His Conquest

by Diana Cosby

“Seathan?”

  The worry in her voice had him forcing his eyes open. He saw two of the lass. Slowly, his vision cleared.

  Eyes wide with fear, she clung to him. “I…”

  “Thought we were going over?”

  She nodded.

  “If we had remained near the top,” he said between rough gasps, “Tearlach’s men would have seen us.”

  “I know.” Her voice shook.

  Protectiveness swamped him. Against the pain, he drew her to him. “We are safe.” For now. But how much longer he could not guarantee.

  The rumble of hooves had him looking up. Through the mist-coated grass, he glimpsed a knight cantering by, then another as the contingent passed.

  What had he been thinking to stand in the open talking to the lass as if ’twas a day of leisure?

  Her grip on his arm loosened. “I—I think the men are gone.”

  “Mayhap, but we will remain here a while to make sure.”

  “You think they will return.”

  “They will. Tearlach will not quit until he has us both.”

  Guilt flashed in her eyes. She nodded, but said no more, a mystery that left him on edge as it had from the first.

  Linet glanced toward his side, gasped. “Your wound is bleeding.”

  Not surprised, he looked down. Blood was slowly staining the garb underneath his arm. He pressed his palm against the wound to staunch the flow. Sticky wetness seeped against his fingers.

  “You have torn open the bindings,” she said. “They will have to be rebound.”

  “Aye.”

  Linet scoured the falls below. She turned back, her face pale.

  “We are wedged solidly and will not slip.”

  She nodded, her look far from assured. “Keep me steady.”

  Once he’d shifted and clasped her shoulder, she tore the hem of her gown. With his help, she wrapped the cloth around him, secured it, but he didn’t miss the awareness in her eyes when she touched him, or the tangle of need woven within.

  She tugged the last knot snug. “Take care when you climb up.”

  He held her gaze a long moment, their earlier intimate conversation haunting him with unsettling warmth. “It will serve its purpose.” He shrugged off the odd emotion and focused on his injury. Once they’d reached the safety of the cave, he would tend his wound better. A reopened gash was minor compared to the danger if Tearlach’s men discovered them.

  Time passed with soul-drugging slowness. His injury pounded as if bashed with a mace, but he focused on the warmth of Linet’s body flush against his, the way she settled against him as if she’d given him her full trust.

  Her body trembled.

  “Steady, lass.”

  She shot a worried look toward the top. “We must return to the cave.”

  He heard the fear in her voice, understood her concern with the falls but a short distance below, and with the men scouring the area above.

  “We will wait a few moments longer.”

  She nodded but remained silent.

  Against his better sense, his admiration for her grew. Many a pampered lass would be screaming like a stallion gelded.

  A wave of fatigue washed over him. Seathan fought past it, then glanced down. Water pounded below them, its rising spray a shimmering mist. Sunlight filtered through the droplets like fairy dust. He grimaced. Twice in as many days he’d thought of the fey. His mind was surely abandoning him.

  Enough!

  He pushed to his knees, then helped Linet to turn, the angled slope of grass and brambles presenting its own challenge.

  “Up you go, lass.” He shoved his foot into the soft muck, ignored the pain, and pushed.

  Linet’s foot slipped at his side. “I cannot find a grip.”

  “Catch hold of the grass. Pull yourself up.”

  She shot him a worried glance. “It will mean letting go of you.”

  He nodded. “I will be right behind you. I will not let you fall.”

  Her lips curved in a wry smile. “It is not me that I am concerned about.”

  “I need not the worry of a milk-fed lass.” Irritation flashed in her eyes as he’d expected. She made to speak, but he gave her a shove. “On with you.”

  “Stubborn you are.”

  He grunted. “I doubt I hold a candle to you.”

  She muttered something unintelligible. With the flash of anger blazing in her eyes, he suspected the telling would not be flattering. A pang of remorse shot through him. He grimaced. ’Twas a sad day indeed when his mind weakened for a woman whose life was spun in secrets. His thoughts should be on his brothers’ safety and his country’s freedom.

