Mad for the Plaid

by Karen Hawkins

  He slanted her a surprised look. “You’ve been drinking my vodka?”

  “I’ve been here alone, with you ranting in a foreign tongue. I may have had a wee sip or so.” She smiled, her gray eyes warming. “Dinnae look surprised; you’d have done the same had our positions been reversed.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  “If you’re to have some water, you’ll need to sit oop a bit. I’ll move the saddlebags for you to lean on, but you’ll have to help, for I cannae move you by myself.”

  She slid the saddlebags near him and then slipped an arm under his good shoulder. It took several moments of blinding pain, but he was soon reclining. He shivered when the blanket slipped and the damp, cold air nipped him.

  She immediately tugged the blankets back in place, her fingers brushing his bared chest.

  He fought the desire to hold her hand there. “I’ve imagined you taking off my clothes, but never under these circumstances.”

  She chuckled. “Aye, this is nae very romantic. Your clothes were wet, and as you were soon burning with fever, I dinnae think it guid to leave you in them.” She smoothed the blankets, covering him thoroughly, and then handed him an uncorked flask.

  He lifted the water to his dry mouth, the taste so fresh and inviting that he had to force himself not to gulp it. Finally refreshed, he lowered the flask. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He loved the lilt in her voice, the silkiness of her tone; it teased and soothed at the same time. He took another drink of water. “I shall owe you for this once we are rescued.”

  “I dinnae do anything you would nae have done for me.”

  “That is true. Had I found you alone, I’d have definitely removed all your clothes and wrapped you in fur blankets before a fire.”

  “That is reassuring,” she replied in a dry tone.

  He grinned. “Where are my clothes?”

  “I washed the blood from them, and they’re spread oot by the fire. They’re almost dry.”

  She’d taken such good care of him, and under trying circumstances, too.

  Impulsively, he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “Thank you.”

  Their gazes locked and she flushed before she tugged her hand free, her smile disappearing. “’Twas nothing. Really.” She moved away. “I should see to our dinner.” She returned to the fire where the rabbit roasted.

  He watched the firelight play across her face, kissing even more warmth into her cheeks. “You went hunting, I see.”

  “I used the leather straps from your bedroll and some sticks to fashion some snares. This is all I’ve caught, though. We’ll need more if we stay longer.”

  His smile slipped a bit. “You haven’t heard from the others?”

  “Nae, and I doubt we will. Before I followed you and D’yoval, I sent St. George on to let them know to come looking for us, but it was raining hard enough to wash the ground away.”

  “So there won’t be tracks to show where we left the trail.”

  “I fear nae. I daresay MacKean and the others have gone on by now. Once you’re better, we’ll join oop with them at Greer’s camp. They’ll wait for us there.”

  “Very good.” He gingerly touched his forehead. “My head aches like the devil.”

  “’Tis the last bit of fever. You should go back to sleep. You will heal faster.”

  She was so matter-of-fact, her tone exactly the one mothers used with ill children, that it annoyed him greatly. Of course, right now even breathing annoyed him greatly. I am as weak as a kitten.

  A yawn tickled his throat and he suddenly realized she was right; he did need to sleep. He was so very, very tired. “I have been sleeping, yet I’m sleepy still.” He couldn’t keep the petulance from his tone.

  “I would nae call it sleep. It was all I could do to keep you still; I was worried you’d break open your wounds.” She sat back on her heels. “You were a stubborn patient. More than once, I thought aboot tying you oop.”

  For all her bold words, he caught the faintest quaver in her voice, and he realized she’d been frightened. She’d been alone, responsible for his care, and most likely fretting about those she’d left behind, not to mention the worry she had for the success of their mission. “Come here.”

  She shook her head. “I need to watch the rabbit or it will burn.”

  “We’re three feet away, if that. Come,” he repeated.

  She hesitated, but then joined him, sitting at his side.

