by B. J. Scott
She snuggled at his side and he watched her sleep. He’d never tire of looking at her beautiful face. She stirred and when her thigh rubbed against his rigid manhood, he stifled the urge to groan aloud and cursed beneath his breath. Being an honorable man was certainly not all it was said to be. Mayhap he was a fool after all.
Lauren brought her hand up and covered her mouth, stifling a yawn. She opened heavy-lidded eyes and glanced around the dimly lit croft.
Alasdair was no longer on the pallet beside her and he was not asleep on the pelt before the hearth. She sat up when she heard the unmistakable creak of the rusty hinges on the door. “Where are you going? The sun has yet tae rise.”
“I’ve need of a swim and then I am going hunting for grouse. I’ll return this afternoon. I left a tankard of water and some oatcakes on the table beside the bed.”
Before she could respond, the door closed. Alasdair was gone. She lay back on the pallet and brought her fingers to her lips. If she closed her eyes, she could picture his face nearing hers, just before he captured her mouth.
His breath was sweet and tasted of fennel. Although he’d shaved, the rasp of fine stubble had grazed her chin. Her stomach gave a tug and her heart fluttered. She liked kissing him and the way it made her feel all warm and tingly inside.
The recurring dreams about the events on the ship got more vivid and frightening each time she had one. The last nightmare had terrified her so much, she’d asked Alasdair to share her bed, a foolish act that could have had serious repercussions. Given her request and her enthusiastic response to his kiss, he might have mistaken her need for solace as an invitation to bed her.
Would that have been so terrible?
She had grown fond of him these last few days and found him quite attractive, despite his low opinion of himself. He’d saved her life and cared for her injuries when he could have chosen to leave her to fend for herself. From what she knew of him, he came from a respectable clan and had proved himself an honorable man by showing her nothing but respect.
She slammed her balled fist on the pallet. She knew many things about Alasdair, but she had no memory of her own past, aside from being attacked on the ship. She was not in a position to offer herself freely to any man.
Lauren sighed, then slid to the edge of the pallet and sat up. She’d been abed long enough. She nibbled on a dry oatcake and washed it down with a few sips of water. While she appreciated Alasdair’s culinary attempts, she’d grown tired of the same bland fare and no doubt he had as well.
She spotted the walking stick he’d carved for her beside the pallet and snatched it up. He’d been so kind, the least she could do while he was away today was to make some bannock and mayhap some sweet rolls as a way of saying thank you.
Using the carved shaft for support, she rose to a wobbly stance, then made her way to the hearth. She gathered the ingredients she needed from the larder and set them on the table before sitting down and getting to work.
While her injured ankle made it difficult to move around the croft with ease, she managed quite well with the walking stick. She was getting stronger everyday. Soon she’d be able to leave. The thought of never seeing Alasdair again caused her heart to clench. But she could not risk accompanying him to Sinclair Castle.
Alasdair might be angry when he discovered she’d left, but then again, he might be relieved. Aside from one brief, but passionate kiss, he had shown no interest in pursuing her on an intimate level. The fact that he’d not tried to take things any farther when the opportunity presented itself, along with constantly making it clear he wanted to leave as soon as she was able, proved he had no plans for a future that included her. Best she put aside any foolish notions about Alasdair Fraser, and concentrate on her plans to escape as soon as she was strong enough. That is, if she could figure out where to go.
After she finished baking, had dusted, and tidied the room, she returned to the pallet for a nap. Weary from overtaxing herself, she slid beneath the covers and fell asleep.
“How dare you betray my father? He trusted you with my safety when he sent you tae bring me home. When I tell him you attacked me, he’ll have you beheaded.” She stood with her back against the wall and glared at the man as he stepped from the shadows and approached with a dirk in his hand.
He reeked of whisky and it was evident by the way he staggered and slurred his words, he was well in his cups. In the past, she’d caught him watching her, but never for a moment believed he’d had indecent thoughts, or would try to force himself upon her.
“You’ve had too much tae drink and are not thinking clearly. Once you are no longer intoxicated, you will see this is wrong. Go back tae your cabin and we willna speak of this again.” She tried to reason with him, but could tell by the scowl on his face, he was not about to back down.
“I have served your father since before you were born and he views me as a friend and advisor. Who do you think he will believe? You or me? Especially if I deny your claim and tell him you are the one who entered my bedchamber.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Do you think he’d send me tae fetch you home if he thought for a moment you’d be in any danger?”
“You canna think this deed will go unpunished.”
“It doesna matter. Once I have had my fill, I can always toss you overboard and tell your father you drown. A shame about the storm. I dove in and tried tae save you, but, alas, I failed, nearly losing my own life in the attempt.” He shrugged and laughed. “Let’s stop playing games and get down tae satisfying my needs.” He turned the dagger in his hand then grabbed the crotch of his trews.
