“‘Tis just a wee misunderstanding between us, Andra. Come out of the rain, and dry yourself by the fire.”
She continued to hesitate.
“Lorne spoke a few words but has slipped back into unconsciousness.” He suspected the news would be enough to spur her forward and it did.
“What did he say? I’ve been so worried. There are so many frightful consequences to head injuries and such terrible loss of blood. Do you know about amnesia? Was he lucid? Sensible? Did he recognize you?”
The woman was a seething caldron of questions and nerves. Despite her agitation, her hand stayed fisted and she brandished her index finger like a wee sword. Keeping a modicum of space between them, she moved forward. Their eyes connected, igniting sparks for a brief moment as she passed.
“Slow down, Andra. Dry yourself by the fire, and I’ll answer your questions.”
Ignoring him, she knelt beside Lorne and pressed her hand to his forehead. “His fever may be less severe, but to be honest, my hands are too cold to gage his temperature.”
Andra lifted Lorne’s head onto her lap and dribbled a few drops of water over his lips.
He moved his mouth and blinked up at her for a moment.
“Oh, thank God! Please, take a few small sips of water,” she urged.
He moaned, sipped, swallowed, and then drifted off again. She gently patted Lorne’s face calling his name. He didn’t respond.
Kendrick wondered if she was attempting to hide from him behind her concern for his brother. It was time for answers. He drilled her with an intense stare, letting her know he would brook no further avoidance. “Who are you, lass? How did you come to be in our path yesterday?”
Her furtive glances at their surroundings and hesitancy to look him in the face suggested an attempt to evade or at least divert him from his questions.
“I don’t…” she paused, took a deep breath. “I do not know how to answer that, sir.” Unflinchingly, she lifted her eyes to his. Her jaw stiffened. This was a statement as direct as though she had screamed it, her refusal to cower under his scowl. Time seemed to stop and the sound of water splashing against rock only intensified the silence between them. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
“I mean to say, I am not certain how I got there, or even where I am now, except you and your men speak Gaelic, and as I believe you’ve already stated, it must mean we are in Scotland. However, I do not seem to remember anything else; I do not even know the day or year.” She touched her hand to her head and winced in pain.
He kept his face devoid of all emotion. Any feigned indication of discomfort on her part would not sway him from his task to gain what he needed to know.
“Aye, we are in Scotland. ‘Tis the year of our Lord 1705.” Her startled reaction puzzled him. A frightened look crossed her face and straight, white teeth clamped onto her bottom lip as she reached up to caress the cross on her chest while her eyes dropped to the dirt. He noticed she often touched the cross when she was nervous. It made him wonder—did she seek forgiveness for the lies yet unspoken?
“You’re claiming a loss of memory, is it? And yet, you seem to remember your name, Andra Heather Adair Cameron.” He harshly bit off her surname. He hated Cormag Cameron and his band of ruffians. He couldn’t subdue the question burning his brain: if a connection to his nemesis proved true, what would he do with her? “Which clan Cameron do you belong to?”
Two little creases formed between her eyes and nose and her mouth scrunched into a twisted expression of confusion. “I—I do not know of any clan Cameron or of any kin in Scotland. My father was a pharmacist, er…apothecary, a man of science, a chemist…” Her attempts to explain seemed to addle her. She gulped and rushed on, “My mother passed when I was very young and my father always kept me with him. We traveled extensively to far and exotic lands in search of knowledge about medicine and science. As he lay on his deathbed, he asked me to return the family’s ashes to Scotland. How I arrived here, wherever here is, I am unable to explain.”
Her voice trailed to a near whisper. “Besides, you would not believe my words as I scarce believe any of this myself. It’s all just a jumble in my mind.”
That last remark grabbed his attention. “Unable or unwilling, that is the question, isn’t it? And why would I not believe you if you spoke the truth? Furthermore, you ken ‘tis a sin to burn the body, unless it’s the body of a witch. And some consider dabbling in the healing arts a form of witchcraft.” He didn’t believe such nonsense, but decided the suggestion would provoke a more truthful response from her.