  He captured her hand again, only this time he tugged her closer. “Lie with me.”

  She didn’t move.

  “It will keep me warm. This is a damp cave.” He thought she would argue, but after a second, she did as he asked, though she stayed outside the covers, her head resting carefully on his good shoulder.

  She fit against him as if made to be there, and he rested his cheek against her hair. His arm went around her, his hand resting on her hip. “You needn’t be so worried, krasavitsa. It will take more than a mere fall from a horse to hurt me.”

  “This was nae a mere fall. It— I’ve been worried.”

  “I am fine,” he soothed, closing his heavy eyes. Bozhy moj, but he could sleep forever like this, her warm, curvy body against him. It was as if they were pieces of the same puzzle, her head on his shoulder, her arm over his chest, her hip pressed to his—

  “Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

  He opened one eye and glanced at her before closing it again. “Aye. It began to rain and there was a lightning strike, which D’yoval did not like. I tried to calm him but the lightning, it came again, and a tree fell across us. I tried again to calm him, but the reins became tangled, and I could not hold him, and we slid off the embankment.”

  “All the way to the bottom of the ravine.”

  A thought occurred to him, and Nik opened his eyes. “D’yoval. Is he—”

  “He’s fine. A little scraped, but nothing that will nae heal.”

  Relieved, Nik closed his eyes again, noting that her thick braid now lay over his arm, a comforting weight.

  Ailsa toyed with the edge of the blanket where it rested under his stubbled chin. She could see the tiredness already stealing him away. She thought about letting him drift off, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “Nik, the reins were nae tangled.”

  He slanted a sleepy glance her way. “Oh?”

  She lifted up on her elbow. “You could nae hold them because you’d been shot.”

  “Shot?” Nik repeated blankly, his eyes now wide open. “I couldn’t have been . . . but—” He frowned. “The pain in my shoulder happened before I fell.” No wonder he hadn’t been able to control D’yoval. “I don’t remember hearing a pistol shot.”

  “I thought it was thunder. Perhaps you did, too.”

  “The brigands were lucky; the storm covered their attack.”

  Nik saw a shadow cross over her face, as if she wished to say something more. But after a long moment, all she said was, “I hope we catch them. I—” A log shifted in the fire and sent sparks fluttering through the air. She pushed herself up, her braid trailing across his shoulder as she moved away. “I must tend the fire. I dinnae wish our dinner to burn.”

  Before he could protest, she was already gone, adjusting the logs with a long stick. It was tempting to call her back, but from the serious expression on her face, he knew the moment was lost.

  She had reason to be worried, as did he. Why would thieves go to so much trouble merely to rob us? Something is not what it should be. We are vulnerable away from the others; we must rejoin our party. “We will leave tomorrow.”

  Her brows lowered. “Perhaps. If you’re oop to it—”

  “Nyet. We must go as soon as we can. We’ve a mission to accomplish and we’re not safe away from our escort.”

  “I’ll nae have the wound on your shoulder opening again. It was . . .” She clamped her lips together until they were in a white line and suddenly
she became very busy with the fire.

  He pressed his fingers to the wadded bandage. He couldn’t tell a thing about the wound except that it ached. “Is it that bad?”

  She didn’t meet his gaze. “Bad enough.”

  “Is the bullet still in my shoulder?”

  She shook her head. “It merely sliced you, although it was a deep cut, and bled so much, I feared . . .” She turned away, the shadows hiding her expression.

  “It’s a good thing you tied the bandage so tight. There’s not a spot of blood to be seen.”

  “It is healing. And you need nae worry that we’re exposed. I have been keeping guard, in case the brigands find us again, and I tied a string across the mouth of the cave and threaded two cups to it, to serve as an alarm.”

  “And D’yoval?”

  “He is inside the cave, near the entrance. He cannot be seen from the outside.”

  Nik could not imagine his men doing any better. “Thank you for watching after both me and my horse.”

