Just as he began to shut the door, an animal bolted into the house and disappeared into the front room, moving too fast for him to see exactly what it was. His hand on his knife, he entered the room and stopped to stare at the creature huddled near the fire. Whoever had lived here had left behind their cat. The fact that the animal had known exactly where to go to find warmth was reason enough to believe it lived here. It was wet, dirty, and terrified, but it did not move as Gregor cautiously approached it.
It took a while, but the cat finally allowed Gregor to rub it dry, which cleaned most of the dirt off its gray fur. For a moment, he had thought that it was growling at him and that he was about to suffer a mauling for his care, but he soon realized that the rough, deep noise was not a threat; it was a purr of appreciation. He fetched the cat some water in a battered wooden bowl and cut up a little of the venison he had hoarded from his last meal in the oubliette.
“’Tis fortunate ye are that I have a liking for cats,” Gregor said as he sat down near Alana. “Ye havenae cleaned up so verra bad, either. Leaving ye to fend for yourself is a poor way to thank ye for keeping the rats out of the meal, aye?” Gregor took a drink from his wineskin. “And ’tis a sad day indeed when I am reduced to talking to a cat,” he grumbled.
The cat blinked its big yellow eyes at him.
Gregor shook his head and turned his attention back to Alana. He placed his palm against her forehead and cheeks and then frowned. She definitely had a fever, and a dangerously high one, if he judged it right. He told himself that the fear knotting his insides was born of a natural concern for a lass too young to die and one who had been a good companion as well.
He rose and walked to the bed. Deciding that until he could gather more wood, he would be unable to build the fire up high enough to heat the whole room adequately, he moved the mattress close to the fire. When he took the blanket off Alana to spread it over the mattress, he studied her for a brief moment.
“She is a bonnie, wee lass, cat,” he murmured as he settled Alana’s limp form on the mattress and tucked the other blanket around her. “Wee enough to play the child, although I dinnae ken why she couldnae trust me with the truth.”
The cat gave him such a disgusted look, Gregor suspected it was a female. “I shouldnae be surprised if I have a fever. Thinking ye ken what I am saying has to be a sign of delirium.”
Recalling one thing he had seen done for someone with a fever, Gregor fetched the bucket he had set out to catch rain. He searched out the other shift he had seen in Alana’s pack, took it out, and tore it into strips. Heartily wishing he knew more about healing, Gregor began to bathe Alana with the cool water in the hope of bringing down her fever.
“Artan?”
Startled by that unexpected voice and the sharp annoyance he felt over her calling out another man’s name, Gregor stared into Alana’s fever-glazed eyes. “Nay, ’tis Gregor.”
“When did the Gowans allow us to have a light in our pit?”
“We arenae in the pit now, lass. We escaped, remember?”
For a moment, she frowned and glanced around her. “Oh, aye. We escaped. Did we get verra far?”
“Far enough for now, and I think this will prove to be a good hiding place.”
“Ah, that is good to hear, for I am feeling verra tired.”
“Who is Artan?” Gregor heard himself ask and inwardly cursed.
“My brother. Thought ye were him for a moment. Foolishness, for he didnae e’en ken I was following him.”
“Why were ye following him?”
Even though her eyes were closed again, Gregor waited for her to speak. He sighed when, after several minutes had passed and she made no effort to say anything else, he realized there would be no answer to his question. She had apparently gone right back to sleep. Although he knew sleep was best for her, he regretted the lost chance to get some answers to the many questions he had.
When he finished washing her down, Gregor fetched himself something to eat. He ended up sharing nearly half of his meager ration of meat with the cat and decided he was much too soft of heart. After stepping outside just long enough to relieve himself, he wiped off the small amount of rain that had fallen on him and returned to Alana’s side.
