Fraser 03 - Highland Homecoming

by B. J. Scott

  The door swung opened and Alasdair entered. “I see you’re awake. The sun has set and the hour grows late. You must be hungry.”

  She sat up and narrowed her eyes as he stepped from the shadows and into the firelight. Her heart skipped a beat when she caught a glimpse at his face. Shocked, she noticed his beard was gone. Freshly washed hair had been pulled back and bound with a length of leather. How this man could think he was unattractive or plain was beyond her comprehension.

  Her breath caught as she took in his rugged features, a straight aquiline nose, high cheekbones, strong, square jaw, straight white teeth, and expressive blue eyes. She could hardly believe this was the same man who’d been tending her needs for a sennight.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked with a grin that caused her pulse to race and her stomach to do a wee flip.

  “N-nay,” she forced out the words. “I was surprised tae . . . um.” The heat of a blush rose in her face and she glanced away.

  He moved to the pallet and touched her cheek. “Are you ill? Your face is flushed. I hope it doesna mean a fever is brewing. Mayhap I kept you outside too long this afternoon and you caught a chill.”

  “I’m fine.” She pulled away. “You shaved off your beard. I hardly recognized you.”

  “I grew tired of it and decided it was time,” he answered.

  “What do you have there?” Trying not to stare, she pointed to a long, slender, carved piece of wood he was carrying.

  “I made you a walking stick. I thought it might help you to get around until you’ve regained your strength and your ankle is fully healed.” He laid it across her lap, then took a step back.

  She ran her fingers over a row of thistles carved along the length of the shaft. Amidst the prickly wildflowers was a single rose. “I canna believe you did this for me. You are verra gifted. When did you find the time?”

  He shrugged. “While you were asleep. Carving relaxes me and I have put dirk to wood since I was a lad. When you spend as many hours abed as I did, you need something tae keep you from going daft.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you tae stand.”

  “I’m not sure I’m able,” she lied. If he knew how many times she’d walked on her own and not told him, he’d be furious. This was not the right moment to reveal her secret.

  “You can and will.” He slid his thick arm under her legs, one around her waist, then slid her to the edge of the pallet. “Lean on me if you dinna feel steady or find it too painful. If you dinna get up soon, you willna be able tae leave.”

  Her heart sank. He was still talking about departing. She winced when he placed her feet on the floor.

  “Are you all right, lass?”

  She softened at the concern and tenderness in his voice. “Aye. I just need a minute.” Guilt tugged at her gut and she nibbled on her bottom lip. Would he know she was lying, that her injury had healed more than she’d let on?

  “Take as long as you need.” He supported her weight and pulled her against his chest. “You’ve been abed for many days. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

  He held her so close, it was hard to ignore the clean woodsy scent of musk and man. Her knees buckled and before she could speak, he lifted her into his arms, carried her toward the hearth, then sat her on a wooden stool.

  “We’ll eat first and then you can try tae walk back to the pallet.

  He dipped the ladle into the pot and scooped out a generous portion of stew. “The fare is not fancy, but will stick tae your ribs.” He placed the trencher on the table before her and handed her an eating knife.

  She folded her hands, bowed her head, and whispered a prayer of thanks over the food. While she was not sure what possessed her to do so, it felt right.

  Alasdair halted. With the knife halfway between the trencher and his mouth, he waited until she finished speaking. “Best you eat afore it grows cold.”

  She picked up the knife, brought the stew to her lips, and blew on it before popping it into her mouth. “Your cooking skills never cease tae surprise me. This is delicious.”

  “I made plenty if you want more.” Alasdair, downed several mouthfuls, then leaned back in his seat. “What prompted you tae say the blessing? Have you remembered anything about your past?”

  “Nay, I recall naught,” she lied. Again. She’d had several vivid dreams about being on a ship and falling overboard, of being in danger, and a confrontation with a man whose face she could not see. Alasdair had given her no reason to fear him, but she was still uncertain who she could trust.

