‘Haud yer wheest!’ the creature growled, stopping the coming scream with a hand over her mouth. ‘Every noise echoes in this blasted place!’
A hand? Not a paw or claws? A hand, strong and warm across her mouth and cheeks. Eva blinked as the shape released her mouth and reached for its head.
‘Are you Eva MacKay?’ a man’s voice asked. He pushed back the cloak that covered him, and he leaned forward. ‘Are you?’
‘Aye.’ Her voice barely came out of her scratchy, dry throat.
She’d been found. All her attempts to evade her father’s men were for naught. She would be dragged back now and forced to marry and leave these lands forever.
Eva fell back, giving up the fight. She was so cold and in so much pain that she could not struggle against her fate any longer. The fever that had plagued her since giving birth continued to rise and fall, sapping her strength.
‘Give me your hand,’ the man said. ‘Give it here.’
Glancing at him once again, she could not get a clear view of his face. There was a torch or fire somewhere close, and it threw shadows across the cave and him. One moment, his face looked like that of an angel and the next like a demon. She swallowed against the dryness of her throat and stared at him.
Then, he held out his hand and motioned to her again. Knowing she would never be able to stand on her leg, she shook her head in refusal.
‘Are you naysaying me?’ He crossed his arms over his massive chest and gave her a dark glare. ‘I said, give me your hand.’
‘I cannot stand,’ she whispered in fear of both the pain to come and this man. ‘My foot, my knee, are...’ She pointed to her injured right leg.
The grumbled cursing began anew as he knelt next to her and pushed her cloak aside. His indrawn breath at the trews she wore frightened her, but he ignored everything but her right leg. Lifting it with a gentleness she never expected, he slid his hand over her, pressing lightly around her knee and then on the boot that covered her foot and ankle. She could not help the gasps that escaped with each touch, but she cried out when he squeezed her ankle.
‘Your pardon, my lady,’ he said quietly. Easing her leg back down to the floor, he stood up. ‘I do not think it broken, only bruised badly. But that boot needs to come off so your foot can be seen to.’ The man walked a short distance away, back towards the opening of the cave and turned around as though searching for something. ‘How did this happen?’ he asked.
‘I fell...in,’ she whispered, glancing up at the opening above and behind her.
His words, filled with all sorts of expletives and unimagined insults, shocked her. And yet, they did not match the ease in his manners when he approached once more and crouched next to her.
‘’Tis a wonder you did not kill yourself. Or was that your plan?’
‘Nay!’
Surprised at his boldness, she realised she had no idea of this man’s identity, even though he had clearly been searching for her. Had her father hired mercenaries to keep her disappearance a secret from the clan and from the man coming to marry her? She stared at him, unable to answer his unthinkable query and unwilling to tell him anything.
‘Who are you?’ she asked. Eva pushed back with her arms, trying to sit up to face him. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I come from your father,’ he said with a shrug. ‘But neither of those things are important. A storm is blowing in from the north and this cave will flood very soon. We must get out of here now, for I have no desire to die in a place like this.’ His emphasis on I made it clear what he thought her intentions were.
Spring brought powerful storms as the winter struggled to keep hold of the lands and seas this far north. The man who suggested this place to her had said it was far enough from the sea’s edge to be safe. But now, listening to the sound of approaching waves, she knew the villager had been wrong. If her mouth and throat could grow any drier, they did just then as a wave of choking fear filled her.
‘Come,’ he said once more, reaching for her. ‘Put your hands on my shoulders and let me get you to your feet first.’
This time, she did as he said, reaching up and grabbing hold of his shoulders. He slid his large hands around her at her waist and lifted her, bearing most of her weight as she placed her foot on the floor. When he began to let her stand, her leg gave out and she stumbled. A moment later, she found herself cradled against his chest.
His wide, muscular chest. He barely exerted himself in lifting her. She could feel the strength in his arms as he walked towards the entrance to the cave. As they neared the torch he’d stuck into a crack in the rock wall near the opening, she dared a glance up at his face.
And wished she had not.
The light from the torch caught the auburn in his hair and made it flicker. His brow gathered in a frown that made him look fierce and frightening. His chin and cheeks, not disguised by the beard he wore, seemed carved from the same hard rock of the inside of the cave. She began shivering again and could not control the way her body shook.
‘Are you ill?’ he asked, carrying her towards the steep path that led to the top of the cliff. ‘Christ! You are burning up!’ he growled against her head. The anger in his voice made her tremble.
The fever must be back.
Glancing around, she saw the path she’d not seen when trying to reach the cave. Eva had approached the openings in the ceiling of the cave when she’d slipped and fallen in. The only reason she had not died was that she slid most of the way down, hitting her foot and leg on a large rock as she came to stop on the floor. They reached it, and he stopped.
‘I cannot carry you up this way and I cannot help you walk up. The path is not wide enough for two of us and I will need my hands on the steeper places.’
Her mind was so dulled by pain and fear that Eva could not come up with a solution. Then he began to lower her feet towards the ground.
