time to keep his opinions to himself. “I could try to get fish, if you’re wanting more to eat.”
    Margaret took a small sip of water, then another. “A fish luncheon would be welcome right now, if you could manage it. My bread tastes like mortar.”
    “You tried.” He walked toward the stream, trying to decide the best way to trap fish for them. Margaret followed him through the meadow, still clutching at her skirts. Even caught in the midst of the wilderness, she was every inch a lady. But she was walking with her arms crossed over her torso in a way he didn’t understand.
    “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re walking strangely.”
    She shook her head. “It’s just that I have no spencer or shawl to cover my gown. I should have brought a wrap of some kind, but I forgot, since we were in a hurry.”
    Cain stared at her, realizing that the rain had soaked her bodice, revealing every curve. The gown she was wearing clung to her skin, but the green shade had grown discolored over the past few weeks. “You can wear my coat,” he suggested.
    “Please,” she agreed. “It’s cold from all the rain.” Margaret pulled the coat closed before lifting her skirts and stepping toward the stream. When her back was turned, he spied shapely calves and tiny bows on the back of her stockings.
    Interesting.
    Shielding his eyes, Cain studied the stream. It appeared that the water widened farther out, and it was possible that