“I dinna find you appealing in any way and you willna touch me.” She fought to keep the tremor in her voice under control. She’d not show her fear. She spotted the sword hanging on the wall above the brassier. If only she could reach it. One thing her father had insisted upon was that she learn to defend herself. She excelled at many of the tasks usually associated with men, and could challenge any man with a blade when on equal ground.
“My father has promised me in marriage tae another. Do you think he’d allow you tae dishonor me and disgrace the clan?”
“Your father is a fool. And if you’re dead, how will he know? Why he has offered your hand tae Laird Sutherland is beyond me. The man is a barbarian and I would have been a much better choice.”
“You hold no title or land. While I dinna wish tae marry Laird Sutherland and mean tae take up this issue with my da when we arrive on the mainland, I certainly have no desire tae become your bride and willna willingly enter your bed.”
He closed the gap between them. “You have always been a feisty lass, something I have thought a good lashing would cure.” He lunged forward and she grabbed for the dirk, but he outweighed her by almost one hundred pounds, and she was no match for his strength. Despite the uneven odds, she continued to struggle. She’d not give in without a fight.
Using the bulk of his body, he trapped her against the wall, her hands at her side. When he licked her neck and cheek, revulsion skittered down her spine and she thought she might vomit.
She tried to break free, but he refused to budge. Certain she was about to lose the battle, she felt another dirk at his side and slid it from the sheath. Without hesitation, she plunged it into his side. He yelled out in pain, staggered backward, then dropped to his knees.
She chastised herself for not taking better aim. A little higher and she’d have struck his heart, but had to act when she could. While the blow was not enough to kill the blackguard, it did give her a chance to escape. Without looking back, she raced from her chamber, up the steep wooden staircase, and onto the rain-soaked deck.
Gasping for breath, Lauren shot up in bed. She’d been attacked by her father’s advisor, a man she’d called uncle and trusted with her life. While she still could not remember her name, she did recall she was on her way to be married to the laird of another clan. More than likely to end a feud or to gain her father land and wealth.
Now, more tha
n ever, she needed to get away. If Alasdair took her to Sinclair Castle and they recognized her, she’d be sent home to her father, and forced to marry a man she dinna love. What was worse, she’d have to face the man who’d tried to rape her and attempt to convince her father of his deception.
Both options were unappealing, and she refused to be put in that position. But what if Callum was right? When she told her father of the attack would he chose to believe his friend and call her a whore? She shuddered at the thought.
The door opened and Alasdair entered. He carried a pair of grouse in one hand and a bouquet of heather in the other.
“I see you had another good day of hunting,” she said as he totted the game and flowers across the croft, then set them on the table. “Are those for me?” She smiled and slid to the edge of the pallet.
He held up a fistful of fragrant purple blossoms. “I thought they might help tae freshen the air and add a wee bit of color tae the room.”
“They’re lovely.
He glanced at the hearth and a broad grin crossed his face. “I see someone has been busy. You baked these?” He tore off a piece of bannock and popped it in his mouth. He lifted the lid on a pot simmering over the fire, dipped in a ladle, then tasted the contents. “This soup is verra good. Have you grown tired of my cooking already?”
“Nay, but I thought you might enjoy a wee bit of a change. And I wanted tae show my appreciation for the fine care you’ve given me.” She grabbed her walking stick and struggled to stand.
He was at her side in an instant. “Let me help you. Judging by how clean everything is and this fine food, I have no doubt you’ve overtaxed yourself. You must be exhausted.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side. “Can you walk, or would you like me tae carry you?”
His touch made her pulse speed up and her legs grew weak. Why did he affect her so? “I—I’m fine,” she stammered, then stiffened in his arms.
“About last night,” he blurted out. “I must ask your forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?”
“I am sorry for kissing you and assure you it willna happen again.”
He said the words with such conviction, it served to further reinforce her belief that he had no interest in her on a personal level. Then why did her heart race and her breath catch ever time he got close?
“Dinna give it a second thought. A bheil an t-acras ort?"
He tossed his head back and laughed at her question. “According to my brothers, I am always hungry. Come, and we’ll enjoy the meal you’ve prepared.”
With him steadfast at her side, she hobbled to the stool beside the table and sat while he dished out the food, then placed it before her.
“I havena had bannock or sweet rolls in many months.” Alasdair tore off another piece and offered it to Lauren.
He dug into his meal with gusto. The man obviously enjoyed his food. Yet, while he had a very large-boned build, he was extremely well muscled and carried no extra weight. Again, she found herself admiring his fine physique and the way the fire lit up his rugged, chiseled features. The more time they spent together, the fonder she became of her benefactor. She’d miss him when she left and wondered if they’d met under other circumstances, if they would have found love.
They enjoyed their meal and engaged in light conversation. Alasdair proved to be quite entertaining, once he allowed himself to relax. He told her tales of his brothers and their antics when they were younger. She found his sense of humor refreshing. Something she would never have expected when they first met.
