Fraser 03 - Highland Homecoming

by B. J. Scott

  “You’re welcome. I’ll get you some more. Do you want something tae eat or would you like tae rest a little more afore we leave?”

  “I dinna know you and am not going anywhere with you.”

  “Well, I canna leave you tae fend for yourself. A lass alone wouldna last a day.”

  She stiffened her spine and glared at him. “I dinna need you tae take care of me. I can . . .” She stopped mid-sentence and squeezed her eyes shut, hopping to block out the banging in her skull and swallowed against the bile rising in her throat.

  “Are you all right?”

  Calloused fingers brushed her cheek, and she detected a hint of concern in his voice. “I’ll be fine. But I dinna know where I live.” She had no idea who she was or where she belonged. If he left without her, where would she go?

  “You have nasty bump on your head. I’m sure the events of your life will all come back you in a short while. Have you at least remembered your name?”

  “Nay, but for some reason the name Lauren comes to mind. I wish I knew for certain.”

  Alasdair tilted his head to one side and smiled. “A bonny name for a comely lass. Dinna fash over it right now. Mayhap Jayden or his father will be able to help. They are likely acquainted with all the neighboring clans and must know where you belong.”

  “And if they dinna recognize me?” She nibbled on her lower lip. She wasn’t sure what to think. If they were friends, mayhap they could solve the mystery of her identity. However, if they turned out to be her enemy, it would be better if they did not know who or where she was.

  “We’ll deal with that if the need arises. For now, I will call you Lauren.” He smiled.

  Her heart jumped and she didn’t fancy the lascivious way he was staring at her. As if he was remembering her without her kirtle. She lowered her gaze and twisted the plaid covers around her finger. “I dinna mean to be a bother. I’m sure you’re right. Once my head has cleared, things will—” She closed her eyes again and swallowed against the sudden upheaval churning her belly. Her head pounded and the room began to swirl.

  “Are you hungry?” Alasdair asked, apparently oblivious to the turn in her condition.

  “Nay, but I . . . I fear I might be sick.” She brought her hand to her mouth and inhaled deeply through her nose.

  Alasdair’s face paled and he sprinted for a wooden bucket beside the door, returning as she emptied her stomach.

  Since she’d had nothing to eat and very little to drink in two days once the herbal brew was ejected, retching and dry heaves replaced the vomiting.

  Alasdair handed her a damp rag to wipe her face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Could I have some water, please?”

  “Do you think it wise?”

  “Aye. My mouth is so dry.”

  When Alasdair returned with the cup, she limited herself to a few small sips. “Thank you.” She lay back on the mattress and dragged her hand over her eyes.

  “The blow tae your head must have been worse than I thought. Mayhap we will have tae stay here a day or so, until you are well enough tae sit a horse.”

  She picked up a hint of disappointment in his voice, but she didn’t have the strength to argue or answer. Her eyes closed and darkness engulfed her.

  Chapter 3

  She struggled to open heavy lidded eyes, but quickly raised her forearm to shade her vision from the rays of blinding sunlight streaming through the window.

  “Where am I?”

  The sounds of someone whistling outside the croft and the rhythmic crack of wood being chopped answered her question. Her stomach clenched and panic squeezed her chest. She was in the cottage of a stranger and he could return at any minute.

  He’d introduced himself as Alasdair Fraser, but the name meant nothing to her. Then again, she didn’t remember her own name. The last thing she recalled was leaning over a bucket, retching, certain her head was about to burst. As the events of her brief encounter with the man who’d claimed to find her on the beach slowly returned, a myriad of questions worried her mind. How long had she slept? Why had he brought her here, and what did he plan to do with her?

  A dull ache resonated in her skull, but mercifully the nausea and dizziness she’d experienced earlier had eased, at least for now. She shifted her position, lifted the covers, and gasped. She was still naked.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and heat rose in her cheeks. While he’d claimed the removal of her garments had been necessary to save her life, this man had seen her as only a husband should view a maiden on their wedding night. Was she a maiden? Or was she already married, mayhap even a mother?

  She shoved those concerns to the back of her mind. There were more pressing issues to deal with now. She scanned her surroundings in search of her clothes and a modicum of relief washed over her when she spied a nightrail on a chair near the hearth. It wasn’t much, but it was far better than no clothing at all. Once covered, she could search for her gown and slippers. Now all she had to do was retrieve the garment before he returned.

  Without hesitation, she slid to the edge of the pallet and dropped her feet over the side, an impulsive act that caused the room to spin. She inhaled deeply, then let the air leave her lungs in a slow, controlled breath. She repeated the action and waited for her head to clear.

  Determined to obtain her clothes, she pushed aside her fear, wrapped a plaid around herself, planted her hands on the mattress, and rose to a wobbly stance. But as she tried to take her first step, a sharp pain knifed through her right ankle, and she crumpled to the floor.

  The door swung open, striking the wall with a loud thud. “What in the name of St. Stephen are you doing?” The man had to duck beneath the doorframe to keep from bumping his head. He lumbered into the croft, across the room, then stopped at the foot of the pallet.

