Highlander's Bride (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 1)

by Gafford, Deborah

  Chapter Four

  Frustrated rage licked through Alexander's veins as he strode from the keep. Cursing his emotions, he quickly mounted his horse and rode out of the stable. Impatient to leave the castle behind him, he leaned forward in the saddle and squeezed his thighs into his stallion's sides, urging it to greater speed.

  As his horse shot through the opened gates and the wind lashed his face, he let out a pent up breath. He bent low over Tursachan's neck until he and the horse moved as one, galloping across the countryside.

  Patting the stallion's neck, Alexander slowed his mount and turned down a familiar track to a small crofter's hut in the distance. How many times, years ago, had he traveled this same dirt road with his mother? He'd enjoyed accompanying her when she visited the woman and young child who lived in the modest hut there.

  His anger lessened as he remembered watching the wee bairn in a cradle grow from a toddler, to a precocious imp, then to a beautiful lass. But the momentary respite from his emotions ended as he remembered, too, the loneliness of his childhood after his mother died.

  Old bitterness joined forces with the anger flailing his thoughts and his jaw tightened. It was no surprise his horse seemed to sense his mood and trotted surely toward the hut.

  After his mother's death, he'd gone there often. It had been his refuge against loneliness, missing the mother he cherished and needing the tender mercies of a woman's attentions.

  Speaking of his mother with Elsa, the old woman who lived there with her granddaughter, had helped heal some of the hurt in losing her. Once the healer at During Castle, Elsa had left to raise little Fiona, orphaned in a raid by a rival clan.

  Although he was four years older than the lass, she'd tagged along behind him from the moment she could walk. As children, they had been together frequently until he left to train for knighthood. A wry smile touched his lips as he thought of that day. She had clung to him and cried so, he'd promised to bring her a pretty ribbon before she would release her hold on him.

  And even now as a grown lass, she still sought his company often. Seeing this, some of the castle folk who sought to find favor with him gave Fiona special consideration knowing his fondness for her. Aye, he feared the lass might be a wee bit spoiled.

  He'd become protective of her as they grew up, thinking of her more as a little sister than simply a distant member of the clan. At least until that morning he'd roused after a night of drinking to find her naked beside him in his bed. Damn his lust.

  Alexander's horse whinnied as it halted in front of the small crofter's hut, ending his memories and leaving him with his angry frustration.

  Someone inside the simple abode must have heard the sounds of his arrival for the door swung open. Fiona stepped into the doorway, her beauty emphasized by the soft light coming from within the hut. An old familiar feeling of warmth and peace stole over him as he looked at the lovely young woman.

  She smiled as she held the door open. "Ah, m'lord, 'tis wonderful to see ye again. Elsa and I heard rumor of a planned marriage between ye and a lowland wench, but I didna believe it. Now that ye're here, we will learn the truth of things."

  Alexander tightened his grip on the reins. Aye, tonight he would know as well.

  Glancing back into the hut, Fiona called to her grandmother. "Elsa, look who has come to visit with us."

  Forcing himself to relax, Alexander dismounted and led Tursachan to a thick patch of grass beneath a large nearby tree as Elsa joined Fiona in the doorway. He dropped the reins so his horse could graze and returned Fiona's friendly smile. Bending his head, he followed them through the low doorframe into the simple thatched cottage. He quickly looked for any sign of a young bairn, but saw none. Breathing easier, he gazed down at the two women beside him.

  They seemed the same as before. Elsa was slightly stooped with age and her weathered face showed the passage of time, but her eyes still lit with an inner strength and welcome. The years had not robbed her of her healing skills, for she still acted as village midwife and healer when the need arose.

  Fiona hadn't changed… exactly. He was accustomed to her beauty and spirited personality. Aye, he knew her well. Tonight, however, there seemed to be an air of added excitement about her. She greeted him with a welcoming embrace, just as she'd always done since she was a wee bairn. But as he returned her hug, he noticed she clung to him longer than was customary.

  Alexander stepped back quickly. He'd been down that path before and would not do it again. Walking over to where Elsa had seated herself by the fire, he knelt and with true affection, clasped his arms around the old woman. "'Tis been quite some time since I have seen you bonnie lasses. You dinna look a day older than when I was last here."

