by Barbara Bard
“Oh aye, that was something alright,” the Highlander moaned, his eyes looking groggy. Sarah put the waterskin to his lips and made him drink. Most of the liquid fell down his chin, but at least he got some. She felt a warmth beside her leg and realized that the wound was bleeding.
In a panic and without thinking, Sarah pressed her hands to the wound in an effort to stem the flow of blood, but it kept coming, pulsing and throbbing against her hands, as though it was alive. Sarah looked around for anything to tie around the man's leg, but the only thing that came to her was her own dress.
It was a shame to ruin such a lovely garment, but it was already stained with dirt and blood. A little tear here and there wouldn't make much difference. She grabbed the sleeve and pulled it apart, then rolled the fabric tightly over the man's thigh and tied a secure knot. The dress was much the worse for wear, but it wasn't as though she wanted to wear it for its intended purpose anyway.
“Thank ye lass, ye saved my life,” he said as his head tilted to the side.
It was probably better that he rest now anyway. His eyes closed, and he started breathing heavily.
Sarah wiped her forehead and took a long drink of water as well. She looked at her handiwork, and at the blood-soaked javelin, and shook her head. She thought she had escaped the war, but it had still come to her.
Going over to the river to wash her hands, Sarah thought about the future. She had wanted to escape quickly, and by all accounts, she should have carried on walking through the forest there and then. She had abandoned thoughts of taking the horse. If she did then this man would be stranded in the forest, for it was unlikely he would be walking for a while, and not at great speed even then. Taking his horse would be condemning him to a death sentence.
But she couldn't bring herself to leave his side. She had saved his life, but if she left now anything could happen. A wild animal could emerge from the woods and attack him. His wound could fester again, and if he was unable to treat himself then he could die from some disease. It just seemed wrong to leave him there by himself, even though he was a Highlander.
She almost hated herself for being such a kind person. She wished she could have hardened her heart and left him there to his own fate.
It wasn't as though she owed him anything. They killed her parents after all, why should she show them any kindness? But just looking at him brought up so much compassion. She found herself sitting down beside him, wondering what fate awaited her. She stayed by the sword, just in case she needed to defend herself.
Chapter 7
Drew awoke feeling like his body was on fire. The pain in his leg hadn't gone away, although it had faded somewhat after he had pulled the thick javelin out of his thigh. He was light-headed and groggy. His vision was blurred, and his memory was jumbled.
He remembered being on the battlefield, and that man with the huge fists punching him around the face, but other than that he didn't really remember a thing.
Then he opened his eyes properly and blinked away the haziness, and felt the waterskin being pressed to his lips. The water was cool and refreshing, and much needed. He gulped it down, but it was taken away before he had been given his fill.
Then he remembered her.
The sunlight faded away to reveal her face, a vision of loveliness. Her almond-shaped eyes darted away, almost as though she was afraid to look at him. A slight smile tugged at her shy lips, and her cheeks were rosy. She looked a full-figured, healthy girl, and Drew had been blessed she found him in these woods. Her clothes were strange for someone in these woods to be wearing, but at that moment in time, his mind was focused on his wound and the pain it was causing rather than on anything else.
She had yet to say anything, and Drew wondered if she lacked the ability to talk.
“Thank ye, lass, ye did me a great honor by saving me. I would hae been done for if ye hadn't been here.”
The girl inclined her head demurely. Drew was still in a lot of pain, but he shifted his position and sighed.
“I don't suppose ye hae any food?” he asked hopefully. The girl raised her hands, revealing some berries and fruit. It wasn't exactly a hearty meal, but it would have to do. Drew grabbed some from her hand, his rough flesh sliding against her smooth skin. He popped the berries in his mouth and chewed them, letting their natural juice slide down his throat.
Her skin was softer than his, and he hadn't expected to find anything like her in these forests. She was a rare beauty, and for a moment Drew wondered if she was a forest nymph, just like in the stories his mother used to tell him. Then he smiled and pushed those thoughts away from his mind. There were no such things as fairies. This girl was as real as he was.
Drew finished off the berries and then reached out for the waterskin, straining hard as it was just out of his reach. His leg still throbbed with pain and any time he attempted to move a sharp feeling lanced through his leg. He winced and gritted his teeth, trying to stop himself from yelling.
“Are ye from around here, lass?” he asked. The girl looked away from him again. It was such a terrible thing, not to be able to speak. He wondered what kind of life she must have had.
“Aye, well, I wouldnae worry about it tae much. I'll try not tae ask ye any more questions. It must be hard to live as ye do. But listen, I wouldnae wander tae far off intae these woods. There is a battle going on and it is nae the place for a lassie like you. I suppose ye should know my name. I'm Drew.”
A strange look came upon her face, a look that Drew was unable to decipher.