  “I want my clothes, sir.” The words spilled out before she could curb her tongue. Her heart rose in her throat, uncertain how he would react to her boldness.

  “My name is Alasdair and all you had tae do was ask. I’d have gotten them for you,” he replied, then crossed his arms over his broad chest and peered at her through narrowed eyes.

  She shuddered at the sight of him towering over her, but managed to keep her composure. “There was no need tae bother you. I am capable of fending for myself.” She bit down hard on her lower lip, having again spoken her mind without thought for the consequences. He did not look impressed.

  “If that’s so, how did you end up on the floor?”

  “I tried to walk, but my ankle gave way.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to cry. She’d not cower before this man or show any weakness, even though her heart was pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it.

  He squatted beside her. “Let me see.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She tried to tuck her feet beneath the plaid, but he caught her lower leg with his large, calloused hand. With a surprising amount of gentleness, he brought the injured limb toward him. As he examined her ankle, she chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting out, the pain greater than anything she’d ever experienced.

  “I dinna think it is broken. The bones appear tae be in line, but there is some swelling and bruising.” He shook his head and rocked back on his heels. “This will delay our journey even longer,” he grumbled.

  “No one asked you tae stay with me. Besides, I am not going anywhere with you.”

  “That remains to be seen, m’lady.” Before she could protest, he slid one of his arms around her waist, the other beneath her knees, and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  She fisted her hands in the plaid to hold it in place and twisted in his arms. “I insist you set me down. You may take your leave any time you wish. There is no need for you tae wait for my ankle to heal.”

  “I’ll decide what’s best. Stop squirming,” he growled.

  “Then set me down and leave me be.”

  “I am putting you back where you belong.” He placed her
on the pallet, and covered her with the pelts. “I still dinna understand what possessed you tae get up without assistance in the first place? You have been abed for three days and have eaten naught since I found you. You’re bound tae be weak. The next time you want something call for me and I’ll fetch it.” His voice held a tone of authority, his features stern.

  “I want my clothes,” she pressed. “Why am I still undressed?”

  “I dinna think you would appreciate it if I took the liberty of putting on your nightrail while you slept. You made it clear you were not pleased that I removed it. Even though, it was soaking wet and a matter of your survival.” Alasdair retrieved her garment and tossed it on the bed. “Put this on. I’ll give you some privacy, but I dinna want you getting up again, not until you’re stronger and your ankle has had time tae mend.”

  “I dinna take orders from you or any man. I—”

  “You dinna have a choice, m’lady.” He cut her off before she could finish, then moved toward the door. But as he grasped the latch, he glanced over his shoulder and softened his tone. “Remember what I said. Dinna get up. You must rest your ankle if we hope to leave any time soon.”

  She stared at the nightrail. “Where are the rest of my clothes?”

  “There are no others.” Alasdair pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Frustration echoed in his voice.

  “I was not wearing a gown or slippers?”

  “Nay. I thought it strange, but the fact you were on the beach at all gave me more reason for concern than your attire or should I say lack thereof.”

  “I find that hard tae believe. I would never leave my chamber wearing only this.” She tucked the plaid under her chin and held the nightrail in the air. At least she didn’t think she would. “Tae go out in public in only a—”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Alasdair’s face contorted with anger, his eyes darkened, and the bulging veins on his neck were visible as he took a menacing step forward.

  She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “Since I dinna know you I have no idea what you would or wouldna do. In fact, I have no idea what happened while I was asleep.” She fought to keep her voice from cracking as she spoke.

  “Trust me, m’lady, when I say that nothing happened. If I wanted tae claim you, I’d have done so by now, and it is not something you’d forget,” he snapped and took another step in her direction. “You may be a comely lass, but I am not so desperate for female companionship that I would ravage you or any lass while she was unable to participate of her own free will. Even though a good bedding might just curtail your feisty nature and incessant need tae question everything I say or do. Your accusations are not appreciated.”

  “I dinna accuse you of anything. But I have no idea what transpired. I woke up in a strange place, wearing no clothes, and with a man I’d never seen before giving me orders. Surely you understand how it must appear?”

  “Mayhap you’d rather I’d left you on the beach tae die. Tae do so would have made my life a hell of a lot simpler, but I couldna turn my back on someone in need. However, I am starting tae rethink the wisdom of my decision. You can rest assured I have no desire tae complicate things any more than they are already.” He completed his tirade, spun around, and stormed across the room. “The sooner I can get you tae Sinclair Castle and out of my hair, the better,” he grumbled and slammed the door behind him.

  Taken aback by his candor and abrupt departure, she stifled the urge to shout out a response. Obviously this man had a short temper, and it would be best to tread lightly until she was well enough to travel. She wasn’t familiar with the Sinclair Clan of which he spoke. They might be friends and able to help, but she could not take a chance they were her enemy. As soon as she was able, she would do her best to escape.

  She moved her legs and moaned, her ankle throbbing with the action. She cursed her luck, but then decided that her injury could be a blessing in disguise. As long as she was laid up, she could not sit a horse, buying herself some time to devise a plan. Alasdair might even tire of waiting and leave without her.

