The Highlander's Promise

by Lynsay Sands

  "Aulay?"

  Recognizing Rory's voice, Aulay stiffened and then moved quickly, dragging the fur up to cover Jetta on the floor, even as he pulled away from her and leapt to his feet.

  "Aye," he said, his voice gruff as he bent quickly to scoop up Jetta, furs and all. Straightening, he growled, "I think she fell out o' bed." That was the only thing that made sense to him. How else had she wound up on the pallet with him?

  "Fell out o'--" Rory began with surprise.

  "Nay. I did not fall, husband," Jetta interrupted, peering up earnestly at Aulay. "When I saw you were there on the floor without even a fur to cover you, I joined you to share the fur from the bed."

  "Oh." Aulay stared at her, nonplussed, and then turned to set her on the bed.

  "Ye're awake." Rory crossed the room to peer at Jetta as Aulay straightened. "Well, ye've more color this morning. That's good."

  Aulay glanced to Jetta and noticed that she did indeed have more color in her face. He couldn't tell if it was a result of their passion, or embarrassment at the interruption. Either way, her cheeks were quite pink, he noted before she shyly ducked her head.

  "You drank all of your cider," Rory said next.

  Aulay glanced to the empty mug just as his brother set it back on the table.

  "And ye were able to keep it down?" Rory asked next.

  "Aye," Jetta said in a shy whisper, and then cleared her throat and admitted, "I feared I might not for a moment, but then my stomach settled and I was able to keep it down."

  "That's a good sign," Rory said, and leaned forward to press an ear to her chest.

  When Jetta stiffened in shock and sent a wide-eyed look his way, Aulay managed a reassuring smile. "He's just listening to yer heart, lass," he explained and then noted the frown on his brother's face and asked with concern, "What is it?"

  "Her heart is racing," Rory muttered, straightening to look at her face again, eyebrows rising when she flushed a bright red. Turning slowly, Rory peered at Aulay with suspicion.

  "I'm sure yer entering without knocking merely startled her," Aulay muttered, avoiding his gaze.

  "Aye. I'm sure," Rory said dryly, and then turned to offer a gentle smile to Jetta. "Do ye remember anything today? Yer name or where ye come from?"

  "I . . . my name is Jetta," she answered.

  Aulay gave a start, surprised that the name he'd given her was the same as her true name, but then she admitted, "I heard the maid call me that yesterday."

  "Ah," Rory said solemnly. "So, ye do no' remember anything ere waking up here the first time?"

  She shook her head apologetically. "Do you think I will? Remember things, I mean."

  Rory hesitated, but then apparently decided that honesty was the best policy . . . in this instance, at least. "I do no' ken, lass. Ye took some terrible damage to the back o' yer head. In truth, I'm surprised ye survived it at all, and apparently with all o' yer faculties intact, other than yer memory." That made him frown and he asked, "Are all yer faculties intact?"

  "I think so," Jetta said slowly and then shrugged helplessly. "How would I know if they were not?"

  Rory smiled faintly. "Well, is yer vision blurry at all?"

  "Nay," she said at once, appearing relieved to be able to say it.

  "What about smell or taste? When ye drank the cider did--?"

  "It smelled and tasted fine to me," she said.

  "And yer speech does no' seem impeded at all," he pointed out. "So I would say yer memory is the only thing that was affected by the injury."

  "Aye," she agreed, but looked dissatisfied and said, "I know I should be grateful for that, but there is so much I do not remember. For instance, how did I injure my head?"

  Rory turned to glance at Aulay, obviously leaving it to him, and he cleared his throat and said, "Shipwreck."

  Jetta blinked at the words. "I hit my head in a shipwreck? How?"

  Aulay frowned at the question, but said, "Ye were strapped to the mast. When the ship broke apart, you and the mast ye were on bobbed about on the water's surface. Ye ended up banging yer head repeatedly on it." At least, that was what he'd decided must have happened. It was the only thing that made sense. And unfortunately, they hadn't been able to find out anything else. His brothers had made discreet inquiries, but had not been able to find out the name of the ship that she'd been on. In fact, as far as they could tell, no ships had sunk during the whole week when she appeared.

  "And you saved me?"