Despite their pleasurable evening, she was plagued by thoughts of her recent dream. Efforts to remain focused on Alasdair and their discussion were fruitless. She had to discover the truth. If she returned to her own clan, she would soon be married, mayhap to a man she dinna know or love. Should she tell Alasdair she remembered more about the man on the ship, that while she was not married, she was spoken for? Or should she keep her secret and pray that if they had more time together, he might find her appealing and fight for her hand? She decided on the latter, but if he believed her on the mend and ready to travel, time was running out.
Lauren covered her mouth and yawned. “I am verra tired and think it might be wise tae return tae the pallet.” She placed her hands on the table and rose.
“Your ankle appears tae be healing nicely. We should be able tae leave soon. Mayhap on the morrow.” He handed her the walking stick. “But I dinna think it wise tae overdo. Mayhap I should carry you?”
“I can do this.” She took a step, but her legs gave way and she collapsed to the floor.
Alasdair was at her side in seconds.
“I guess my ankle isna as strong as I’d thought.”
He lifted her and carried her to the pallet. “You need tae rest. If you canna travel yet, another day willna make a difference.”
Chapter 8
Guilt tugged at her belly. Alasdair had shown her nothing but kindness and she hated to deceive him. Withholding information about the vast improvements in her ankle and the events she’d remembered in her recent dream was wrong. But she was convinced telling him might hasten their departure, not postpone it.
Despite her efforts, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that squeezed her chest each time he mentioned the name Sinclair. If anything, the trepidation she experienced grew stronger. Her only option was to make Alasdair believe she was not quite ready to travel and use any means in her power to do so. She crossed herself when he wasn’t looking and vowed beneath her breath to make amends, somehow.
“I am sorry tae be such a bother.”
“You’ve no need tae apologize, lass. I should have taken things a wee bit slower. Can I get you anything afore I say goodnight?”
Why did he have to be so gracious? Lying would be easier if he’d show his gruff, stubborn side again.
She shook her head. “I’ve everything I need and appreciate all you’ve done for me. Tapadh leat.” She glanced away, unable to meet his eyes for fear she’d give herself away, or worse, surrender to temptation and ask him again to share her pallet.
The thought of another kiss caused her pulse to race and her cheeks to heat. But after the first one they’d shared, Alasdair had made no attempt to repeat the act. True, he’d cleaned up his appearance and freshened his breath with fennel. He had shared a little about his past and even brought her flowers, but he also vowed he would never make improper advances again. Her heart sank. Mayhap he didn’t find her appealing and was more anxious to be rid of her than she’d thought.
“Sleep well, Lauren. Hopefully, you’ll feel better on the morrow.”
When Alasdair turned to leave, she touched him. “Please . . .”
“Is there something you need?” His brows knit together as he stared at her fingers resting on his forearm.
“Last night when you kissed me—”
“It was a mistake and I promised it wouldna happen again,” he said, then withdrew his arm. “I thought we agreed tae put it behind us.”
“If you dinna find me appealing, I understand.” She lowered her gaze and nibbled on her lower lip to stop it from quivering.
“I’ve told you afore, you’re a verra comely lass. Any man seeking a bride would be proud tae call you his own. But I’m a warrior. I have sworn my sword and my life tae the Scottish King and I mean tae honor that vow. I have no desire tae marry and willna ruin a lass tae merely sate my desires.”
“You have never bedded a lass?” She found that hard to believe. Alasdair was a brawny, virile warrior. If she were to wager a guess, she’d assume he’d warmed many pallets.
“I’ve not bedded a maiden,” Alasdair growled and began to pace beside the pallet. “Why must women persist in badgering a man until he is ready tae erupt with anger? They are never happy tae let things be.”
“Mayhap I wouldna be questioning you if I understood your lack of interest in women and why you mistrust them so.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.
>
Alasdair halted abruptly, his posture rigid. “While my personal life is none of your concern, I dinna fancy lads, nor am I a damned eunuch if that is what you think. If you must know, I have bedded and satisfied many women in the past, but never one who is untried. I havena and willna take a lass’ innocence unless I’m prepared to marry her, no matter how attractive I find her.” He pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “I demand we end this discussion now.”
“I dinna know if I am a maiden or not,” she muttered.
“A verra guid reason for me tae leave your pallet afore anything transpired.” He threw his hands in the air. “You dinna remember your past and might verra well have a husband and babes waiting tae welcome you home. Once I’ve seen you safely tae Sinclair Castle, I will rejoin the cause. Chances are we willna cross paths again.”
He was right. She didn’t recall her past. But if what she dreamed was true, she wasn’t married. However, she was betrothed to a man she didn’t know and had been attacked by a man her father trusted and called friend. Mayhap she’d been mistaken, and if she told Alasdair about her latest dream, he might reconsider. But the information could also give him more reason to hasten their departure. Besides, until her memory fully returned, she could not be certain if the events in her dream really happened.
“You are an honorable man. I’d like tae think I am not the sort of woman who offers my virtue freely.”
His voice mellowed. “I am not a saint by any means. I am human and do have needs. Leaving your pallet last night was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But you asked me tae stay with you out of fear, not passion.”