Highland Burn

by Victoria Zak

  James Douglas was an annoying thistle in his arse that needed to be plucked out and destroyed. With the game pieces waiting to be played, his plan had been put into motion. James Douglas wouldn’t know what hit him.

  ~~~~~

  The man lowered his head. His body shook from the last crack of the leather whip, or mayhap it was the rage he fought to keep from surfacing. He had to tell the sheriff about his little secret, it was the only way he could keep his sister safe. His beautiful innocent sister was caught up in a dangerous blackmail scheme. He’d failed to protect her. Once the sheriff had his grip on her and sent her to the royal court, he had to go along with Rickert’s plan. If he ever wanted to see his sister again, he must bring him the dragon.

  Soon it would be over. Stick to the plan, he reminded himself. Sometimes you had to shame your soul in order to help destiny along.

  The man squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath that stung his lungs. “I can bring ye the one thing that will destroy the Black Douglas,” he muttered.

  This new-found information pricked Rickert’s interest. “Do tell.”

  The man slowly rose his head and seared a stare of hatred into the sheriff’s eyes. “I can bring ye Abigale Bruce… James's wife… the princess of Scotland.”

  Rickert mused. “Capture the princess, and slay the dragon.”

  Chapter 12

  Sometimes life can be as bitter as dragon tears. ~ Chinese Proverb

  Two days had passed and James lay motionless, his shallow breaths barely moving the sheets covering him. Nonstop caring for Laird Douglas started to take its toll on Abigale. Sleeping only for small amounts of time and eating only when Alice would bring a trencher up to her, she didn’t leave his side. Abigale sat by the foot of the bed diligently working on some embroidery. If James didn’t wake soon, before long the castle walls would be covered in tapestries. A knock at the door made Abigale jump. She wasn’t expecting visitors.

  The door creaked open as Marcus peeked in. “Lady Abigale, may I?”

  She shook her head, letting him know that it was alright to enter.

  Marcus walked to James’s bedside and said, “How is he? Any changes?”

  “The bleeding has stopped, but he still sleeps.” Abigale stood and placed her needlework down on the chair and walked over to James. She felt his forehead. “He's still feverish.” His fever should have broken by now, Abigale pondered.

  “My lady, forgive me for being blunt but maybe the time has come.”

  “Nay Marcus, we still have time.” Abigale readjusted the covers over James’s body.

  Marcus walked over to the head of the bed, looking over James’s body. “Ye’ve done everything possible to save him. We can't let him suffer.”

  Abigale grew irate with him. How dare he come to her with such a request? She was going to save James and nothing or nobody was going to stop her. Something deep inside of her reassured her that she needed this man to live.

  Abigale marched over to Marcus and poked a finger at his chest. “Suffer? Do ye think I would let him suffer?”

  Marcus stood silently and allowed her to vent.

  “I’ll spend every last breath making sure my husband lives. His clan needs him!” She challenged him to disagree with her by putting her hands on her hips.

  Sharp eyes stared back at her. “And what aboot ye, Lady Abigale? Ye need him too.”

  Of course she needed James to live. His clan needed him. Being completely honest with herself she needed him too. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but as soon as he would leave a room she missed him. Furthermore, this was her home and he was her husband. He had to live.

  Through shaky breaths and deep sobs, Abigale held on tight and released all her fears on to Marcus’s shoulders. “What if Marcus, what if…” She couldn't say the words, but she thought about the question that plagued her mind. What would happen to the clan? Who would take his place? What about you Abigale… what would become of you? Too many unanswered questions lay heavy on her heart.

  Marcus held her tight, “I’m sorry, I dinnae mean to upset ye. James is a warrior. I have seen him wounded before and he’s too stubborn to die. He'll make it, Abigale.”

  Abigale looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks. Before she could apologize for breaking down, Marcus cupped her face, wiping away her tears.

  Abigale began to feel uncomfortable as he gazed profoundly into her eyes as if he was in deep thought. He stayed there holding her a little too long and a little too close for her liking. Ill at ease, Abigale stepped out of his embrace.

  Clearing his throat, Marcus asked, “When was the last time ye ate? I’ll bring ye some of Alice’s famous oatcakes.”

  “That would be very kind of ye.”

  Marcus turned on his heels and headed for the door.

  Relieved he was leaving, Abigale had other things on her mind than to think about Marcus’s odd behavior. Aye, he was a handsome man with a witty side, yet his honor was beginning to be questioned. Surely she’d seen something more than friendship in those blue eyes of his? Furthermore, he had overstayed his welcome. A man cannot take what has already been claimed.

  Abigale shook herself from those thoughts. Perhaps she was misjudging him. After all, James was his cousin; maybe he needed to be consoled as well.

  “Marcus,” Abigale called out.

  He turned to face her. “Lady Abigale.”

  “Thank ye.”

  Marcus smiled, nodded his head, and walked out the bedchamber.

  Abigale walked over to James’s bedside. She ran her fingers through his hair, bent down, and touched her forehead with his. “Come back to me,” she whispered.