  She shrugged as if she didn’t care one way or the other, though the brightness of her eyes belied her casual tone. “It had to be done.”

  Nik fought the urge to close his heavy eyes. “Where are my weapons?”

  “You rifle’s there.”

  She nodded toward one side of him and he realized his rifle was leaning against the wall, easily within his reach.

  “Your pistol is beside it,” she added. “They got wet, so I cleaned them. They are loaded and ready, should you need them.”

  “That is something, at least.” He yawned sleepily, noting the way her lips were downturned, her brow knit. “Do not look so glum. It will take more than one bullet to kill me.”

  “One bullet almost did kill you,” she said sharply. “Had I nae seen where D’yoval slid off the trail, you would have bled to death in that stream.”

  “Perhaps. And perhaps not.” He rubbed his hand over his face. His eyelids would not stay open, they were so heavy. He closed them and murmured, “Tomorrow, we leave.”

  “We’ll see,” she said flatly.

  He thought about disagreeing with her, but sleep began to creep in, stealing his thoughts and lulling him to quiet. After a few moments, he heard Ailsa beside him. She arranged his blankets, tucking them around him until he was once again cocooned in warmth.

  The fire crackled, and the pleasant scent of roasting rabbit made the cave seem homelike, especially with Ailsa beguilingly close. Close enough for a kiss, he thought wistfully.

  With that last, lingering thought he fell back into a deep, deep sleep.

  Chapter 17

  D’yoval nudged Ailsa’s pocket, pushing her a step to one side.

  She clicked her tongue, trying not to laugh at the insistent horse. “You are as stubborn as your master, you are.”

  The horse snorted in protest, then butted his nose against her pocket again.

  Laughing, Ailsa fished out the bit of dried apple and fed it to him. She’d found a number of apples in Nik’s saddlebags, as well other items that had helped them get through these last few days. But supplies were now low, and she’d had no luck in snaring another rabbit.

  It was a good thing they were leaving in the morning to rejoin the others. Had Nik had his way, they’d have left today, but she’d been adamant about waiting. If the brigands found them, they’d have to make a run for it, which would reopen his wounded shoulder.

  She glanced about her now. Her pistol was tucked in her belt, just in case they were discovered by someone other than their traveling companions. The peacefulness of the woods eased her tensions for the moment.

  She patted D’yoval as he munched happily, running her hand over the scratches on his neck and side. Thankfully they weren’t deep. She remembered how close the tree had fallen to the horse and she wrapped her arms around the animal and rested her cheek on his powerful neck, breathing in the earthy scent of his mane and the sweetness of the apple. Overhead, the sun shone brightly and warmed the air while birds sang in the trees. She closed her eyes, the sun delightful on her shoulders.

  “D’yoval has charmed you.”

  She turned to find Nik just outside the mouth of the cave. His legs were planted as if he were standing on a ship, his powerful thighs outlined by his black breeches, his calves lovingly encased in riding boots, while a wide leather belt encircled his narrow hips. His muscled arms were crossed over his bare chest, a coat hanging loosely from his shoulders. With his shadowed beard and torn clothing, he looked more pirate than prince.

  Why, oh why had she made the bandage so thick that Nik’s shirt would not fit over it? She’d used her chemise to make the blasted thing, too, and there wasn’t enough of it left to make another, so they were stuck with him wandering about looking like . . . that.

  She cleared her throat. “’Tis a bit cold. You should wear your cloak.”

  “I’m fine, krasavitsa.” A flash of humor softened his mouth. “Does it bother you that I do not wear a shirt?”

  “Och nae. I barely noticed. I just thought that as ’tis a wee bit cold this morning, you might want to cover”—she waved a hand toward his bared chest—“that oop, and your coat does nae work because of the bandage. But if you dinnae wish to use your cloak, then a blanket would do just as well. I can fetch one for you, if you’d li—”

  “Nyet. I am fine as I am.” Humor glinted in his green eyes. “I would worry my nakedness might offend your sense of modesty, but as you took off all my clothes when I first arrived, I need not fear.”

