The Talisman (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 2)

by Gafford, Deborah

  She forced back the pain his words wrought and climbed out of the wagon. With the aid of daylight, she quickly fetched a fresh bowl of water and gave him some as she had the night before. When her fingers touched his face, she trembled, feeling the same spark of emotion.

  Get hold of yourself. A man who nay remembers your name after you have slept the night beside him, is nay one to give your heart!

  Sighing, she bathed Gavin's face and hands to cool him, even though the chill morning mist was enough to make her shiver. She stared at his handsome face, still slightly swollen and bruised, felt his full lips and strong chin covered in dark stubble, and sadness overwhelmed her. How could fate be so cruel to take her family from her, then leave her to long for a man who nay remembered her name?

  The shrill cry of a hawk woke Gavin. He smiled at her and motioned once again to his faintly swollen lips. As before, she leaned close to hear his words. "Thank you, lass, for your care. You mean much to me."

  Happiness surged through her. For a moment she allowed herself to believe him. Bless the saints, he had not called her by another woman's name.

  When he drifted back to sleep, she walked back to the burn and gathered a few straggling plants that grew beside the water. She found bogbean and feverfew easily but could nay find angelica or meadowsweet as she had hoped. Taking her find back to the wagon, she pulled off the plants' leaves, tore them into tiny pieces and dropped them into the water in the pewter bowl.

  Then she started a small fire near the wagon and carefully placed the pewter bowl into the nest of burning sticks. Within a few minutes, the water began to give off an aromatic steam. Using a portion of her skirt wrapped about her hands, she removed the hot bowl of steaming liquid from the fire and set it aside to cool slightly.

  A mumbled oath caught her attention. She hurried over to the wagon only to be ordered to stay away as she got close enough to make out Gavin's gruff whisper.

  He had managed to crawl to the tail end of the wagon, and was attempting to climb down with no success. Obviously his strength was somewhat better, but his legs could not support him long enough to allow him to move far on his own.

  She hesitated for a moment then joined him as he struggled, ignoring his angry scowl.

  "What are you doing, Gavin? I will get you whate'er you need. All you need do is ask."

  Ailis couldn't help the bit of a smile that crossed her face at the words. He had once spoken much the same words to her, before she had regained her use of speech, and Megan had called him to task o'er his choice of words.

  Gavin spoke in a frustrated whisper. "I do not want any help, but 'twould seem my wishes nay matter. I would be indebted if you would help me down from this bloody wagon and over to yon trees."

  She shook her head. "You must rest, Gavin. You are still weak from the bummies' poison. I will bring you whate'er you need."

  "No…you…cannot." His hoarse voice became a gruff murmur. "I, uh… oh by the saints, I need to relieve myself and I can nay get there on my own!"

  Ailis felt heat wash over her cheeks to match his own. She quickly turned her face from him, then nodded silently and wrapped her arms around his waist. With her help, he climbed from the wagon and walked over to a stand of nearby trees. As she helped him to balance against a wide trunk, heat flooded her face again and she quickly stared at the ground by his feet. "Can you… manage it? By yourself, I mean?" She thought she heard a faint chuckle as he answered.

  "Aye, lass. I believe I can handle it now. I will not ask more of you."

  When he started to fumble with the front of his kilt, Ailis whirled around and hurried away. She gingerly checked the temperature of the boiled water and herbs with her finger. 'Twas quite warm but not so hot that it would burn. She nodded. Good. Now all I have to do is get him to drink it. I hope he is nay as stubborn as Da was about it.

  She heard a rustle and turned to see Gavin begin his way back in her direction. He held onto a tree branch to steady himself as he moved. Hurrying over, she helped him back to the wagon.

  After a few minutes effort, he sat in the wagon bed propped against the back of the seat. Although he was sweating, she covered him with the extra tartan from the night before.

  She climbed back out of the wagon and retrieved the pewter bowl. Carrying it carefully, she walked over to the side of the wagon and held it out to him.

  "Gavin, I've made a tea for you. 'Twill help purge the bummies' poison. 'Tis nay very tasty, but will work."

