Highland Persuasion (The MacLomain Series- Early Years)

by Sky Purington

  She didn’t miss the wince Shamus had made. His wound was hurting him. When he sat back she went to him and sniffed. There was no need to look at the arrow wound to know infection was setting in. “I need to redress this.”

  Shamus winced, sat back and nodded. She looked at Alexander. “Rip a piece off one of the robes. Any chance you brought whiskey?”

  When Alexander shook his head she frowned. “Then wet the cloth and bring it here. I need to look at this.”

  The minute she removed the bandage she saw, as suspected, that her poultice wasn’t working. She cast her glance between the men. “Why did you not use your magic to heal this when you could?”

  “We’ve not the magic to do such.” Shamus shifted, uncomfortable. “Besides, ‘twill be just fine. Needs a few days is all.”

  As she took the damp cloth from Alexander she shot him a look that said the wound would not be fine in a few days. Attention back on Shamus, she patted the wound and said, “You’ve not the power of healing?”

  “Nay, lass. 'Tis rare."

  Frustrated, she said, “I’ve got to set the burn to it. For shame I didnae earlier.”

  Shamus shook his head, green eyes charming. “You had not the mind about you when this all started.”

  Iosbail breathed through her nose. “But you two did. If not for shame on me then shame on you.”

  “One of the daggers,” she said to Alexander. “Hold it over the flame.”

  But he was already doing such, a grim expression on his face.

  With a heavy sigh, Shamus shook his head. “’Tis a terrible thing I’ve not a dram right now.”

  “Well you dinnae,” she declared. “Again, no fault of your own!”

  Before he could respond she reached over, grabbed the dagger and set the dull side of the blade against the wound. The Irishman didn’t pull away but cried out through clenched teeth. While the metal seared his skin she leaned in close and whispered, “May the strength of Eire be with ye, laddie.”

  His bleak eyes met hers and he nodded.

  Iosbail held the blade true until the scent of burning flesh met her nostrils then a good time after. Once satisfied she handed the blade back to Alexander never losing eye contact with Shamus. “How do ye? Is the pain more bearable now?”

  They all knew the pain he felt now was far worse. Shamus jut forward his jaw and nodded.

  “Good then.” Iosbail received some cooked bird from Alexander and waited patiently. Once she knew her fellow Irishman well enough to eat, she held the meat to his mouth. “Time now for strength. May ye forgive me for not having done this properly from the beginning.”

  Lightning fast, Shamus’s hand came around her wrist, his eyes determined. “We’re all a victim of our circumstances. Ye’ve done me well, lassie.”

  Had she really? Nay, not at all. She’d failed to administer the best medicine previously because she’d been caught up in a vendetta. The wound should have been cauterized, then the poultice administered. Shame on her. Thankfully, thus far, the fever had not taken him.

  If it did, she’d never forgive herself.

  Iosbail sat back, dazed as Shamus took a bite of food.

  What was this she was part of?

  Could it be she’d lost her heart not to one but many and that they’d all see through safely?

  Or was this only just the beginning of a terrible end.

  Chapter Six

  Had this been a mistake?

  Alexander eyed their surroundings as they cut through the pre-dawn mountains. If he were to think like a clansman who’d lived here his entire life, this land was ripe with ways to take strangers down immediately…which made him wonder. Rumors had abounded about the Hebrides for so long. Could it be nobody really knew the truth about who resided here anymore? He ground his jaw. To think like that would be his undoing.

  ‘Twas always when you least expected the enemy that they were upon you.

  Shamus seemed to be faring well. No fever was apparent and the Irishman appeared his usual jovial if not somewhat reserved self. The Norman lass moved forward with her same, unobtrusive determination. Iosbail, like a panther stalking her prey, veered slightly off path then returned now and again, her gaze everywhere. Alexander couldn’t help but think her a survivor by nature. She seemed somehow more alive here than he’d ever seen her.

  Not that he’d known her all that long.

