Mad for the Plaid (26 page)

Nik woke up slowly, opening his eyes to the blackness that hung above him. Though wrapped in fur blankets, he was cold. So very cold. And yet his shoulder and head were afire, his eyes leaden as if weighted down.

He shivered, and a stab of pain rippled from his shoulder down his arm. He clenched his eyes closed and gritted his teeth as he fought off the searing agony.
Bozhy moj, such pain. What happened? Where am I?

He swallowed, his mouth dry and hot, and realized he was nude. As that was how he normally slept, he didn't find it odd, but the fact that he was on a hard floor instead of a comfortable bed made him wince every time he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.

His memory stirred and he remembered lightning and thunder and a falling tree followed by D'yoval sliding down an embankment. Now there was such pain in Nik's shoulder—had he landed on a rock? He didn't remember anything after that except icy-cold water and Ailsa tugging him to his feet, urging him to go just a bit farther. And then a bit more. And then—

We found a cave.
He'd been so very glad to get out of the relentless rain, and for the chance to lie down. He didn't remember much after that.

He shifted his shoulder experimentally and instantly regretted it.
Bozhy moj, but I hurt.
Every inch of him was bruised, aching, or in pain. Perhaps he should keep his eyes closed and let sleep reclaim him. The thought beckoned, for under his discomfort was a deep sense of exhaustion. He was so very, very tired. So much so that lifting his head seemed too much of an effort.

A faint rustle came from nearby, followed by the familiar
thump-crackle
of a log as it settled into flames. Somewhere close, meat simmered over a fire, the delicious scent making his mouth water. His eyes may be tired, but his stomach growled in demand.

He collected enough energy to turn his head. A fire burned cheerily, a hare on a spit hanging over it. He could just make out a figure on the other side of the fire, but the firelight made his head hurt too much for him to focus.

“Ah. You're awake.”

He knew that voice, low and melodic, husky, with a Scottish accent.

“What time is it?” His voice was more croak than words, but Ailsa seemed to understand him.

“'Tis night.” A rustle sounded in the dark and then she was kneeling beside him, the firelight warming her skin to touchable peach. “Dinnae move. Your shoulder could start bleeding again.”

He lifted a hand to his shoulder and found it heavily
bandaged, a large knot tied at his neck. “Is it broken?”

“Nae.” She bent over him to examine the knot, her soft braid brushing his hand. When she straightened, she managed a faint smile, though it did not reach her eyes. “I used my chemise to wrap your wound, so 'tis quite bonny, as bandages go.”

He looked at her. Her heavy coat gaped open where she bent over him, her thin muslin shirt outlining her breasts. God, but she had perfect-size breasts, just fit for a man's hands.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“What? Oh.
Nyet
.” No more than he could bear.

“I can loosen the bandage if you think it'll be more comfortable.”

The thought was appealing, for the bandage was tight, but the thought of the pain of untying and then rewrapping the bandage gave him pause. “It is fine. We will leave it.”

She sat back on her heels, clasping her knees with both arms. “I'm glad you're awake. It's been a wee bit quiet, having nae one to argue with.”

He managed a faint smile in return. “I'll be ready to listen to your nonsense once this headache and my shoulder have ceased plaguing me.” His voice creaked as if he'd swallowed a rusty file.

“You've a fever.” She placed a cool hand on his forehead. “You've had one since this morning.”

“This morning?” He sent her a searching glance. “We have been here a night and day, then.”

“Aye.”

That explained why he ached so much, and why his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. “I need something to drink.”

“I'll fetch some water.”

“No water. Vodka.”

She quirked a brow in his direction. “You just woke oop. Dinnae you think you should try the water first, and work your way to the vodka?”

“It will dull my shoulder ache.”

“It will make your head ache worse.”

He scowled, though it tugged painfully at a wound on his forehead.

“Do nae look at me as if you'd like to roast me over the fire. Spirits are nae guid when one has a fever. Once you're better, you may have some.”