  When she saw the scowl on his face, she gave him no time to answer. "Dinna be clot headed. I know what I am doing. I nursed my da and sister many times before."

  She bit her lip against the pain of grief welling in her chest at the thought of her family, but she didn't give up. "You had best drink it before it cools o'er much. If it gets cold, I will have to dose you again. Heat is needed for it to work best."

  She stood facing him holding the bowl out in her arms, but he made no move to take it from her. She frowned and looked him straight in the eye. "Unless you drink it, you will soon be so weak you willna be able to make it to the trees, even with my help. And I nay wish to aid you further in that matter!"

  Gavin glowered at her, but with her help, gripped the bowl and drank down its contents. He wiped his mouth with a grimace. "By the saints, 'tis a foul tasting brew! It had best work better than it tastes." Then he shook his head and sighed. "I ask your pardon, lass. My words were ill spoken. I am sure 'twill help. Thank you, Ailis."

  She was pleased by his apology and seeming faith in her brew, but most of all, by his use of her name. Perhaps he did remember it, after all.

  The day slipped by quickly enough. She stayed busy picking berries for them to eat along with some barley loaves she had found in the wagon, and making more herb tea for Gavin. Late in the afternoon, she helped him from the wagon once more. Thankfully she noticed he seemed steadier on his feet and the swelling was nearly gone from his face and hands.

  As night fell, and Ailis joined him in the wagon, Gavin shook the tartan from his legs and pulled himself upright with the aid of the wagon seat. "My thanks, lass. I feel near healed." Nodding to the front of the wagon, he said, "I will sit in the seat. You take the wagon bed and the plaid. 'Tis barely enough room for me with aught else and I nay wish to demean your honor."

  "Gavin MacPherson, you'll do nay such thing. I willna have your stubbornness undo the good of my care and herb tea. Bring yourself o'er here and lie down. We will share the plaid." She glared at him. "One more night with you will nay change an ill reputation if I am to have one, and 'twill help keep us warm. Do not be arguing with me for 'tis all I will hear of it."

  For several moments, he glared in return but did not move. Then she heard him mumble something about strong willed women as he sank back in the bed of the wagon.

  She glanced at him as he lay close beside her. 'Twas nay like the eve past, for now he was fully awake. Gazing at his healing face and braw form was enough to make her quiver with an unknown need.

  A breeze carrying the chill of the Highland night blew over them and she shivered. "Hurry now before we both take ill."

  "Aye, but I shall lie behind you to protect you. You have done enough."

  Looking at his determined expression, she knew he would not relent. "All right, but be quick about it. 'Tis cold."

  Ailis lay down and leaned back into the curve of his body. May the saints forgive her for the joy she felt as his arms wrapped around her and they snuggled together beneath the plaid. She had known little pleasure in her life and she meant to enjoy the feeling, for 'twould surely ne'er come again.

  #

  The sounds of animals scurrying about in search of a morning meal awakened Ailis as they had the day before. She looked over, hoping to see Gavin waking beside her fully recovered. Instead, she saw an empty space, filled only by a portion of the wool tartan.

  She sat up quickly and looked about the area. He was nowhere in sight.

  Fie. Now where had he gone off
to? Surely the man had better sense than to go very far on his own in the condition he was in.

  Ailis scrambled out of the wagon and walked down the hill toward the burn. She saw him standing on the bank with a long, sharply pointed branch of a young sapling in his hands, spear fishing. A moderate fire blazed nearby.

  "Well," she said as she walked up to him, "you must feel better if you've the energy to fish." She reached up and tenderly touched his face. Praise the saints, 'twas cool and the swelling was gone, leaving naught behind but a few patches of fading red. His right eye was open and merely showed a host of colors around it.

  "Aye," she nodded. "You look more like yourself." Flustered, she realized her hand still cupped his cheek and she quickly pulled it away. "Though 'twould have been nice of you to let me know where you were. 'Twas a wee bit worrisome to wake and find you gone."

