Fraser 01 - Highland Legacy (6 page)

“How will I get to Kildrummy Castle without a horse?”

“You’ll ride with me.” Connor reached for her hand. “Come, we’ll go back to camp.”

“What about my mare?” She dug in her heels, refusing to move. “We cannot just leave her to be killed by wild animals.”

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a sigh. “We’ll take the horse along and leave her with the first crofter we come to.” He grasped Cailin’s hand and tugged. “Come, we’ll eat, and then get some rest. We need to be up and away before sunrise.”

Cailin closed her fingers around his palm and nodded. “I’m very sorry about wounding you. Will you let me take a look at it when we get to camp? It likely needs stitching.”

“I’m fine. You did what was necessary given the circumstances. I must admit, you handle yourself very well in a crisis.” He brushed the soot from her cheek with a sweep of his thumb. “After we’ve eaten, I think a dip in the stream would benefit you immensely.”

Cailin wolfed down her third oatcake, and reached for another portion of fish.

“For a wee lass, she has a hardy appetite.” Alasdair picked up the last morsel of eel, popped it in his mouth, and licked his fingers.

“Now, that is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.” Bryce chuckled.

“I have not eaten since yesterday and find myself quite famished.” She dabbed her lips with a small square of linen.

“How could anyone set out on a journey without proper supplies?” Alasdair stood and brushed the crumbs from his tunic, belched loudly, and started to walk away. “Typical for a woman.”

Cailin sprang to her feet and spoke to his retreating form. “On the contrary, sir. I had sufficient provisions, enough to last me several days. However, in my haste to follow you, I left them behind.”

“She’ll be a pain in the arse. You can mark my words.” With a low growl, Alasdair lay down on a palette of leaves and plaid, and turned his back to her.

As Connor watched the interaction between Cailin and his brother, he couldn’t help wondering what he had gotten himself into. He smiled at the way she stood her ground and stuck out her tongue when Alasdair wasn’t looking. But at the same time, he cursed the temerity and spirit that fired his blood and made him want her more than any other woman he’d ever known. He couldn’t send her back to face the English alone, but taking her with them could prove the biggest challenge of his life.

“I’ll take the first watch, but before I do, let me have a look at your wound.” Bryce approached, carrying a small leather pouch.

“I’m fine.” Connor brought a hand to his injured shoulder. “You fuss like a mother hen. Leave me be.”

Bryce threw up his hands in surrender, sauntered across the clearing, and sat on a large boulder. “I’ll wake the bear to relieve me in a few hours.” He pointed at their snoring older brother.

“Where shall I sleep?” Cailin asked.

“I’ve a palette right here.” Connor pointed at a pile of plaid on the ground before him, and kneeled down.

She pressed her hand to her throat and let out a sharp gasp. “Surely, you dinna mean for me to share your palette?”

“It is large enough for two. Unless you have a mind to sleep on the cold ground, I’d suggest you lay down now. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow. ” Connor sprawled out and patted the spot beside him.

“I’ll not share your palette.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her foot.

“Suit yourself.” While pretending to close his eyes, he watched her through slightly raised lashes. She stood for a few minutes, and then slowly lowered herself to the ground. Keeping to her word, she lay just beyond the edge of his plaid.

Stubborn wench.

He woke with a start a few hours later to the tickle of hair beneath his nose, the warmth of her body snuggled at his side. Her small hand rested on his chest, her breathing slow and even. His body stirred in response to her nearness. Heaven help him, he wanted this woman. This was going to be a very long night.

They rose at dawn and covered many miles before the sun peeked above the trees. Bryce rode up beside Connor. “How fares your shoulder? I could carry the lass with me for a while.”

“She rides with me.” Connor shifted Cailin in his arms, being careful not to wake her.

“You were never a good liar. The way your face contorts when you move and the beads of sweat on your brow tell me otherwise. Best you let me have another look.”

Unable to sleep with Cailin so near, Connor had taken both the second and third watches. When he relieved Bryce, he reluctantly allowed his brother to dress his wound.

“We dinna have time to stop.”

“You’re a
thrawn
man, Connor. If the wound festers and you become fevered, you’ll slow us down. Besides, the horses are spent, and I’m sure the lass could use something to eat and drink.”

“Did someone mention food?” Alasdair’s head shot up and a broad grin crossed his face. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a bear.”

