The Highlander

by Terry Spear

“That is quite all right, Matthew,” Niall said, as he rubbed his lower spine with the back of his hand, damned irritated. He sounded like a weakling, rather than a badly wounded Highland warrior.

  Matthew stored the beef in her cellar and returned. Finished with cleaning Niall's tunic, she wrung it out and said to Matthew, “I thank you for the beef. You are as kind as always.”

  Matthew rested his hands on her shoulders. “Can we take a short walk...,” he asked, looking into her eyes like a besotted fool, “alone?”

  Niall opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he couldn't.

  “Not tonight, Matthew.” Anora smiled and quickly pulled free. “I am sorry, but I am very tired. You know how wearing 'tis for me to go to market and now with company...”

  “Very well, I will be gone for the next three days on a shopping expedition. There has been such an uproar at Banbury as the word reached us this eve that rumors abound that a French spy has been murdered there. Now, I will have to go to Coventry instead.”

  “A spy?” she asked, sounding alarmed.

  Niall frowned at the news. If Anora was French, would the king of Scotland, or even Henry, his brother-in-law, king of England, suspect her of being a spy? Mayhap that was why James had sought to have her brought under their protection.

  “Aye, and they are searching for any others, believing he had been with at least another man. Anyone who is not local in Banbury is suspect.”

  “I have not heard this,” she said, looking pale.

  If she had nothing to do with the matter, why was she looking so worried? She couldn’t be a French spy, could she? But what would she have knowledge of, living in the countryside beyond the village of Banbh?

  “Of that I have no doubt with living out here as you do.” Matthew sighed.

  "Did they say who he was? What his business there was?" Anora asked, appearing as though she was attempting to be casual about it, but Niall noted she was wringing her long braided belt with her hands.

  "'Tis difficult to say how much truth he spoke." Matthew shrugged. "But what they did get out of him was that it seems he was looking for someone named Asceline. Does not that mean little noble one… in the English version of the name? Or the French's?"

  Niall studied Anora as she slowly shook her head. “I would not know."

  "Aye, well, Anora, I did not think you would have company like this. You never do. Had I known, I would have spent more time with you earlier in the week.”

  Anora cast him an easy smile, as if this topic was less difficult to deal with. “We were both busy with other matters this week, Matthew. You know we do not always have the time to be so carefree.”

  Matthew pulled Anora close—and her eyes widened. She quickly placed her hands against his chest, appearing to be an unwilling participant in Matthew's sudden action—and then he kissed her cheeks. “I will think of naught else while I am away from you, Anora.”

  “You will only be away for three days,” she said, her posture stiff, the color in her cheeks high.

  “Aye, and it will seem like an eternity.” Matthew pressed his lips hard against her mouth.

  She didn't kiss him back and her hands curled into fists at his chest before he released her and smiled to see her cheeks full of color.

  Niall was ready to unsheathe his sword and threaten the man with bodily harm. He didn't believe Anora liked Matthew's kiss—the way her face was now pinched with annoyance.

  She quickly turned to see what Niall thought—and witnessed his scowling face—before she blushed anew.

  “Well, I will see you as soon as I am able, Anora.” Turning to Niall, Matthew said, “And should you be done with your business here before my return, 'twas a pleasure having met Anora’s distant relation. She did not tell me she had any. I assumed she was all alone in this part of the world.”

  Niall nodded stiffly. He stepped closer to Anora as Matthew mounted his horse and rode back into town. Anora gathered up her bucket and the wet tunic, and headed toward the cottage. Niall rushed after her.

  “Has he kissed you like that before?” Niall didn't know why he blurted out the words, but there was no taking them back now.

  He didn't like to see a man force a kiss on a woman, no matter the reason. Then again, they might kiss all the time, and she was just embarrassed that Matthew did so in front of Niall. Still, Niall didn't like it because Matthew was not tender, but showing possession—letting him know that Anora was Matthew's lass.

  Anora ignored Niall, pushed the door open, then walked inside, and set her bucket on a shelf. She laid his garment on a rack above the cooling embers. The wet cloth dripped into the fire. The water droplets sizzled, sending ribbons of smoke curling heavenward.