‘Put your uninjured foot down,’ he directed. When she did, he gripped her waist until she steadied. His next action surprised her. He leaned her against the thick bushes there and removed a long length of tartan from around him. Then crouching before her, he said, ‘Come now, lady. Climb on.’
If she had thought herself confused before, this confirmed it. Her head ached as she tried to determine what he wanted her to do. Her hesitation was noticed, for he turned and motioned to her with his hand, pointing to his back.
‘Carrying you on my back will be safer,’ he explained, moving back until he almost touched her legs. ‘Hold once more on to my shoulders. Lean against me and give me your injured leg first.’
It took her several attempts and so much pain before she could position herself on his back. His touch was gentle as he guided and supported her leg around his waist and held it steady as she lifted her other one. Eva clutched his shoulders until he gave new orders.
‘Slide your arms around me, lady,’ he urged as he stood up. ‘It will be a more secure hold for you.’ She did as he said and she did feel more stable.
He tossed the length of wool around her, pulling it below her and wrapping it snugly around her, tying her to him much as a babe could be worn by a mother. He made several adjustments, uttering vile words when things did not do his bidding. Then, apparently satisfied with her position and the binding holding her there on his back, he took the first step up the path.
Between her exhaustion and pain and the warmth of his very strong body beneath her, Eva found herself drifting off to sleep as he climbed almost effortlessly up the steep trail. She woke to his voice, deep and masculine, calling out curses at the sky as the clouds opened above them. Spring rains were cold and this was just that. Only her head was above the woollen covering to feel it but he was more exposed and was getting soaked.
‘Hold on, lady,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘We are almost at the top.’
He stumbled t
hen and nearly pitched them to the ground, but he somehow regained his balance before they fell. Eva waited for the ear-blistering epithets that she expected would follow his misstep and was surprised when she could hear only his breathing. She began to drift in and out of awareness with each step as the pain flooded her body.
They reached the top and he grunted and stopped. Eva could feel his lungs taking in deep breaths and expelling them hard. As though her body had waited for them to be on level ground and not scrambling up a steep cliff side, the moment he turned his head to look at her and spoke her name, the blackness claimed her.
* * *
Rob felt the moment she lost consciousness. He’d heard every gasp and moan as he’d carried her up the cliff. She probably did not even realise she made such sounds, but he heard each of them. And yet, not once did she utter a word of complaint. Strange, that.
Since she was secure wrapped against him as she was, he untangled the reins of the horse he’d borrowed and led the animal along the main road that led back towards the village of Durness. He’d found a small unused cottage there for his use during this search and he would take her there.
As the winds howled around him now, he wondered no longer why everyone here spoke often about the weather and the storms. The blacksmith had warned him about a coming storm when he asked about borrowing a horse. The innkeeper had, as well. And the miller, when he’d arranged for the cottage on his land. And, as if the mere thought of it made it happen, the rain became a wind-driven tempest, knocking him back and off balance.
Fighting against it, he made his way to the small dwelling and, after tying the horse behind it, Rob took the lady within. Crouching down to sit on the pallet, he untied the woollen fabric and eased her back onto it. He’d not realised how hot she was until he moved her off his back. Touching her cheek with the back of his hand, Rob felt the heat of a fever there and realised the danger of it.
His sister was the healer and she would know immediately what to do. He searched his memory of the times he’d watched her care for kith and kin, whether in the village or when they’d sought refuge in the mountains. Margaret was very succinct in her directions, and he smiled as he heard them in his mind now.
‘Warm the chill. Cool the heat.’
‘Watered ale throughout. Broth when hungry.’
Even a simpleton, or a man, could follow those directions, she’d told him once. He’d laughed then but not now, as the dangers of a fever were too real. Glancing around the cottage at the supplies he’d brought, he knew he did not have enough to last more than this night. Rob had not planned to stay here, only to use it as a place to sleep. After lighting a fire in the small hearth, he knew that now supplies were the most pressing need.
The lady yet slept, so he decided it would be best to go now and fetch the needed items from the village or from the miller. Her garments, the scandalous trews she wore, as well as her cloak and tunic, were soaked through, so Rob knew he must remove them and the short boots she wore, too. He drew his sgian dubh to slice the seam of the boot open so he could take it off without injuring her ankle more than it was.
Rob pressed along the arch of her foot and the curve of her ankle but could find no broken bones. Good. He watched her face to see if she reacted and found none. That could not be a good thing. He untied her cloak and eased it from around her. Her hair, woven into a long braid, was tucked inside her tunic. Placing the cloak near the growing fire to dry, he turned his attention to her garments.
He tried not to notice the womanly curves visible because of those trews. He loosened the ties at her waist and slid them down, finding her shift tucked within. Drawing it down as he moved the trews, it gave her some measure of cover, though he held his breath as he noticed the thin fabric did not truly cover much at all. Then he gathered up the tunic and removed it over her head, lifting her as he eased it off. Another surprise waited for him there.