“Oatcakes and ale will have to do. That is, if we can convince our pig-headed brother to stop long enough to break our fast.” Bryce shot a quick glance in Connor’s direction. “You know how ornery Alasdair gets when he’s not been fed.”

“If we stopped to eat every time Alasdair’s stomach growled, we’d be stopping every few miles.”

“I pity the lass he marries. The poor thing will spend her days and nights chained in the kitchen, too tired for anything else.” Bryce laughed.

“The way the three of you squabble makes me glad to be an only child.” Cailin stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and languorously stretched like a well-stroked cat.

Their eyes locked, but Connor quickly turned his head. To gaze upon such beauty and not touch was the purest form of torture. Despite her dirt-smudged cheeks and cropped hair, she was the most alluring woman he’d ever met. He’d struggled throughout the night to quiet the fire in his loins, to suppress the overwhelming urge to make her his own. Now, her winsome smile challenged what little remained of his reserve.

He remembered the sweet taste of their first kiss and the plumpness of her lips as he slid his tongue along the seam, willing them to open. He closed his eyes and stifled the urge to moan aloud. The desire to possess a woman had never been so strong, yet he knew it could never go beyond a dream.

Each time she shifted in his lap, the burning ache in his groin intensified. Could she feel the burgeoning proof of his arousal? The soft sighs she’d made as she slept stirred his curiosity. Would she make those same contented mewls when he buried himself within her most intimate place and drove her to the edge of ecstasy? Suddenly filled with lust, and hovering on the edge of reason, Connor reined in his horse.

“If you two buffoons promise to quit your grumbling, we’ll stop long enough to rest the horses and break our fast. By yonder stream will do.” Connor pointed to a small grove of trees on the bank of a swift-moving river. He slid from his saddle, but kept his hips pressed against Thor’s belly, hoping no one had noticed the way his trews tented like those of a randy lad.

When he reached up and placed his hands around Cailin’s waist, a firestorm of lust and urgent need erupted from deep within his soul
.
He released her as soon as her feet touched the ground. Cursing, he stepped to the left, rested his head on Thor’s neck, and began counting beneath his breath.

“Are you all right? Does your wound cause you pain?” Cailin asked with concern.

“Nay,” he answered abruptly, and stormed away in the direction of the stream.
Mayhap a dunk in icy water will cool my desire.
“Alasdair, see the horses are fed and watered. Bryce, prepare the rations for our meal.” Connor glanced over his shoulder when he spoke, but kept walking.

Cailin scurried behind him. “Please let me tend to your wound.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face her. “Not now! Dinna make me regret the decision to bring you along.”

“Of all the cruel, arrogant things to say. Why, I—”

“Best you tend to your needs and stretch your legs while you have the chance.” Connor cut her off, and took a menacing step in her direction. Despite the crestfallen look on her face, and the sudden urge to gather her into his arms and apologize, he turned, and resumed his trek toward the river. Alone.

After a string of ribald curses only he could hear, Connor swore an oath to end his infatuation with Cailin here, and now. While he hated to treat her so abruptly, he’d decided the best way to discourage her was to act as if her presence annoyed him. If she hated him, she’d keep her distance. If she kept her distance, he’d be able to control the lust, and desire, that caused his blood to boil and his heart to race like a runaway horse.

“Your brother is an irritating, infuriating, insufferable beast. Not only is he stubborn, he’s a fool to boot.” Cailin stomped in their direction. “He’d keel over and faint dead away before he’d admit he needed help. If his wound is not tended properly, it will fester and he’ll die. If that’s what he wants, so be it. I wash my hands of him.”

“The lass is definitely smitten with our brother.” Alasdair snickered.

Cailin stopped her tirade and glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“He said it looks like rain.” When Cailin shaded her eyes and glanced up at the sun, Bryce cuffed Alasdair across the back of his head and quickly stepped out of his reach.

“Rain?” Cailin sounded confused, and understandably so, since there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Bryce handed her an oatcake and a wedge of cheese. “Come and break your fast. You must be famished.” He pointed to a fallen tree. “Sit down and I’ll get you some ale.”

Cailin settled on the log and nibbled on her oatcake. “I would prefer water if you have it.”

“Water?” Alasdair huffed and grabbed another oatcake. “Why would anyone that’s right in the head want water when they can have ale, or better yet, whisky?” He brought the wineskin to his lips, took a large gulp, and then belched loudly.