  She turned suddenly, then headed back toward the door while Niall grabbed her arm. “You havena answered me.”

  “I believe he was showing off to my distant relation,” she said, annoyed, gazing up at him with her beautiful blue eyes that he found he could lose himself completely in.

  “You mean he was envious of me? He shouldna have kissed you the way that he did,” Niall growled.

  “He wishes to marry me.” Anora sounded as though that was a good enough reason for Matthew taking advantage of her—when it was not.

  “But you dinna wish to marry him.”

  Anora pulled her arm free from Niall and headed back out of doors.

  “Where are you going now?” He felt he couldn't take another step, his head and side were paining him so.

  “You wished for me to make a bed for you to sleep on tonight. Remember? I am tired so I will gather the necessary straw and make a bed for you as you have demanded, and then retire.”

  “You are truly the kindest woman I have ever known,” he said, gritting his teeth against another sharp pain in his side. He desperately needed to lie down.

  She frowned a little at him as she headed for the haystack in the byre. “You only say so because you have lost your horse, have no money to go elsewhere, and are not sure who else may come to your aid in your time of need.”

  “True, but still I have never had someone do so much for me without having to pay for their services.”

  “Then if that is so,” Anora said, stopping in her footsteps, and then turned to face Niall, “I would not trade my life for the sort of existence you must suffer. And here I always thought your kind would have been so content.”

  “The problem with having money and power is that there is always someone who wishes to take it from you.”

  “Even if you have very little, there is someone who is bigger than you who wishes to take it away from you.”

  “You mean the tax collectors?”

  “Aye." Anora picked up an armload of straw.

  Thinking only to help and finish this task as soon as possible, Niall reached down to gather some of the straw. Instantly, he felt a sharp stab of pain in his side and his head, and groaned. God's wounds, he hated feeling this badly.

  Dropping the armful she’d gathered, Anora ran to his side and touched his arm. “You have not done yourself further injury, have you?” She sounded so worried, her concern touched him.

  “It hurts when I bend over,” he hated to reveal.

  “I will check to see if it is bleeding when we get inside. Why do you not go back to the cottage and take off your tunic while I gather the straw for your bed?”

  Still not trusting the lass, Niall shook his head.

  “Oh, stewed boar. You do not believe I am going to run away with you injured here like this?”

  He gave her a small smile. That's exactly what he believed.

  Anora took a deep breath and let it out. “Very well, but do not do anything more to injure yourself or you will never leave here if you do.”

  He was amused at the way she dictated to him.

  “It grieves me to think you dinna wish for me to stay longer,” Niall said, with a teasing tone of voice, as she gathered the straw. Then he grew serious. “I am sorry I cannot assist y
ou in your efforts as Matthew would have done.”

  And sorrier still that he might have to take her from here against her will, as he suspected she wouldn't leave her home unless he forced her. She seemed happy here, but if it meant her safety, she was going with him. If she was the lass he sought.

  Anora shook her head as she carried an armload of straw into the cottage. “Matthew would be furious if he were to learn you slept in the same room with me this eve.”

  “I willna tell him, if you dinna.” Niall smiled a little at the notion, thinking of just how much he'd like to tell the man that. Not to cause Anora any grief, but because Niall hadn't liked the way Matthew had kissed her so… against her will.

  Setting the straw aside on the floor, Anora considered Niall, then the straw. "I will have to make at least two more trips to the byre to fashion a proper bed of straw for you. Remove your tunic first. I will check your wounds before I gather the rest of the straw.”

  Meaning to make light of a situation that bothered him more than he wished Anora to see—he hated that anyone would have to fuss over him about an injury—Niall pulled the tunic over his head and said, “I believe you rather like to see me undress.”

  Her cheeks grew flushed, but her gaze didn't waver as she stared back at him.

  He loved it, particularly since as soon as the words were out, he'd hoped she wouldn't take offense and realize he was only jesting with her, trying to get her attention off the fact he was so injured.

