Highland Storm (11 page)

She had a glimmer of tears in her eyes and she swallowed once before trying to speak. “’Tis been overlong since anyone looked after me this way, Keane. Thank you.”

Keane did know what to say. His throat felt suddenly too thick to speak. It only seemed like the right and natural thing to do, but when she put it that way, it made him feel as though he’d somehow overstepped his bounds… or taken on responsibility he ought not. “’Tis no more than I would do for any lass,” he reassured her.

“I see,” she replied, and the glassy look in her eyes vanished. She lifted up her berries, inspecting them closer with a look of disappointment in her amber eyes.

They could hear men chattering in the near distance, but here, the air was so still and thick Keane could cut it with a blade. “Those are whitebeams.”

“Yes, I know,” she said tightly, and Keane welcomed the icier tone, for he knew far better how to deal with her anger than he did her gratitude.

I
n fact
, Lianae didn’t know.

She had never seen such bright red berries so full and bletted during the ides of winter. There were many such berries she recognized, but not this one.

It wasn’t his all-knowing attitude that perturbed her—or his officious demeanor. Rather, it was the notion that he did not particularly feel drawn to her… as she was to him.

Not since her family had been wrested from her so rudely had Lianae known such a gentle hand. Truth to tell, there was something about Keane that made her wish for things she ought not want—and yet she barely knew this man.

It was too easy to forget.

“They make a good tea to settle the belly,” he said matter of factly, dropping her bound foot, as though she were a child who’d needed help to dress.

Lianae was a woman grown, and yet he did not seem to notice this fact, and it annoyed her immensely. She was hardly the beauty Elspeth had been, but she wasn’t an ogre either. Some men thought her pretty, and some even said so.

Gruaidh may not be able to bear your children, nor is she quite so… pleasing.

Neither is your sister once she opens her mouth.

Lianae frowned, remembering William fitz Duncan’s words. “Do you think me ugly?” she asked, before she could think to stop herself. She had never learned how to be any other way, but direct—not even when it was clearly in her benefit to keep her mouth shut. She should have learned that lesson from her dealings with the Earl, and yet… she
must
know.

Both Keane’s brows shot up, and his eyes nearly crossed. It might have been a comical sight, if Lianae hadn’t been waiting so breathlessly for his answer. “No,” he said after a moment, composing himself. “How do your feet feel?”

“Lovely,” she replied.
Not nearly so battered as her ego.

Wrathfully, Lianae squished a berry between her thumbs, and then tossed the detritus away rather petulantly, thinking herself a silly little fool for considering such things as
feelings
, when only yesterday she had escaped a fate worse than death.

She plucked another berry and lifted it to her mouth to test it with her tongue. “Are they bitter?” she asked, sounding bitter herself.

Keane rose from his knees. “Sometimes.”

“This one is sweet,” she said, sliding the berry over her tongue.

“Is it?”

“Aye.”

He wrapped his hand about her wrist and gently tugged her up. “There’s a much better way to eat them,” he said.

Lianae dared to look Keane in the eyes. They were so green… as green as a new leaf in spring, and the black of his pupils were inordinately large—as deep and dark as Lilidbrugh’s well. If she leaned just a bit, she might fall deep inside and be irrevocably lost.

Plucking the entire bunch of berries from her hand, Keane pinched off a tiny piece of fruit, biting it gently, as though to test it for himself, never leaving her gaze. “Sweet,” he agreed, and then his lips turned up slightly at one corner.

Something about the look in his eyes gave Lianae a little start. Her heart kicked against her ribs as he leaned toward her, so slowly, staring intently into her eyes, as though she were a rabbit and he were a wolf, willing her to stay and be his prey.

She would do it, she realized.

He but needed to ask.

And then he pulled her close, offering Lianae the berry with his mouth, pressing her close until she parted her lips to receive the fruit. Once she did so, he pushed the juice and the berry deep into her mouth.

For a long moment, Lianae forgot to breathe.

His soft, warm tongue explored the depths of her mouth with barely restrained hunger, brushing softly across her trembling lips and then sliding across the ridge of her teeth. The sensation gave her a strange little quiver. Warmth filled her breast and slid…
lower
.

Never in her life had she felt such a heady, silvery warmth. It flowed into her most private regions like warm honey. The berry melted into the depths of her mouth, and after a moment, he pulled away, and looked her straight in the eyes.