  Try as she might, Ailis could not quite keep the anxious note from her voice. "I didna know what had become of you. 'Tis a bit halting to think my ministrations would cause you to vanish into thin air like a pixie at daybreak."

  "Ah, my apologies lass, but you were sleeping and I nay had the heart to wake you. I awoke early feeling fair restored, aside from sensation I had nay eaten in a sennight. So I decided to let you sleep whilst I bathed in the burn and caught us a wee bite to break our fast."

  He smiled hopefully at her and held out three fish. "Do you know how to prepare fish o'er an open fire? I can do it, but Meggie says my cooking is nay as skilled as my fishing."

  "Aye, Gavin, I have done it many times," Ailis said, as she took the fish. "Give me your dirk, and I will clean these while you catch a few more."

  She looked at him and waited, her arm outstretched. The last time she held his dirk, she had assured him she could slit a man's gullet open. He hesitated for a moment obviously remembering her words. Her patience grew thin as he rubbed the hilt of his knife as it lay tucked beneath his belt.

  She could almost hear his doubts as he wavered over the decision and his hesitation angered her. "Ah, is that the way of it, now? When you are falling on your face sick with fever, you trust me to nurse you. But once you are hale again, you worry that I may do you harm with your own dirk? Fie, if I were of that mind, I could have easily dispatched you to your maker when you were tossing and moaning about during the night like an ailing bairn."

  She glared at him and tossed the fish at his chest. They hit him with a loud smack and fell to the ground at his feet. Ailis saw the look of astonishment on his face before she turned and stomped back up the hill to the wagon. Men! Who needs them? By Saint Brighid, he can keep his fish, and welcome to them!

  Reaching the wagon, she dumped out the rest of the water left in the pewter bowl and wiped it dry with the end of the tartan they had used the night before. Then she rummaged about until she found what was left of the barley loaves and a bottle of ale. Och, she wished she'd found the ale before.

  After a few more minutes of searching and finding naught to use for cup or trencher, she placed the bread in the bowl beside her and leaned against the wagon seat.

  'Twas nay trouble opening the ale bottle. Perhaps being an ale merchant's daughter had it uses after all. Ailis nodded, satisfied with her accomplishments, and broke off a hunk of one of the loaves.

  She had not eaten more than a few bites before Gavin walked up to the wagon with an embarrassed smile and three fish, overcooked by the looks of them, on a charred branch. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

  "Ailis, lass, I…uh, Meggie has told me oft enough I lack common sense. And when I am nay lacking that, I am oft in want of the manners of a gentleman. I treated you ill by not trusting you with my knife." He smiled and held out the blackened fish. "I give you my apology and a peace offering. Such as it is."

  She looked at his beautiful smile and singed fish, then back at her bread and ale. Even though she tried, she could not keep a smile from her lips. "With such a grand apology and gift, I cannot stay angry with you. Join me and we will share our bounty."

  "Thank you, lass." He handed her the branch of blackened fish and climbed up beside her in the wagon.

  She watched him move easily, as if totally healed. Soon they would be on their way to Kirkholm. The idea did not please her as she had thought it would. Nay, once back at his keep, he would have no great need of her. To be sure, 'twould be nay reason to share a plaid again.

  Remembering how glorious she had felt snuggled against him with his muscled arm curled protectively around her brought heat to her cheeks. She could feel it warming her face.

  Glancing down quickly so that he would not see it, she pulled the fish from the small tree limb and set them on a large piece of bread before she tossed away the branch. Pinching the charred skin of one of the fish between her fingers, she pulled it open exposing the dry, gray flesh beneath.

  She did not have the heart to tell him that the meat would have been moist and white had he not cooked them so long. Then she broke off a bite of bread for each of them and handed one to him along with the ale. "I fear we have no grand goblets or silver plates but will have to do with this."

  He grinned and took the bread and ale. Tipping the bottle up, he took a long drink.

  Ailis watched his strong throat muscles work as he swallowed. Just looking at his tanned skin now nearly returned to its male glory was enough to fascinate her and recall her foolish dreams of what might have been, had she been aught but who she was.