  ~~~~~

  James blinked away the spinning room as it slowly came into focus. He heard soft breathing and lifted his head up slowly toward the noise. There she was; with one arm tucked under her head, Abigale slept. Trying to determine whether he was dreaming or not, he rubbed his thumb over her delicate hand that held onto his. Her hand felt soft and warm. This was a good sign, he thought.

  Reaching out he took Abigale’s braid in his hand. As he fondled the silky strands, a wave of relief rippled through him. Laying his head back down, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t dreaming this time, His bel ange was here and safe.

  The dream had been too real this time. He was ready to succumb to the darkness, yet something or better yet someone had stopped him. The light, aye the warm, bright light had chased away the collector. His soul was saved for now. Yet another question burned him. Why had Abigale been there in his dream?

  James looked back down at Abigale again. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “God’s bones!” She was a beauty.

  Sleepy eyes blinked open and became wide with excitement. “James, ye’re awake.”

  “Aye.” James coughed through the dryness in his throat.

  Abigale slowly lifted her head. “Do ye remember what happened?”

  Groaning in pain, James leaned forward. There was a tightness in his chest and he could feel the nausea roll through his gut. What the hell happened to him? His body felt battered, yet the pain was beginning to dull a bit.

  “Easy.” Abigale warned as she propped pillows behind James’s back to make him more comfortable. “Ye were shot with an arrow two days ago while hunting. ‘Twas an accident.”

  “Two days?”

  “Aye.”

  “An accident… while I was hunting?” James’s dark brows creased. This information didn’t set well with him. He looked down at the blood-stained bandages. Two days? He should have healed by now. His sleep magic should have healed him quickly, not over two days. Never before had he come this close to death. The whole thing didn't make sense to him. He was endless… dateless… immortal. One blow from an arrow was like getting a splinter under your skin.

  He’d remembered the burn of something flowing through his veins and even now he was in a tremendous amount of pain. Poison? Aye, he had to have been poisoned.

&nbs
p; “If the arrow was an inch deeper… it would have reached yer heart.”

  James took Abigale’s hand in his. “Ye’re a healer?”

  Abigale shrugged her shoulders, “Just a nurse with some knowledge in surgery.”

  “A surgeon?” This puzzled him. Usually women were discouraged and not allowed to practice surgery.

  Abigale reached over to feel his head for fever and was stopped quickly. James grabbed her slender wrist as if he was done with her fussing over him. “How did you become a surgeon?”

  Pulling her arm away from him, she said, “At the abbey, I spent a lot of time assisting the physicians and surgeons in the infirmary. Fortunately for ye, I’m one of the best surgeons the abbey had.” She smiled.

  James knew that she’d lived at Dunfermline Abbey, but for how long he did not know. Never really asking her about her time there, it dawned on him that he really didn’t know Abigale at all and this saddened him. For some strange reason he wanted to know everything about her. He could have died not knowing the woman who’d saved his life.

