by Aileen Adams
“I'm taking care of the horses. They've been saddled too long. I need to bring the weapons and what little food is left in my saddle bag.”
With that, he limped away.
She watched, not unaware that once again she sat under the shelter of a tree, half hidden by tree boughs drooping close to the ground.
Not so close that she had to hunch over, at least not this close to the rough bark. The tree she leaned against was massive.
The breeze ruffled the branches, sending down a rush of raindrops. She ducked and tried to pull her knees up to her chest for added warmth, but her muscles still refused to move.
A drop of rain from above landed on the back of her neck and trickled down her back.
She shivered, miserable. Not only physically, but emotionally.
It was her fault. This was all her fault. She wanted to go home, to Duncan Manor, to find her sister, to apologize for her childish behavior. She wanted her own warm bed, the security of the household. She should have known that she couldn't hide her secret from Sarah forever.
Looking back, it all seemed so foolish. It'd taken nearly two days and the night shivering and in pain on the ledge, followed by the terrifying ascent upward on Jake's back, to make her realize she was no fighter.
She never would be.
What had she been thinking? Why did she feel the need to… to compete with her sister?
Sarah had been born with a special gift. She had always been slightly envious of her sister's gift, and her reputation. It wasn’t so much jealousy as it was admiration, which in turn propelled a desire within her to also find some special skill with which to separate herself from everyone else.
She loved Sarah with all her heart and always had, but she had spent most of her life feeling invisible, living in Sarah's shadow.
Was that so bad? Not really. Even so, it was time for her to find her own way in the world. Yes, she was captivated by and interested in weapons and how they worked, and she wanted to learn how to use them. But not to become a warrior. Not anymore.
Jake was right. She would never survive.
Emotions bubbled, and her chest heaved. She fought back the tears and released a shaky sigh. She was feeling sorry for herself; she knew that. But she also knew that she had to accept the truth. She was meant to do something, but what? What was her purpose?
“Here, pull the saddles and blankets as close to the trunk as you can. They're not completely sodden, but they soon will be.”
She saw Jake's leg and part of his torso. In his hands, he carried two saddles and horse blankets. Before she could utter a sound, they landed next to her under the tree.
He turned back to the horses.
She dragged the saddles close to the tree trunk as he had asked, struggling to clean them with her damp sleeve to dry off the worst of the rain. She battled to lean them against the tree trunk so they might dry faster. It was an effort, her movements stiff, her leg protesting with every move.
Grabbing the horse blankets, she draped them over low-lying branches overhead, on a couple of low-lying branches that she could reach from her seated position. After fiddling with them for several moments, she gave herself a self-satisfied nod. She had created a bit of a roof over them with the blankets, which would at least serve to keep most of the dripping rain off of them.
A few moments later, Jake reappeared, handing her items through the tree branches.
A short sword, then his round shield, and then his quiver filled with arrows and his bow. The arrow feathers were wet and clung together, so she quickly swiped her fingers along them, straining them as Jake crawled beneath the tree branches under the makeshift shelter.
He glanced at the blankets as he arranged himself against the trunk, then dropped a small leather packet into her lap.
“Some dried meat. Not much but it will have to do.”
He tossed some strips of cloth to the ground next to him.
She peered curiously.
“Part of our rope. I refastened the leather strips to the horse’s bridles.”
She placed the bow and quiver of arrows along her left leg.
He placed his sword down along his right leg and leaned back with a sigh. She opened the leather sack and reached inside. Withdrew a few pieces of dried meat. She handed one to him and kept the other. She nibbled at it and then dared another glance his way.
“I take it we’re not returning to the manor house tonight.”
The look he gave her sent a shiver down her spine. He was angry.
She sighed. “I don't blame you for being angry with me, Jake, but—”
“No excuses,” he interrupted, his voice rough. “What you did was incredibly foolish.” He stared at her unblinking as he shook his head. “Has everything I’ve been teaching you been a waste of time?”
Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She had disappointed him. That made her feel worse than if he’d been angry with her. Yet both his anger and his disappointment were justified.
She tried again to explain, but he held up a hand and leaned back against the tree trunk, eyes closed.
“Rest. Eat. We’ll shelter as best we can tonight. It would be foolish to try to guide the horses down the mountain in this weather. “
“But—”
“The fog is thickening. The trail will be slippery. We’ll take stock in the morning.”
With that, he crossed his arms over his chest and ignored her.
She studied his profile for several moments before turning away to stare into the growing darkness beyond the tree branches. She sat close enough to reach out and touch his hand, but hesitated.
She felt horrible. Not only horrible because of her actions, but with the knowledge that she had disappointed him. She didn't want to disappoint Jake. She wanted his admiration, his respect. She wanted him to be proud of her because—
Because… because she liked him. She really liked him. Her affection for him had grown over the past weeks, but it wasn't until this moment, sitting under this tree after he had literally risked his life to save her own, that she realized the depth of her affection. Not the affection a student had for a teacher or mentor. Not the affection of family member had for another.