  “Move,” he ordered.

  With a disapproving frown, Linet grabbed a thatch of long grass above her. She shoved her foot into the soft earth as she pulled. Her arm trembled.

  With his right hand, Seathan pressed his palm against her shoulder, pushed.

  She moved up an inch.

  “Again,” he commanded.

  This time as she pulled herself, he braced himself against the boulder, wrapped both hands around her waist, and lifted.

  Linet caught another hunk of grass closer to the top.

  “You are almost there,” he urged.

  She caught another handful of grass, pulled herself up. Inch by inch, she tugged until at last she disappeared into the wash of green rimming the cliff above.

  Blades of grass shifted. Linet’s head reappeared, her face flushed from exertion. “Now you.”

  He gritted his teeth, reached up, and pulled. Pain tore through his side, his injury throbbing as if salt-stung. Sweat broke out on his brow as he reached up and caught a nearby bush. His fingers shook, his body trembled, but he worked himself up farther.

  And collapsed.

  Limp, he gasped for breath as he lay facedown against the water-slicked grass. He glanced behind him, blew out a deep breath. He’d made it but a hand’s width.

  “Can you make it?”

  The fear in her voice had him looking up. “Aye.” He’d suffered far worse than the injuries he’d sustained now. Gritting his teeth, Seathan twisted the long blades within his palm. This time, he wedged his boot against the boulder as he struggled up. Though his arm screamed with agony and his body rebelled, he shoved harder.

  Blackness threatened. Mud and grass whipped by as he slid back.

  “Seathan!” Linet’s voice echoed from far away in his mind.

  The edge of a stone dug into his injured shoulder. He jerked to consciousness, clasped the base of a knotted bramble, looked down. Christ’s blade. His boots were hanging off the ledge!

  Mud squished as Linet slid down the decline toward him. She laced one hand within his, grabbed the boulder with the other, and held tight.

  “I thought I had lost you.”

  He heard the fear in her voice, the desperation as well. His head buzzed. Aches stormed his body. “I—I told you to stay back.”

  “And I told you not to leave the cave. ’Twould seem we each have a problem listening to orders.” She looked above them, grimaced. “We have to get you up.”

  In his weakened state, he doubted he would reach the top anytime soon.

  “Return to the cave. I will follow once I am able.”

  “I will not go without you.”

  From her determined expression, she wasn’t going to budge. Fine then. “Where you found the earlier supplies in the cave, there is a hemp rope. Retrieve it.”

  She nodded. “Do not move.”

  “As if I have an option?” he asked, his voice pained.

  Linet shot him a warning look, turned, and with Seathan’s help, started up.

  “When you return,” Seathan called, “do not climb down.”

  Frustration poured through Linet as she glanced back. “One would believe you would have learned that I do not follow orders well—especially from you.”

  Green eyes narrowed.

  She ignored him. Anger fueled her as she inched up the steep slope, h
er body still shaking at the memory of him sliding back, of his losing consciousness as he fell. Until he’d hit the boulder, woken, and caught himself on the bush, she’d thought he was going over.

  He would have died.

  Damn him, he’d come close. She swallowed hard, her heart still pounding at the thought. Until this moment, though drawn to him and aware that she would miss him once they’d parted company, she’d convinced herself that she would be able to wipe Seathan from her mind.

  Now, she realized she’d lied. Once they reached the Highlands and he departed, her heart would never be the same. Not that she loved him. Her feelings ran deep for Seathan because of the man he was, because of his courage and his determination to protect those he cared for. Any woman would feel the same if they came to know him.

  She could never allow anything serious to grow between them. She brushed several strands of hair from her face. Besides, he’d clearly stated he wanted no woman in his life.

  At the top of the bank, she peered through the blades of thick grass for any sign of her brother’s men. Several trees away, a raven sat on a low branch. Otherwise, the forest stood empty.