Kendrick stared at her, his face a stony mask. He knew she prevaricated. How did a person not know of their clan’s origins, or the location of kin in their homeland? Even if she didn’t know her clan, how would a woman travel alone to Scotland with her family’s ashes, especially a woman speaking in that strange English dialect?
It was unconscionable, no woman ever traveled about unescorted. And what Scotsman would fail to teach his daughter his native tongue or the history of his ancestors? Her explanations defied logic and her continued subterfuge angered him.
“Enough with the artifice. We both ken your words are false. I ken you are withholding the truth, and I’ll not stand for it. You will answer me and tell me the truth by one means or another.” With a harsh, biting tone, his voice reverberated off the stone walls like a boom. He loomed over her, jaw tight, chest thrust out, hands on his hips in his most intimidating pose. A flicker of fear crossed her face and then just as suddenly dropped behind green eyes ablaze with defiance.
She sucked her mouth into a tight line pulling the bottom lip under her teeth. If she kept nibbling at that lustrous mouth, it would soon be shredded and bleeding. He could not discern her thoughts as she continued to stare at him, baiting his anger, with Lorne’s head nestled in her lap.
“Dinnae think you can hide behind my brother’s body and not answer my questions. Are you a Cameron spy?” They had warred with the Cameron clans for generations. The Camerons sided with the Sassenach when it suited them or when they could gain lands or titles from the association. But that didn’t explain why she had so readily divulged her surname? If, however, her relations did not have filial connections to Cormag’s, he could always ransom her back to them. Unfortunately, she now knew of this refuge in the hills, and he would not allow her to divulge that information to their enemies, not even to some of their allies. The situation required careful consideration.
He took a threatening step toward her. “Or mayhap you’re a witch, as Struan insists?”
She gently laid Lorne’s head on the ground and rose to face him. They stared at each other over his brother’s prone body. Her brazenness intrigued him. That she dared stand toe-to-toe with him in a battle of wills took courage and baffled him more than a little. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he admired her spitfire attitude. Still, she might also be a wolf in a lamb’s coat. He could not trust her nor let his guard down for an instant. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy used a beguiling woman to obtain information or weaken an opponent.
* * *
Although Andra felt an urge to drop her gaze, she refused to show such weakness. That would not help her. Neither of them spoke nor seemed the least bit inclined to yield. Even though she could not win this trial of wills, she could not allow an accusation of witchcraft to go unaddressed.
“Do not denigrate my family or my father’s name, sir. He was a good and honorable man of science, and highly respected among his peers.”
Suddenly the cave seemed too confining. An overwhelming urge to run tingled down Andra’s spine, but where would she go? He towered over her, obviously intent on unnerving her, and his looming presence succeeded in unsettling every nerve. She bristled at his threatening posture as a fire erupted in her belly. Despite a normally calm, peaceful nature, she refused to acquiesce to threats. On the other hand, she did not want to anger him further. She needed to appease him in some manner if she wished to surviv
e the night
“Laird MacLean.” Her voice came out deep and challenging, not in any way placating as she had intended. He raised an eyebrow at her tone. She modulated her voice as best she could and tried again.
“My laird, I apologize if my answers do not meet with your commands. I am doing my very best to answer as truthfully as I am able. Might we please sit a moment and try again without you threatening and questioning my every utterance?” She found the stunned look on Kendrick’s face almost amusing. Almost.
“You are a most audacious woman,” he responded, his voice rough and growly. “Every word you utter is an accusation against me, yet you are the one withholding information. In case it has slipped your powers of observation, we have been speaking and ‘tis you who’s evasive. You only need to answer my questions—truthfully.”