  Until her strength returned, she could only hope he’d meant what he said. That he had no desire to bed her or to do her any harm. On that thought, she closed her eyes and prayed. “Please, Lord, grant me a boon and return my memory. I also ask that you keep this man true to his word. I believe there is some goodness in him, but if I am wrong, please protect me from harm.”

  While she found his brute size, unkempt appearance, and gruff demeanor intimidating, she sensed her disgruntled benefactor had a softer side he was trying very hard to conceal. Despite her lack of memory, there was something hauntingly familiar about those piercing blue eyes and his crooked smile. But she could not possibly know him, otherwise he’d have said so. Wouldn’t he?

  The alarm she’d experienced the first time she saw him had dissipated, but that didn’t mean she was ready to totally let down her guard. Nor was she prepared to trust him. She dismissed the notion, slid the nightrail over her head, then buried herself beneath the warm layer of pelts and plaid. The fact she was wearing nothing else when he found her was still perplexing. She blew out a sigh. Until her memory returned, there was no point in speculating.

  “Mo Chreach!” Alasdair cursed aloud as he stomped toward the woodpile and picked up an axe. “How dare she accuse me of lewd behavior? I should never have stopped tae help the ungrateful wench. If only it had been in me tae keep on riding.” He raised the tool above his head and brought it down on a log with a mighty whack, splitting the thick piece of timber in half with a single blow. “Marbhphaisg ort! After all I’ve done tae help her.” He cursed and hoisted the axe again. “Women are nothing but trouble and I am best tae stay clear.” This time he hit the wood with such force it splintered into several jagged chunks.

  Alasdair couldn’t help but wish he’d gone home to Beauly rather than planning a visit to see Jayden. Instead of tending the unappreciative lass, he’d be sitting in the great hall of Fraser Castle with his feet propped up, a tankard of ale in one hand and a leg of mutton in the other. His only concern would be whether he should go for a ride or take a nap. He didn’t have to answer to anyone about his motives, as to where he ventured or how long he stayed. He liked having the freedom to do as he pleased.

  Despite being the oldest surviving son, he’d given up his birthright the day he declined the elders’ request to assume his place as Laird of Clan Fraser. The daunting responsibility then fell on the next in line, Connor. While he was not trying to shirk his duty, and excelled on the battlefield, Alasdair believed there was a lot more than brawn to be a good leader. Qualities he lacked. With a level head on his shoulders, a knack for organization, intelligence, and ability to command respect everywhere he traveled, Connor was the sensible choice for Chief. Named tanist until Connor’s son, Andrew, reached the appropriate age, their youngest brother, Bryce, would take over should anything befall him.

  Alasdair quickly crossed himself. While he held no store that simple thoughts or words could govern a man’s destiny, he preferred to err on the side of caution. In any case, the clan’s fate rested in capable hands.

  “Damnation.” His thoughts returned to his current situation and the beguiling woman inside the croft. “The last thing I needed in my life is a woman.” He cursed again and took a swing at another log. He’d done his best to maintain his distance over the years and had built a protective wall around his heart that was virtually impenetrable. Not that he didn’t appreciate a comely face or enjoy a tumble beneath the plaid with a willing lass, but he had no desire for commitments or love.

  Were he looking for a bride, which he was not, a woman like the lass in the cottage would be the perfect choice. No one could dispute her breathtaking beauty and sensual curves, a body that would drive a man wild with desire. But aside from a comely face and a means to sate his lustful needs, there was no mistaking her spirit and tenacity. Passion flashed in her eyes when she spoke, and the proud jut of her chin made hi
m smile. Refreshingly different from the shy, subservient way most women acted in his presence, the lass wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Were she a man, and the battle one of wits and nerve, he imagined she would indeed be a most formidable opponent.

  “God’s teeth! What are you thinking, man?” Alasdair gave his head a sharp shake. Where on earth had these thoughts come from? She’d all but accused him of taking improper liberties, questioned his motives, and insulted his honor. It would serve her well if he did get on Odin and ride away, leaving her to fend for herself.

  The less time he spent with this woman the better. Look what happened to his brothers when they got involved with lassies. He liked his sister-by-marriage, Cailin and Fallon, and his brothers appeared to be truly happy. He was glad they’d both found contentment in marriage, but while a wife and bairns might be fine for some men, it was not for him.

  Besides, a lady as fine as his charge would have no use for the big, clumsy buffoon he believed himself to be. Despite her effort to put on a brave front, he’d seen the look of trepidation in her eyes when they first met. It was the same expression he’d seen many times when introduced to a woman; one that led him to believe she would rather be horsewhipped than spend a minute alone in his company. He’d felt her tremble and heard the sharp intake of breath when he lifted her from the floor, caught the nervous tremor in her voice when she spoke. She might not remember who she was or where she belonged, but he could tell after spending a very brief time with her, that she was a lady of breeding and status . . . the sort of woman who would never give him a second glance or thought.

  Alasdair gathered the wood and carried it to the croft. There was an ample supply to keep the fire going for the time being and he’d cut more if the need arose. While he did not fancy the idea of another confrontation with the lass, there were things that needed to be taken care of. Until she was able to travel, he’d have to put aside his frustration and ire, make the most of a difficult situation.