by Amy Jarecki
“Marched yourself up a hunger, did you?” asked Da with a curl of pipe smoke billowing through his nose.
If Da’s curt question irritated the lieutenant, Mr. Campbell didn’t show it. He turned and hung his bonnet on the peg, resting his musket and sword beneath it. “I’m surprised not to see Tommy inside.”
“He’s not in the paddock?” asked Ma.
“I sent him up the Lochan trail. Now the snow has melted, I though the sheep could use a good graze.” Da pulled out his pocket watch—the only piece of jewelry he owned. He sucked in a hiss. “Come to think on it, the lad should have returned hours ago.”
“He’s most likely daydreaming again,” said Ma. “I’ll wager the sheep are scattered.”
“The north wind’s blowing a gale,” said Mr. Campbell.
Skye stilled her knife. “And Tommy’s up in the hills?”
The lieutenant pulled his bonnet from the peg. “I’ll fetch him.”
“’Tis nearly dusk. Do you ken the trail?” asked Ma.
“I do.” Skye brushed her fingers on her apron and stood. “I’m going with you.”
“Take the lantern,” said Da, with increasing urgency in his voice. “If you’re not back within the hour, I’ll alert the clan.”
Mr. Campbell secured his musket strap over his shoulder. “We’ll find him, sir.”
Ma grabbed the lantern from the mantel and handed it to Skye. “Haste, now, while there’s some daylight remaining.”
Once outside, the lieutenant made quick work of saddling his horse. “We’ve no choice but to ride double. We’ll move faster that way.”
Skye gulped and looked back toward the chieftain’s manse. If the mistress caught wind that she was riding double with Mr. Campbell, there’d be hell to pay. And Mistress NicGilleasbuig had been right. Skye had been reckless and had paid no mind to her actions in the weaver’s shop. Worse, now she had no choice but to take the man up on his offer. No question, the horse would be faster and they needed to find Tommy, daydreaming or not.
She wrapped her arisaid over her head and shoulders and pushed away her misgivings. Mr. Campbell gave her a boost, then she sat across the gelding’s withers while the lieutenant mounted behind her. Skye’s stilly heart started to flutter when he reached around for the reins. Heaven’s stars, he was so close, the scent of leather and spice made her head swoon. And when her shoulder pressed into the hard wall of his chest, the memory of their fleeting kiss made searing heat flood through her body with a force as powerful as the Falls of Glencoe. If only she could wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head against him. If only they weren’t from feuding clans.
If only I wasn’t so touched in the head.
Showing no outward signs of the conflict brewing within her, Skye twisted and kept her gaze forward, grasping a handful of mane to keep herself steady. “Cross the river in the shallows, then you’ll see the trail yonder.” She searched the hill for any sign of Tommy, but he was not to be seen.
“Does the lad venture up here often?” Mr. Campbell asked. Had his voice always been so deep?
Skye nodded. “Aye, especially in summer. The older sheep know what’s coming when we open the back gate.”
“How far up does Tommy usually go?”
“A mile or two up to the lea.”
“Good, then we’ll be upon him in moments.” Slapping his reins, the lieutenant cued the horse to a fast trot.
Skye leaned forward and clamped her fist tighter. “Tommy!” she yelled.
“Tommy!” Mr. Campbell bellowed behind her.
When there was no response, they continued up the slope, while they both continued to holler. As they summited the hill, Skye grasped Mr. Campbell’s wrist. “Halt.”
He pulled on the reins. “Do you see him?”
“Nay, but this is where we let the sheep graze.” She twisted to look full circle, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Tooooomeeee!”
A high-pitched whistle echoed on the wind.
Skye snapped her head toward the sound.
The lieutenant pointed upward. “It came from the outcropping.”
She squinted against the setting sun. Sure enough, a flock of sheep were mustered in the distance. “Haste!”
“Hold on, lass,” Mr. Campbell growled in her ear while he cued the horse for a canter. Her bum flopped askew, nearly making her fall. Gasping, Skye gave up on the clump of mane and threw her arms around the man’s waist, holding on for dear life.
“Tommy?” the lieutenant yelled, slowing the horse to a walk as they neared the flock. “Where are you, lad?”