“I am not...” she swallowed a lie about to slip out. “I am doing my best. This is all so confusing. One minute I was sitting quietly with my family’s things saying a final farewell and the next minute I’m on the ground, the horses of the apocalypse charging toward me. I remember nothing else. I have absolutely no idea how I ended up in that wilderness.” She waved her arms around the cave. “None of this makes any sense to me.”
He watched her face closely, too closely. She sputtered for a moment, feeling much like a rabbit caught in a snare. This is hopeless. No matter how hard she tried to insert as much truth as she could, if she disclosed the truth, he’d consider her insane, or worse, believe his accusation of witchcraft. She dropped her head to her hands and swayed from side-to-side.
He probed further, his tone mocking, “Describe this place where you sat so quietly?”
“On a high cliff facing the ocean on a far distant shore,” she groaned at how ludicrous her response sounded, even to her.
“Talking to you is like pulling teeth. On exactly what distant shore might you have been while uttering this fond farewell?” His unrelenting, sharp tone of voice intensified.
“Please Kendrick, my head throbs, and I can’t tell you more. It is not clear to me, and God knows, I wish it were. I cannot answer what I don’t know or remember. I am at your mercy and beg patience. You have my word, I will continue to try and remember what happened in order to provide the answers we both seek.”
“The answers are right there in that stubborn head, Andra. Just speak them and we’ll be done with this. I will nae harm you, you have my word, and I stake my life on my word.”
Her eyes widened, and an annoying flush heated her cheeks. Rainwater still dripped from her hair and clothes. She shivered from the cold as much as from their confrontation. To continue would accomplish nothing. Exhaustion from her attempts to appease the man rendered her mute.
“You could drive a man to violence, you ken.”
She flinched at his threat and took a tentative step back.
He also took a step back, clenched, and unclenched his fists, as though to refrain from grabbing her to shake out the truth. “Get out of your wet clothes before you become ill. I do not wish to add another sick person to our party. I have no time to care for you as well as Lorne.” On that sour note, he turned away from her.
Well, the arrogant cad, what made his word more honorable? In truth, she couldn’t argue the issue. She must forge a believable story to keep the peace until she could return to the twenty-first century. After all, if she arrived here, surely there must be a way to return.
Andra grabbed her satchel and moved to the shadows at the back of the cave for privacy. Her thoughts strayed to their earlier encounter by the pool and a hot quiver ran through her. She looked back to assure herself he wasn’t watching her.
Dark-blond hair tumbled loosely around his head and fell below his nape onto a strong, straight back. He sat facing the entrance like a glorious, marble statue, all muscle, and power. Quickly pulling on dry clothes, she shook her head to clear the rising, irrational, and very heated thoughts.
Chapter Seven
Kendrick went out of the cave periodically while Andra kept the fire banked and tended his brother. Several hours passed in relative quiet. Lorne drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally opening his eyes and sipping water. He’d thank her with a cracked moan or grunt and then drift away. Andra managed to get him to swallow a few more of her medicinal tablets and took a few herself. Kendrick kept an eye on her but discerned nothing further from her behavior. He decided to try again.
“Lass, what can you tell me about yourself that might help me understand how we found you alone in the wilderness?”
Her cheeks puffed and she blew out a frustrated gust of air. “Honestly, I wish I could explain that to myself but I simply can’t.” She paused and lifted a cup, “I’ve made some tea with a spot of whisky for Lorne. Would you care for a cup?”
“You’re changing the subject, Andra. And where did you acquire this tea?”
“No. I’m not changing the subject. I brought a small amount of tea with me, and frankly, there is precious little of it left. I’m simply offering to share as a prelude to relaxed conversation. I call this my ‘hot toddy’, Lorne and the others seem to enjoy it.”
Kendrick raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, I’ll accept, but I still want you to answer my questions.”
“Fine, ask away.” She smiled sweetly and handed him the cup.
“Well, your clothing is rather—unusual. Where did you come by them?”
“My clothes? What’s wrong with my clothes?” Her hands splayed at her sides. She looked down at her garments. An exasperated sound escaped her pouting lips, but she didn’t comment further.