“We're fighting the English, lassie. I dinnae know if ye've heard, but they killed a man for nae reason, so we've gone tae war again. I need tae get back there,” he said, suddenly realizing that he had been away from the battle for some time. Thoughts of Blair and the others ran through his head.
But when he pushed himself up, he grunted. The pain was just too much to bear, and he settled back down with the help of the girl. He eventually calmed down, although his heart burned furiously.
“It was a lucky shot that got me. I didnae see him coming towards me. I suppose I should count myself lucky, but I need tae get back tae the battle. My clan needs me. My brother...” he trailed off.
Blair would be able to hold his own in battle, but that wasn't the point. Drew wanted to be there beside him. They should have been fighting this fight as brothers, as a family, in honor of their father.
“I wish ye could speak, lass. I could dae with someone tae take my mind from these thoughts. Ye see, lass, my father died recently and it has nae been the easiest time for the two of us. But when I saw my brother out on the battlefield I was filled with pride. It was like I was seeing him for the first time, seeing him truly alive. He was born for that life. Me? I cannae say I was. There's nothing I like better than cutting down the English, but I wouldnae like tae dae it all my life. I understand my father better now.
“He didnae like the thought of war coming again. Sometimes I wonder if we've gone against his wishes by taking the war to the English, but their crimes cannot go unpunished. Do ye have any family nearby? If ye dae ye should make sure they're safe. If it's nae tae much trouble do ye think ye could take me back to yer cottage? I wouldnae be any bother, it's just that this ground is getting hard on my behind,” he said.
The girl blushed. She looked away, she seemed to do a lot of that, but Drew thought he saw a slight hint of a smile on her soft lips. She made no effort to move, so Drew assumed that she didn't have a family, or she was too afraid of him to consider taking him back to them. He supposed he couldn't blame her. He made quite a sight, a fearsome warrior covered in blood, more of it his than he would have liked, with a huge, gaping wound in his leg.
Occasionally Drew would test the wound, and every time it would bring pain to him. It seemed as though he was not going to be going anywhere soon, much to his dismay.
“It is strange tae think that out there the battle rages without me. The fight continues, people are dying with every breath I take, and ye
t I cannae dae anything about it. It is enough for a man to feel small,” he said, bowing his head. The girl placed her arm upon his shoulder. It was a kind gesture and made Drew smile.
“I suppose I shouldnae be feeling sorry for myself. It hae always been a possibility in war. Others have already died, and I am still alive. I should be grateful for that. But I never thought my fate would lead me here. I thought I would either die in glory or see us tae victory. The thought of the battle ending without me getting back there fills me with dread.
“I hae always hated feeling helpless, lass. It's the same feeling I had when I had tae watch my father die. He was always a great man. When he was younger he was so tall he looked as though he could pluck a cloud from the sky. Tae see him so weak and frail on the floor, gasping for breath was tae much tae bear. Well, I guess ye dinnae want tae hear about my woes. Ye must have some of your own, although if ye dae live nearby then I envy ye. This is a fine place tae live, peaceful. I can understand why Blair was tempted to leave.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the painful sensations sweep through him. Tiredness was upon him, although he tried to fight it.
He heard movement and looked over. The girl had moved away from him to the edge of the riverbank. She tore off more of her fabric and leaned over. He admired the view. The curves of her body were pleasing to him, and although there was much about this situation that vexed him, there was plenty to provide him with relief as well. There were far worse fates than to be in a secluded, shaded glade with a beautiful girl.
She came back and wrung some moisture out of the fabric she had ripped away, then leaned over Drew and dabbed at his forehead and temples with the cloth. Cool water trickled down his skin. Drew closed his eyes again and murmured in contentment. He breathed in her sweet feminine scent, enjoying the feeling of her taking care of him.
What she was doing was incredibly refreshing, although he wasn't sure if it was the act she was performing or the fact that it was she who was carrying it out. The moment seemed to last forever. The world was perfectly still around him, and for all the lust for battle that burned within his heart, he was quite content to stay there forever.
The girl's hair fell forward as she moved across his forehead. The ends of the strands brushed against his cheek and made his entire body tremble. Never before had he been in the presence of one that made him feel as strongly as this. He felt strings in his groins but he knew he must ignore it. This poor girl risked her life to save him and he must show her kindness.
He glanced at her face again and all of a sudden, pushed her off him.
Surprised at his action, she screamed and ran away from him.
From where he was lying, he could see the fear in her eyes. His intention had not been to frighten her, but he could give in to his desires.
“I thought ye couldnae speak, lass?” Drew asked; his voice had a concerned edge to it. Quickly, his eyes darted around, searching for any threat.
“If this is a trap it is a strange one,” he added.
The girl's eyes darted furtively around too. She looked scared.