  With one last look toward Seathan, she shoved to her feet, then ran. Her pulse raced as she wove through the trees, the warmth of the sun upon her face far from erasing the chill within.

  Please God, let him hang on.

  After a brief but harried search within the cavern, she found the hemp rope. Once she’d scoured her surroundings and found no sign of knights, she bolted to the cliff.

  With her heart in her throat, Linet peered over. He still clung near the edge. Thank God. “Seathan,” she called above the rush of water.

  He glanced up, pain raw upon his face. “Wrap the rope around the trunk of a nearby tree. Then”—he paused, dragging in a deep breath—“drop the length to me, but keep enough to hold your end.”

  Was he addled? “You cannot climb up alone.”

  “It will take a bit longer, but I can do it.” He closed his eyes, reopened them. “As I come up, pull the excess rope that is wrapped around the tree back, keeping the line taut.”

  “As simple as that?” she muttered.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. Linet looked around and found a suitable tree.

  Precious time passed. Once he’d secured the rope around himself, she pulled. After several breaks to allow him time to rest, finally, his hand came into view.

  Linet sagged with relief.

  “Keep the rope taut!”

  The man never ceased to amaze her. “If you have energy to be ordering me about, use it to move.”

  He grunted.

  The hemp slackened; Linet pulled to keep it taut. “You are almost there.”

  With a grunt, Seathan crawled forward, then collapsed against the muck, gasping for breath.

  No, she refused to let him pass out, neither did she have the strength to haul him up. “I should have known a man who kisses as mundanely as you would not have the staying power,” she called down.

  Piercing green eyes flashed open. Scorched her with a wonderful heat. Muscles bunched, pain strained his face, with his eyes locked on hers, he pushed.

  Relief punched through her. “A bit more.”

  He shoved.

  His head came to the top, then his upper torso. He collapsed, his lower body still hanging over the edge of the steep incline.

  Linet stumbled forward, slid her arm beneath his shoulder, and half dragged him away from the steep slope.

  “Put your arm around my shoulder. We must reach the cave before the knights return.”

  Muscles shuddered beneath her hands as she pulled him, and with sheer determination, he pushed himself to his feet.

  Step by excruciating step, they made their way to the hideout. She cursed their slow pace, the smear of blood from his wound stating the cost of his efforts.

  Once safe inside the cave, she helped him lean against the wall. “Wait.” She hurried to get the blankets, then spread them out nearby. “Lie there.”

  Through the pain on his face, he grimaced. “You are good at giving orders.”

  “As you,” she returned as she helped him lie down, concerned by his weakening voice. Once she’d made him as comfortable as possible, she stood. “I will be back in a moment.”

  “Where are you—”

  “I am going to fetch the plantain, which I would have long since returned with had you not been so pigheaded.” She turned away, furious to find tears in her eyes. He’d almost died. She shouldn’t care, should blame his brush with death on his unbending pride, but in the short time since she’d met Seathan, he’d come to mean more to her than was wise. Shaken by the realization, she scanned the woods and hurried away.

  The rich wash of sunset streamed into the cave, embracing the stone chamber within its soft glow. Linet shifted to keep her back to the sunlight as she gently wiped the ointment she’d extracted from the plantain over Seathan’s wound.

  Hewn muscle rippled beneath her touch, at odds with the deep gash in his left side. At least the injury hadn’t festered. Thank God for that.

  His jaw tightened as she carefully smoothed the gel across his tender skin.

  “I am almost done,” she said.

  He remained quiet.

  She hadn’t expected a reply. Since her return from retrieving the herb, he’d remained silent. She wanted to believe his reserve was a result of his pain. But she sensed more fed his decision not to speak.

  Neither was he ungrateful.

  He’d shifted himself on the floor in response to her abrupt demands. If he’d shown her but a hint of contempt, she would have left him to apply the mixture himself. No, something else stewed within his mind.

