The Highlander's Honorable Savior (Iron Of The Highlands Series)

by Emilia Ferguson

  The message went into her brain one piece at a time, making a picture. The soldiers had fetched horses, but they would soon return and then they would be inevitably caught and tortured for information they couldn’t have granted if they’d wanted to.

  “We need to find somewhere horses can’t go.” Bonnie said. Her legs felt as if they were going to collapse and she leaned back against a tree, knowing that she had almost no more strength left in her.

  “Into the thicket,” Arthur panted.

  Bonnie turned around and stumbled. Arthur lifted her. Bonnie felt the strange sensation of being enfolded in somebody’s arms. She didn’t like it. She wriggled and tried to get down, but Arthur held her, whispering gently to her.

  “Whist, lass.”

  She relaxed. He was exhausted and, she thought reasonably, if he meant to hurt her, he’d have done it at an earlier time. He barely had enough energy to walk, much less to hurt her. She closed her eyes a moment, feeling worried for him. He was panting like he’d run all day and she could smell the scent of sweat and damp.

  “You can put me down.”

  He grunted and then, a second or two later, she felt herself lowered to the leaf mold. She looked up at him, her sight momentarily blank.

  As her eyesight came back to focus, she noticed how utterly weary he seemed. With his back bent, palms on his knees, his wet hair plastered to his scalp with rain, he was as drained as she was. She reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  “Are you alright?”

  He looked up at her and grinned. His brown eyes warmed. “Lass,” he said gently. “May I tell you that you were right? I should listen more.”

  She shook her head. “I wish I wasn’t.” She looked at the ground. His eyes were so intense, and their gaze was so tender and it disconcerted her immensely. Looking into them made her feel a throbbing inside her, a longing for something that she didn’t know. As she looked down, she noticed he was leaning heavily on one leg. Brushing her gaze upward, she saw that he was gasping, one side of his chest held unnaturally still, one hand covering it.

  “You’re hurt,” she said.

  He inclined his head, a smile twisting his thin-lipped mouth. He was pallid, his eyes dark in the white skin. “A scratch, aye.”

  “No,” she said grimly. “It’s more than a scratch. Let me see?”

  Without waiting for him to nod yes, she reached down and put her hand over his, gently moving it away. He didn’t resist.

  His shirt was cut, and she could see blood wetting it. She felt the wound, a smooth-edged cut. It didn’t feel deep – the blood was sticky, but not soaking, and she guessed it had already stopped bleeding. She looked up at his face.

  “It might need tending.”

  “Och, lass,” He shook his head. “It’s fine.” She saw him try to take a step forward, teeth sinking into his lip with pain. She shook her head.

  “No, you’re not,” she said firmly. “We are going to find an abbey or someone who can tend that wound.”

  “How?” he sounded desperate.

  “You heard those men speaking, didn’t you?” she challenged. “There’s a priory around here somewhere. Let’s find it.”

  He grinned, and she felt her heart twist with the beauty of it. Cold, white with blood loss, his eyes ringed by bruises, he smiled and she felt her heart leap. By, but he was a fine-looking fellow! The strange feeling that had stirred in her earlier touched her again.

  “Lass,” he said softly. “That’s a fine thought.”

  “Thanks,” she said, feeling his praise like a touch on her skin. She let herself feel it for a moment and then looked away, shaking herself.

  He’s a man, lass – like any other of them. He’ll take what he wants and hurt you if you give him the opportunity.

  She coughed. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go. The sooner we find it, the less likely we are to die.”

  “What about them?” Arthur asked, as he groaned and leaned on her shoulder, helping himself stand upright. “The soldiers, I mean? Should we not hide for longer?”

  “And what? Wait for you to get the fever and die?” she challenged. She saw his eyes blink and she knew that he realized the desperation of their situation. “We’re in a part of the forest where they can’t find us. The sooner we start walking, the more likely we both are to live.”

  She heard him swallow. He shook himself, as if preparing himself for the journey. Then he squeezed her shoulder, taking his first step forward. They headed on into the dense stand of trees.