“They are—revealing,” Kendrick responded. His eyebrows arched sharply. “Some might think scandalous.”
“Oh? Revealing?” She looked down again. Little worry lines creased the bridge of her nose. Regardless of any explanation she might give, he could not imagine her clothing an acceptable mode of dress anywhere.
“I am well covered, nothing is revealed. They are my travel clothes. As I said, my father and I traveled to many lands, even to the far East.”
The way the fabric clung to her rounded curves left little to the imagination. He needn’t engage his imagination anyway because she’d already fully revealed her lush body, though not intentionally. His strong attraction to her warned him not to linger on those images. Continued questions regarding her state of dress and appearance would only result in firing his desire, so he redirected. “You’ve been to the land of the Saracens?”
A blank expression confirmed his suspicions. She was attempting to fabricate a story. He held up his hand struggling to control his anger. “Nae, dinnae say it if you cannae speak the truth.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know myself,” she blurted testily. “I’ve already explained my travels with my father.” Turning in a piqued flounce, she busied herself tending to Lorne and tidying the area, completely ignoring his presence. It took every reserve of patience not to grab her shoulders and shake the daylights out of her. Yet something told him if he grabbed her, it would not be to extract information, so he stepped away.
* * *
Twilight descended too quickly. Struan and Rabbie had yet to return. Was this a good or bad sign? How long did a reconnaissance mission take? Kendrick had grown ever more vigilant and followed her to the entrance of the cave whenever she went out to tend to personal matters.
“You know, I am quite capable of going beyond those trees and boulders to attend my needs without your supervision. I’ll not run off into the night. Where could I go when I don’t know where I am?” She goaded him, but could not stop herself.
He gazed at a point beyond her shoulder with an implacable face, and then turned his dark, penetrating eyes on her. She flinched slightly, but covered it with a thrust of her chin and returned his stare. He wouldn’t best her in this staring contest, no matter how formidable his expressions.
As usual, she broke first, “Are you concerned for Struan and Rabbie? Should they have returned by now?”
He scanned her hair, her face, settling on her lips a bit longer, and then his eyes raked down her body. His scrutiny did not reveal any of the earlier humor she’d detected. Why did he feel the need to intimidate her with his stern regard or more likely, lustful appraisal? She squared her shoulders, readying for another onslaught of intimidation.
His expression suggested he didn’t miss her challenge, which only seemed to pique his interest further. “They are warriors,” he said, “quite capable of handling themselves. I’ll go hunt a rabbit or game for our dinner. Lorne needs fortifying broth if he’s to gain his strength. We must ride from here soon. ‘Tis not wise to linger long in this location.” His words were clipped and abrupt.
She wanted to ask why staying there was a bad idea, but decided against it. Despite what he’d said, he didn’t move but returned his attention to her. Tension rippled over his body as though he battled some internal dispute. Finally, he snatched the horse’s reins and started to pass by her. With a light touch to his forearm, she halted him. A rock-hard bicep flexed under the pressure of her fingers and heat shot through her hand.
“You won’t be gone long?” She hated the tremor in her voice.
“Nae, not long.” He started to pull away, but she clutched his arm more tightly.
Eyeing a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his saddle, she dipped her chin to them. “Could you leave me that bow and arrows? Just in case.” A cool breeze blew between the boulders at the entrance carrying the smell of rain.
“Nae, I will not. You have your sgian dubh in yon bag. I’ll not provide you with weapons to shoot us down on our return. You’ll be safe. I’ll conceal the entrance with the brush and tree branches when I leave.”
She snapped her hand away and flashed a furious frown at him. How dare he accuse her of being a threat? Hadn’t she been helping in every way possible? She had tended his wounded brother with the same care she might extend her own brother, if she had one. Obviously, she should hold her tongue because if she were in his position she wouldn’t trust him either, but she lashed out anyway.
Finding My Highlander Page 5