Fraser 03 - Highland Homecoming (5 page)

Chapter 5

The roar of waves pummeling the ship’s wooden hull was deafening. Icy rain stung her cheeks and a fierce north wind whipped through her tangle of unbound hair. She fisted the rail with both hands and called on the last of her strength in an attempt to remain standing upright on the slick deck. She wasn’t alone. There was someone standing a few feet away, but she couldn’t make out his face, and he offered no assistance. When the vessel pitched to the left, she lost her grip and toppled over the rail.

The only thing between her and the ocean’s depths was darkness. In that prelude to what she was certain would be her untimely death, she prayed the Almighty would be merciful and forgive her earthly sins.

Her breath caught as she hit the frigid water and sank like a stone. Her nightrail tangled around her legs, but she kicked with all her might. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die, but there was no time for that. She was not going to drown without a fight.

Salt water stung her eyes and nose. Her lungs burned and her head felt like it was about to burst from the pressure. Panic squeezed her heart as she pumped her arms and legs in a desperate attempt to reach the surface. She tilted her head back and kicked hard, thankful when her face popped above the waves.

Gasping, she sucked in a much needed gulp of air, and then another. She’d managed to swim to the top, but was by no means out of danger. The storm raged on and a dense layer of fog hung over the water, making it impossible for her to see or get her bearings. Her body trembled uncontrollably and her teeth chattered. If she did not get out of the water and fast, there was no hope of survival. Even though it was summer, the stretch of ocean separating the Orkney Islands from mainland Scotland never warmed much above freezing.

Treading for her life, she turned full circle, searching for the ship. Her arms and legs felt like iron weights, growing heavier by the minute. How long could she keep this up before the ocean claimed her?

A sliver of moonlight poked through the clouds and she narrowed her eyes. Something large loomed straight ahead, but when she reached out to touch it, the object was closer than she thought. A sharp pain lanced across her forehead when she struck her head, then everything went black.

She awakened with a start and brought her hand to her brow. Was it a nightmare or had the events in her dream really happened?

This would explain how she got the bump above her left eye and ended up alone on the beach. However, the events leading up to her fall from the ship remained a mystery, as did her identity. She had no idea how she wound up onboard or why, but could not shake the gut-twisting feeling that in addition to the storm, something or someone posed an even greater danger on that fateful night.

Why couldn’t she remember?

She pounded her balled fist against the mattress. It had been almost a sennight since Alasdair found her on the beach and her memory had yet to return. It would not be long before he insisted they leave.

So far, Alasdair had posed her no threat, but she could not be certain about the Clan Sinclair. In her dream, she’d seen the silhouette of a stranger who meant to do her harm, but not his face. Until her memory returned, she remembered where she belonged, and knew who attacked her, there was no telling what danger she might be walking into if she accompanied Alasdair to the castle of his friend. She could not go with him.

True to his word, he’d done nothing to harm her and had made no improper advances. He also kept his distance. In fact, she seldom saw her benefactor. Conversations between them, while civil, were kept to a minimum. He spent very little time inside the croft, which should have made her happy, but she could not help wondering what this man was about. Despite his gruffness, he’d made an effort to dust and clean, prepared and served her meals, saw to her ankle, and tended the fire.

At night, he slept on a pelt in front of the hearth, but usually rose before dawn and was nowhere to be seen when she awakened. His evasive behavior, moodiness, and grumbling beneath his breath while he saw to her needs indicated he grew weary of waiting for her ankle to mend, but she was in no hurry to leave.

Things were taking longer than either of them had expected. The swelling had gone down in her ankle, thanks in part to the cold, wet rags Alasdair insisted on draping over her injury a couple of times a day. The angry purple discoloration had faded to a greenish yellow tint and the discomfort had lessened considerably. But when he asked how she fared, if she thought she could soon sit a horse, she lied, telling him she had not healed sufficiently to walk or ride.