  As they walked, Arthur walking at her side but not so much as touching her, it occurred to Bonnie that this was the first time she’d been in close proximity to a man, and not felt afraid or threatened. It also occurred to her that something had changed between them. She had spoken to him without thinking, as she would speak to anyone. He’d also listened.

  She looked sideways at him. Should she expect him to be angry with her? Any other man she knew would have struck a woman for daring to talk in such a way to him. Yet she could see no sign of rage in him. Instead, he looked simply drained.

  He’s probably just tired.

  Once the monks or nuns had mended him, then he’d be as filled with rage as any other man would be, she decided. For the moment, she was safe. She turned her attention to their surroundings.

  They were walking in a part of the forest that seemed largely undisturbed by people. Which, she thought with a touch of irony, was helpful if you were trying to evade the law. That, in turn, meant that it was more than likely home to desperate outlaws.

  Just as the thought started to truly worry her, she felt Arthur turn to her. “I think I can hear something,” he said.

  Bonnie tensed. Images of bands of outlaws filled her head. This was just the sort of thing that children in her village were warned of. She listened, and, instead of the sound of derisive threats, she heard something that made her heart leap.

  Cart wheels.

  She stared up at Arthur, and she knew she must have been grinning, because she saw a gentle look cross his face. He nodded.

  “I reckon we found a track.”

  “Yes!” Without thinking, she reached up and gently touched her lips to his cheek. She was so elated that they were saved! As she did it, she felt her heart almost stop. His skin was soft under her mouth. She saw his eyes widen and narrow and realized that never, in her memories of life, had she expressed affection to somebody before.

  She instantly felt afraid and looked at her feet, not wanting to see the look on Arthur’s face. She felt sure that he would be eager to take advantage of that unguarded gesture. She heard him clear his throat.

  “I reckon we’ll be able to ask someone the way to the priory.”

  Bonnie swallowed hard. A wash of embarrassment made it difficult to think clearly. She was sure he must think she was easy pickings, or maybe too repulsive for him to want her to be. She didn’t think she could look him in the eye.

  Bonnie, are you mad? If he thinks you’re a horrible addle-pate then it’s all the better for you!

  She should be pleased to escape his attention! Somehow, though, his sudden reluctance to so much as spare her a glance made her feel angry and confused. It was not pleasant to think that he didn’t find her attractive enough to even spare a glance. The thought confused Bonnie even more.

  They followed the road. It wasn’t long before they spotted the cart. Bonnie cleared her throat, unsure whether to ask the driver for directions. Instead, Arthur called out to him.

  “Ahoy, there!” he shouted. “Going somewhere close?”

  “Who wants tae know?” the carter gave them a tired stare, as if he’d seen all the woes of the world and he wasn’t about to let two more troublemakers bother him.

  “We seek the priory,” Bonnie called. Her higher voice carried in the rain dampened air. The carter inclined his head.

  “Well, lass…I’m going that way. I’d offer ye a lift, if it’d be welcomed?”

  Bonnie frowned a
t him, and then looked over to Arthur, who nodded.

  “Thanks! We’d be right glad of it.”

  Bonnie realized that his wound was clearly more painful than he was letting on, and nodded wordlessly as Arthur walked slowly over to the cart, and climbed in. She frowned as he lowered himself down onto the boards.

  “Let’s go then!” the carter called. “Lassie…you can sit closer tae me – I dinnae bite.”

  She closed her eyes as he chuckled and tried to shut out the sound of it. Grating and harsh, it scraped over the painful places in her soul. She turned to Arthur, who was lying on the floor of the cart, his face pale. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers. The touch seared her.

  They rolled downhill, the carter setting a steady pace.

  The abbey appeared before them surprisingly fast. A building made of whitish stone, the front wall soared up to a steepled roof. It was a small place, Bonnie thought, but far grander than any church she’d seen. There was a low wall at the back, and it seemed as if a plainer building with a flat roof had been built onto the wall. This, she guessed, would be the place where the monks slept.