“I didnae mean tae strike fear intae your heart,” he said, “I got ahead of myself there for a moment. I just, well, it is, I didnae what came over me really, I was just thinking about the war and if we are winning and my brother and I lost control of myself. But tell me, can ye speak? Truly? And why hae ye been silent all this time?”
The girl didn't respond. Drew wondered what was wrong with her. He'd heard about people like this before, those who didn't fit into society and were cast away into the woods, destined to make their own way in life. Most of them didn't ever make it. Maybe she had only recently been outcast.
“If ye are an outcast ye dinnae hae tae be ashamed. Ye have my thanks, truly. How long hae ye been out here? How long hae ye been alone? Talk to me, lass, please. Maybe I can help ye?” Drew said.
He wasn't sure why, but there was a firm feeling in his heart that he had to help this girl. After all, she had helped him, saved his life in fact, and if there was anything he could do for her then he wanted to do as much as he could. He implored her with his eyes, and for a moment he thought that she was going to reveal her truth to him, but instead, she turned away and broke down in fretful sobs.
Drew's heart went out to her. He could not imagine what she had been through, but he wanted to make it right. She'd done so much for him, and he couldn't let her suffer alone. Whatever her reasons for not speaking to him he had to make the effort to take care of her, just as she had taken care of him.
“I cannae imagine what hardships ye have endured tae be sent out here alone, but whatever they may be they have nae diminished your kindness or compassion. Ye saved my life, me, a stranger, and I owe ye. I will dae anything in my power tae see that nae harm comes to ye. That is a promise, an oath. Ye have my word on that. Please lass, ye dinnae need tae cry. Ye can speak freely. There is nothing ye can say that would hurt me.”
A few moments passed. Drew endured the pain to push himself over to her, then placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to face him. Redness rimmed her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks. It marred the beauty she had when she was at peace, but it did not make her unattractive.
Breaking away from him again, she walked off a few steps. It took Drew only a moment to realize that she was going towards the sword, and fear, mixed with confusion, filled his heart. She sniffed back the tears and stopped crying, although her body still trembled slightly.
“What are ye doing, lass?” he asked in disbelief as she reached down for the sword, picking it up with both hands, the weight taking its strain on her arms.
“It's not what I say that would anger you, but the way I say it,” she said in a trembling, scared voice.
She had every right to tremble as well, for she was English. Drew's eyes widened. He pushed himself back. His hands curled into fists, dirt moved through his fingernails and grass was ripped from the ground. Anger beat within him and he almost wanted to spit out the desire he'd felt for her.
“Ye are English?!” he cried. “Then ye are a prisoner of war!”
Chapter 8
The fury on Drew's face was more than Sarah could bear. The sword was heavy in her arms, seeming to get heavier by the second, but she did not want to let go. Anger welled up in her as she tightened her grip on the sword. Her face was set in anger. All her life, she had been told what mindless savages the Highlanders were. She had just saved this man’s life and she was sure that he would hold her prisoner.
Sarah’s breath came out hot and fast. Being so close to him had already made her realize that she had stayed in this place for too long. She should never have helped the enemy, and yet in her heart, she was still sure it was the right thing to do. Her mistake had been sticking around. She had escaped Lord Flynn’s cruelty, only to be held hostage by his enemy.
His hands grabbed at the ground around him, clawing like a wild animal to push himself forward. But with every inch of ground he made, Sarah stepped back, keeping the distance between them. As he struggled to get off the ground, all that Sarah could see was ripping muscles and hard flesh. She had already been too close to him, already felt the heat of his body next to hers, his strong arms around her, and the thought of it filled her with revulsion.
At least, it should have.
To her surprise and horror, she felt the tingling sensation, as though a thousand fairies were dancing upon her skin, and it scared her. Drew was a good-looking man, and that brief moment when she had been in his arms she felt something stir up within her, but she fought it with every fiber of her being. There was something about him that made him appealing and it was more than just his looks. His blue eyes were captivating and she was tempted to lose herself in them. Sarah cut herself short in the middle of her lustful thought. He was a Highlander, and she could not accept that she would ever have such feelings for him.
It was obviously just that she was confused. It had been a long da
y, and she was disoriented and exhausted. Her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no way she could ever be attracted to a brutish Highlander. Sarah silently scolded herself for feeling this way.
“I say again, lass, ye are a prisoner of war. If ye dinnae intend tae use that weapon ye should put it down,” he said in a rolling Scottish burr. Sarah clamped her eyes shut, trying not to find it pleasing to her ears.
“You are not in much of a position to make demands of me. I am the one with the sword, I get to make the demands. I don’t want any trouble, I am just passing through the woods.” she said, mustering all the courage she could. She wasn't sure how much of it managed to make it through though.
“Let go of the sword and we can talk about this like adults,” he said.