  “I find that hard to fathom. You should have remembered something by now. Your name perhaps.” He tilted his head to one side and waited for her reply.

  “I don’t know my name for certain, but as I mentioned before, the name Lauren is all that comes to mind.”

  “Lauren. The name suits you well.” he said, then touched the back of her hand. “Since I couldna keep calling you lass, I will continue tae call you Lauren, until you tell me otherwise.”

  She nodded and lowered her eyes, trying to concentrate on the food—anything but him. Hearing the name roll off his tongue sent a warm tingling sensation to her belly, and beyond. She enjoyed his company when he wasn’t grumbling about leaving. He tried so hard to hide beyond his gruff exterior, and she was finding it more difficult with each passing day to resist the growing attraction she felt. But with no memory of who she was or where she belonged, to even consider the idea of being anything more than friends with a man was wrong.

  They ate the rest of the meal in silence. When finished, Alasdair cleared away the dishes and returned to her side. “Are you ready tae walk back tae the pallet?”

  Her stomach fluttered and her heart skipped at the thought of him enveloping her in his arms again. But he did not give her time to respond. He took both her hands, helped her to stand, then slid his arm around her waist.

  “When you’re ready, Lauren, we’ll try taking a wee step.”

  She did not want to prolong this any longer than necessary, so shuffled her right foot forward and then her left. He remained steadfast at her side, taking the bulk of her weight on his hip.

  “Excellent. You will be walking on your own in no time at all.”

  He didn’t rush, waiting for her to take the next step and then another. Her mind raced as they neared the pallet. Now that he had her up and walking, he’d expect her to be ready to leave in the next day or so. She’d do her best to stall, but for how long? She could not accompany him to Sinclair Castle. She did not know why, but something in her gut told her it was not a prudent thing to do.

  While common sense told her it would be dangerous for a woman to travel alone, and as foolish as it might be, she could not help believing that going with Alasdair would put her in far worse peril. She’d wait until the time was right, when he was away from the croft, and leave before he returned.

  They reached the pallet and he gave her waist a squeeze. “You did well. Rest now and we will try again in the morning.” He held the pelts while she climbed beneath them. “Is there anything you need?”

  “Nay. Just some rest.” She rolled over and closed her eyes.

  “Sleep well, Lauren.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Perched on a stool by the fire, he watched her sleep, wondering how he was going to ever let her go. She was by far the loveliest woman he had ever seen, and she did not seem to be put off by his size, awkwardness, or lack of manners. But duty dictated that they part ways.

  After tossing a log on the fire, he spread a pelt on the floor in front of the hearth, then lowered himself to the ground. He pulled the tunic over his head and tossed it on the stool, then did the same with his trews and boots, before settling beneath a length of plaid.

  The last thing he wanted to do was lie on the floor and go to sleep. If truth be known, he wanted to slip beneath the covers, take Lauren in his arms, and make her his own. But that would not be right or proper. They were not betrothed and despite what people might think of him, he
was a man of honor.

  The women he’d bedded in the past had all been of questionable repute and none had been untried maidens. If Lauren was not already married or spoken for, he held enough respect for her that he would wait until their wedding night. But then again, if she did not get her memory back, he might never know for certain.

  He slammed his fist on the floor. What the hell was he thinking? He was never going to take a bride. Especially one with no past. He was a warrior. There was no future for them, something he best not forget. He tucked the plaid around his shoulders and dozed off.

  An ear-piercing scream disturbed his slumber and Alasdair jolted up with a start. Wasting no time, he climbed to his feet and raced to the pallet.

  She tossed in a fitful sleep. Sweat misted her furrowed brow, tears ran down her cheeks, and she mumbled something in Gaelic.

  “Ut! Tapadh leat. Nay . . . chan eil mi.”

  These were the same words she was shouting in her delirium the first night he’d found her. She begged someone to stop and said she would not do it. Again he questioned. Do what?

  She thrashed beneath the pelts, her breathing now coming in sharp pants. As he was about to wake her, she screamed again and shot up in bed. He reacted on impulse, took her in his arms, and hauled her against his chest.