“Lianae,” he whispered.

“Aye?”

“Did that seem to ye like a mon who thinks ye ugly?”

For a long, long moment, the world fell into a hush as the sound of her own blood rushed through her ears. Her heart pounded furiously.

A short distance away, she could hear the sound of laughter, the sound traveling from their camp. He gave her a playful wink. “Now let’s get some dinner,” he suggested.

K
eane brought back
the biggest haul—two hares, one grouse, and to be certain no one had any doubt who’d won the contest, he added a squirrel to the pile of meat to be prepared.

The grouse could not be helped, for it seemed to dance along before him, as though to tempt him. Even when he turned his back on the creature, it circled about, fluttering its wings and undermining his resolve—not unlike Lianae.

He tried his best to ignore the promise of her lips, the taste of her mouth, but in the end, he realized he was weak. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of its emptiness, and he reared back his bow, let loose the arrow, and in the end, the grouse lay skewered for the taking. And yet, despite his hunger for actual food, all he could think about was the taste of Lianae’s mouth.

She was a distraction to be sure.

He’d asked her to pick and carry back a hem full of berries. Whilst Wee Alick and Donal skinned, gutted and cooked the spoils of their hunt, Keane brewed a bit of tea.

Like the rowan berries, whitebeam could have an adverse effect if too many were eaten fresh, but once the seeds were plucked and the bletted fruit was boiled, the bitters produced would quickly settle the stomach. A wee bit would do them, and with a good night’s rest, by the morrow they would all be rested and ready to travel.

As Keane prepared the tea, his gaze reverted to Lianae more often than it should have. Together they’d made a fine team. She was not at all like his sister, Cailin, who competed with him shoulder to shoulder for each and every kill. Nay, Lianae had served him well as his eyes and ears. “Look!” she would say. “A hare!” And then she would watch whilst Keane found the beast in his sights, and clapped exuberantly when the animal was won. He must confess he liked having her at his side, and he found himself driven to keep her safe. But bedamned if kissing her again hadn’t been a heinous mistake, for now he could think of little else. Taking a chug of the whitebeam tea only made him hard. She sat beside him now, laughing softly whilst the men all sang a bawdy song, sharing from a single flask of bitter tea. Turn by turn, they hoarded the warm tin, rolling it greedily between their fists.

The moon was high tonight, the stars all visible within a mostly clear sky. With a wee bit of luck, they would be spared any more inclement weather and sometime on the day thereafter they would arrive at Dunloppe. By then, Keane might better determine what to do with the lass.

“And what’s it ye say the whitebeam is good for?” Brude asked.

“Stopping up your arse,” replied Murdoch with a bark of laughter.

The men all laughed and Keane chuckled low, casting another glance at Lianae to find her blushing fiercely.

She leaned close. “Mayhap I need a moment
alone
…”

Even under the moonlight, Keane could see that her cheeks were bright—as bright as the berries had been—and he caught her meaning at once. He had to force himself not to go along with her, not really wanting her out of his sight. “Dinna go far,” he cautioned.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, rising and smoothing down her skirts. She smiled at Keane—a devastating smile—and turned on her heels, then hobbled away, her gait much improved.

R
eplete
, and needing no more tea, Lianae rose from her spot beside Keane. Pulling her cloak together—first the breacan he’d given her and had never taken back, and then her cloak—she ambled away from the easy, companionable chatter of men.

Making her way quickly away from the glow of the camp fire, she felt giddy, even without the aid of spirits and deep down, she realized it must be
that kiss
—that remarkable moment by the brook, when Keane touched his lips to her own. He had a way about him that made her melt into his arms, and even now, her legs felt like pudding beneath her as she searched about for a secluded place to minister to her needs.

Forsooth, when she considered where she’d been only yesterday, the gods had surely blessed her. Of all the men she might have happened upon in her flight, she had somehow found
him
. Keane was a good man, she decided. Fair-minded. Strong and capable and ready to do his duty. Humble enough—but just enough. Although no one would ever accuse the man of lacking confidence. He exuded it from every pore of his being, and still there was little arrogant about him. He was born to lead, and she watched his every gesture with a sense of wonder. He did not shout his men down, nor did he toss them about with threats. He spoke firmly, issuing commands without a backward glance to see that any were obeyed. And then in the same breath, he showed kindness, caring for them as a mother might. Lianae supposed she understood why, for it made one feel as though he valued them. And even she felt as though she belonged with him—as though she had known him for years—as though he were her devoted guardian.