  Elsa chuckled. "Faith, m'lord, I dinna plan to be old for another ten years."

  Returning her grin, he walked past her and lowered himself to the short three-legged stool beside the hearth. He'd sat in that same spot over the years. Leaning back against the wall of the hut, he attempted to stretch out his legs. It had been easier when he was not so tall.

  Fiona poured a tankard of ale and brought it to him with a brilliant smile. "I saved a wee bit of honey to flavor the ale in hopes ye would pay us a visit. I hope it pleases ye. Would ye like anything to eat? I would be pleased to fetch ye aught more."

  "No, lass, thank you." Now, this was how a woman should be, not deceitful and scheming as Beatrice had been. He noticed she waited for his answer before she sat down curled at his feet, just as she'd done for years. When he was younger, he had teasingly accused her of sitting on his feet to prevent him from leaving. She leaned back against his calves and smiled up at him through her dark lashes.

  From where he sat, he could see the firelight reflected on her face, spreading out across her smooth skin, to be swallowed up by the midnight blackness of her hair. Her coal black almond shaped eyes sparkled and her mouth was pursed in a pouty smile. He couldn't help but notice her sensuous beauty, and after Katherine's icy rebuff, momentarily felt drawn to Fiona. Calm yourself, fool. She isn't your intended.

  Taking a deep drink, he looked at the old woman who had been his friend for so long. "Elsa, how have you fared whilst I've been away? And what of our lass, here? Has she captured any more young lads' hearts?" He smiled and rubbed his knuckles on Fiona's cheek in a brotherly way. Before he could withdraw his hand, she reached up and pressed it more firmly to her cheek.

  Elsa grinned. "Ah, m'lord, I am hale and ye know our Fiona. She smiles at all the lads, but ne'er gives her heart to any of them. I wish to see her settled with a mon and wee bairns of her own, but nary a lad has convinced her yet. So I still have nay wee one to bounce on my knee."

  Alexander listened closely to Elsa's words. 'Twould seem Fiona had not borne him a child, but he must hear it from her to be sure. He thought again of his plan. If he must, he would wed her. If not, Malcolm would make a fine husband for Fiona. "Well, Elsa, that day may soon come."

  Fiona drew in her breath in a throaty gasp and smiled up at him.

  A loud pounding on the door of the hut immediately brought him to his feet, deftly removing his sword from its sheath as he rose. He quickly crossed the small room, thrust the door open and demanded, "Who goes there?"

  The apparent look of utter amazement mingled with fear on the startled peasant's face convinced him the vassal was no threat and he lowered his sword. "Och, man, do you wish to beat Elsa's door down? What bids you use your fist as a battering ram?"

  The peasant snatched off his cap and twisted it nervously in his hands. "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lord. I am Niall, a farmer to this fief, an' me wife has begun the birth of our first bairn. Elsa vowed her aid when the time come, so me wife sent me to fetch her. Fear fer me wife put strength to me knock, an' no threat. I swear it."

  "Ah, 'tis understood." Noting the night had the look of an impending storm, Alexander turned to Elsa. "Do you wish me to escort you there?"

  The old woman chuckled. "Faith, no, m'lord. Storms oft bring on a woman'
s time. I'm well used to it by now." She glanced at the distraught young man standing in the doorway and said, "I will gather my needs and be with ye in a trice, Niall." Walking over to a low timeworn chest, she took out a basket and began filling it with healing herbs.

  Alexander watched her add a small but deadly dagger to the basket and looked at her in concern. "What need have you of that? If you feel compelled to arm yourself, I will accompany you there."

  The old woman shook her head. "Nay, 'tis only the birthing knife. A sharp blade must be placed below the mother's pallet to cut the pain of birth." Turning to Fiona, she added, "Sometimes first bairns come quick, child. Other times they take hours to come into this world, as ye will learn one day. I will stay at Niall's hut this night. If anyone has need of me, tell them where they can find me."

  Smiling she said, "M'lord, Alexander, 'twas good to see ye again. I must go now, in case the bairn decides no to wait after all." As the anxious farmer let out a groan, Elsa patted his back and followed him out the door saying, "Wipe away yer dowy face, Niall. All will be well soon."