The affection a woman felt for a man.
She swallowed, eyes wide as she stared into the darkness.
She loved Jake.
Was that really what she felt? Love?
Staring at him, watching his chest rise and fall, gazing down at the strength of those now chafed, reddened and scratched hands, she felt once again like crying. Was this how Sarah felt about Phillip? Did her heart pound and her stomach feel like it was filled with butterflies? Did her palms grow clammy and was it difficult to swallow? Was it possible?
Upon the heels of her self-realization and the acceptance of her feelings came worry. Should she say something? No. What if her feelings for him weren't reciprocated? What if, after uttering the words, he laughed at her? No. That was something that she could not bear.
She already berated herself in recrimination for her impulsive behavior. She would not open herself to embarrassment or ridicule from Jake. While she doubted that he would ridicule her, she didn't dare risk opening her heart to a man only to have the gesture rebuffed.
With a sigh, she tried to relax as she copied Jake's position and crossed her arms over her chest.
Rest.
They both needed rest.
Jake more so than she.
It had taken an incredible amount of strength and perseverance for him to do what he had, climbing that cliff with her hanging like dead weight from his back.
He must be exhausted.
She glanced down at his leg, imagined it throbbed horribly.
She looked up into his face.
A stubble of whiskers darkened his jaw, and his mouth looked tight. A slight frown.
He wasn't asleep. But he was in pain.
* * *
She startled awake. Eyes wide, heart pounding, confused. Where w
as she? What had woken her? She stifled a gasp and quickly looked around, remembering. She was under a tree, trying to escape the rain. Jake was with her. She turned to see if he was awake—
He wasn't there!
Where was he?
She sat forward, trying to peer through the branches, heart racing. She heard the sound of rain gently pattering onto pine needles.
In the near distance, one of the horses blew softly. A surge of relief swept through her. He hadn't left her. Hadn't abandoned her as she had first feared. Shame on her!
Jake had saved her life. Why would he leave her now to fend for herself in the rugged wilds of the Highlands? But where was he? She wanted to call out but resisted the urge. Not yet.
Maybe she would leave the dubious shelter of the tree and look for him. She made a face.
Maybe he was just taking care of nature’s needs.
As a matter of fact—
And then he was there, crouching down in front of her, crawling back under the pine branches.
Nonplussed, he locked eyes with her, noted her alarm, and slightly shook his head.
His annoyance was palpable.
“I woke, and you were gone—”
His frown deepened as he settled himself against the tree with a soft groan. “I thought I heard something, went to look around,” he replied, his voice low, rumbling from deep in his chest. “Checked on the horses.”
Now was not the time nor the place, but she couldn't help herself. “Jake, I know you're angry with me—”
“Not now, Heather. We will talk about this later. For now, get some sleep if you can.” He glanced down at her legs, still extended in front of her. “I know you're uncomfortable and in pain, but your leg is not broken—”
How did he know that?
She frowned. “What?”
He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I checked it while you were sleeping.”
“You—”
She choked off the garbled sound that threatened to erupt from her throat. She stared at him—his closed eyes, his calm demeanor, and then down at her legs. Her skirts and kirtle were neatly arranged, both down to her ankles.
He had lifted her skirts?
Viewed her limbs?
Without her being the least bit aware?
She felt the heat of a flush rise from the top of her chest all the way up into her cheeks.
How could she not have noticed? She turned to say something to him about it, but then clamped her mouth shut. She had wanted to be treated like a warrior, like a soldier, which went way beyond learning how to wield weapons.
He had been looking after her. He didn't care whether it was proper or not. He was a soldier, through and through. Still, the thought of him gazing at her bare legs was mortifying. The thought that…
She inhaled slowly and then released it just as slowly, striving to get her emotions under control. How many times had Sarah done the same for a fellow villager, or a soldier who had been hurt? She had even cleaned up Jake, lying unconscious and delirious in his own waste, left to suffer when that village healer—
How he must have been embarrassed when he realized what Sarah had done for him. She felt the same dismay, the embarrassment, but what was there to be embarrassed about? They were both human. Both with the name needs.
There were times when modesty and decorum were nothing but foolish.
She choked out a muttered thank you, watched him briefly nod, and then turned away, staring up through the pine branches into the darkness.
She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep when she woke the second time.
It was still dark, but she was much warmer than she had been earlier.
Then she realized why.
Not moving, her eyes half open, she realized she had fallen against Jake, perhaps instinctively seeking his warmth against the damp night air.
Her head rested on her shoulder.
His left arm wrapped around her, a loose fist resting against the top of her hip.
Her forehead had pressed against his warm neck, resting on his shoulder.
She felt the steady pulse in his neck against her skin. Her head gently rising and falling with the same motions of his chest.