“You should not deny a sick man.”

“I can and I will.” She placed her hand on his forehead, her fingers deliciously cool against his hot skin. “You've a fever still, though 'tis nae as high as it has been.” She removed her hand and he instantly wished she hadn't. “The vodka is in the flask on the other side of the fire. As soon as you have the strength to get up, walk over there, and fetch it yourself, you may have as much as you wish. Or, of what's left of it, anyway.”

He slanted her a surprised look. “You've been drinking my vodka?”

“I've been here alone, with you ranting in a foreign tongue. I may have had a wee sip or so.” She smiled, her gray eyes warming. “Dinnae look surprised; you'd have done the same had our positions been reversed.”

He couldn't argue with that.

“If you're to have some water, you'll need to sit oop a bit. I'll move the saddlebags for you to lean on, but you'll have to help, for I cannae move you by myself.”

She slid the saddlebags near him and then slipped an arm under his good shoulder. It took several moments of blinding pain, but he was soon reclining. He shivered when the blanket slipped and the damp, cold air nipped him.

She immediately tugged the blankets back in place, her fingers brushing his bared chest.

He fought the desire to hold her hand there. “I've imagined you taking off my clothes, but never under these circumstances.”

She chuckled. “Aye, this is nae very romantic. Your clothes were wet, and as you were soon burning with fever, I dinnae think it guid to leave you in them.” She smoothed the blankets, covering him thoroughly, and then handed him an uncorked flask.

He lifted the water to his dry mouth, the taste so fresh and inviting that he had to force himself not to gulp it. Finally refreshed, he lowered the flask. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

He loved the lilt in her voice, the silkiness of her tone; it teased and soothed at the same time. He took another drink of water. “I shall owe you for this once we are rescued.”

“I dinnae do anything you would nae have done for me.”

“That is true. Had I found you alone, I'd have definitely removed all your clothes and wrapped you in fur blankets before a fire.”

“That is reassuring,” she replied in a dry tone.

He grinned. “Where are my clothes?”

“I washed the blood from them, and they're spread oot by the fire. They're almost dry.”

She'd taken such good care of him, and under trying circumstances, too.

Impulsively, he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “Thank you.”

Their gazes locked and she flushed before she tugged her hand free, her smile disappearing. “'Twas nothing. Really.” She moved away. “I should see to our dinner.” She returned to the fire where the rabbit roasted.

He watched the firelight play across her face, kissing even more warmth into her cheeks. “You went hunting, I see.”

“I used the leather straps from your bedroll and some sticks to fashion some snares. This is all I've caught, though. We'll need more if we stay longer.”

His smile slipped a bit. “You haven't heard from the others?”

“Nae, and I doubt we will. Before I followed you and D'yoval, I sent St. George on to let them know to come looking for us, but it was raining hard enough to wash the ground away.”

“So there won't be tracks to show where we left the trail.”

“I fear nae. I daresay MacKean and the others have gone on by now. Once you're better, we'll join oop with them at Greer's camp. They'll wait for us there.”

“Very good.” He gingerly touched his forehead. “My head aches like the devil.”

“'Tis the last bit of fever. You should go back to sleep. You will heal faster.”

She was so matter-of-fact, her tone exactly the one mothers used with ill children, that it annoyed him greatly. Of course, right now even breathing annoyed him greatly.
I am as weak as a kitten.

A yawn tickled his throat and he suddenly realized she was right; he did need to sleep. He was so very, very tired. “I have been sleeping, yet I'm sleepy still.” He couldn't keep the petulance from his tone.

“I would nae call it sleep. It was all I could do to keep you still; I was worried you'd break open your wounds.” She sat back on her heels. “You were a stubborn patient. More than once, I thought aboot tying you oop.”

For all her bold words, he caught the faintest quaver in her voice, and he realized she'd been frightened. She'd been alone, responsible for his care, and most likely fretting about those she'd left behind, not to mention the worry she had for the success of their mission. “Come here.”

