Once she had seen to her personal needs, Alana hurried to the river to bathe. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she stripped off her shift and plunged into the water. She gritted her teeth against the sharp cold and bathed as quickly as she could. Since she was growing as tired of fish as she was of rabbit, she ignored the ones swimming by her as she soaped her hair and then sank beneath the water to rinse the soap away. Once that was done, Alana fled the water and rubbed herself dry as briskly as she could to try and return the warmth to her body.
The very first chance she got, she was going to have a long—very long—hot bath, Alana promised herself. As she dressed and braided her hair, Alana savored the thought of that bath, idly wondering how long she could soak in the hot water before she looked as wrinkled as an ancient crone. And this time, it would be her bath and only hers, so that there would be no need to hurry. Gregor could find his own.
When they did finally reach a place where she could pamper herself so, it would probably be time for Gregor to decide if he wanted to stay with her or continue on his own, she thought with a heavy sigh. She was so torn. She needed to find Keira, to know her sister was safe, but finding Keira meant the end of her journey with Gregor. Despite the dearth of any words of love from him, she felt certain that he cared for her. It was there to see in the way he held her close as they slept, in his smile, and even in the way he spoke to her. Yet for all she knew, Gregor treated all his lovers so tenderly, right up until he left them behind.
So she would just have to work harder to make Gregor want to keep her by his side. If they were at his home, she could show him what a good helpmate she could be. She had certainly done her share in keeping them fed and warm in their travels, but she doubted that was quite the same thing in Gregor’s eyes. She knew he liked to talk with her about anything and everything, and he liked the fact that she could give him a challenging game of chess, but all that had been true from the start and had brought her no whispers of loving words yet.
That left one thing—lovemaking. Gregor was a very sensual man and she knew he enjoyed every part of making love, for she could feel his desire as if it were her own. As Alana started back to the camp, she decided that she was going to be the best lover Gregor had ever known. Perhaps that was the key to his heart. She was willing to try anything now, for all her instincts told her that the time she had left to find that key was rapidly running out.
The moment Alana returned to the camp, Gregor gave her a kiss and wandered off to see to his own personal needs. Life was good, he thought as he relieved himself under the curious gaze of Charlemagne and then headed to the river to wash. The place they were camped in had plenty of food and water, although it was a little humiliating to discover that Alana was a better hunter of small game than he was. The weather was exceptionally good, as if nature itself had decided they deserved a respite from the cold and the damp.
Ah, and then there was sweet Alana, who was proving to be a lover beyond compare, he thought with what he suspected was a besotted grin. The cold water of the river quickly doused the desire that thought had stirred. As he hastily washed, he tried to decide what it was that made her so much better than all of the others he had known. He had always believed that, as concerned the actual act of lovemaking, one woman was much the same as another. Alana had proven him wrong about that from the start.
There was no question that knowing he was the only man who had ever been with her stirred feelings inside of him he was hard pressed to describe. Arrogant and hypocritical though it was, he liked the fact that no man had ever touched that soft skin, kissed those beautiful breasts, or felt her tight heat clench around him as she cried out his name. He had never before cared who or how many other men a woman had known before or after him, but the mere thought of another man even kissing Alana made him feel decidedly murderous. Yet he did not think the gift of her innocence was what made her feel so right.
Stepping up onto the bank, Gregor nudged Charlemagne off the coarse linen cloth he had taken from the inn and briskly rubbed himself dry, his mind still set on trying to work out the puzzle that was Alana. She gave him the freedom to be himself above and beneath the blankets, he thought and smiled. He had not realized how coldly precise he had become, how carefully he judged every touch and movement. It had been the best way to arouse the woman enough so that he could get what he was after. He had been called a good lover, but he now knew he had also been a selfish one, his skills learned not for the woman’s sake, but for his own. And with Alana, he did not seem to have to plan or calculate. Not only did her passion match his perfectly, but it was almost as if he could feel her desire, sense the pleasure she felt when he touched her. He was no romantic fool, but he could swear that when that sweet release swept over them, they truly were one, their sense of pleasure as united as their bodies. It was something he suspected he would never understand, but he was starting to crave it.