  As the fog lifted and an uneasy sun crawled over the mountains, Alexander contemplated their conversation from the eve before. The sad look in her eyes when she spoke of the past. Alexander found himself…wanting to be there for her.

  ‘Twas a bloody bad position for a Sinclair to find himself in.

  Just when he found a reason to remember she was his enemy he found a way to forgive her that. When he found a reason to see all her newfound faults, she did something kindhearted and had him staring at her for hours. What was the matter with him? That was, by far, the bigger issue at hand. Not her but him!

  He need not be the fool.

  It seemed the day rolled by with those same thoughts in his head. They walked and walked, sweated and grew tired, but still they walked… and still he thought. The only thing that broke up the monotony was the occasional bird cry overhead or a particularly heavy gust of wind. For all intents and purposes, the Hebrides were proving to be a peaceful land.

  Until Shamus suddenly stopped short and turned back.

  Alexander reacted without question. When Shamus grabbed Caitriona around the waist and pulled her to the nearest safety point, he did the same with Iosbail. Or would have had she not already ducked and was looking north, north-west.

  Bloody lass had no need of saving, magic or no.

  He fell in beside her. Her eyes met his then the ledge far above, her finger to her mouth. Alexander looked up. Had he truly been in such heavy thought that the obvious had evaded him? It seemed so. He quietly slid free his claymore as she did her dagger and they continued to watch.

  A figure crouched, unmoving, to the left of a rock. He remained so still that without a trained eye it would be impossible to see him. Thank God for Shamus. Alexander scanned the cliff alongside the stranger. There appeared to be nobody else but he knew better.

  There were many more.

  He looked at Iosbail and pointed north then flashed two open fists twice to imply more than twenty. Then he held up two fingers and motioned first to her and then to him. He pointed at the decline across from them and nodded.

  She made a swirl motion with one finger to imply they’d find Shamus and Caitriona later.

  He nodded.

  They sheathed their weapons and moved, one after the other, very low and very quickly.

  It was a bloody good thing that he was with a woman who understood the hand motions of a warring Scotsmen, better yet, the motions of a woodsman. Had they stayed where they were scouts sent from the party above would be on them in minutes.

  Iosbail slid and descended the mountainside with admirable finesse and ease. As if they thought as one, both turned right at the same time which took them down an even steeper embankment. Only through his magi did Alexander sense their path need stop and they should take a sharp left so he took her arm.

  The Broun didn’t fight him but followed until they found yet another steep path. This time the climb took them slightly upward and to the right. At the end of another small path was a raging waterfall. Luckily a single file walk allowed them behind the water not into a cave but what appeared to be a hidden glen trapped between three mountains.

  Miraculously, one tree grew and he pulled her behind its wide trunk.

  As they sank down, both remained silent for some time before she whispered, “Do you think Shamus and Caitriona are safe?”

  “Aye, the Irishman is a survivor. He will find shelter,” he whispered back.

  Neither said another word but returned to silence.

  Sun shone bright overhead and created steam over their cove. Though bright green grass grew, no flower b
loomed. Even as they sat, silent, waiting, patient, Alexander studied their surroundings.

  Where had he led them?

  He glanced up. They sat not beneath a Pine which was the only tree natural to this particular elevation but beneath an Oak tree. Wide and broad, its ancient limbs spanned out nearly twenty feet on either side, its trunk, nearly six feet wide. In this corner of the Hebrides it was summer so said the bloom of the old Oak.

  They continued to remain silent, waiting for an unseen enemy to find them.

  But no enemy came.

  The sun dipped lower…still no enemy.

  “Do you sense anyone nearby?” she whispered.

  “Nay,” he whispered. But he hadn’t sensed the enemy earlier so he didn’t much trust his gift at the moment. Alexander was beginning to suspect that his magi became muddled when she was near. Not because his magic was flawed but because he thought too much about her instead of remaining focused.

  Bloody Brouns!