  He handed the bottle back to her with a wink. "My thanks, lass. 'Tis much improved over the last brew you bid me drink."

  "Aye, I must agree with you there."

  He tossed the bite of bread in his mouth and reached for the fish she had prepared. Pulling a piece off, he put it in his mouth. His puckered expression when he bit into the charred fish set her to laughing.

  "Fie, Gavin. You only needed to cook the wee things, no blacken them throughout. Here, hand me your knife, and I will see if I can salvage enough to eat."

  She noticed this time he did not hesitate in handing over his dirk. Still chuckling, she shook her head over the task and clicked her tongue against her teeth, as she scraped and cut away at the rest of the fish until she uncovered several bites of white flaky meat. "There now, I believe 'tis a wee bit of fish worth the having." She wiped the blade on a corner of the tartan then held his dirk out to him.

  He reached over, took it from her and slid it back in its sheath as if there had ne'er been cross words spoken o'er it.

  When she handed him another piece of bread with a few bites of white meat on it, he leaned forward and took it between his lips, his tongue darting out to touch the tips of her fingers.

  She snatched her hand back as if he'd burned her.

  He swallowed, then looked at her with such an intense expression she could not help but glance down at her hands. They still looked the same. Why was it the one felt so different? And, why did her heart beat as if she had run across Scotland?

  He leaned close and whispered. "I daresay I like this. Perhaps I should catch a few more fish."

  Her stomach fluttered and she drew in a quick breath. She could not think with him so close. "Nay, 'tis no need. I… I am not very hungry. You can have the rest. I will …I mean I have to, I—"

  His lips took hers by surprise. The feel of his warm mouth closing over hers was the stuff of dreams. Nay, better than anything she had e'er dreamed. When his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her closer, she sighed with pure pleasure and his tongue slid between her open lips. Firm and hot.

  Suddenly she was on fire. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his broad shoulders then ran her fingers through his hair. 'Twas still damp from bathing in the burn that morn.

  Sweet Mary. Just thinking of him bare arsed to the world swimming in the cold clear waters sent her head reeling. Ne'er before had she felt such longing for a man.

  His kiss continued. Deeper. Stronger. She could feel the heat of his tongue against hers as it touched then withdrew and touched
again. His breath touched her cheeks like a warm spring breeze.

  Gently, his hand cupped her breast. She shuddered with the need building in her. Her body tingled and her nipple tightened under his warm touch.

  She leaned toward him. If ever she wanted to give herself to a man, 'twas now.

  To Gavin.

  And nay other.

  Suddenly he stopped, leaving her lips longing for his as he gently pushed her away from him. Her breasts, nay, her whole body, cried out for more. Why had he stopped?

  He reached out and tenderly cupped her chin, raising her face to his gaze. His voice turned husky as he spoke. "My apologies, Ailis. I intended only a kiss of thanks for your kind care and nay disrespect." He smiled down at her. "But in truth, you are near more than I can resist." He released her chin and lifted her hand to his lips pressing a soft quick kiss on her knuckles. "I think it best we be on our way."

  Within minutes, the wagon was plodding down the worn road toward Kirkholm. Ailis sat on the wagon seat beside Gavin but he did not touch her again and they rode in silence. He spoke only once, after he reached behind them and pulled the extra tartan to where they sat. "Lass, the wind is cold through this pass. Move o'er next to me so we can share the plaid. 'Twill be warmer that way."

  He neither touched her, nor spoke again, but secretly she allowed her heart to feel contented as she had ne'er felt before. Aye, until she stood within the halls of Kirkholm, she would allow herself to dream.

  Chapter Eleven

  Megan set her polishing cloth down beside the gleaming silver goblet and wiped her brow. Fie, but she grew tired of all the preparation. 'Twas more than enough work for all in the clan without Logan being gone and nay there to help.

  This morn when she had complained to Nelli of his infrequent time spent at home, the older woman had started into a harsh tirade on his lack of interest in his family and his wastrel friends. At least this time he was gone working with their herds, and not simply away doing the saints only knew what with his friends.