It was a strange feeling.

Although she realized she shouldn’t dwell on him overmuch, it couldn’t be helped when the first thing he’d done upon returning to camp—even before preparing food or boiling their tea—was unwrap Lianae’s foot and set her bindings to dry near the fire.

Despite that the wool was weather-tight, it grew damp whenever she walked in them too long, and he’d promised to find her a good pair of shoes the instant he could. Once the bindings were dry, Lianae had insisted upon wrapping her feet herself. Not even her mother had coddled her quite so much!

And despite all that she was feeling, she had begun to consider that maybe she should slip away at the first opportunity, but she lacked the desire to go. Cold as they were, hungry as they’d been, there suddenly seemed no safer place to be than with Keane. But that made no sense. She didn’t know the man.

Would he treat her so kindly if he realized who she was?

Not a one of his men seemed even remotely curious over discovering aught about her. Either they had decided a woman in their company was of little import, or it truly didn’t matter to them from whence Lianae had come. Alas, she believed it was the former. And likely they believed she was a runaway, nothing more, nothing less. Judging by the dress she wore, they would easily have mistaken her for an English sympathizer—like King David and all his minions.

Now she considered her options. It was all well and good to pretend for awhile, but there would come a time when she must leave, no matter how
safe
Keane made her feel. She
must
find her missing brothers, and if it was the last thing she ever did, she was going to make William fitz Duncan pay for what he’d done to Elspeth. Now that Lianae was no longer in fitz Duncan’s grasp, vengeance would be hers to give and it would be so very sweet. No matter how much she enjoyed Keane’s company, that was not something he would agree to do for her—that much she knew for truth. However, kind he might be, he was still loyal to David mac Mhaoil Chaluim. And David was William’s fitz Duncan’s king. Thus Keane was her enemy, whether she liked that truth or nay.

One didn’t crave to kiss one’s enemy.

But yet she did.

And more.

In fact, if Lianae didn’t leave soon, she might find herself thinking with her heart and not her head. For the love of Cailleach! She was already thinking with her heart, though once she found her brothers, Ewen and Graeme, they would know exactly what to do. She had so much to tell them both—about their sister and Lulach’s betrayal.

As for Keane, she owed him naught, she reminded herself. Naught more than kindness. Despite that she longed to give him the truth—or at least as much of the truth as she could bear to give without endangering her cause—she could afford to say nothing at all.

But maybe she could tell him she was searching for her brothers, without revealing who they were. She must also learn his destination, so she could make plans to leave before the chance had passed. And yet despite the fact that Keane wasn’t a part of her future—she didn’t dare amuse herself with that notion—there was much she wished to learn about him, so much she wished to share.

But not
this
!

The instant her necessaries were completed—thankfully—she heard someone approach through the brush, and she hurried to repair herself, thinking it must be Keane. “I am fine!” she shouted.

“Ho, what have we here?” a male voice asked.

It wasn’t Keane.

Startled, Lianae focused her gaze on a dark figure that came ever nearer, footsteps tramping noisily through the snow. But there wasn’t just one, there were three shadows approaching, their silhouette’s black against a pale, moonlit sky.

“Looky here,” the man said. “It’s a wee lassie.”

“But can she can piss and wield a dagger all while brushing her pretty haid?”

Hushed male laughter followed the impertinent question.

Lianae’s heart beat faltered. None of the voices were even remotely familiar. She tamped down a lump of fear that rose in her throat as three men now stood between her and her destination.

“She has something far deadlier than a dagger.”

Keane!

Lianae had never been more grateful to hear the sound of a man’s voice. She bolted toward her two-time savior, relieved unto death that none of the strangers attempted to stop her.

“Aye?” asked the newcomer. “And what might that be? A bonny smile?” He didn’t sound overly concerned over Keane’s arrival and one of his men sniggered.

“
Me
,” Keane said, and there was an unmistakable threat in his voice.

“Is that so?”

“Aye,” Keane said, stepping in front of Lianae, and for the first time in her adult life, Lianae hid behind a man. Only belatedly did she realize that these men also wore the king’s livery.

“Dinna mind these laggards,” the youngest of the three said. He came closer to show his face. “We come as friends… with a bit o’ news.”