  Her gaze traveled their surroundings. “This seems a place the locals would be well aware of. I’d think them on us already.”

  Alexander shook his head, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the tree. With great care he pulled forth a very small amount of magic, only enough to better understand where they were. Feelings of warmth, peace and safety filled his mind…and something else that surprised him.

  When he opened his eyes it was to her watching him.

  “’Tis safe, lass. If fact, I get the sense that we are the first to ever be here.”

  “Impossible,” she scoffed. “’Tis likely they’ve disguised this place to seem such through the use of their own magi.”

  “Nay.” He released a sigh. “I dinnae think so.”

  “There’s no way you can be sure.”

  “Actually, I am, lass.”

  Iosbail looked at him with exasperation. “The people here possess great magic.”

  “As do I and I can assure you what resides here has more to do with you than probably anywhere you’ve ever been.”

  Now he had her attention.

  “This tree,” he said softly. “’Tis of your brethren. ‘Tis of Irish gods I am not familiar.”

  Her eyes rounded.

  “And ‘tis of a king and a druidess.”

  “You jest,” she whispered.

  “Is not the mighty Oak an eternal symbol?”

  “Aye, but…” She shook her head. “How could it be?”

  Alexander shrugged. “A question I stopped asking long ago. Best to accept help when offered.”

  “Help?” Iosbail stood, turned and looked up through the branches. “Unimaginable help!” Her cheeks turned rosy, her eyes bright. “Are you quite sure, lad?”

  “Aye.” He stood and smiled. It pleased him to see her so happy. As displeasing as that was!

  “I dinnae ken.” She shook her head and grinned. “First Shamus, now this. It seems Eire has once more found and welcomed me even from her distant shores.”

  For the first time in a long while Alexander felt something akin to joy. There was no way of knowing from where exactly it derived but the emotion was genuine and much welcome. It felt like he’d given the best gift... one lost and nearly forgotten.

  So when she embraced him in happiness he didn’t push her away but held tight. Caught up in her elation Iosbail seemed to melt into his embrace. It would prove to be the most unusual moment of his life. Not because he had a woman in his arms—he’d done that tenfold—but because the embrace was unique. How, he’d never know. Just that it was. Perhaps it was because the bitterness between them suddenly seemed nonexistent. Or perhaps it was because she felt so amazingly perfect in his arms.

  When Iosbail pulled back slightly and her blue eyes met his, Alexander knew she felt the same. And like him, was surprised. Before either of them could overthink, he kissed her. Unlike their first stiff kiss, this one was made of something entirely different. He swore he felt heat flare between their lips. Without doubt lust flared immediately. Cupping her face, he titled her mouth beneath his and met her tongue with vigor.

  With more passion and pure feeling than he thought capable they stayed that way, their tongues exploring, their hearts pounding, lips searching, for an unknown amount of time. He explored her mouth, the curves of her cheeks, and the texture of her smooth tongue against his.

  There existed no true description to describe what he felt save… lost.

  Even when rain started to fall they remained locked with one another, exploring, hungry. Bliss, lust, need, soon gave way to full blown arousal. As if the Hebrides sensed his emotions rain started to fall harder and wind started to blow.

  Yet they were protected save a few errant drops here and there.

  The great Oak provided cover with its thick, tall layer upon layer roof of leaves.

  Unable to curb his want, Alexander brought her to the ground beneath. Unusually warm, the soft grass created a soft, welcoming scent that enveloped them. Fire roared through his blood and he struggled to touch her everywhere at once. Iosbail, clearly as desperate, pulled at his clothes while her lips teased his earlobes, then feathered along his neck.

  As her tongue flicked over his skin, Alexander didn’t have the power to bother much with her clothing save to push her skirts up around her waist. He needed to feel her, really feel her, from the inside out.

  Rain started to fall in heavy sheets and formed a waterfall around their sphere. Thin, determined sunrays burst in errant streaks while thunder rumbled overhead. It seemed the weather felt his emotions, a strange mix of welcomed rage mixed with the brutal desire he possessed for his enemy. Through it all, unimaginable elation that he was getting exactly what he’d wanted all along.

