He sat her gently down on soft fur then reached into a satchel and handed her an oatcake. “Here, eat this.”
Taking the oatcake, Abigale eyed him curiously. “Thank ye.”
Abigale ate in silence. Wondering why he was treating her with kindness, she watched him keenly. Walking back to the black mare, he retrieved a waterskin. Oh thank Heavens… water. She was parched.
“Drink this,” James demanded.
Abigale gladly took the skin and drank vigorously. A strong overbearing taste burned her throat and her stomach threatened to lurch. She spat out the amber liquid and coughed.
James smirked. “What’s wrong? Have ye no had whiskey before?”
Abigale shot him a cross glance as she wiped her mouth off on her sleeve. “Nay. ‘Tis awful.”
“’Tis an acquired taste, but trust me it will help.”
After the wretched liquid settled in her stomach, Abigale watched James tend to the fire. Why was he being nice to her? It remained apparent that he had thought nothing of her wellbeing throughout the day and showed no mercy.
She was growing quite fond of this side of James; the caring, gentle side. It made her wonder why he didn’t want a wife. From what she’d viewed, he’d showed kindness, in his own way, she supposed. He was honorable, which she knew, because of his loyalty to her father. However, what could have happened to make this Highland warrior not want to take a wife?
At times he seemed to be far away, deep in thought. Perhaps a love gone bad or had he lost a love? If unlucky in love, she could understand wanting to protect your heart from the pain. Then again, what did she know? She had never been in love. What a mystery this man was to her.
She felt her skin prick and her body warmed. Looking up, her eyes met an amber glare. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. She’d been found out, for James now stood over her with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What?” James stood firm.
Quickly, she looked down into her lap, not wanting to make eye contact. “’Tis nothing.”
“Lass, say what’s on yer mind before ye worry yer bottom lip off.”
Abigale sighed in defeat. She had been told before that she was easy to read. Sister Kate had voiced that many times. Abigale Bruce, ye wear yer heart on yer sleeve. Surprisingly, Abigale wished Sister Kate was here now. She needed her words of wisdom, now more than ever.
She looked up at the towering warrior. “Why do ye no want a wife?”
James clenched his jaw as if this question irritated him. “Abigale, get some rest.” He began to walk off toward his horse.
“My Laird, if I may—“
James stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “Nay, ye may not.”
“It’s just… ye’ve been kind and ––“
“Lass, dinnae mistake my concern for yer wellbeing as an act of kindness.” Sternness swept across his face. “I’m no the monster everyone makes me oot to be.”
Abigale knew better than to push the issue, so she let him walk away. She took the skin and sipped; this time the whiskey didn’t taste as bad. Welcoming the warmth of the liquid, she snuggled deep into the furs and lost herself in her thoughts. Sooner or later she would crack open the mystery.
~~~~~
The last purple hue in the sky disappeared beyond the horizon as dusk quickly turned into night. The chattering of night creatures filled the air, a raging fire flickered and crackled in the center of camp. James sat propped up against a weeping willow tree where he’d spent most of the night watching Abigale. It wasn’t long after the second sip of whiskey that her eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Deeply nestled inside the furs, she looked like an angel. Long dark eye lashes rested on her flawless cheeks, her mouth was slightly open, and James could hear her soft breaths. She mesmerized him, enticed him.
Furthermore, he found it quite enjoyable to sit and watch. The vision of Abigale talking to Fergus back at the stables brought a smile to his face. The way her face lit up, the soft touches she gave Fergus, even the way she bit her bottom lip when she was deep in thought captivated him. He cursed silently. Was he really becoming jealous of a horse?
Abigale sighed, bringing James’s attention back to the beauty sleeping right before him. Soft curves called to him as she nuzzled deeper into the furs. His body ached as he fought the urge to slide under the covers and press his body against hers. His hands twitched with the thought of running them over her breasts, down her stomach and… Before he knew it, he licked his lips. How sweet she would taste.