She’d bound her breasts to play the part of a boy.
Rob frowned at this revelation. She was set against marriage to him so much that she left her home and belongings behind, disguised herself as a boy and hid in a cave, nearly killing herself. She shivered just then, and he knew he must put aside his irritation and sense of insult and deal with all that later.
He would need something to wrap her ankle, so he lifted the thin shift and, with care, sliced one side of the bindings. Tugging them slowly, he removed them and tried not to notice the indentation of her breasts in the fabric. Or notice the way she sighed deeply in her sleep as though his action had brought some kind of relief. Rob moved down to her feet, shaking the strips of linen to separate them.
Her ankle swelled now that it was out of the confines of her boot, so he swaddled it with layers of linen, wrapped snugly but not too tight. He leaned back on his ankles and looked it over when he finished. It would do for now.
The howling winds reminded him of what he needed to do sooner rather than later, so Rob stood and tossed a dry plaid over her still form. He tucked it around her and then gathered what he needed—some coins and a leather sack.
The MacKay had given his leave for Rob to use his name, and it would ease his way once more but a coin or two was even more effective at gaining co-operation and information. He’d found the cave by sprinkling a few palms. Now, he would do what he needed to get the necessary supplies. With a final glance at the woman he hoped would be worth such trouble and embarrassment, he opened the door and stepped out into the storm.
Chapter Four
A war waged within her.
The forces of good and evil were surely battling over some prize—her soul mayhap?—leaving her battered and bruised. Every place on her body ached. She could not even lift her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and eyes. Waves of pain began in her foot and sent tremors through her whole body.
But, she had given birth already. She should not feel this much pain now. Had she not? Or was this all a terrible, dark dream, and she was yet labouring to push her child out?
Nay! Her child, her daughter, was alive. She’d birthed her weeks and weeks ago. Eva struggled to open her eyes. She needed to find her...
‘Hush now, lass.’
The voice came once more. Not a woman’s soft tones but the deep masculine tones of a man. Not her father, surely. She tried to force her eyes open, but they would not obey her.
‘Do not struggle,’ he said. ‘You’ve been ill and need to rest.’ A soft caress of her cheek was followed by something blessedly cool on her brow.
She wanted to offer her thanks, but no words would come out. Eva stopped fighting and let her body and thoughts drift, as he’d said. The next hours and days melded into a blurred time of pain and relief, heat and chill, dreams and emptiness.
When she was hot, cool touches eased it. When she shivered with cold, warmth surrounded her. When she called out in fear, a soothing voice urged her on. On and on, over and over, days blended into nights until suddenly Eva woke. She glanced around to discover she was no longer in the cave she remembered. Lifting her head caused so much dizziness that she did not try it again.
Across the small chamber, the door opened, letting in light and a man. A fresh wind blew through the room, bringing the smells of spring inside and banishing some of the staleness. Her dry throat tightened as she tried to speak. He was next to her in a moment.
‘Here. Try a sip of this before you try to speak. I doubt you have much of a voice left by now.’
He placed a cup at her mouth and lifted her head a tiny bit to help her drink. The watered ale tasted better than any fine wine or spirits she’d ever drunk. After one more sip, he took the cup and she tried to reach for it. When she settled back, Eva looked closely at the man as he moved back and sat on the floor next to the pallet on which she lay.
No kith or kin she remembered. But his face was familiar to her. Something flashed thro
ugh her mind, a memory of someone or something, then darkness again. Had he been sent by her father to find and bring her back?
‘Who are you?’ she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘What is this place?’
‘I wondered how much you would remember,’ he said. ‘You have been ill for days. I found you in the cave and brought you to this cottage.’ He stared at her, clearly expecting her to remember.
She remembered shadows moving around the cave and something approaching her. A large beast-like creature. Then he’d spoken.
‘I thought you a bear from long-ago times,’ she admitted. ‘I do not remember much else.’
‘I have been called worse, lady,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘You mistook my plaid and furs for the beast.’ He nodded towards the corner where he’d draped several cloaks and then at her, or rather the pallet beneath her where his furs now were. ‘The dirt floor was damp, and I feared it would make you sicker.’
Only then did she realise that she lay naked on those furs! Her garments, even her shift, were gone, and the woollen plaid was her only cover.
‘Your garments were soaked with water and sweat. They are dry now,’ he said, once more nodding to the corner.
Eva had been here for days. She’d been sick and unconscious, and this man had been with her. Who was he?
‘Are you my father’s man?’ she whispered, still not certain of what had happened. She remembered seeking the cave and falling into it. Then...nothing more.
‘He sent me.’
This man held his tongue well, never saying too much. Mayhap he would hold that tongue if she paid him? If he was a hired man and not kin, it was not an insult to offer him coins for his silence.
‘You took care of me and I am grateful. I would know your name,’ she said.
He must have noticed her hoarseness again, for he came closer with the cup. Each sip was like a soothing balm as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. Why was she so hoarse?
The Highlander's Runaway Bride Page 3