  Aulay blinked his thoughts away and glanced to her at that question, but it was Rory who said, "Aye, Aulay and Alick cut ye free o' the mast and got ye to shore."

  "Alick?" Jetta asked, her expression uncertain.

  "Our youngest brother," Rory explained.

  Her eyes widened. "There are three of you?"

  "Nine," Rory said, even as Aulay said, "Eight."

  "Sorry," Rory muttered, and corrected himself. "Eight. There used to be nine of us, eight brothers and one sister. But one o' our brothers died some years back so now there are only the eight of us."

  "Only eight?" she asked with mild amusement. "That seems a lot to me."

  "I suppose," Rory agreed with a smile and then asked lightly, "So ye did no' have a lot o' brothers and sisters?"

  "I . . ." Jetta frowned, her thoughts obviously turning inward as she tried to find the answer.

  Aulay watched, waiting to see if she would remember, but when she raised a hand and began to rub at her forehead as if it were paining her, he said, "Let it go, lass. Ye'll remember it all soon enough."

  "Aye," she said on a sigh, and then pointed out, "Or you could just tell me yourself and save me the effort of trying to remember."

  Aulay stiffened, but was saved from having to respond by Rory who said, "'Tis better ye remember on yer own, lass. That way we'll ken 'tis a true memory and no' just something ye think ye recall because ye were told."

  "Oh," Jetta murmured, and Aulay wasn't surprised to see the confusion the suggestion caused in her. Rory's attempt to save him from having to admit that he didn't have any of the answers she was seeking had been a little less than logical to his mind. Surely she'd know the difference between memories and stories she'd been told?

  Shaking his head, Aulay whirled away from the bed, muttering, "I'll fetch Mavis up to change yer bed and help ye bathe while I see to hunting up something for the sup."

  "Oh, but I do not want you to leave."

  That soft cry brought Aulay to a halt at the door. Turning slowly, he peered at her. Jetta's cheeks were still flushed, not as flushed as they had been directly after his kissing her, but flushed just the same. Her hair was a glorious disarray of black waves around her face that begged for attention. She was clutching the furs to her chest, hiding what he knew were bared breasts from view, and her expression was as forlorn as an abandoned bairn's. It was all enough to make him want to stride straight back to the bed, climb in with her and kiss that expression off her face.

  Unfortunately, he wasn't in the newly-roused-from-sleep-and-not-thinking-straight stage he'd been in when he'd found her cuddled up to him on the pallet of furs earlier and begun to kiss her. Now he was wide awake, and so was his conscience. Jetta might be under the mistaken impression that they were husband and wife and that kind of behavior was perfectly acceptable, but he was more than aware that they weren't, and it wasn't. He had no right to kiss and touch her like that. No matter how much he wanted to. And he really, really wanted to. Hell, if Rory had arrived even a couple minutes later, Aulay very well might have taken the lass right there on the floor. That being the case, he knew the best thing he could now do was to stay away from the temptation she offered and let her heal in peace.

  Unfortunately, when Aulay opened his mouth to give some excuse as to why he could not remain with her, he instead found himself saying, "I'll no' be gone long. I'll return to break me fast with ye after Mavis has seen to yer bath and such."

  Jetta didn't seem overly pleased with his response, and he suspected
she was about to protest his leaving again, but then she suddenly took a deep breath and forced herself to relax and nod. "Very well. Thank you."

  She sounded calm and composed, but Aulay noted the way her lip trembled before she bit on it. Frowning, he glanced to Rory in question, suspecting something was going on here he did not understand.

  Murmuring an excuse to Jetta, Rory stood and crossed the room to follow him out the door.

  "What is--?" Aulay began, but Rory raised a hand to silence him and pulled the door closed. He then ushered him several feet away before speaking.

  "She will be emotional for the first little while," he said solemnly once they were out of earshot of the room. "And ye can expect her to be clingy."

  "Clingy?" he asked with dismay. In the last three weeks that he'd watched over the woman in his bed, Aulay had found himself drifting into fantasies about what they would be doing if she were awake. Those had ranged from her running screaming from his room on first sight, to their enjoying games of chess, having picnics by the loch and making love before a roaring fire. They had not included an emotional and clingy woman.