As he began to walk back to camp, he decided it was time to continue their journey, and he sighed. He hated to leave this idyll, but he had promised Alana he would help her find Keira, and that would not be accomplished by living in the forest like a pair of carefree wood sprites. There was also the chance that his family had gotten word of how he had disappeared somewhere between Mavis’s home and Scarglas. They would worry and start to search for him. Alana’s family had to be worried, too. Although a selfish part of him wanted to shrug aside those concerns and spend a few more days frolicking in the woods with Alana, he knew he could not give in to it.
There was such a serious look upon Gregor’s face as he sat down beside her and helped himself to some of the porridge she had made that Alana felt compelled to ask, “Is something wrong?”
“Nay, I had just decided that we had best start walking again and wasnae feeling too happy about it,” he replied and smiled at her.
Alana did not feel too happy about it, either, but she smiled back at him. “Aye, it is time. I have been feeling as though Keira is close at hand for a while now.”
“Close at hand, but nay in trouble?” He decided he liked the way Alana had flavored the porridge with a finely chopped apple. A good cook, he thought, and then felt a little ashamed of himself for making a tally of her good points before coming to any decision about her.
“Nay, not in trouble, but troubled. That evil mon I dreamed about is gone now. I am hoping that is because he is dead.” She grimaced. “Bloodthirsty of me, I ken it, but I think he was a mon with a lot of blood on his hands and he would ne’er leave Keira alone unless he or she was dead.”
“A hard truth, but one that cannae be ignored when ye must face it. I suspicion your sister has. Now, if ye can feel her as ye say ye can, then she cannae be too far away.”
“I shouldnae think so, but I dinnae ken where we are.”
“If we set a brisk pace, we should reach the monastery of Saint Bearnard before nightfall.”
Alana stared at him in surprise and disbelief. “The monastery near Muirlan?”
“Aye. Do ye ken where that is?” Gregor savored the last few mouthfuls of the wine Mistress Dunn had given them.
“I do. My cousin Matthew is there. Weel, he is Brother Matthew now.”
Gregor shook his head. “Is there anywhere in this land where there isnae a Murray lurking about?”
She laughed and shrugged. “There are a lot of us, but in truth, Matthew is a Kirkcaldy. That is my grandmother’s family.” Alana suddenly gasped as a realization swept over her. “Of course! That is why I have been feeling Keira.”
“Do ye think she went to your cousin for help, then?”
“She went to him to hide.” Alana thought about that for a moment and only became even more convinced of it. “Aye, she went to Cousin Matthew when she was hurt, which means that Ardgleann cannae be all that far away from Muirlan and the monastery.”
“I cannae say where Ardgleann is, but I do ken that Muirlan isnae verra far from Scarglas.” He shrugged when Alana looked at him with faint curiosity, fo
r he knew most men had a much better knowledge of the land around them for many days’ ride than he did. “Because my father had such a keen skill for making enemies, we were surrounded by them. One clan, the Grays, felt it was their right to kill any MacFingal they found. We didnae travel far because of that and we tended to stay on the most sheltered trails when we did. I can tell ye a great deal about every clan encircling Scarglas, a wee bit about how to get to Dubheidland, where my cousin Sigimor is laird, and some of us have been to Deilcladach, where Fiona’s brother Connor rules, but little else. E’en though it is no longer as dangerous as it was, old habits die hard and we still dinnae travel verra far.”
Suddenly realizing that Alana might ask him why he was so far from home when the Gowans captured him, Gregor quickly asked her what she knew about the monastery. He breathed an inner sigh of relief when she began to tell him all she could recall from the things Matthew had told her family over the years. Keeping secrets from Alana was proving to be very hard work and making him feel guilty. He shook aside that thought and forced himself to listen closely to all she told him about Muirlan.