  “Shhh. You’re safe, lass. You had a bad dream is all.”

  She clung to his arm, her nails digging into flesh. Her entire body trembled. “Please dinna let go,” she sobbed.

  He continued the embrace until she stopped shaking and her breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. “Are you all right? Do you want tae tell me about the dream?”

  She hiccupped and sniffled. “It was a nightmare, not a dream. I was in my chamber, asleep, when I felt hands touching my shoulders and heard a man’s raspy voice. He told me not tae call out, that he’d admired me from afar for many summer, and meant to make me his own.” She clung to his arm even tighter.

  “I told him nay, begged him tae stop, but he tried to slide his hand beneath my nightrail. He said if I dinna do as he ordered and allow him to bed me, he’d kill me. He held a dirk tae my throat and told me tae lay still.”

  Rage roiled in Alasdair’s belly and every muscle in his body coiled with tension. The thought that a scoundrel would dare to enter her chamber and try to take her innocence infuriated him. He fought the urge to express his outrage. He didn’t want to frighten her any further. “Did you recognize the man?”

  “The room was dark and I dinna see his face, but his voice was familiar. I was not about tae let him have his way and we struggled. I grabbed the dagger and in my attempt to break free, I stabbed him. He fell to the floor and I got out of the room as fast as I could. The next thing I knew, I was on the deck of a ship. A storm was raging and I was certain a wave would sweep me over the side.”

  “Where was the blackguard who attacked you? Were there no others on board to offer their assistance?”

  “Nay, the storm was fierce and anyone on deck was busy with the rigging or trying tae keep the ship from capsizing.” She paused and took in a gulp of air. “Then I saw him. He was holding his side and cursing. When he came at me with the dirk in his hand, I panicked. I let go of the rail, prepared tae run, but the vessel pitched and I fell over the side.”

  He continued to hold her and gently stroked her hair. “You must have been terrified. It was a miracle you dinna drown.”

  “I was certain I would, but fought tae reach the surface. I remember the fog and searching for the ship. I was so cold, I couldna feel my legs and my arms grew so verra tired. There was a break in the clouds and the ship was upon me. I must have hit my head on the hull.”

  “Do you know why you were on the vessel or where you were going?” He eased back and gently lifted her chin.

  “I dinna know how I came tae be onboard or why. Just that the man tried tae rape me. I wish I could remember.” She began to tremble again.

  “It dinna matter. You have enough tae deal with right now. Trying tae force your memory tae return willna help. It will all come back in time.” He brought her onto his lap, cradled her in his arms, and rocked her back and forth.

  “I’m not sure I want tae remember,” she sobbed, then buried her face against his chest.

  He’d forgotten he was naked. When he heard her call out, the only thing on his mind was getting to her side, and he had not paused to pull on his trews. His body responded to her soft round bottom resting on his thighs, so he eased her onto the mattress, and tried to stand up, but not before grabbing a plaid and wrapping it around his hips. “Mayhap you should try tae get some sleep. We can talk about this in the morning.” He tried to ease her back against mattress, but she struggled to remain upright. “Lay down, Lauren. I will return to my spot before the hearth, but am close by if you need me.”

  She clung to his arm and peered up at him with hazel eyes that melted his heart. “Please. I dinna want tae be alone. I fear the nightmare will return. Stay with me. I beg of you.”

  He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. She was so frightened, how could he deny her this request? He raised the pelt and lay down.

  She immediately snuggled up beside him, her head on his chest, her hand resting over his heart. Could she feel the way it thundered against his ribs, like a monster clawing to get out?

  She closed her eyes. Thick dark lashes rested on pale cheeks and her soft pink lips were drawn into a tight bow. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. Just once and he’d be satisfied. Or would he? She stirred and when her thigh rubbed against his rigid manhood, he stifled the urge to groan aloud.

  She opened her eyes and peered up at him. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  Alasdair couldn’t speak. In the soft glow of the firelight she looked like an angel. He lowered his head and brushed her brow with his lips. When she tilted her head back, he captured her mouth in an all-encompassing kiss.