He scrubbed his hands down his face like he was trying to erase her from his thoughts. No such luck. With his bastard of a dragon stirring inside, the beast purred in agreement. God’s teeth, he should have claimed her when he had the chance to. Surely it would make his decision to send her away a lot easier.
A rant from Rory grabbed his attention. One last look at Abigale and James made his way to where his men were sitting around the fire. He hadn’t joined his fellow Dragonkine yet. To be honest he didn’t want to hear about the short-heeled wenches they had been with or their recent tavern brawls. Nay, James had other things on his mind.
“I dinnae understand –“
“Understand what?” James interrupted Rory as he approached the site.
“My Laird, I’m afraid Rory has had a wee drop too much mead and is loose with his tongue.” Conall eyed Rory as if telling him to shut it.
“I have nay.” Rory became defensive. “Ye know ‘tis true, humans have their rightful king. Why can’t we have our king?” Rory drained the last of his mead.
Magnus, an elder Dragonkine, spoke up, answering Rory’s question. “Aye lad, at one time we did have our own king who ruled along with King MacAlpin. Dragonkine flourished in our own kingdom.” Magnus had a faraway look on his face, as if he remembered that time very well. “Aye, many glorious years of peace.”
Rory gazed at Magnus. “Until we became a threat.”
“’Tis true, King MacAlpin slaughtered our people along with our king, King Drest,” Conall stated.
“Aye, it was supposed to be a peaceful meeting between kings and our royal seven. Ale, food, and women aplenty were offered as the kings made peace. So we thought. Before King Drest and our royals knew what was happening, the floors to the great hall had opened up sending our people deep underground. Bodies impaled upon sharp spikes, they couldn't move, and the trap doors on the floor were sealed shut. Covered with earth, our king and royals were buried alive.” Magnus paused, clearing his throat. “Only a few Dragonkine survived that day." Magnus stared into the flickering flames as if he saw the past recurring.
“I dinnae call surrendering surviving,” Rory bit back.
After the dreadful massacre King MacAlpin had showed no mercy to the Kine. The king’s orders were to slay every Dragonkine in the realm, man, woman, or child, it did not matter. As the last remaining seven Kine warriors stood with cold steel pressed against their necks and arms and legs bound with chains, King MacAlpin changed his mind. Mayhap the last seven remaining would come in handy as he looked onward to battling future enemies. A massive, powerful dragon on his or any future human king’s side would be of great value.
So, an agreement had been made. There would only be seven Dragonkine warriors left to roam the Earth, all warriors would be ruled by Scottish kings and become Guardians of Scotland. When called upon, they were to fight for the greater good. When one Kine died another would take its place, chosen by the dragon elders. Rory had a point; surrendering was not surviving.
With no more freedom to sustain, a species will either die or become accustomed to their new surroundings. Well, being immortal left you with only one option, adapt. As time would tell, some Dragonkine had a hard time with this. Most warriors’ dragons were bloodthirsty with revenge, so being on the battlefield killing humans sufficed their carnal need, good or bad. Morals didn't count as long as there was blood shed. Being endless came with another burden for some; falling in love with a human woman. If a woman coul
d overcome the idea that she loved a dragon, she would become immortal as long as her mate was alive. Because most women rejected a Kine’s dragon side, most warriors protected their hearts and vowed to never fall in love.
As James thought further about the history of the ancients, the downfall of their kingdom, he knew what the feud between the kings was about; a woman. “King MacAlpin’s son fell in love with King Drest’s daughter. If they were to have married the next male heir would have become the Dragonkine king and king of Scotland. One king to rule both realms.”
“Nay my friend, ye have it all wrong.” Rory stalked over to James to make his point clear. “It was about King MacAlpin's greed. He wanted to rule Dragonkine and humans. We became a threat. MacAlpin killed our people in order to be king of both realms.” Rory seethed with hatred.
“’Tis enough, Rory,” James warned. He could feel the tension rising and nothing good ever came from sparring dragons.