Half asleep, she snuggled closer, seeking his warmth.
His arm tightened briefly around her, and his head dipped slightly to the side, his cheek now resting against her forehead.
She felt so warm, so secure.
Her right arm lay against her side, trapped between her hip and his own. Her left arm and hand lay across his chest. From beneath her hand, she felt the beat of his heart. Steady and strong.
His chest rose and fell deeply.
She was glad he was able to sleep. He was exhausted.
She had no doubt that if she moved, even the slightest, he would wake, instantly alert, reaching for the short sword that lay on the ground beside him. He was a warrior clansman. An experienced soldier. His senses highly tuned to the sounds of the night, he would instinctively know which sounds were natural and those which were not.
And while her thoughts continually assessed her situation, her mind racing with these growing feelings of attachment for him, he shifted slightly.
“Go back to sleep.”
His voice a mere whisper of sound, she felt his breath warm against her forehead.
She should've known he would sense that she was awake. Some slight shift in the way she held herself, or perhaps the way she breathed. She wasn't sure, but she lifted her head, prompting him to lift his own. She missed the warmth, the closeness.
“I didn't mean to wake you.”
“I wasn't sleeping.”
She couldn’t see his expression, but she felt his breath on her skin. She felt the deep pull of attraction, of desire. She raised her head slightly, trying to see his eyes in the darkness. She sensed he had leaned closer and then she felt his lips on her cheek. Turning her head, she found his mouth, desperately wanting this closeness, to somehow display her feelings for him.
His lips moist against her own, she felt instantly warmed, as if her very blood heated beneath his touch.
The arm draped around her tightened, and he pulled her closer. His right hand lifted to cup the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. His palms rough from their earlier climb up the cliffside. His hand rose, and then his fingers lightly brushed through her hair.
She dared to be bold. To lift her own hand to his cheek. To feel the stiffness of the beard stubble beneath, trace the line of his jaw, to touch the corner of his lip with the pad of her thumb.
A sound much like the distant drone of thunder rumbled upward from deep in his chest. She felt so many sensations and experienced so many feelings at once that she had trouble focusing on only one.
His solid bulk, his strength, yet the tender way he stroked her cheek, the gentleness with which he pressed his lips against her own. The way his breath had caught when her finger had touched his mouth. The scent of him—male, of earth and pine, and a bit of wet clothing and horse hair.
All of it seeped into her senses. Her ears buzzed as his kiss deepened and she tried to remember to breathe. Her hand strayed to the side of his neck and rested there, warm beneath her palm, the throb of the vein in his neck proving that she had as much of an effect on him that he had on her.
She reveled, leaned deeper into his warm, instinctively trying to mold herself to his being. Her breath caught in her throat at the burgeoning sensations rushing through her—
As suddenly as it had begun, nothing.
His lips left hers, left her stunned and frozen, mouth open, eyes wide in dismay.
He lifted his head with a grunt deep in his chest.
She couldn't tell if it was a sound of satisfaction or annoyance. His hand left her face, and he shifted his position. To put more distance between them? She leaned back, mortified. “I'm sorry,” she choked out. “I didn't—”
A warm finger settled on her lips.
She realized tha
t he wasn't just leaning away from her, but forward, peering through the pine boughs.
She turned to follow his gaze, noticed that it was lighter out there.
Dawn was imminent.
The sensation of his finger against her lips still fresh, she lifted her fingers to her mouth, her thoughts darting between the tingling in her body and trying to hear what he heard.
She wanted to ask him what it was, but waited. He sat stiffly, his head cocked slightly to the side, his eyes searching the terrain beyond the branches.
It was silent, strangely silent. No sound of the breeze rustling through the treetops. The rain had stopped. It seemed as if the very raindrops were frozen, refusing to fall. No birds chattering away to greet the sunrise. The silence was unnerving.
Then everything changed.
She heard a noise.
One of the horses snorting.
Nothing unusual about that—
A gust of wind shook the treetop, sending droplets of water down onto them.
She heard another noise, out of place from those of their environment.
Something sharp and unexpected, unusually loud in the early morning stillness.
And then it dawned on her what that sound was. A hoof striking stone.
Sounds carried far, but that hadn't sounded like an echo. It sounded close by.
A deep, guttural, unfamiliar voice broke the silence, shouting.
“Do I smell the stench of a Duncan?”
Eyes wide, she clapped her hand over her mouth and turned toward Jake.
16
“Stay here!”
Jake snapped out the words as he reached for his shield and slid his left arm into the two straps on the back of it and grabbed his sword with his right. He scrambled out from beneath the overhang of the tree, slightly favoring his leg, but ignoring the pain that shot through it as he placed weight on it.
The voice had not come from far away. He needed to get away from the tree that sheltered Heather.
Cursing the stiffness of his body, the ache in every muscle from the previous afternoon’s exertion, he stepped out from the trees, heart pounding, anger boiling in his veins.