Within an hour they were ready to begin the walk to Muirlan. Alana looked around the campsite, both sorry to leave and eager to start the journey that might well take her to her sister. She knew she could not linger here with Gregor and hide away from the world any longer, but it was impossible to completely rid herself of the sadness that knowledge brought her. Smiling faintly at Gregor, who took her by the hand as he started to walk, she fell into step at his side. She would not think on how near the end of their journey was, an end that could hold both joy and great sorrow for her. The only consolation she could see ahead of her was that the joy of finding Keira would help her survive the pain of losing Gregor if she failed to win his heart.
Gregor decided they could take a rest at midday, for they had covered a lot of ground already. He sat on a rock warmed by the sun and watched Alana trail Charlemagne, who had insisted upon getting out of his sling and doing a little exploring. That, he decided with a brief grin, was a very odd cat, and then he laughed softly before taking a drink of water.
“Do ye want some of these oatcakes, lass?” he called out to Alana. “They are the last of the bounty Mistress Dunn sent with us.”
“Aye,” Alana replied from the small cairn she was intently studying. “I will be there in a moment.”
Gregor frowned when, as Alana crouched down by the bottom of the cairn, she suddenly became very tense and still. “Did ye find something?”
“Oh, aye,” she replied in a slightly high voice, but still she did not move as much as a finger. “An adder.”
A chill rushed through Gregor as he leapt to his feet and drew his dagger. Walking as softly yet as swiftly as he could, he approached Alana. It took him a moment to see the snake, for the shadows cast by the rocks hid it very well. It was within striking distance of the wrist of Alana’s outstretched hand. She must have reached right over it, he thought in horror. The way the snake was poised upon the ground eyeing Alana’s wrist told Gregor that the adder could well strike soon even if Alana did not make a move.
Just as Gregor readied his dagger and took aim, praying that he could kill the snake before it bit Alana, Charlemagne leapt through the air from someplace to his right. Alana cried out in alarm, but Gregor grabbed her and yanked her away before she could move to try and stop the cat. Holding her in his arms, he stepped several feet away from the snake and began to feel truly sorry that the cat would soon die. Even as that touch of grief began to creep over him, Charlemagne started to walk toward them, a very limp snake hanging from his mouth. Still holding Alana, Gregor began to step back from the approaching cat.
“Jesu! Drop that!” Gregor ordered, a little surprised when the cat obeyed him.
“Is it dead?” Alana asked, fighting the urge to rush to Charlemagne and pick him up.
“It looks verra dead to me,” Gregor replied after looking closely at the snake. He picked a stick up off the ground and poked at the adder, but it showed no sign of life. “Aye, ’tis dead.”
“Oh, Charlemagne!” Alana broke free of Gregor’s now-light hold upon her arm and rushed to gather her cat up in her arms, although she took care to give the dead snake a wide berth. “Do ye think he was bitten, Gregor?” she asked even as she began to carefully look the cat over for some sign of a wound.
“Being that he is such a small creature, love, I suspicion ye would see him sickening already if he had been bitten.”
Gregor rolled his eyes and scowled at the cat as Alana fawned over it, telling it what a brave wee mon it was and other such nonsense. As he followed her back to where they had set down their packs, Gregor did not know whether to laugh or cry. He had been outmaneuvered by a cat. One thing he was learning from this journey with Alana was humility, he mused and inwardly grinned. Sitting back down on the rock, he watched Alana feed the cat some of the rabbit they had carefully tucked away in their supplies for later.
“I was planning to sup on that,” he murmured.
“There is still plenty left,” Alana said as she sat back on her heels and watched Charlemagne eat. “He seems to be weel, aye? I think ye are right. He would be sickening already if the snake had bitten him.”