  Abigale swallowed hard. “James, I… couldn’t help but notice when I was removing the ---“

  At that very moment Marcus stepped into the room interrupting their conversation with a plate of oatcakes and with Alice trailing close behind.

  “My Laird, ye’re awake! Oh tis a glorious day!” Alice beamed with delight and rushed over to James’s bedside. “Lady Abigale brought ye back to us.” Alice glanced at Abigale as they shared a smile.

  At that moment the rest of his kinsmen came rushing into the bedchamber. Good news sure did spread fast. Rory’s smile reached ear to ear as he looked at his chief. “Lucky bastard.”

  James returned his smile. “Aye.”

  He hated the fact that they were interrupted; he wasn’t done with the questions he wanted to ask. Furthermore he needed to hold her… to feel her warmth. He studied her for a while. She looked exhausted. Had she been here with him the entire time?

  As his men fussed over him, James kept his eyes on Abigale and watched her every move as Alice hugged her and gloated over the princess’s healing abilities. His kinsmen, one by one, took their turn thanking her as well.

  After the commotion settled he noticed Abigale walking toward the door to leave the bedchamber. “Abigale, where ye going?”

  She turned back around. “I was going to look for a place to rest for a while. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Nay lass, this is yer bedchamber. Ye’ll sleep here.” James had made his demands and motioned for everyone to take their leave.

  “Are ye sure? I can find another room.” Abigale worked her hands nervously into her apron.

  Grinning a sexy smile, James pulled back the covers, offering her a warm place to snuggle. “My lady.”

  Deep blue eyes stared back at him. Abigale untied her bloodstained apron and slowly unlaced the front of her dress until she wore her shift. Intently watching her as she crawled on to the bed, James motioned for her to come closer. Dropping his view to her chest, he could see straight down her under dress to two perfectly round breasts that he begged to touch. By the saints, this lass was going to be the death of him. With smoldering eyes he traced her body back to her face. The dark skin under her eyes showed just how exhausted she was. Damn him for thinking with his cock; she needed sleep.

  Abigale laid her soft body next to his. Her warmth pulled him in and held him captive. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until their bodies molded together. This tantalizing feeling was the same he’d felt back in his dream. It was like he was basking in the sun, soaking up its rays without a care in the world. Is this what Conall meant? A woman's love bringing peace? Love… well maybe he shouldn’t go that far, but this sensation he felt was like paradise.

  He knew he was probably being selfish by wanting her next to him instead of letting her sleep by herself. Truth be told, when Abigale was around she chased his demons away. Firsthand he’d seen it, there was no doubt that she was the one who had chased the soul collector away. No nightmares… no soul collector to be found; she was the light to his darkness. James closed his eyes and kissed the top of Abigale’s head. “Sweet dreams my bel ange.”

  Knowing where his demon hid, he would take these moments, cherish them, and put them to memory; only to recall them to remind him of who he was… a dragon. It wouldn’t work out between them. How could it? She was human and he was Dragonkine. As soon as she found out the truth, she would be gone. No man with his amount of uncontrollable vengeance could possibly be honorable enough to deserve a happy life. The English had taken so much from him that he feared that no matter how much blood was shed it would never be enough. Even if, and that was a big if, she could forgive his evil ways, there still lay a huge problem between them… he was a dragon. A young Dragonkine that needed the thrill of battle in order to quench his dragon’s lust for blood and vengeance. Joining the king’s rebellion allowed him to tame the beast.

  Even with his bad reputation, his enemies were out there, he knew it… he welcomed it. This was why he vowed to never take a wife. Just the thought of something happening to Abigale in retaliation for his wrong-doings stirred a sinister feeling deep inside him that left him restless. Which led him to believe that this was no accident. Nay, the arrow being this close to his heart was no accident at all, he’d been a target. Unease settled in his bones; someone had tried to kill him, but who had taken the shot? Undoubtedly, the attacker had to have known he was Dragonkine, for he used a poison arrow. No mortal arrow could kill a dragon. Furthermore, the marksman was quite skillful with his bow, an accurate shot indeed.