He had never felt so helpless, and he hated the feeling. Fever could be a deadly thing, and he did not even know how to tell if her fever was of that ilk or just a natural reaction to being exhausted, cold, and wet. Even if he was able to find some herbs to use, he did not have any idea which ones would heal her. In his ignorance, he could easily poison her. Gregor was not even sure wiping her down with cool water and forcing her to drink whenever possible did much more than give him something to do. As he began to bathe her fever-flushed face yet again, Gregor promised himself that he would take the time to learn a little more than how to ease the bleeding of a wound until a skilled healer could be fetched.
“I think we must fetch Grandmere,” Alana said. “I dinnae feel weel.”
“I cannae fetch your grandmere, lass. I dinnae ken where she is.” When Alana became a little fretful, Gregor decided it might have been wiser to lie to her.
“Then ye must find my sister Keira. Mayhap Cousin Gillyanne or Cousin Elspeth. I truly dinnae feel weel and they will ken what to do.”
“I shall search them out. Ye rest. ’Tis what ye need most now.”
“Aye. Sleep is a good healer, but one of their potions would be good, too.”
Gregor hoped she had gone back to sleep when she grew still again. He also hoped she did not recall what he had said. If she had the wit to catch him in a lie, it would become difficult to keep her calm.
One of the names she had mentioned was familiar to him, and he frowned. His brother Ewan was married to a woman who had a sister-by-marriage named Gillyanne. It could be just a coincidence, yet he did not think the name was that common. If one considered that Alana seemed to be calling for a healer and that the Gillyanne he knew was a healer, such a coincidence became more of a possibility. And if it was the same Gillyanne, that made Alana a Murray, he mused, and scowled. What was a Murray lass doing traveling alone and disguised as a young girl?
That was a question he would not get an answer to soon, he thought as he collected his now-dry plaid. Settling himself on the mattress next to Alana, he spread the plaid over them and decided to get some rest. One thing he did know about a fever was that it often got a lot worse before it got better. There was a good chance he would find little time to sleep in the next few days.
Gregor winced and then cursed as one of Alana’s small fists connected sharply with his jaw. She was a lot stronger than she looked, he thought, as he struggled to pin her down. He had managed to get several hours of sleep before the fever madness had struck Alana. Since then he had only been able to catch an hour or so of rest now and again. After two long days and nights of that, he was both exhausted and frightened. He did not like to see anyone die, save for a few enemies he had known, but the thought of Alana dying left him feeling cold and empty in a way he did not understand. He breathed a hearty sigh of relief when she grew still, only to start cursing when she then began to weep.
“I must find Keira,” she said, her voice thick and hoarse as she cried.
“Your sister?” he asked as he slid his arm beneath her shoulders, lifted her up a little, and tried to get her to drink a little water.
“Aye, my twin. She needs me, but they wouldnae let me look for her.”
“Ah, and so ye went to hunt her down by yourself.” Gregor sat next to her, kept his arm around her shoulders, and held her close to his side.
“I can find her. I am certain of it.”
“So, there is another wee lass roaming the country, aye? One just like you?”
“Nay. Keira is beautiful and clever and sweet and has a true healer’s touch. I am just a wee brown lass.”
Gregor looked down at her in surprise, but her eyes were closed again. “Ye are a bonnie wee lass.”
“Nay, just a wee lass
. Keira is the bonnie one. Everyone loved Keira, and I cannae find her.”
“Ye will, lass. Cast off this fever, get weel and strong again, and we shall go ahunting.”
She did not really answer him, only muttered something about lack-witted brothers and smelly Gowans and fell asleep again. Gregor gently settled her back under the blanket and his plaid. As he stood up and stretched, he studied her. She was pale except for the scarlet tint of the fever in her blood, her hair was a dull brown as if her illness had stolen away all hue and shine, and her full lips looked as if they had been burned by the sun. Alana was definitely not looking her best, and yet, he had no difficulty seeing the beauty of her. He had to wonder who had given her the idea she was just a “wee brown lass.” He also wondered why he wished to find the one who had convinced her she was so plain and beat them until they could see more clearly.