She also refrained from telling him that over the last couple of days, when he’d left the croft for extended periods of time, she had managed to stand and had hobbled to the table and back several times. But that was a secret she meant to keep to herself.

Guilt tugged at her belly. She would surely burn in Hell for her deception, but she did not really know the man or the people he planned to visit. Despite his kindness, a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her to be cautious. Other than their brief discussion about the war with England and his brothers, Alasdair had revealed very little about himself, except that he planned leave and take her with him as soon as she was able to make the journey.

Her ankle was healing, but she had not come up with a means to get away, and even if she had, was not strong enough to effect an escape. Until then, she would continue to pretend her injury was worse off than it actually was. Hopefully buying her some more time.

In the interim, she needed to practice walking and rebuild her strength. Now was the perfect time. Alasdair went hunting at dawn. Before he left, he told her he’d not return until mid-afternoon, so she did not expect him back for several hours.

She slid to the edge of the pallet and allowed her legs to dangle over the side. Her stomach growled. She’d eaten very little at the evening meal and it was well past the time she would normally break her fast. She nibbled on an oatcake and a bit of dried venison Alasdair had left at her bedside before he departed.

After finishing the modest meal, she planted her hands on the pallet for support, and rose. She inhaled deeply, took one wobbly step and then another. Before long, she’d managed to limp to the hearth—farther than she’d gone in the past. Thrilled by her accomplishment and ignoring the pain, she turned, and walked, albeit with difficulty, back to the pallet. Winded from the exertion, she sat on the edge of the mattress, taking some time to catch her breath.

Determined to repeat the trek, she pushed herself to a stance, then gingerly moved forward, her eyes focusing on a stool near the fire. There, she’d sit and warm herself before returning to bed. She ran her hand through her disheveled hair.

“What I wouldna give for a brush and a looking glass.”

A noise from outside caught her attention. She grabbed the edge of the table for support and her heart began to race. Had Alasdair returned early? Could it be a wild animal or, worse, another stranger who happened along? Mayhap the man who tried to assault her had returned to finish the deed.

She released the breath she held when she recognized Alasdair’s voice. He was talking to Odin, but they were right outside the door. Her pulse sped up a notch. He’d be here any minute. She needed to return to the pallet or he’d know she had been deceiving him.

“Please, Lord, let me make it afore he comes in. I promise tae see the error of my ways and make amends,” she muttered aloud as she quickened her pace. She could do this . . . had to do this.

In her haste, she knocked over a stool in her path. While Alasdair was certain to notice the seat was not as he’d left it, there was no time to set it right. Relief washed over her as she reached her destination and slid beneath the pelts. She crossed herself, convinced if she kept asking the Almighty for favors, she’d be doing penance for the rest of her days.

The door opened and Alasdair entered, carrying two fat hares. “It dinna take me as long as I expected.” He moved across the croft, placed the game on a table, then glanced in her direction. His eyes stalled on the toppled stool. “Are you well, lass?” he asked as he picked it up. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask how it got upended.

The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. “Aye. I’m fine.” When she finally forced out the words, she heard the tremor in her voice.

He watched her for a moment before he spoke again. Did he know she was lying?

“Are you sure you’re not ailing? Your face is flushed and you appear tae be out of breath,” he finally said.

“I told you I’m fine. I was sleeping and woke when I heard you enter. It must have startled me.” She twisted a corner of the pelt around her finger. “I can see your hunt was successful.”

Alasdair gave a curt nod. “Game is abundant at this time of year. I hope you like rabbit stew.”

“Aye.” She kept her answer simple. The less said the better.

“Guid. You need tae eat if you want tae regain your strength. Mayhap you should try getting up and putting some weight on your ankle. The weather is bonny and thought you might be tired of looking at these four dreary walls. If you like, we could go outside for a spell. It wouldna hurt for you tae get some fresh air.”