  Chapter 7

  An onslaught of desire threatened to override Alasdair’s good sense. He fought the urge to plunder Lauren’s sweet mouth with his tongue, to lift her nightrail, to make her his own.

  He broke their kiss and raised his head, knowing if he didn’t stop himself now, he might not be able to harness the unbridled passion heating his blood.

  “Forgive me.” He forced the words out on a strangled breath. He swept an errant wisp of hair from her brow and locked his gaze with the wide, hazel eyes of a woman obviously shocked by his impulsive actions.

  He cupped her chin, stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then brushed it across her lips. “I dinna mean tae make inappropriate advances or tae take liberties. I—”

  She pressed two fingers to his mouth, silencing him. “You have no reason tae apologize. I appreciate you staying with me, Alasdair. After my nightmare, I canna bear tae sleep alone.”

  This was the first time she’d used his name, and it sounded as melodic as the Celtic lullabies his mother used to sing. At a loss for words, he stared back at her and smiled, but inside, his stomach churned in turmoil.

  What to do?

  He’d rather be drawn and quartered than remain on the pallet with her lush, shapely body pressed against his side, and not sate his carnal needs.

  She’d begged him to stay, so why shouldn’t he take her? But she also trusted him enough to seek safety in his arms. He could not betray that trust.

  In the past, paying women to warm his bed had served him well. There was never any worry about commitments or the fear of being turned away, but the acts lacked passion and were devoid of sentiment. Lauren was different from the tavern wenches he’d bedded. Not only was she stunning, she was intelligent, tenacious, and brave. All qualities he admired.

  Bombarded with an array of emotions he’d never felt before, he wanted to bed her, to take his time and explore every curve of her figure, to memorize the delicate details of her beautiful face, and to bring her to the heights of ecstasy over and over. He wanted to pump into her with wild abandon until she shouted o
ut his name in pleasure, and he joined her in release. Yet, if he gave into temptation, he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away.

  While he might be war weary and longing for peace, he’d not forsake his duty. Nor would he let desire cloud his judgement.

  He believed the Almighty had spared his life when he was a babe for a reason. He’d defied the odds of survival at birth, overcame illness as a bairn, and had grown to a strong, healthy man. His destiny was to fight for the Scottish cause. He’d seen his share of horror over the last few years, countless battles, destruction, and senseless loss of life. To hang up his sword and targe, to settle down in a croft by the sea, and become a fisherman was a tempting thought. But he’d sworn his fealty to the Scottish King and vowed to avenge the deaths of his kin.

  The Almighty was testing his resolve, of that he was certain. Why else would the Lord place her in his care? He didn’t trust women and had vowed never to marry. But he’d also never spent so many days and hours in such close proximity with a lass. He’d gone out of his way to avoid contact with women. Especially ones as beguiling as Lauren. That way, he could not be rejected or disappointed.

  In a moment of weakness, he’d stolen a kiss, but vowed that was as far as he’d allow his desires to go. Frightened and vulnerable, she’d invited him to share her pallet. But she did so seeking comfort, not because she wanted him to bed her. He’d not take advantage of that fact.

  For a sennight, he’d fought the undeniable and rapidly growing attraction to the feisty lass. Lauren was everything a man could want in a woman and more, but she was not for him and never would be. Besides, he didn’t know anything about her past and his own future was questionable at best. Even if he learned for certain she was not already married and she’d have him, he’d not take her maidenhead if they were not wed.

  While some men had no issue with ruining a lass in order to satisfy their own selfish pleasure, he had no intention of taking her innocence, or of fathering a bairn he’d not be there to raise. Once he’d seen her to Sinclair Castle, he’d leave her in Jayden’s trustworthy hands, and rejoin Robert. There was still time before the Bruce planned to confront the MacDougalls and MacCanns, but to stay with Lauren so near, or worse, to see her husband come for her, would be a crushing blow he did not wish to endure.