The cat finished the meat and began to wash itself. Gregor shook his head. “I didnae ken that cats would hunt and kill adders.”
“Nay, neither did I. I am nay sure they do. Howbeit, Charlemagne did it verra weel. Quick and deadly.”
“So, ye arenae useless, then, are ye?” Gregor said to the cat, biting back a smile at Alana’s look of outrage.
“He is a verra fine cat,” Alana mumbled, feeling a little foolish yet not certain why.
Gregor smiled. “Aye, he is, e’en if he did ruin my chance to play the gallant rescuer.”
“Oh.” Alana bit her lip but was unable to fully suppress a giggle. “Weel, mayhap next time.”
Still tasting the fear he had felt for Alana, Gregor just grunted. The poison of an adder’s bite did not kill everyone unlucky enough to be bitten, but it could kill some. Alana was so small and slender, Gregor felt certain she would have died if she had been bitten. He had felt chilled to the bone until the threat to her life had ended. In truth, he still felt shaken. As she sat on the ground next to the rock he sat on to eat her oatcakes, he stroked her hair, feeling an urge to reassure himself that she was unharmed.
She had become important to him, he realized. Very important. Gregor knew that should tell him something very precise about his feelings for her, but he was not sure he wanted to know what it was. From all he had seen in the past, when a man let his heart gain the reins, he became an idiot. He was determined to make his decisions concerning Alana with cold, calm reason. It was what he had thought he had been doing with Mavis, but he now knew that greed for her dowry had interfered, as well as a compulsion to have what Sigimor and Ewan had. He still felt that urge, but this time, the woman he sought to share the rest of his life with would fit.
“It looks as if the cat will survive,” he said as he stood up, needing to start moving and shake free of his thoughts.
“Aye.” Alana smiled, stood up, and brushed off her skirts. “I still cannae believe he did that.”
“Neither can I. I believe Charlemagne thinks he is a dog. He follows one about like a faithful hound, travels about with us like one, and protects ye like one. Aye, that cat thinks it is a dog.” He looked down at the cat that waited patiently by Alana’s feet as she donned the sling she carried him in. “He is sadly confused.”
“Nay, he is just afraid to be left alone,” Alana said, a hint of laughter over his nonsense tinting her voice as she settled the cat in the sling and picked up her pack.
Gregor could understand that. It was one reason he had decided to search for a wife. Fleeting moments of pleasure with too many women he did not really care about were no longer enough. Far too often the pleasure gained rapidly faded into dissatisfaction and emptiness. He had also thought t
o step away from his large family, to make his own life. That was no longer so important to him, not if it meant he had to bind himself to the wrong woman for life in order to do it.
Taking Alana by the hand, Gregor started walking. He tried to imagine Mavis spending so many days walking, sleeping beneath the stars, and catching dinner as well as cooking it, but it was impossible to see her doing any of it. It would not have mattered so much if Alana had lacked such skills, but he found he was very pleased that she had them. There was something almost comforting about it. It had certainly made this journey a lot easier.
“Do ye think your sister will still be at the monastery?” he asked and then frowned as she tugged free of his grasp and went back to the small cairn. “’Ware, lass, there may be more adders nesting there.”
Alana picked up the stick Gregor had used to poke at the snake. She stood back from the piled rocks forming the marker and used the stick to carefully knock toward her what she had been reaching for when she had confronted the adder. Picking it up, she hurried back to Gregor’s side and took his hand in hers.
“Weel? What treasure did ye think was worth facing another adder?” he asked as they started walking again. He frowned when she blushed and slowly opened her other hand to show him her prize. “Alana, that is a rock.”
“Aye, and a verra pretty rock, too.”
“I see. Ye have decided that the cat and a full pack arenae enough weight for ye to carry and so ye have decided to add a few rocks to it all. For this ye risked getting poisoned by an adder’s bite?” He knew he was revealing a little of the anger he had felt when she had put herself at risk again.
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