Cailin glanced in the direction Connor had headed. “Will he be all right?” she asked Bryce when he sat on the log beside her. He offered her a horn filled with water, which she took with a nod of thanks. “His wound is bleeding, and I can tell by the grimace on his face that it pains him greatly.”

“Connor has seen far worse. Best you dinna push him on it,” Bryce cautioned.

“He’s a very confusing man. One minute he’s gentle, kind, and brave, and the next he acts like an angry ogre who can not stand the sight of me.”

“Connor is a man torn between duty and his heart.”

“I dinna understand.”

“He has always put needs of others before his own. Be patient. He’ll come around. Beneath that gruff exterior, my brother is a good man.”

“He carries so much pain, not only from his wound. I can see it in his eyes. Grief and sadness torture his soul.”

“Aye, Connor tends to brood, and to take the strife of the world upon his shoulders.”

“Has he always been this way?”

“He brooded as a child, but it became more intense after the death of our father and oldest brother.”

“What happened?”

“They died in the bloody massacre at Berwick upon the Tweed. Da made the journey every spring to fetch supplies. This time, the Scottish lairds who had refused to swear fealty to England arranged a secret meeting to discuss their course of action. Somehow, Longshanks got wind of the gathering and attacked the village in retaliation for the defiance and acts of rebellion. The villagers believed the town invincible, until the English breeched the earthwork defenses and overran the battlements, causing fear and panic.” Bryce paused, and took a swallow of ale before he continued.

“The bastards slaughtered anyone who got in their path. By the time it was over, they had put nearly eight-thousand men, women, and children to sword.”

Cailin’s eyes widened and she clutched her hand to her throat. “How is it that your father and brother died, yet the three of you survived?”

“Da gave us each a piece of silver and told us to visit the peddler’s, while he and Keith attended the cattle auction. When the attack began, we were on the far side of the village. We made our way through the commotion, but by the time we got to the cattle barn, they were dead.”

“How horrible,” Cailin gasped. “I cannot imagine being so young and seeing such a terrible thing.”

“That day is one that none of us will forget. Alasdair had seen ten and six summers, Connor ten and four, and I’d seen ten and one. I remember every detail as if it were yesterday.”

“What of your poor mother? How did she cope with the loss of her husband and son?”

Bryce crossed himself and lowered his head. “Mother, and our youngest brother, Evan, died one year earlier in a raid on our village. He had only seen seven summers.”

“I’m sorry.” Her heart clenched and tears burned her eyes. “Who cared for you after the death of your parents?”

“Our father’s cousin, Simon Fraser.”

“The patriot Sir Simon Fraser?”

“Aye. You’ve heard of him?”

“Everyone in Scotland has heard of Sir Simon Fraser’s contributions to the cause.”

“He is one of the bravest men I’ve ever known and one of the most wanted men in Scotland. After the capture and execution of William Wallace, Simon refused to swear fealty to England. Those who know him say it will take the entire English army to capture him. Now that Robert the Bruce has laid claim to the throne of Scotland, Longshanks is more determined than ever to put an end the resistance. Simon has been as good to us as any father. We lived with him in the lowlands until we were old enough to return to our beloved Highlands and claim our father’s land and title. Alasdair had no desire to be laird. The clan elders agreed and the responsibility fell on Connor’s shoulders.”

“Your father would be proud of the men you’ve become.” Cailin slid her hand over his forearm and gave it a comforting squeeze. “After what happened to your parents, I can understand why Connor is dedicated to the cause.”

“He’s dedicated to the point of obsession. He swore an oath of revenge on our father’s grave, vowed to see Scotland free of English tyranny—or to die trying.”

“For a man to carry such a heavy burden is not healthy.” She glanced in the direction of the stream. “Do you think he’ll ever let go of the grief and allow himself to feel, to love? Does he not long for a home and heirs to carry on your family’s brave legacy?”

“Connor claims to have no use for love and says he wants no woman in his life. I think he is afraid to risk his heart. Then again, mayhap he has never met the right lass. Carrying such a burden may not be healthy, but try telling him that.” Bryce snorted, and then finished his ale.

“I will.” Cailin smiled and climbed to her feet. “Have you some clean strips of linen, a needle, and twine? Mayhap some whisky would be useful to clean the wound and dull the pain.”

Nodding, he rose to his feet. After retrieving the requested items from his saddlebag, he handed them to Cailin. “Tread lightly, lass. Connor can be like a cornered boar when riled.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, and headed off toward the stream.