  "Her mind has betrayed her. She has no memory of anything to do with herself or her past," Rory pointed out. "She will naturally be feeling frightened and want you, as the man she thinks to be her husband, to stick close."

  "Aye," Aulay said slowly, starting to understand. "Mayhap I should send Alick and Geordie out again to ask around about a ship that may have sunk three weeks ago so that we can at least find out her real name."

  "That might be a good idea," Rory agreed solemnly. "Knowing her true name may help with her memory."

  "Aye," Aulay murmured and then frowned as he considered the problem. His brothers would have to be careful again as they had the first time and not reveal her presence here, he thought, and then realized Rory was still talking.

  "--but right now, all she knows, and wrongly so, is that ye're her husband. Whether she admits it or not--even to herself--she will be anxious and needy. We must be patient with her, and make her feel safe and secure. That is why I suggested ye not correct her about ye no' being her husband. She needs things that will comfort her right now, and believing she is at home and has a loving and caring husband will be more comforting than thinking she is weak, alone and without her memory among strangers."

  "Ah," Aulay murmured, relaxing a bit.

  "Once she has regained some strength, and some confidence in herself and her ability to cope, we can explain that ye're no' her husband," Rory assured him. "By then she will ken we ha'e no plans to harm her and she is safe with us."

  Aulay nodded.

  "I trust ye'll remember that ye're not her husband, though?" Rory added quietly.

  "O' course," Aulay growled, scowling at him. "She is under me protection. I'll no' take advantage o' that."

  "I am glad to hear it." Rory said with a nod, but then added, "Because when I came in it looked like ye might be."

  When Aulay merely stared at him, not deigning to respond to his comment, he said, "It looked like ye were kissing her and more, brother. And when ye set her in the bed her cheeks were flushed, her heart pounding like a drum, and I could tell the gown Mavis put her in was wide open under that fur she was clutching to her chest."

  "'Tis none o' yer business, Rory," Aulay said coldly.

  Rory hesitated, and then straightened his shoulders and said, "Aye, 'tis. She's me patient, and judging by her speech and the quality o' the gown she wore, or what was left o' it," he added dryly, "she is a lady. If ye ruin her, ye will have to marry her, Aulay. I'll no' let ye take advantage of the poor lass in her state and treat her like she was naught but some light skirt. She thinks ye're her husband."

  Aulay just stared at Rory, the words reverberating through his head. "If ye ruin her, ye will have to marry her." For some reason, they didn't hold the horror Rory seemed to expect they would . . . and that scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter 3

  Jetta shifted impatiently where she sat up in bed, and glanced around the room again. Shortly after her husband and his brother had left, they'd returned carrying a tub and had been followed by Mavis carrying two pails of water. The men had quickly left after depositing the tub, only to return several times with more water.

  Once the men had filled the tub to Mavis's satisfaction, the old woman had shooed them from the room and then had helped Jetta from the bed, urged her out of the ridiculously large gown she was wearing and ushered her into the water. Leaving her there to wash up, Mavis had turned her attention to stripping the bed and then making it up with fresh linens before returning to Jetta.

  Mavis was a very efficient woman. She'd helped Jetta with the bath, washing her back and her hair for her, tsking over the yellow bruising covering her body and then chattering away about this and that and nothing at all as she'd helped her dry off and dress in yet another overlarge shift before tucking her back into bed.

  Jetta peered down at the gown she wore and gave a depressed sigh. Mavis had said she'd lost a good deal of weight while ill, and the shift proved that out. Truly, it hung on her something awful. It made her worry what her dresses would look like on her. If they gaped at the chest as her shift did, they would be positively indecent, she supposed, and thought perhaps she should ask for a needle and thread and start to work now on taking in the gowns.

  Her gaze slid to the chests along the wall at that thought, and she was just wondering which was hers when the bedroom door opened and Aulay entered, carrying a tray with food on it. Jetta brightened at once at his arrival and smiled in greeting.

  "All done with hunting?" she asked as she watched him set the tray on the table by the fire.

  "Aye. We brought back a fine fat rabbit, a couple o' pheasants and a deer," he announced as he crossed to the bed. "Rory is cleaning them as we speak and Mavis is planning a venison stew for the sup. In the meantime, she sent ye some other offerings. Are ye hungry?"