“A change of scenery would be lovely, but I’m feeling very weak and am not sure I am ready to stand. I—”

“All the more reason tae get you up and about. You’ve been abed long enough.” Before she could protest, he threw back the pelts, wrapped a length of woolen plaid around her shoulders, then lifted her into his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing? Put me down.” She gasped and brought her hand up to cover her mouth, while holding the plaid securely in place with the other.

“I’m taking you outside so you can get some sun. Would you rather I let you walk?” He arched a brow and waited for her to reply.

She shook her head. “Nay. You know I canna walk.” Alasdair was not about to give in to her wishes, of that she had no doubt. So she decided it was best she go along with his request for now and not give him any reason to be suspicious.

He carried her across the room and nudged the door open with his elbow. “If you tire, we can go back inside.”

The abrupt transition from the darkly lit croft into bright sunlight caused her to squeeze her eyes shut. She tilted her head skyward, hoping to catch the warmth, while the combination of forest scents, tangy sea air, and spring flowers filled her lungs.

She glanced around at her surroundings, hoping that something might jog her memory, but nothing looked familiar.

He crossed a small clearing, then set her down on a fallen log. “Are you comfortable?”

She nodded.

He flashed a crooked grin, then adjusted the plaid around her shoulders. “If you get too tired or cold let me know. I dinna want tae do anything that will further delay our departure,” he said, then moved to a spot a few feet away and stared off into the distance.

His concern was touching, even if he did have a reason to wish her a speedy recovery. While she knew very little about Alasdair, she found herself admiring his finely honed physique and chiseled features, what she could see of them beneath the dense overgrowth of facial hair.

“You are a man of verra few words,” she said in an attempt tae break the uncomfortable silence.

“I dinna have much tae say. But my brothers would argue that fact. They are forever accusing me of talking more than I should.”

“Do you miss your brothers?”

“Connor and Bryce have their wives and bairns tae keep them busy.”

“That may be, but it doesna mean you canna miss your kin. This is the second time you’ve spoken about them and their bairns.”

His expression hardened. “I learned at a young age not tae count on anyone but myself.” He absently touched a strip of plaid he wore around his upper left arm.

“Why do you wear that? I have noticed you never take it off.”

He coughed to clear his throat and lowered his eyes. “This piece of plaid was taken from my mother’s skirt. The one she wore the day she died. I wear it in her memory and tae remind me of a pledge I made as a lad tae avenge her death.”

She noticed the glint in his eyes and catch in his voice. The topic of his mother’s demise obviously caused him great pain. “I am sure she would be proud of the man you have become and your tribute tae her.”

“She was a verra special lady and I miss her verra much.” He brought his beefy hand toward his eyes and scrubbed it across his cheek.

The sentiment with which he spoke of his mother touched her heart and she choked back tears. She wished she could remember her own family. Was she close to her mam and da? Did she have any brothers or sisters? “You must have loved her verra much.”

“If not for her determination tae see me hail and hardy, I am not sure I’d be alive today.” He exhaled sharply and raked his fingers through his hair. “When I was a wee laddie, I was quite sickly. I know it’s hard tae believe if you look at the brute I am now,” he quickly added and laughed.

He drew in a slow deep breath before he continued. “She never gave up on me and wouldna let me give up on myself.”

“A mother’s love can be a powerful thing. She was obviously right. You grew tae be a strong, healthy man.”

“Aye, but it wasna always like that. I was born early and the midwife told my parents if I survived the night, I wouldna likely live beyond a summer. But Mam would hear none of it.” He absently touched the plaid cloth around his arm.

“When I was a lad, I spent many days abed. By the time I was ten summers, I had seen my share of healers, sorcerers, herbal remedies, blood letting, and leaches.” He closed his yes and shuddered.

“That must have been horrible.” The thought of the age-old practices, remedies and the slimy, bloodsucking creatures used to release the poison from a body was enough to make a person’s skin crawl with disgust. Odd she knew what he was talking about, but still remembered nothing about herself or her past. “Yet you wouldna know that you had a rough start by looking at you now. I have seen verra few men of your size and strength.”