  Fiona closed the door behind them and turned to face Alexander. She leaned against the wood, her shoulders pulled back, almost as if posing her supple figure for him to admire. She slowly ran the tip of her pink tongue over her bottom lip as he sheathed his sword.

  Alexander watched her with a feeling akin to a moth being pulled uncontrollably toward a deadly flame.

  Her black eyes traveled from his face, to his chest, and lower still. Her voice reminded him of a purring cat. "Ooh, Alexander. Ye surely do thrill a lass with yer powerful skill with yer sword. Are ye always able to pull it out and sheath it again so smoothly? Tell me, do ye often wield yer… sword fer a lass to see?"

  Proud that she admired his prowess with his broadsword, he patted its hilt and smiled. "Ah, Fiona, it takes years of practice to learn to wield a blade. The mightier the weapon, the more practice it takes to be skilled in using it."

  "Aye, true words, m'lord. Or so I've been told."

  He looked away from her eager glance and drew a deep breath. Best get his answer now. "Fiona, lass, I must ask. Did you… was there a child from our night together?"

  She hesitated a moment, then said, "Alas, no. I have naught but the memory of it."

  Alexander let out his breath in relief and sat down on the stool beside the fire, enjoying the simple peace. He drank his ale slowly and stared into the dancing flames. So, Fiona had not borne a child. This released him from a duty-bound marriage to the lass. Aye, but what of his conscience? And after their night together, did she expect it? What could he say? He felt no passion for her as a man should for his wife. By the saints, he felt no different toward Fiona than he ever had. At times that cursed night seemed naught but a bad dream from which he could not free himself.

  Fiona stood in silence for a long time and he eventually relaxed. When he glanced at her, he met her gaze as it slowly traveled from the area below his sword belt up to his face.

  A rumble of thunder seemed to stir her speech. "Alexander, is there anything ye want? Anything at all? Ye have only to ask and I would gladly give ye whate'er ye have a hunger for."

  Her words seemed to reach out and caress him, kindling back to life the fire in his blood that he'd felt earlier for Katherine, and his thoughts turned lusty. God's teeth, he must not lose control again. He wouldn't even have drink to blame this time.

  "No, lass. I must take my leave of you, for I fear there is more than one storm rising here and we dare not let ourselves be engulfed by it."

  At that moment, nature chose to intervene. A brilliant flash of lightning momentarily lit the hut, bathing Fiona's profile in light before a tremendous crash sounded outside the hut.

  She screamed and ran into his arms.

  The storm broke in all of its fury. Wind and rain lashed out mercilessly. The force of the deluge pounded against the roof and walls of the small hut, springing leaks in dozens of places as the wattle and daub gave way under the onslaught of nature.

  Alexander's training alerted him to the frantic cries of his horse. He swiftly released Fiona and heaved the door of the hut open. A cascade of water poured in followed by twigs and leaves blown in by the strong gust.

  Except for momentary flashes of lightning, everything was blanketed in darkness. Straining to see, Alexander waited impatiently for another brief flash of light. With the next burst of light, he saw that a large tree branch had broken under the pummel of wind and heavy rain. It had fallen forcefully against his horse, knocking the animal to the ground and tangling in the reins. The stallion thrashed in vain as it tried to free itself of the heavy limb.

  Alexander raced through the doorway to free the stricken animal. The storm lashed at him unmercifully. Driving rain hit him in sheets. The wind battered him, hampering his movements. The downpour made the leather reins as slippery as if they'd been greased. They tangled further from the constant struggle of his horse against the weight of the stout limb.

  Temporarily dashing the blinding stream of water from his eyes with the back of his hand, Alexander pulled out his dirk. He cut through the end of the reins and tugged on what remained to encourage his horse to stand if it could.

  The frightened steed rose, then snorted and reared to its full height on its back legs, dragging Alexander dangerously close to its flailing hooves. Twisting out of their deadly path, he yanked down forcefully on the remainder of the reins and threw one arm over the frightened animal's neck as it touched all four legs to the ground. Keeping the horse at short rein and talking to it all the while, he calmed it enough that it no longer reared, but it still pranced about in pain and fear.