“Nay, think about it. There are seven of our Kine left, for three of the seven we have no clue where they are. James, ‘tis not natural for Dragonkine to live in a human world. We need our women to calm our dragons. If we had our own king ye would no have had to marry her.” Rory pointed in Abigale’s direction.
James could feel his anger as it started to rage inside, for he knew Rory had a point. But the past was the past. The king of Scotland held his loyalty. “Abigale is of no concern to ye,” James bit back.
Conall stood, prepared to break up a nasty fight. “Indeed it is the past.” He peered sternly at Rory.
Both James and Rory stood eye to eye, nostrils flared as they waited for someone to make a move.
“Enough.” Magnus’s deep demanding voice rang out. “’Twas long ago. We have mended those old wounds and our king is the king of Scotland.”
“But old wounds have left deep scars, Magnus, ye cannae deny it,” Rory stated as he held James’s stare.
Magnus stretched as he stood, breaking up the standoff between the warriors. “Lads I’ll take first watch.” He walked toward his pallet; indeed old wounds left deep scars.
~~~~~
Abigale tossed and turned, eventually awaking to a throbbing pain throughout her backside; her skin burned and muscles ached. The few sips of whiskey had helped some, but no matter which way she turned, she could not ease the pain. As she lay on her side she remembered seeing a clump of low-growing purple flowers, self-heal. She had just read about its ability to help heal wounds and soothe bruises. She needed to find that plant.
Rhythmic, thunderous snoring belted through the night, as four massive Highlanders with their mouths open and bodies limp surrounded the campsite. Their boisterous snores could have wakened the dead. Perfect timing to search for that plant, she thought. No one would know she was gone. Abigale sat up and stretched her stiff legs before she made an effort to stand.
Thankful she had feeling back in her legs, she walked gingerly toward the woodland’s edge away from camp. Not remembering exactly where she had seen the plant last, she went deeper. The forest came alive as the fullness of the moon shined down over the trees, casting eerie shadows throughout the glen; frogs croaked and small nocturnal animals rustled in the undergrowth. As she passed an old tree, an owl hooted, causing her to jump. She shook her head at herself and laughed. Abigale, ye big chicken, ‘tis only an owl, for heaven’s sake. But still the darkness gave her the creeps.
She continued her search through every blade of grass, every clump of flowers, but came up empty handed. If it wasn’t for the constant throbbing, she would have given up. It had to be around here somewhere; she had seen it. Hope of finding her precious flower started to fade and so did her energy.
Walking over towards the loch she noticed, from the corner of her eye, a purple flower. The moon lit the flower as if it was glowing. A smile crossed her lips as she stopped and picked a few petals from the plant.
~~~~~
Sleep always avoided James. Plagued with recurring nightmares, he preferred not to sleep. As of late the dreams had become all too real. Death was coming for him, he felt it deep in his bones. Rolling over on his back, frustrated, he cursed. Even the Bogeyman had demons nipping at his heels.
James pushed aside his thoughts and decided a dip in the nearby loch would calm his nerves. He looked over at the clump of furs where Abigale slept. She looked to be deeply snuggled and resting comfortably. He couldn’t see her beautiful auburn head, for she must have hidden in the furs to drown out the snores. Aye, a quick dip in the cold loch would clear his head.
As James approached the loch, he came across a small figure leaning against a boulder. Not being able to make out the image, he pulled out his dirk and crouched down. As he drew closer, the clouds in the dark sky shifted just enough to shed light upon the object.
“Abigale?” His forehead creased in confusion. “What are ye doing out here, lass?”
“James? I thought ye were sleeping.” She stood, trying not to show how much pain she was in.
“Answer my question.” He crossed his massive arms in front of his chest. “What are ye doing out here?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk.”
He didn’t believe her. No way would a lass be out here in the dark just to take a stroll. It was too dangerous. The glen was known for its abundance of wild boar, and when approached, the beasts could be quite nasty. Aye, she was hiding something from him; she was a horrible liar. “What’s that in yer hand?” He reached for the purple petals, but quickly she hid them behind her back.