  When he hooked her legs beneath his arms and thrust forward, pleasure ripped through him. Iosbail’s chest lifted and she flung back her head, eyes closed. Teeth clenched he pulled back and thrust again so hard she slid. Eyelashes fluttering she cried out and arched further. He put an arm beneath her shoulder blades to anchor her as he moved. This time she cried out and her eyes popped open, locking with his.

  Somehow looking into their impassioned depths made him near crazed. With a growl he pulled back and pushed forward almost harshly. Small gasps started to burst from her lips but he continued. Once, twice, but it was the third time that had her body buck then lock up. One more unforgiving thrust and she started to quiver and shake uncontrollably.

  The sun vanished. Black clouds roiled. Harsh wind started to blow and the leaves overhead swung and flipped wildly. Alexander became mesmerized by the way her lips fell apart and her eyes rolled back, by the way her small body became so much controlled by his.

  His throat closed, eyes watered, muscles rippled and vibrated. A sharp, almost painful wave of pleasure jolted his body forward once more. When he released it was so much an unfamiliar mix of pain and pleasure that he cried out. Head tucked next to hers, he tried his best to hold his weight off her as his hips thrust and locked forward, as he released so hard his body shook as violently as the storm exploding around them.

  Iosbail cried out again, the sound long and loud, but he barely heard.

  Several minutes later, once he’d caught his breath, he pulled up but not away. A man didn’t come this far with this sort of woman only to flee. Her eyes were closed, breathing still harsh. As he studied her face he realized that they’d never even unclothed.

  Regardless, it’d been the best bloody experience of his life.

  Sweat soaked their clothes to their bodies and the world felt as though it swam around them. When her eyes inched open and met his, he knew he was closer to her now than any other had been. Confused, her hands gripped his arms and she slowly shook her head.

  As suspected, she didn’t trust the emotion any more than he.

  Alexander tried to speak but had no words. So he moved away from her and sat.

  Why, he didn’t know. Because truly, he’d wanted her to look at him in awe or hate or confusion, not the way sh
e had… not like she was just as confused.

  Iosbail stayed lying on the ground staring up through the branches. When she finally spoke it was quietly. “What’s done is done.”

  Her logical conclusion of the passion they’d just shared didn’t surprise him. Alexander sat back against the tree trunk and watched her. Rain continued to pour but the storm was quickly passing. It’d been as fast and furious as their coupling. All that remained in its wake was cleansing. He almost said he liked what had transpired but realized that she saw it as a means of emotional release betwixt them, nothing more. Disregarding the heavy feeling in his chest, he leaned his head back and looked up.

  It was time to regroup and think straight.

  What they’d just felt and experienced had been temporary. Even he knew better than to want more. And why should he? They’d felt attraction and acted on it. When they did, stress was relieved, simple as that.

  For an untried lass their lovemaking would be considered brief. What was it for a five hundred year old lass?

  Determined not to get caught up in feelings of inadequacy, Alexander said. “’Tis nearly eve. We need look for our companions.”

  “Mmm, aye.” Yet Iosbail didn’t move, only stared dreamily upward.

  Startled out of his contemplations, Alexander leaned forward slightly and stared at her. He couldn’t help but grin. It appeared her stress had been relieved good and true. Though he almost chuckled no sound came from his lips. Never had he seen a more beautiful site than Iosbail with her arms stretched above her head, hands intertwined, nude from the waist down, legs crossed seductively.

  She was the epitome of sensuality.

  A woman well satisfied.

  Lost.

  Iosbail had not nearly reached the point in which she was ready to return sharp words. His Broun was floating. Curious, unable to resist, he crawled to where he left her and looked down. She didn’t move for several long seconds until she touched his cheek lightly and whispered, “For today, ye are not mine enemy.”