Connor lay on the riverbank with his eyes closed, his forearm resting across his brow. He’d removed his shirt. The dressing covering his wound was soaked in blood and a fine sheen of perspiration misted his body. When he shifted his position, a grimace of pain shot across his face, triggering a rush of guilt and remorse. She’d never have cut him, had she known he was her assailant. But when he jumped her from behind, she thought only to protect herself. He told her he’d have done the same thing were the tables turned, but it didn’t ease her mind.

“M’lord.”

Connor’s eyes flew open and he jerked into a sitting position. A low feral groan escaped his lips. Instead of springing to his feet with his sword drawn—as would be a warrior’s normal reaction to an intruder—he lay back on the bed of moss and closed his eyes. “Why do you bother me, when all I want is a few minutes peace?”

“You have not eaten and your wound has gone unattended far too long.”

“I’m not hungry, and I’d like to be left alone.”

Ignoring his remarks, Cailin knelt beside the stream. She dunked a strip of linen in the water, and then went to his side.

He held his hand up in protest, but she pushed it aside, and reached for the soiled bandage. To keep him from rising, she placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder and tugged the soiled dressing free, revealing a jagged wound.

Her stomach sank. “The gash will take several stitches to close it. I brought some spirits. Would you like a drink to dull the pain before I clean it?”

“Nay, just do it. I’ll have no peace until you get your way.” He turned his head to the side, biting down on his lower lip when she poured the whisky over the wound.

She picked up the needle between two trembling fingers and held her breath. When the sharp point pierced his flesh, a small trickle of blood ran down his chest, settling amidst soft black curls. The needle slid through his skin like a warmed knife in butter. After piercing the other side, she pulled the twine taught, tied the ends, repeating the process until the wound was closed. Throughout the ordeal, he remained silent and didn’t move a muscle.

“I am finished.” She blew out a sigh of relief, wiped the sweat from her brow, and rocked back on her heels. “With any luck, the wound will heal without infection. I wish I had some comphrey and willow bark to make a poultice.” Guilt ridden, she watched as he struggled to sit up. Had she not acted in such haste, this would not have happened.

Connor brought his fingers to her lips. “The wound will heal. You have a gentle touch, m’lady. Thank you.” After rising to his feet, he offered her his hand. “Come, we must be on our way.”

She accepted his assistance, then moved toward him. “I need to place this strip of linen around the wound to bind it closed and to keep it clean.”

Without argument, he raised his arms, and allowed her to wrap the fabric around his chest. But when her hands brushed his skin, he drew in a sharp, ragged breath. A low groan caught at the back of his throat, his body alive with desire.

“I hope that holds. I only wish I could have done more.”

“You’ve done enough.”

She took a step back. “If you wish to keep up your strength, you really should try to eat something.”

“I have no appetite.”
At least not for food.
He wanted her more than his next breath.
It would be easy to lay her down upon the bed of moss and bury himself to the hilt in the softness and warmth of her silken sheath, to slake the desire threatening to consume him body and soul.

Without conscious thought, he narrowed the gap between them—their bodies so close he could feel her heat. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly brushing the creamy softness of her cheek. Wrapping his hand around her waist, he pulled her against his chest and dropped his head to capture her slightly parted lips. His groin stirred and his rock hard shaft pressed against the softness of her belly. Did she have any idea what she did to him?

Instead of pulling away, she swayed against him, and her lips parted more. Without hesitation, he ravaged and plundered her mouth. She tasted of mint and desire—even better than he’d remembered.

“Connor! Are you ready to ride? There’s no telling how close the English garrison might be, and we best be on our way. With a price on the lass’s head, I—” Alasdair stopped in his tracks, his mouth ajar.

Connor’s hands immediately fell to his sides, and he stepped away. His brother’s untimely arrival not only interrupted the moment, but it catapulted him back to reality. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

What just happened? How could one wee lass cause such havoc in my life? If not for Alasdair, I might have done something I’d regret
...
something we’d both regret. I must remain in control and keep my wits about me.

He’d always faced challenges head on. Stood firm in his convictions and fought for what he believed in—ready to battle to the death if necessary. Yet one sultry look from those large jade eyes, one sigh from those luscious lips, and he’d dissolved into a puddle of desire. One touch, one kiss, and he was ready to risk all for a few moments of ecstasy that held no future. He looked at Cailin, her lips red from his attention, her pupils dark with desire. Giving his head a shake, he silently vowed not to touch her again, to fight temptation and stay his course. A task that would be easier said than done.