  "Aye. I--Oh!" Jetta gasped with surprise and grabbed for his shoulders when he suddenly bent to scoop her up into his arms.

  "Relax," he chided, as he carried her to the table. "I'll no' drop ye."

  "Aye," Jetta breathed and forced herself to settle in his arms. He was her husband after all. He could carry her around if he liked. She even began to enjoy being in his arms again, but then they reached the table and he set her in one of the chairs.

  "Thank you," she murmured as he straightened, and then flushed and tugged at the neckline of her shift when she saw how much skin it was exposing. It sagged so low that the tops of her nipples were on display, which merely reminded her of his kissing and caressing her that morning and flustered her even more. Trying to make the material cover her more decently, she glanced toward her husband to be sure he hadn't noticed, but of course he had. And judging from his expression he was recalling that morning as well.

  Swallowing nervously, Jetta licked her suddenly dry lips and shyly lowered her eyes. Unfortunately, her gaze landed squarely on the front of his plaid, which was poking out in front like some sort of queer sideways tent. She stared at it blankly until he suddenly shifted and dropped to sit across from her.

  "Food," Aulay said firmly, but his voice was husky and he was avoiding looking at her now, she noted.

  Jetta peered at the tray he'd carried in and her mouth promptly dropped open. "Dear God, husband!"

  "What?" he asked with concern.

  "I--Well, just look at how much food you brought," she said with dismay.

  Relaxing, he began to remove items from the tray and set them before her. "Ye need to eat well to regain yer strength."

  "Aye, but--Goodness, 'tis no wonder my gowns are so big if this is how I ate ere hitting my head." By her reckoning there was enough food on the tray to feed ten people and he was placing most of it before her.

  "Yer gowns?" he asked with a frown.

  "Aye." She raised a hand self-consciously to her neckline again, and grimaced. "I must have been much bigger ere the injury." />
  For some reason that caused a short, deep laugh to slip from his lips, and she eyed him uncertainly, not sure what the joke was.

  Catching her confusion, he explained, "That is no' yer shift, lass. Mavis was kind enough to loan it to ye. The dress ye were wearing was ruined in the storm. I at first put ye in one o' me shirts, but Mavis thought ye'd do better in one o' her shifts instead."

  "Oh," Jetta said with relief, and then frowned. "But where are my gowns then?" she asked, and then answered herself before he could. "Oh, of course, they must have gone down with the ship."

  "Aye," Aulay muttered.

  "So," Jetta sighed, closing her eyes. "I have lost not only my memory, but all of my clothes too."

  The touch of his hand on hers brought her eyes open.

  "Never fear. We'll get ye new gowns," he said, squeezing her hand gently.

  "Thank you, husband," Jetta said with a crooked smile and then found she had to fight a sudden bout of tears at his kindness. Blinking rapidly, she tried to force the tears back, and then dashed them impatiently away when her efforts failed.

  "Are ye all right?" Aulay asked, his eyes narrowing on her.

  "Aye. I am just--" She shook her head irritably. "I appear to be overly emotional. Every kindness makes me want to weep. 'Tis ridiculous."

  "Ye're mending from a terrible injury, Jetta. Be patient with yerself. Rory said ye would be emotional fer a bit. 'Twill pass."

  Jetta was relieved by his words, for truly she had nearly burst into tears at least three times while Mavis was helping her earlier, and she found it all just a bit overwhelming. Jetta was quite sure she wasn't normally such a weeping willow. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she calmed herself and then managed a half smile and considered the food set out before her, but then shook her head. "I cannot possibly eat all of this."

  "I do no' expect ye to," he said with amusement. "I just was no' sure what ye would feel like eating, or might be able to stomach after so long without food, so brought ye a selection to choose from."

  "Oh," she breathed, and felt her eyes flood again at the considerate action.

  Much to her relief, Aulay ignored her emotional response and merely suggested, "Mayhap ye should start with the soup. Yer stomach may no' be up to anything too heavy just yet."

  "Aye." Jetta dashed away her tears again with one hand, while pulling the soup nearer with the other. They ate in silence at first, Jetta concentrating on her soup and Aulay gobbling up almost everything else. Good Lord, she'd thought it enough food for ten, but it wouldn't even have fed two Aulays, she thought with amusement. The man had a huge appetite.