  “Hello, there!” the carter shouted loudly. “Brother Maxwell!”

  A door opened and a brown-robed friar appeared. Bonnie tensed, ready to help Arthur to climb down from the cart, but he had jumped down already. She heard him hiss out a breath and she reached down a hand to him automatically. It was in his grip before she’d considered it and she felt a tingling shoot up her arm and into her shoulder, setting her belly aflame.

  She looked sharply away, but the carter and the monk were not even remotely interested in what they were doing, too involved in their own task of rolling a barrel off the cart. Bonnie jumped down and stood with Arthur. She looked up at him.

  “Come on,” she said gently. “You need to get that tended.”

  “Aye,” he said. He didn’t move. He looked down at her and his gaze was so intense that she swallowed hard. She looked away, not understanding what she saw in his eyes. Lust, she knew. Anger, she’d seen. A desire to have power over something – this was familiar. However, the look in his eyes was a gentle one, glowing and soft, and she’d never seen it.

  He leaned closer and she felt his lips so close to hers that she could feel his breath on them. The sensation was so intense that she felt her heart almost stop. She realized that she longed for a kiss from him. The idea astounded her.

  “Let’s go,” she said, indicating the direction the monk went in.

  “Let’s.”

  They followed the monk and his companion into the garden. When they were there, she felt that strange closeness with him again. His arm rested beside hers, his fingers so close to hers that she could feel the heat off them. She looked into his eyes.

  “You’re not too much in pain, I hope.”

  “No,” he murmured. “Just a scratch.”

  She looked up into his eyes, her own dancing and he caught her stare and smiled.

  “Well, it’s a bit more than that,” he admitted. His lips twisted as he tried to hide the big grin, and his gaze roamed the path under his foot.

  “I thought so,” she murmured. “You’re just trying to be tough.”

  They both laughed and she felt something reach out and touch her soul, like sunshine when it breaks through clouds. It was such a beautiful feeling, and yet it was one that she had never had before. She felt breathless and looked up at him.

  He looked down into her eyes. The monk and the carter were in a barn, and, to judge from the sound of manual labor coming out of the place, they were trying to find room to stack the barrel. Bonnie looked up at the man who stood not two paces before her.

  He bent down and it seemed so natural, so right, when his lips brushed hers. His tongue lapped along the line between her lips and she felt the touch of it in every part of her. His breath quickened and she felt the same quickening in her body. Her lips parted a little.

  He let his tongue play over her lips again, then stood back.

  “Whist, lass,” he said gently. It was clear that he was having difficulty with breathing, as was she. “Let’s go inside.”

  She looked up at him and nodded and together they went into the monastery. It was a cold stone room, severe and bare, in which they found themselves, but Arthur’s arm was beside hers and the memory of his lips on hers made her feel brave. Bonnie looked up as the abbot came down the steps to join them and she glanced up at Arthur and felt, with a soaring sense of wonder, that for the first time in a very long time, she felt truly happy.

  Safety

  Bonnie rolled over on something soft. She tried to remember where she was and sat up, frightened to find there was a covering weighing her down. She shot upright in terror, shaking it off her, fighting with the weight of it. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into a shaft of sunlight, dancing down through a high window overhead.

  As her eyes adjusted to the light, Bonnie came to realized that she was in a cell of sorts, the walls thick stone, the only illumination coming through that single window so high above her.

  The priory, she remembered.

  She looked at the shaft of sunlight and then around the rest of the room. It was tiny, with room enough only for a bed and a small table in the corner, a stool set before it. The walls were well-plastered, but she could see the bare stone around the window as she looked up at it.

  “Best to get out of bed,” she reminded herself. She stepped out and shook out the coverlet, throwing it back over the straw-stuffed pallet. She recalled the events of the previous night slowly, her brain clearing from the fog of sleep that had descended so heavily.

  Arthur. The prior welcoming us. Arthur’s kiss on my cheek.