Shaking away that thought, Gregor gently tied her down. He needed to leave her alone for a while as he searched out some food and wood. Although finding such things as a bucket, rope, and a few wooden plates and tankards had been helpful, he had found no livestock and only a few edibles in the tiny kitchen garden. Not only did he need something to eat, but some sort of broth was needed to feed Alana. She could not continue to fight off the fever unless she got some sustenance.
If not for the dangerous illness that had befallen Alana, Gregor would have thought them blessed. The snare he had set out earlier had caught a fat rabbit, and a more thorough search of the garden had uncovered a hearty assortment of vegetables and a few herbs he recognized. Though some were not fully mature, they were more than adequate for his needs. Even better, Alana was still sleeping when he returned, which allowed him the time to prepare the food and set it in the battered pot that had been left hanging in the fireplace.
It was as he was finishing his meal that Gregor noticed something odd about Alana. Her skin appeared to glisten where the light from the fire touched it. Setting down his bowl, he quickly moved to her side and felt her forehead. She was cool and covered in sweat. Gregor was so relieved at this sign that Alana’s fever had finally broken, he nearly cheered. He stepped around the cat that was greedily licking his bowl clean and fetched water and cloths to clean the sweat from her skin.
By the time Gregor got Alana clean and settled between dry blankets, he was knotted up with lust. It both annoyed and puzzled him. Despite the opinion of his eldest brother Ewan, Gregor had never had any trouble controlling his lusts. The fact that Alana was in need of his care, that she was ill and dependent upon him, should have been enough of a tether upon his baser feelings, but that tether had consistently failed him. He had never been so easily or fiercely stirred by the sight of a woman’s body or the feel of her skin. It would be easy to blame it on the fact that he had not had a woman in weeks, but Gregor could not convince himself of that. Something about Alana set his blood afire.
And that was something he had to think hard about, he decided as he draped the shift he had just rinsed clean over the bench to dry. Since the moment he had met Alana, his doubts about the wisdom of marrying Mavis had grown. Gregor knew that the possibility that Alana really was the child she pretended to be had helped keep his feelings for her in check, but that restraint had been shattered the moment he had removed her binding.
Gregor settled himself next to Alana, grimacing when she curled up next to him. When they had shared a bed before, she had been clothed and he had thought she might be the child she claimed to be. Now, she was naked and he was well aware of every soft, womanly curve of her body. Feverishly, achingly aware. It was a hunger that seemed to possess every part of him, and not just his heedless groin.
In the past, he would simply have seduced her, fed his lusts, and walked away. That was not a game he could play with Alana, and not simply because she might well be a Murray, a wellborn lass with a vast army of kinsmen behind her, ready and willing to avenge any insult to her. Alana meant something to him, although he was not exactly sure what or how deep that feeling went. The unsettling feeling that if he made love to Alana, he would not be able to walk away also prompted him to be cautious.
He had some hard decisions to make, but he was too exhausted to make them now. Later, when his wits were sharp again and he was not feeling so needy. A few facts were needed as well, he mused as he closed his eyes. Facts such as exactly who she was, why she was wandering about alone, what had happened to her sister, and if she already belonged to someone. The thought that Alana might already belong to some other man chilled Gregor, and he hurriedly pushed that thought from his mind. Aye, he thought, there were decisions to make, and as soon as Alana was awake and clear-eyed, he would get the answers he needed to make them.
Chapter 5
There was a hunchbacked man sleeping next to her. Alana closed her eyes and slowly opened them again. He was still there. When the hump upon his back moved, she nearly leapt out of the bed. The fact that she was too weak to move so quickly was all that kept her in place long enough for good sense to prevail.
The man sleeping next to her had long, shining black hair. His scent was familiar to her. Even the weight of the arm draped around her waist and the sound of his breathing were familiar. It was Gregor sleeping next to her, she realized, and smiled faintly. She had fallen asleep to that not-quite-a-snore sound he made too many times not to recognize it now that she had a moment to think clearly.