  “I did nae have time to look. I was too busy trying to stop the blood.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she swallowed the wave of irritation that had made it so, and then added mildly, “I merely think you would be warmer were you to wrap oop in a blanket. That’s all.”

  He grinned. “But you’ll be warmer if I do not.”

  Her cheeks simply could not get hotter than they were.

  He added in a smug tone, “I would be perfectly fine if you decided not to wear your shirt, as well. That would only be fair.”

  “You’re right; that is quite fair of you. And lecherous.”

  He chuckled. “It is normal that men and women should look at one another. Surely you have seen a man’s chest before?”

  “Of course I have,” she said in a lofty tone. “The harvesters who come each summer to bring in the oats and barley often go withoot their shirts. And each year, men from different villages compete in the games in Inverness wearing nothing but kilts and boots.” Her father wouldn’t let her watch the games, but Nik didn’t need to know that.

  “Ah, a woman of experience. Then I need have no fear I’m shocking your sensibilities.”

  To be truthful, it wasn’t her sensibilities, but other parts she didn’t wish to think about that were affected by him. Nothing had prepared her for the feast before her. He was all sinew and muscle, hard and firm planes that made her fingers ache to touch him.

  Somehow, Nik’s bare chest was different from the few male chests she’d seen. The others had warranted no more than a mild glance, but she could no more ignore this one than she could stop breathing. Over the last few days, Nik’s illness had kept all lustful thoughts at bay. But today he’d arisen much recovered, and she felt increasingly vulnerable when he was near.

  Unaware of her turmoil, he walked farther into the sunlight, the coat swinging open. Streaks of golden sun flickered across his chest and powerful forearms, and she followed the bars of light down to his taut, ribbed stomach.

  She imagined placing her hands on that hard stomach, of the warmth that would soak into her fingers from his heated skin. Of the way she could trail her hands down to—

  She yanked her gaze back to his face, trying not to notice his strong neck where his dark hair curled so beguilingly, still damp from where he’d bathed in the stream not an hour ago. “Your hair has nae yet dried. You’ll catch your death of the ague.”

  “It will dry soon enough.”

  She answered him with
a sniff. This morning, after their paltry breakfast of dried venison, Nik had announced his intentions to bathe in the stream. She’d pointed out that it would wet his bandage and potentially reopen his wound. But, instead of seeing the dangers, he’d taken her advice as a challenge.

  He’d been in far better spirits since that bath. She, meanwhile, was irked.

  She turned her attention back to D’yoval and threaded her fingers through his mane, untangling it as she went.

  Nik crossed the clearing to stand in front of the horse, patting the animal’s velvet nose. “He is beautiful, nyet?”

  Ailsa kept her gaze on the horse. “Magnificent. The horse, I mean.” Blast it, why did I say that? Of course I meant the horse. She hurried to ask, “How long have you had him?”

  “Four years. He was given to our country by the Prussians as an apology for their behavior on some border issues.”

  “I wish someone would make such an apology to me.” She smoothed D’yoval’s mane and then stood back to admire him. “You are fortunate to receive such extravagant gifts.”

  “I get many gifts, but few have been as welcome as D’yoval.” Nik moved to the other side of the horse and patted its neck. “As my grandmother often says, ‘When everything is special, nothing is special.’ ”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If you eat off a gold plate, and drink from a gold cup, and sleep in a gold bed day after day after day, there will come a moment when you will find yourself in an inn with a blue crockery plate in your hand, and you will be astonished at the beauty.”

  “Are you complaining aboot gold plates and cups? Because if you are, I’ll gladly help you be rid of them all.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “I sound ungrateful, and I did not mean to be. I am fortunate, and I know it. But do not think I have everything I wish for, any more than anyone else. That does not happen.”