“Up here!” the lad’s voice came from above.
“Good heavens.” Skye peered up the steep slope all the way to the top and still didn’t see her brother. “Why on earth did he climb up there?”
“I reckon we’ll find out.” Mr. Campbell helped her slide down, then dismounted. “Are you all right?” he shouted again.
“My leg,” Tommy responded, his voice higher pitched than usual.
Skye started for the slope. “Hold on. We’re coming!”
A big hand clamped on her shoulder, fingers gripping like a vise. “Stay with the horse. I don’t need two injured children to haul back to your parents.”
Her back shot to rigid as she faced him and thrust her fists into her hips. “I beg your pardon, but I am not a child.”
Mr. Campbell’s lips thinned as he met her gaze, his eyes growing dark as if he had something to say, but held it inside. He handed her the reins. “I’ll be back.”
“But he’s my brother.”
The man ignored her and set off like a boar-brained ruffian. Didn’t he know she was worried half out of her mind? Tommy was stranded atop an outcropping with an injured leg? For all she knew it might be broken. He could be stuck. The lad needed his sister. And moreover, they’d kissed one day prior. Had that meant nothing to the man? Men didn’t shower a woman with affection and then refer to her as a child. Skye chewed her lip. The blasted kiss had done nothing but haunt her and since, they’d barely even locked gazes—not that she could have done anything if he had tried to speak to her, or touch her, or place another kiss on her mouth…with those pillow-soft, masculine lips.
Heaven’s stars, I’m daft.
Quickly returning her attention to the urgency of the situation, Skye watched the lieutenant climb the slope while pebbles and dirt showered behind him. Alas, encumbered by petticoats and skirts, she never would have been able to move so quickly.
Though concerned about the lad, Kier was glad to have the diversion of scaling the outcropping. He’d referred to Skye as a child for his own edification. God save him, having the lass ride between his arms and his thighs was more than a mere officer could be expected to bear without feeling something. The problem was he felt a hell of a lot more than a twinge of desire. A full-on blast from an iron furnace was more apt.
No matter how much Kier wanted to spite Hugh MacIain and plunder the woman who’d ridden in his arms, he couldn’t do it. Poor Miss Skye was beside herself with worry and the only thing Kier had managed to think about was the curve of her thigh rubbing against his cock or the tingling sensation of her delicate arm pressed against his aching chest. Christ, he needed a good run up a hundred steep slopes to curb the maniacal lust that had begun to torment his soul.
By the time he reached the top, he was breathing good and deep. “Tommy,” he called out, his gaze darting across the crags.
“Here.” The lad’s voice sounded strained.
Glimpsing Tommy’s mop of brown curls, Kier hastened over the sharp boulders. “Bloody Christmas, what in God’s name are you doing up here?”
The lad bared his teeth with a grimace of pain. “Chasing after seilie fairies. I kent I saw one.”
Kier studied the lad’s leg, wedged beneath a big rock. If only he could slap the child on the back of the head and berate him. He’d abandoned the flock to chase after a damned dream. “What happened?”
The lad pointed
to the enormous stone atop his foot. “I was climbing up this rock and it rolled back on my ankle.”
Kier placed his palms on the enormous stone. The last thing he needed was to try to move it and make Tommy’s injury worse. And there weren’t many options as to where he could roll it since the lad was blocking the path of least resistance. “Tell you what, I’m going to need your help.”
“Wha-what can I do?”
“When I push up the rock, I want you to scoot back as fast as you can and pull your foot out from under there.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Most likely.”
Tears welled in Tommy’s eyes and his lips quivered.
Kier grasped the lad’s hand and squeezed it, holding the small palm to his chest. “Listen to me. I will free your leg, but I cannot do it unless you are strong for me.”
“But—”
“Anything worth doing bears pain, lad. But I tell you true, you’ll be a great deal worse off if I leave you here to the buzzards.”
“Buzzards?” he squeaked.
“Aye, they’ll swoop down and peck out your eyes if you cannot find the strength to slide back and pull your leg away.” Kier gave the lad a somber stare. “Promise me. ’Tis time to bear down and be a man.”
