Mist Warrior (26 page)

BOOK: Mist Warrior

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It took a moment for his pain to dull enough to realize that Catriona now sat before him, her fingers lightly caressing his face and hair. She spoke in soothing, gentle tones, words of calm and comfort. His eyes closed and he fought to steady his breathing.

Her voice was hypnotic as she moved away. He heard the clink of glass then the sound of her hands rubbing together
,
but her voice never stopped and he wondered idly if she cast some enchantment over him.

Suddenly
,
her warm,
well-oiled
hands descended on his shoulders, kneading the thick muscle stretched taut with pain. Her touch sent a blaze of lust through him. She continued to stroke and caress his back. His heart thundered so hard he was certain she could feel it battering his ribcage. She worked with agonizing
,
yet wonderful slowness. God's blood, how could he endure this?

Slowly, he became conscious of her words, although her voice continued its soft and soothing cadence.
She could tame the wildest of stallions with her words.

“
Branan did you hear me?
”
she asked.

He jerked, startled, and pain rocked through him.

“
Nay,
”
she said sternly
,
but her voice remained soothing.
“
Do not tense yourself. Relax, Branan.
”

He tried, he really did. But her hands on him ignited something so deep that he did not know its source and it tightened him like a ballista.

“
I was saying,
”
she continued, her voice dulcet.
“
This oil is specially made to relax the muscles. It has a tiny bit of ginger in it so when I finish, it will create its own warmth.
”

< K="4en I fifont size="+0" face="Garamond">Right now, the heat of her hands alone seared his soul. Despite his rebellious body, which he now cursed for being so faithless to its owner, her touch gradually succeeded in unclenching his muscles. She seemed able to find each knot and work with it, moving her fingers along the length, encouraging
it to stretch out and relax. Catriona
never exerted too much pressure but instead worked lightly and gradually increased her strength as the muscle eased its terrible hold.

She started at his neck and shoulders and moved ever so slowly down to the small of his back. That was where it
really hurt. But her hands worked
with confidence, judging the reaction of his body with s
imply the knowledge of touch. Branan
closed his eyes and groaned in sheer pleasure.

“
Ah,
”
she purred and he
heard a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice.
“
'Tis where I thought the problem would be.
”

Abruptly,
Branan
stopped caring. Her hands worked magic on him. Despite the feral desire coiling through him, he never wanted her to stop. His body began to loosen, sinking deeper into the pallet, the pain eased considerably. She continued, finding every protesting muscle and gently working it
,
until it surrendered to her touch.

“
Lass,
”
he murmured.
“
God has blessed ye with healing hands.
”

“
Thank you,
”
she said softly.

Branan cracked open one eye and saw her blushing furiously. He could not help but smile.

Her hands continued to glide over his back and Branan squeezed his eyes shut.
Mind ye dinna lose your heart,
Duguald had said. If only she hadn't put her hands on him, if only he had not discovered how her gentle touch could ease his pain and soothe his spirit, he would have been just fine.

****

Branan's strained back restricted him to bed for the next two days. He hated being so helpless, needing assistance simply to answer the demands of nature was too much to bear. He decided if he ever became this decrepit in his old age, he would open a vein wi Kpen>
th a glad heart.

Catriona tended to him daily, continuing to work her magic with her hands. Although
,
her touch still ign
ited a fire within his loins, Branan
found himself enjoying her visits. Many times, after settling him and giving him his tea, she would sit beside him, her fingers stroking his hair and face, and talk softly until he drifted off to sleep.

It was late afternoon when a
gain she settled beside him. Branan’s
lips tugged upward
,
feeling her fingers caress his brow.

“
What are you smiling about?
”
she asked.

His smile grew.
“
How much I am beginning to enjoy this.
”

“
Do not grow too fond of it. Once you return to your surly self, I won't feel sorry for you anymore.
”

He stared up at her, wounded.
“
I am no' surly.
”

She chuckled and shook her head, sighing softly as her humor faded.
“
Tell me about Scotland.
”

His brow traveled upward in surprise.
“
What do ye want to know?
”

She shrugged.
“
Anything...everything...I feel, somehow cheated out of knowing the man you've become in the last ten years.
”

“
Aye,
”
he replied, unders
tanding exactly how she felt. Branan
had left a bonnie, wild lass behind only to return and discover a beautiful, spirited young woman. One who could never be his.

“
'Twas difficult at first,
”
he finally said. He took a breath, unwilling to dredge up the pain of his memories
,
but also unable to stop himself.
“
I felt almost like a wraith floating in nothingness. The world moved around me
,
but I wasna part of it.
”
Branan
scowled, trying to find the words.
“
I had gone from a lad with a heritage
,
to one had no idea who he was.
”

“
But you do have a
heritage, Branan.
”

“
Aye, but no' the one I expected. I dinna understand anything. I was so grateful to learn that bastard Strickland had not sired me, that I had no' of his foul blood in my veins
,
but a part of me a
lmost wished I was his son.
I couldna understand how I longed for such a terrible thing. Eventually, I realized one truth. If I was Strickland's, then leastways I would have known about a
part of who I was. I may have hated him, I may have feared I might become like him, but I also could ha' worked to make sure that never happened. But I would ha' ken.
”

Catriona’s
brow furrowed slightly.
“
But you do know about your true father.
”

Branan
shook his head.
“
Only stories and tales and I vow they grow greater with Duguald's each telling. It...is like I am the son of a legend, not a man.
”

She gave him an arched look, her lips lifting slightly.
“
Aye, I can understand how you
might
feel that way.
”

He smiled up at her, enjoying the way the soft light of a nearby lantern fell on her face, highlighting the dusty rose of her lips. Her fingers continued their wonderful journey through his hair. For a moment
,
he closed his eyes and took a deep, contented breath.

“
Are you growing tired?
”

“
Nay,
”
Branan
said, keeping his eyes closed.
“
Simply enjoying the peace.
”
Inwardly, he was startled at his own words. He never felt peace when he spoke of his father. Pushing aside the unusual revelation, he realized he was speaking willingly of his past–something he never did. But with Catriona, it was right...he needed to talk to her about it.

“
I remember feeling as if everything was happening too quickly. First there was the night my mother died
,
and the world seemed to turn upside down and my heart inside out. Then, for two years, I found a home with ye and yer family. I...was happy there...I knew I was loved.
”

Her
breath caught in her throat as she cupped his cheek with her hand.
“
Aye, Branan, that you were...very much.
”

He gazed up at Catriona
, the intensity in her vibrant blue eyes almost stole sane thought. She smiled down at him and his heart twisted. She could never be his. In a span of months he would lose her forever.

Strangely, he found the painful memories of his past much more comforting than that last thought.

“
When I arrived in Scotland,
”
Branan
forced himself to say.
“
I felt my life turned upside down again. A second time, I had lost the only people I had loved...but leastways I had the comfort of knowing ye and yer family were alive and well, yet ye were as far from me as my mother was. I was moved from family to family
,
until I came of age. I learned quickly ne'er to call a place home.
”