  As she applied the next swathe of ointment, he stiffened. She looked up. Stilled. He was watching her, but within the pain shadowing his green eyes, awareness resided as well.

  Heat trembled through her body, spun by her need of him, not as a warrior, but as a man. A forbidden man whom she wanted with her every breath.

  As if he sensed her thoughts, his dark brows narrowed with warning.

  Realization washed over her. Sweet Mary, he wanted her.

  That she could affect this complex man thrilled her, then she grew somber. Seathan was dangerous, a Scottish rebel who viewed her as the enemy. Neither did he know of her blood bond to Fulke. Kneeling here but a hand’s breath away, staring at him, wanting him was like playing with fire—a dangerous blaze that might easily leave her life scarred.

  Unnerved, Linet broke eye contact. “I need to apply the salve on the cuts across your chest.”

  Instead of a reply, he started to lift his tunic.

  At the trembling of his hands, she helped him remove the neatly sewn garment. Honed muscles, battered by bruises and recent cuts, greeted her.

  She silently damned her brother, that Fulke would order a man tortured so. One day his quest for wealth and power would lead to his downfall.

  Seathan motioned for her to begin.

  “You can talk,” she said, her nerves on edge, the silence prodding her awareness of him as if she stood too close to a fire.

  He only arched an ominous brow.

  Frustrated, she swept her fingers through the silky ointment upon the flattened rock, then carefully smoothed the slippery gel over the first of many cuts. She tried to ignore the ripple of muscle, the warmth of his skin against hers.

  And failed.

  “We must stay here for at least two days,” she said to break the tension, “for you to heal.”

  “We will rest this night, no more.”

  The lackwit! “After your blood loss this day, if you try to travel on the morrow, you might die.”

  “If I remain here and do naught, the cost could be many lives.”

  If he’d said anything else, she would have argued. Damn him, why did he have to be so noble, put others before himself? Because he was a leader, a warrior whom men would admire. And follow.

  L
inet nodded. “On the morrow then.” But she would ensure they kept their travel slow. As if he’d be able to move faster than a slow walk. But he’d try.

  She gently tugged down his tunic after she’d covered the angry gashes, marks that would mend and become lost among the numerous scars littering his body. Unlike the scar he bore on his heart due to the woman who’d hurt him. ’Twould seem that would never heal.

  “Rest.” Linet stood and walked to the opening. She leaned against the time-worn stone and watched the rush of water pour over the ledge Seathan had clung to but a short while ago. A tremor rippled through her body. Then another.

  “Linet?”

  At the soft rumble of his voice, she stilled. Exhausted, she didn’t want to spar with him further. “Go to sleep.”

  “Lie with me.”

  At his delirious command, her heart stumbled. He sought but another body’s heat. No, she lied to herself. When he’d watched her before, she’d recognized the raw need burning in his eyes. If she chose, he would give her body its every dream.

  Warmth swept through her as she imagined his fingers skimming over her flesh, touching her, savoring her every shiver. “You need rest.”

  “Look at me.”

  Foolishly, she turned.

  Stilled.

  Desire, hot and intense, still darkened his gaze. Sweet Mary, how could any woman turn him away? Yet with the secrets she harbored, how could she accept the temptation he offered?

  He lifted his hand.

  Her throat went dry. “I…”

  “Need rest as well,” he said into the thickening silence.

  Angst, relief, and disappointment swept through her in quick succession. Lost in her own desires, she’d misread his intent.

  Too aware of this Scottish rebel, a warrior who represented everything she’d ever wanted in a man, she closed the distance. With her body aching with need, she stretched out by his side.

  He drew her against him.

  “You should not be moving,” she cautioned, wishing for nothing else than for him to hold her.

  A lie.

  She wished for so much more.

  “Go to sleep,” his deep voice rumbled.

  She closed her eyes, but with him flush against her, his soft breaths caressing her neck, she doubted she’d find sleep this night.