  Another movement caught Alexander's attention. He looked up as Fiona ran toward him. Turning to her, he shouted against the wind. "Fiona, give me your shawl. I need to cover Tursachan's eyes to calm him from the lightning."

  After wrapping it around his horse's head, he quickly ran his hands over its body and legs noting a gash on one of its flanks but otherwise no serious injuries.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth as the storm increased. Would his words be heard above the noise? "Lass, I must get Tursachan under cover and see to his wound!" The ferocity of the storm muffled his voice, but apparently she understood.

  She nodded and quickly led them to an empty shearing shed nearby. Together, they pulled open the heavy wooden door and ran inside, leading the nervous stallion.

  The shed, normally used to hold several sheep, tools and two people to do the shearing each year, was barely large enough for the horse and both of them.

  Alexander led his mount into the sheep holding pen. Then grasping the door's inner iron rung, he helped Fiona pull it closed against the onslaught of the wind and rain. Outside, the storm still raged, but the simple cover created a welcome haven of shelter.

  Shaking off the water running down his forehead, he raised his voice above the howling noise of the storm. "My great thanks, lass. Are you all right?"

  Seeing her nod, he walked back to his horse, took off the saddle and looked Tursachan over more closely to assess the injury. Other than the cut on his horse's right flank, it seemed uninjured.

  He removed the shawl, wrung water from the plaid wrap and rubbed the animal down. As he did, he talked to it in a soothing voice. Since the horse's wound was clean, there was naught else to be done until the rain stopped and a groom could tend the injury. He would let the stallion rest. Eventually it would calm down enough to sleep.

  After Tursachan stood quietly, with only an occasional wild roll of its eyes in answer to a rumble of thunder, Alexander left it and strode across the shed. He'd best see how Fiona was faring. Reaching the area where he'd seen her standing moments earlier, he froze in stunned surprise.

  The lass stood with her back to him, her only clothing, a small sheepskin wrapped about her, draped by her long black hair. Bending over a large mound of straw, she spread out her tunic and skirt, then turned to face him as he approached.

 
His surprise turned to shock as she ran her hands from her barely concealed breasts slowly down the length of sheepskin that ended mid way down her thighs.

  The very air between them seemed to crackle with anticipation. He stared at her, momentarily taken aback by the expression on her face. Her gaze seemed to burn with an inner fire even the deluge outside couldn't quench.

  "Faith, Alexander, ye look as hungry as a mon who's had naught to eat for a long time." She ran her tongue over her lips and stood where she was.

  "God's teeth! What do you think you're doing, lass?" he shouted. Or tried to. His voice came out more like a husky growl.

  She frowned slightly as she held the sheepskin to her with one hand and rested the other on her hip. "Och, and would ye rather I stay the night in sodden clothes and catch me death? The storm doesna look to be lessening and these woolly things are dry and warmin'. Sure and with all that fine trainin' ye've had, ye know the danger of staying wet and cold all night."

  By the saints, he'd best cool the fiery passion beginning to consume him. And quickly. Alexander strode over to the door of the shed and wrenched it open. A downpour of rain hit him, soaking him to the skin.

  Fiona's voice called out from behind him. "And now look what ye've done. The wee bit of ye that was near dry is sodden. Close the door and come out of those wet clothes so ye can get yerself dry. If ye wish to have this woolly piece, ye may use it, but 'tis the only one large enough to cover me."

  "No! Keep yourself covered. I'll stay as I am. I won't have you sharing your meager wrap. I've known far worse than to be cold and wet. It'll do me no great harm." No doubt he would dry quickly from the heat she sparked in him. His problem was not the wet or the cold, but rather the lust she had set to burning.

  She shook her head and pointed at his clothes. "Ye'll catch yer death standin' there like that. Dinna be dour headed. I'll turn my back to ye." She walked to an empty space in the shed and faced away from him.

  Alexander's jaw tightened. The lass was right. He shouldn't be thinking aught else. He'd always thought of her as a little sister until now. Curse him. Yanking off his sword belt, he peeled off his soaked clothing and boots. Picking up handfuls of loose wool, he began to rub himself dry while wishing his passion would soon cool.