“Nothing. ‘Tis my business.”
“Abigale, I’m in no mood for games.” James stepped forward then grabbed the flower from behind her.
“Give it back!” She yanked the flower from his hands. “Ye have no right coming out here telling me what to do. Ye told me to keep my distance, now ye keep yers," she demanded.
He noticed Abigale was uneasy on her feet when she tried to take a step away from him. She had swayed, lost her balance, and grabbed ahold of the boulder to steady herself.
Went for a walk my arse, James thought. The lass was in too much pain.
Hunched over, Abigale supported her weight with both hands on the boulder. Long auburn hair hung loosely over the sides of her face. Indeed she was in a great deal of pain. “What ails ye?” He brushed her hair away from her face so he could see her.
She looked up at him and her blue eyes stole his breath away. “Nothing. I’ll be fine.”
Even in pain the lass couldn’t be more beautiful, yet he was beginning to find out that she was as stubborn as he was. “Lass, ye dinnae look fine. Now, let me help.” Looking down he noticed a trail of blood running down her leg. “Yer bleeding.” Concerned, James grabbed her skirts and frantically started to push them up her thigh. He needed to know where the blood was coming from.
“Enough… enough.” She swatted at his hands. “I'll let ye help if ye let go of my skirt.” Abigale surrendered.
“Fine.” In one fast motion James grabbed her under dress and ripped a strip off. “I’ll be right back. Dinnae move. I’m going to the loch for some water.”
~~~~~
“Dinnae move.” Abigale repeated his words silently. Where did he think she was going to go? If she could she would run away and hide, for this was going to be the most humiliating night of her life. There was no way she was going to accept his help. First of all she was madder than a wet hen at him and secondly she was not going to let him rub self-heal on her buttocks. She would make do somehow, as soon as she got rid of him.
Clearing moss from a spot on the boulder, Abigale began to crush the petals into a paste. It was not ideal, but at this point she could care less. She needed relief.
James quickly returned from the loch and began to lift Abigale’s skirts.
“Wait I –“
“Lass, I’m just going to wipe the blood off and see where it’s coming from.”
Clearly he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so there was no need t
o hold on to the last bit of dignity she had left. They locked eyes and she could see his true concern for her. Slowly she gathered her skirts and turned around until her bare, ruby red bottom was exposed.
James grabbed her hips, moved her toward the moonlight, and bent down behind her. She heard a sigh, but James did not say a word.
Finally Abigale looked over her shoulder. ”How bad is it?”
“Well lass, ye have a bad case of saddle sores. One of the blisters has opened and that’s where the blood is coming from.”
Ever so gently, James began to dab away at the blood. Abigale hissed when he swiped the wet fabric over the injured skin. She felt a cool breeze against her skin and it wasn’t from the night air. Did he just blow on my bottom?
It wasn’t long before the pain started to dull. Abigale leaned her head back and stared into the starry night sky. Could this night get any worse? She was mortified standing here naked from the waist down. It seemed as of late, every time James was around, a part of her body was naked. Surely, he must be repulsed by the look of her bottom. She wished she could pray this night away.
James stood and helped straighten Abigale’s skirts. Humiliated, Abigale hid her face in her hands. She didn’t want to look at him; how could she? Little by little James had seen her naked. Not only was she physically exposed, but she felt just as naked emotionally. She was slowly being stripped away from everything she had ever known. No longer was her life predictable like back at the nunnery. Her whole world had been turned upside down and now her future lay in the hands of a man who did not want her. Maybe it was exhaustion taking over or perhaps emotions were getting the best of her; whatever it might be, tears started to streak her beautiful face.
Strong hands pried her hands away from her face. James placed a finger under her chin lifting her head back until their eyes met.
“Och lass, don’t cry.” James wiped a tear from her cheek. “Ye have the finest arse I’ve ever seen.” He smirked.
Abigale laughed through her tears and swatted at his chest playfully. “Dinnae make me laugh. I’m mad at ye.”
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 64