Then Alana frowned. Since she did not believe someone could grow a lump upon his back in but a day or two, what was that lump? Cautiously, she lifted the covers, and her newly recovered calm immediately dissipated. The gray cat staring at her from its warm, comfortable place upon Gregor’s broad back did not disturb her at all. The fact that she was completely naked did, however. It disturbed her a lot.
She quickly lowered the covers, resisting the strong urge to see if Gregor was also naked, and clutched the blankets to her chest. A slight movement at her side drew her attention and she slowly turned her head. Alana found herself staring into Gregor’s beautiful eyes and felt herself blush.
“I am naked,” she whispered.
“Aye, lass, that ye are,” replied Gregor, idly wondering just how far down that deep blush went.
“Why am I naked?”
“Because ye were all asweat when your fever broke and I didnae think ye should be left lying in a damp shift. The other shift wasnae dry enough, either, and I had to rip up your third shift so that I would have rags to wash ye down with.” As he watched the import of those words sink into her mind, Gregor was amazed at how her blush deepened, for he would not have thought she could get any redder.
“I had a fever?” Alana asked and immediately began to recall several things that she had thought were only strange dreams. “Ah, I think I do recall feeling ill. How long was I feverish?”
“Nearly three days.”
Alana stared down at her hands, still clutching the blanket tightly against her chest, and idly noticed that those hands were no longer bandaged and were nearly healed. She knew she ought to be deeply embarrassed by the knowledge that Gregor had cared for her for nearly three days. Now she could recall the feel of a cool cloth bathing her skin, easing the heat that ravaged her body. There would have been other intimacies as well. Yet all she could think of was that he now knew she was no child. Her breasts might not be large, but he could hardly have missed them when he removed her binding.
He knew she had lied to him. Perhaps lie was too strong a word, she thought. She had simply not corrected his assumption. Alana inwardly cursed. It was a lie and it revealed a lack of trust she truly had not felt. It was going to be difficult to explain why she had not told him the truth, especially since she was not completely sure of the why of it herself.
She looked at him again. He was watching her closely, the hint of a smile curving his mouth. At any other time, she would have found the sight of the cat’s head poking out from beneath the blanket amusing. It was watching her as closely as Gregor was. Alana wondered if there was a
ny chance they could simply ignore the lie.
“Ye have a cat upon your back,” she said and could tell by the look in his eyes that Gregor knew what game she tried to play. That look also told her it was not going to work.
“I am aware of that,” he drawled.
“Where did it come from?”
“Whoever lived here obviously decided to abandon it when they left. How old are ye, Alana?”
The abrupt question startled her so that she answered without hesitation. “Two-and-twenty.”
Gently turning so that the cat removed itself from his back, Gregor lay on his side facing her. “Why are ye searching for your sister?”
“How do ye ken that?”
“Ye told me.”
She obviously became far too talkative when gripped by a fever, Alana decided and grimaced. It was also clear that she had revealed enough that it was foolish to try to hold fast to her secrets now. Since she and Gregor were united in trying to escape the Gowans, it was better if he knew the whole truth anyway.
“Aye, I am looking for my sister, my twin sister Keira,” she said. “We have heard nothing from her since her husband died several months ago. Weel, nothing but some very alarming rumors. Her husband had been cruelly murdered, her lands had been taken by a vile mon, she had been wounded badly and fled, or died, or was being held prisoner. Dark tale after dark tale.”
“Did none of your people go to her keep to find out the truth?”
“Two. When the first did not return, another went. He returned but only lived long enough to tell us that Keira was not being held captive, that rumor said she had been wounded but had escaped, and that the devil himself held fast to her lands.”
“And so ye set out to find her?” Gregor rose from the bed before he gave in to the strong urge to take her into his arms.
Alana stared at him as he got out of the bed. He wore only his braies. As he stretched, she watched the muscles in his broad back and long, well-shaped legs flex and felt as if her fever had returned. She had to bite back a soft protest when he began to dress. The man was such a pleasure to look at, it seemed a sin to cover all that beauty. She forced her wanton thoughts aside and put her mind back on the matter of the search for Keira.
Highland Lover Page 5