  James stiffened and held Abigale closer. Could there be a weed in the garden that needed to be pulled? A kinsman betraying not only their clan, but betraying the whole secrecy of the Dragonkine Guard? James ground his teeth together as he thought about one of his brethren turning on him. He needed to talk with Magnus soon.

  Chapter 13

  If you can’t take the heat, don’t tickle the dragon. ~ Anonymous

  “Och lass.” James tightened his muscles and sucked in a deep breath. “Touch me like that again and I'll have ye on your back quicker than I can draw my sword.” He arched a brow. Even though he didn’t want a wife he still very much desired the auburn-haired lass. The last two days had proven to him that he indeed liked Abigale's company and it didn’t help that his dragon was relentless with his needs as well. He made himself known by stirring inside James’s body, insisting to be around Abigale.

  “Ye mean like this.” Abigale blushed as she skimmed her fingers across his ribs teasing him as she unwrapped his bandages.

  James squirmed in reaction to Abigale’s tickling assault. “Aye, bel ange." If only his men could see him now chuckling like a wee lad, they would jest him relentlessly. Truth be told he craved her touch a little more than he had the right to.

  “My father speaks French, though I never learned. It’s a beautiful language.” She smiled. “He would call me his bel Abigale when he would come visit me at the nunnery. I cherished his visits especially not knowing when he would call again.”

  James noticed how Abigale’s mood seemed to sadden when she talked about her father. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head up so he could stare into her deep blue eyes. “Pas aussi belle que vous.” James smiled. Indeed, not as beautiful as ye, James thought. “My father sent me, my younger brother, and mother to live in Paris when I was nine years old. He wanted our family safe and far away from the English.” James huffed in annoyance. “Bloody Sassenach made my father surrender Castle Douglas and in return they let me, Archie and my mother leave unharmed.”

  “What happened to yer father?”

  “My father was left to rot at the Tower of London. They called it a traitor’s death.” Hatred lingered on his every word.

  “I’m so sorry, James,” Abigale consoled him.

  “Aye, me too.” He changed the subject quickly, for bringing up that part of his past was no good. He
already felt his dragon growling. “I can assure ye Abigale, if yer da could have he would have come to see ye more.”

  “Would have, could have, doesnae matter anymore. He had the chance to make it up to me and well—“

  “He married ye off to the Bogeyman.” James saw it in her eyes; she too did not want this marriage.

  “I dinnae mean it that way. I’m happy here.” She looked up from the bandage and smiled.

  Abigale unwrapped the last bandage. “Hmmm.” Her brows furrowed as she felt around the wound, examining it.

  “What?”

  “James, yer wound is healed,” Abigale informed him.

  He’d forgotten about his healing abilities. No wonder she looked shocked and confused. “Well, that’s because I had an excellent nurse."

  “But, the severity of yer wound—“

  “Abigale, ye healed me.” His tone was firm.

  Knowing better than to push James, Abigale changed the subject. “What was Paris like?”

  Bloody hell, what was with all the questions? This part of his life he’d as soon like to forget. Details of his life in Paris were difficult to explain and now wasn’t the time to discuss it with her. He wouldn’t know where to begin, for he’d gone through hell. His mother had died a few months after arriving. Some said it was the black plague that took her, but James knew differently. She’d died of a broken heart. Elizabeth loved his father so much that she couldn't live without him. Knowing that her husband was most likely dead or imprisoned, she had fallen into a deep depression and died.

  After his mother’s death, he and his brother were left to fend for themselves. Poor and with nowhere to go, they lived in the back alleys of Paris barely surviving. Up until that point, James had been strong and took care of wee Archie, always making sure Archie ate his fill first while James went without most nights. But fate had changed their roles, when James had become sick and his wee brother had to take care of him. James fought a burning fever, agonizing body aches, and violent vomiting. It had been two miserable weeks and he was weak and scared. For sure he’d thought the plague was taking his life.