A tear dribbled down the boy’s cheek. “Yes, sir.”
“At the count of three?”
Tommy nodded.
Kier shifted back to the boulder. “One, two, three!” Gritting his teeth, he pushed the hunk of granite with all his might, rolling it up the adjoining rock face. Every muscle in his body strained and shook as he steadied it above the boy’s leg. “Now!”
Crying out, Tommy scooted away and drew his knees under his chin.
Kier lowered the rock as gradually as possible to keep it from rolling further. If it started on a path down the hill, it would crush the lad for certain. Gingerly, he pulled his hands away. When the boulder stayed put, Kier dropped to his knees and examined Tommy’s ankle.
“Is it bad?”
“’Tis swollen. Can you move your foot?”
Grimacing, Tommy gave it a try. “I reckon I moved my big toe.”
“That’s a good sign.” Kier gave him an encouraging pat. “Can you put a wee bit of weight on it?”
Anguish stretched the lad’s features as he leaned forward and placed his foot square on the ground. “Mother’s bricks, that hurts.”
Kier held up a palm. “That’s enough. I’ll carry you down to my horse.” After gathering Tommy into his arms, he gave the boy a look. “Mother’s bricks?”
“Och, Da will not allow me to swear.”
“Good on him.” Kier winked. “Mother’s bricks it is, then.”
By the time Kier made it to the bottom of the hill, it was dark and Skye had lit the lantern.
The poor lass was beside herself with worry. “Tommy, are you hurt badly?”
“I can’t put weight on my foot.”
“His ankle is awfully swollen.” Kier explained what happened while he hoisted the boy to the saddle. “The flock will scatter if we try to drive them to the croft now. ’Tis best to leave them here overnight. I’ll help your father drive them back come morn.”
Miss Skye agreed. The trip down the trail took a fair bit longer to traverse. Kier carried the lantern and led the horse with the lass and her brother on the back. Moreover, the wind howled and blew against them. With his hands full, Kier had naught to do but dip his chin against the gale and trudge westward. By the time they reached the cottage, the damned wind had started to blow snow sideways into their faces.
When Miss Skye opened the door, they found her father dressed in trews, wrapped in a blanket with a lantern in his hand.
The old man’s jaw dropped. “You found him?”
“Up the outcropping by the Lochan clearing.”
“You mean to say a sheep strayed all the way up there?”
Kier carried the lad past Jimmy to his pallet near the hearth. He wasn’t about to tell the man that his son had been chasing damned fairies. “Mistress Sineag, Tommy’s ankle is swollen something awful. He might need a splint.”
“My poor darling.” The matron collected the medicine bundle from the shelf. “Bring the lanterns. I’ll need ample light.”
“A big rock rolled onto my foot and pinned my ankle. Mr. Campbell found me and carried me all the way down the crag, and he led the horse, and did you ken ’tis blizzarding outside?”
Mistress Sineag kneeled beside the boy and untied his boot.
Tommy’s eyes grew enormous. “Don’t touch it.”
Kier cleared his throat. “Remember what I said.”
The lad pursed his lips and looked to his da while his mother made quick work of removing his boot and stocking. “Oh, my heavens.”
Even Kier cringed. The lad’s ankle was purple and the size of a shinty ball.
Tommy pulled his fists against his chest and shuddered. But when he looked a Kier, he sat taller and sucked in a breath. “I can move my big toe.”
***
The hour was late when everyone finally headed for bed. Though Skye couldn’t sleep. She lay on her back atop the box bed listening to her father snore. It seemed an eternity while she lay there as she grew hungrier by the moment. Aye, Ma had served up a bite of pottage, but Skye had been too worked up to eat much. Now she regretted it.
Giving up on sleep, she climbed down and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
Kier’s bedclothes rustled while Skye sliced off a portion of bread.
“Hello,” he said from his pallet in a deep whisper, his face glowing amber with the flicker of the hearth’s fire.
She nibbled a bite. “Did I wake you?” she whispered back.
He sat up, the bedclothes dropping to his waist. He wore only a linen shirt, its laces open and the neckline slinging off his shoulder, the front dipping to the center of his chest.