  She felt her body flare with longing as she recalled that. Arthur hadn’t stopped with her cheek, she recalled, cheeks flaming. He had kissed her on the lips, too. The touch of his mouth on hers had been the most wonderful thing she could remember.

  “That’s rare stupid,” she told herself firmly. Arthur was a man. Kissing was, well, what people did before they did…that thing. She felt herself want to be sick. If that was the case, why did she feel such lovely feelings inside when Arthur kissed her?

  “Because you’re a clod-headed fool,” she told herself. Tears pricked her eyes – tears of annoyance with herself. Men, and what they did, was a thing of nightmarish disgust to her. She, more than anyone, should know that it was all about pain, and violence, and horror. There was no beauty in it. Nothing to make her feel flushed and happy as she did when Arthur touched her.

  She brushed her hair with her fingers, wishing that she had some idea of what it looked like. Her dress, she could see, was an absolute mess – stains and tears and dust everywhere. It had been in need of replacing before the disaster that struck her home. Now, it was unusable.

  “I don’t reckon the monks will have one,” she told herself, feeling her lips twist into a wry grin. She was not going to let confusion or horror overwhelm her. For the moment, at least, they were safe. The monks would protect them and feed them. They couldn’t have landed in a better sanctuary.

  She ran her hand over her face, spotting a bowl of water somebody had set out for her to wash with. Splashing her face, she blinked and cursed as the icy fluid ran down her skin and into her hair. It was cold. However, she reckoned, scrubbing her face dry on her shawl, it was so much better than staying grimy.

  Washing her mouth out with the remaining handful of water, she headed through the door and into the hallway. Utter silence met her.

  Bonnie blinked. The hallway was dark, the floor stone and cold. There was no source of light in the corridor, except for at the far end. She could hear nobody. She strained her ears and caught the distant sound of monks, chanting. Their voices rose and fell, weaving a sweet music that filled the place. Its low, full notes wove into her soul and calmed her.

  “Prime,” she guessed, meaning the sixth hour of the day. At that time, the monks would congregate in the chapel to pra
y and say verses. The liturgy of the hours kept them coming back at three-hourly intervals throughout the day. Bonnie knew about it because she had worked in the fields above the tiny convent near Stirling on and off.

  Knowing that the monks would all be busy elsewhere was strangely reassuring for Bonnie. She tiptoed up the hallway towards the door. Dew-soaked grass gave off a scent of cleanness into the crisp, cool air. The sunlight danced on the leaves by the wall. The sunlight was fresh and clear and had recently risen, and the garden was bathed in a soft yellow glow that made Bonnie feel deeply peaceful. She breathed in and felt glad for the clear, soft air. This place was so far from the fetid stench of the town.

  “Hello?” A voice spoke close by.

  Bonnie jumped. In shock, she turned around and found Arthur standing behind her. His eyes lit when he saw her. She felt her heart skip and it wasn’t just from the shock.

  “Arthur?” she whispered. Suddenly there were too many thoughts in her mind to hold them back any longer. “How is your wound? Where did you spend the night? Could you get any sleep..?”

  He chuckled and she was surprised that, when his hand rested on her shoulder, she didn’t feel any particular sense of alarm. Instead, she found herself looking up into his eyes with her heart thudding.

  “Easy, lass!” he grinned. “I’m only just awake. I cannae answer all those questions so fast.”

  Bonnie laughed. She looked up at his face and was pleased to see her happiness reflected there.

  He bent down and she stiffened a little as his lips descended over hers. It was one thing in the middle of the night, or at the edge of a desperate flight when neither of them might come out with their lives. It was another matter, here in the priory with daylight painting shadows on soft grass.

  “Sorry, lass,” he murmured as his lips brushed against hers. She felt their touch and her body responded, so that she leaned on his strong chest as his lips gently parted her own.

  Her eyes shut as he leaned into the kiss, his tongue parting her lips. She felt a little shock as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her body against him. Breasts flattening against his firm chest, Bonnie sighed as his body molded to hers and she felt his hips press against hers.