She shook her head. “I need to watch the rabbit or it will burn.”

“We're three feet away, if that. Come,” he repeated.

She hesitated, but then joined him, sitting at his side.

He captured her hand again, only this time he tugged her closer. “Lie with me.”

She didn't move.

“It will keep me warm. This is a damp cave.” He thought she would argue, but after a second, she did as he asked, though she stayed outside the covers, her head resting carefully on his good shoulder.

She fit against him as if made to be there, and he rested his cheek against her hair. His arm went around her, his hand resting on her hip. “You needn't be so worried,
krasavitsa
. It will take more than a mere fall from a horse to hurt me.”

“This was nae a mere fall. It— I've been worried.”

“I am fine,” he soothed, closing his heavy eyes.
Bozhy moj
, but he could sleep forever like this, her warm, curvy body against him. It was as if they were pieces of the same puzzle, her head on his shoulder, her arm over his chest, her hip pressed to his—

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

He opened one eye and glanced at her before closing it again. “Aye. It began to rain and there was a lightning strike, which D'yoval did not like. I tried to calm him but the lightning, it came again, and a tree fell across us. I tried again to calm him, but the reins became tangled, and I could not hold him, and we slid off the embankment.”

“All the way to the bottom of the ravine.”

A thought occurred to him, and Nik opened his eyes. “D'yoval. Is he—”

“He's fine. A little scraped, but nothing that will nae heal.”

Relieved, Nik closed his eyes again, noting that her thick braid now lay over his arm, a comforting weight.

Ailsa toyed with the edge of the blanket where it rested under his stubbled chin. She could see the tiredness already stealing him away. She thought about letting him drift off, but she couldn't. Not yet. “Nik, the reins were nae tangled.”

He slanted a sleepy glance her way. “Oh?”

She lifted up on her elbow. “You could nae hold them because you'd been shot.”

“Shot?” Nik repeated blankly, his eyes now wide open. “I couldn't have been . . . but—” He frowned. “The pain in my shoulder happened
before
I fell.” No wonder he hadn't been able to control D'yoval. “I don't remember hearing a pistol shot.”

“I thought it was thunder. Perhaps you did, too.”

“The brigands were lucky; the storm covered their attack.”

Nik saw a shadow cross over her face, as if she wished to say something more. But after a long moment, all she said was, “I hope we catch them. I—” A log shifted in the fire and sent sparks fluttering through the air. She pushed herself up, her braid trailing across his shoulder as she moved away. “I must tend the fire. I dinnae wish our dinner to burn.”

Before he could protest, she was already gone, adjusting the logs with a long stick. It was tempting to call her back, but from the serious expression on her face, he knew the moment was lost.

She had reason to be worried, as did he.
Why would thieves go to so much trouble merely to rob us? Something
is not what it should be. We are vulnerable away from the others; we must rejoin our party.
“We will leave tomorrow.”

Her brows lowered. “Perhaps. If you're oop to it—”

“
Nyet
. We must go as soon as we can. We've a mission to accomplish and we're not safe away from our escort.”

“I'll nae have the wound on your shoulder opening again. It was . . .” She clamped her lips together until they were in a white line and suddenly she became very busy with the fire.

He pressed his fingers to the wadded bandage. He couldn't tell a thing about the wound except that it ached. “Is it that bad?”

She didn't meet his gaze. “Bad enough.”

“Is the bullet still in my shoulder?”

She shook her head. “It merely sliced you, although it was a deep cut, and bled so much, I feared . . .” She turned away, the shadows hiding her expression.

“It's a good thing you tied the bandage so tight. There's not a spot of blood to be seen.”

“It is healing. And you need nae worry that we're exposed. I have been keeping guard, in case the brigands find us again, and I tied a string across the mouth of the cave and threaded two cups to it, to serve as an alarm.”

“And D'yoval?”