Skye’s lips parted as she drew in a shallow breath. Dark curls peeked above the V. That naughty stirring roiled through her insides again. Why on earth would a glimpse at the man’s chest cause such an overreaction? Her father had a bit of hair on his chest and, in truth, Skye found Da’s sparse curls a bit off putting. She shivered. Even with the fire, the cottage was chilly. “Jack Frost has brought a bitter chill.”
“Indeed. It grew colder by the moment as we headed down from the Lochan trail.” He pointed. “Would you mind cutting a slice of bread for me as well?”
Skye did as he asked, buttered it and took it to him.
“My thanks.” He patted his pallet. “If you sit here, we can keep our voices down and avoid waking the others.”
She didn’t think of the consequences when she folded her legs and sat beside him just as if he was Tommy or Da, but when she stared up into those midnight blue eyes, Skye knew she was caught in the snare of the man’s allure. Being close to Kier Campbell made her come alive like never before. It was as if everything in the Highlands came to a stop and they were the only two people existing in all of Christendom.
He slipped something shiny under his pillow.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He gave her a dubious look and pulled out a miniature in a silver pocket frame. “’Tis a portrait of my mother. It is all I have left of her.”
Skye ran her finger around the rim. “She was bonny.”
“Aye, and I doubt my father will ever find another.” He slid the miniature back into its hiding place, then chewed his bread while he watched her. The intensity of his stare didn’t make her nervous, but rather, made her feel beautiful.
He brushed the tresses away from her face. “Bonny Miss Skye.”
Heat spread across her cheeks while she took a bite of bread. “Have you ever been to the Isle of Skye? ’Tis where my grandfather was born.”
“Once, ’tis a magical place. They say it is rife with fairies.”
“Then Tommy would be in heaven there.”
Mr. Campbell chuckled.
“Tell me more
about it.”
“’Tis a rich green like the Coe, rugged and stark, surrounded by the sea. Though Campbells are not welcome on MacDonald lands. My visit was to Dunvegan and the MacLeods.”
“Och, MacLeods? Yet another clan that feuds with ours.”
He nodded. “Mindlessness.”
“Do you honestly believe so?”
“I do.”
“Then why do you wear a red coat?”
“I’ve said it afore, my father thought a turn in the army would do me good. Prepare me to become a laird in my own right. Besides…” His gaze trailed away as if he had more to say, but was holding it inside.
“What else?”
A long sigh blew through the lieutenant’s lips. “My uncle needed me to keep an eye on Glenlyon.”
“I thought Glenlyon was your uncle.”
“He is.”
“But you have more than one uncle, of course?”
“Too many when you count all the second cousins removed and the like. The mind boggles.”
“Who told you to keep an eye on the captain?”
“The Earl of Argyll.”
“Oh.” A shiver coursed across Skye’s skin while her throat thickened. There she sat beside a man who was, in fact, the spawn of her clan’s greatest enemies—someone she should despise to her core. “’Tis so odd, our being a-acquainted.”
“I ken.”
“You do?”
He folded the rest of his bread and stuffed it into his mouth. “Had the regiment not marched into Glencoe, I doubt we ever would have met.”
Skye nodded and cupped her hand over her mouth to be doubly sure her whispers wouldn’t be heard. “Mistress NicGilleasbuig made me swear I’d never kiss you again.”
“Did she now?”
“Mm hmm.”
“I heard the same from her son.”
“From Hugh?”
Kier nodded. Moving a bit closer, he ran his finger along Skye’s bottom lip, his touch so light, she felt naught but tingling. “How do you…ah…feel about that?”
“I-I don’t like anyone telling me who can and who cannot be my friend.”
“I’m of the same mind,” he whispered, dipping his chin. “I rather like kissing you.”
Skye could scarcely breathe as those full, virile lips moved closer. If only she could taste him again, press her lips to his and swoon in his arms. But they’d already created such a scandal. She placed her palm on his chest to stop him, but that only served to make her awareness soar to new heights. His flesh was afire beneath her touch. His heart beat a fierce rhythm that demanded she look up to his eyes. Her tongue went dry. Dark eyes filled with smoldering emotion stared into hers.