  “I have seen men’s chests before. Yours is no different than the rest,” she said haughtily.

  “Have you now? Whose? Matthew’s?” He couldn't help sounding so aggravated. The man had forced his kiss upon her and not in a loving way at all. More of possessiveness, telling Niall he'd claimed her. He didn't want to think she'd been with him in a more intimate way.

  “Heavens no.”

  Niall was somewhat relieved to hear it. “Whose then?”

  Anora unwrapped his binding. “My… father’s.”

  “And?”

  Anora looked up to see Niall studying her. “No one else.”

  “I suspected as much.” Then he frowned as he considered her words. “You have done it again. You mentioned the sheepherder, your… father? Was he French?”

  "He was a Scot," she said. "Born and raised here." Anora pulled the bandage free from Niall's chest and some of the dried blood pulled at his skin. He winced, biting back the pain.

  She frowned. “I am sorry. I will wipe it clean again. The stitches have held, but you really must lie down.”

  “You know I canna let you out of my sight, even for a moment.”

  “I am hurt to think you regard me as having so little character, but I will clean your wounds, replace your bandages, and finish making your bed. I am afraid I will have to fetch some more water.”

  “You wear me out with all of this walking back and forth.”

  “Then you may stay here...”

  “Nay. I will carry some of the straw as long as I dinna have to bend over.”

  Anora smiled. “I do believe before long I really will wear you out.”

  He didn't like the vixen-like smile she gave him, as if she thought to sneak out when he was too tired to notice.

  After lighting candles in the main room and the bedroom, they obtained the mead and another two armloads of straw, then retired to the cottage. He realized then, her dog had been absent all this time.

  After stacking the straw with the rest, Anora grabbed the used bandage and wetting it with water, touched Niall’s chest with a tender sweep of the cloth. He shivered at the feel of the cold liquid against his skin. She reached up to feel his forehead.

  “I worried mayhap you were becoming feverish. You are not, thank the Lord.” She wrapped a new bandage around his chest, then Niall pulled his tunic back over his head.

  He couldn't have been more relieved that he was not feverish. He had to get on his way soon. He was about to inquire about the dog, when Anora walked into the main room and blew out the candle, then called for Charlie. After some length, he bounded through the front door.

  “Have you been chasing rabbits again, Charlie?” She closed the door to the cottage with a creak and a clunk, then bolted it. “Come on, Charlie.” She motioned for him to go to her sleeping room.

  After Niall closed the door behind them, Anora pulled the straw in place beside the door. “Where is he going to sleep?” he asked, suddenly wary.

  Charlie sat in the middle of the floor, wagging his tail as he looked from one to the other for attention.

  “I do not know. Sometimes he sleeps at the foot of my bed, sometimes next to the door.”

  Niall frowned.

  Anora laughed. “Have you never had a dog to sleep with?”

  “The dogs are used for hunting, naught more. They are kept in the kennels. The people live in the castle.”

  “Which castle?”

  “None that I will speak the name of, lass.” Not until they were well on their way, if she was the French lass he was meant to protect.

  "Still afraid to reveal too much about yourself?"

  "I could say the same for you, lass."

  Anora's expression turned to concern, then she quickly rummaged through a trunk, found two more blankets, and pulled them out. “My father used these. They are longer than my blankets. They should work well for you.”

  She walked over to the door and laid the blankets out lengthwise over the straw and added her father's pillow. She blew out the candles, then moved toward her bed in the pitch black room, except her dog suddenly yelped, and Niall suspected he'd gotten underfoot.

  “Oh Charlie. I am so sorry, pup,” she said, mere inches from Niall, who was about to take her hand and lead her to her bed when her warm fingers touched his bare chest, the contact sizzling.

  And she gasped.

  Chapter 7

  “Come now, I am no' such a frightening prospect as all that,” Niall said to Anora, who was standing in front of him in the dark.

  He took her hand and kissed it. She didn’t object, and he reached up to explore her face with his fingertips and found her lips. He touched them with tenderness, then lifted her chin. When she took a deep breath, he smiled, then kissed her lips with a sweet and rather unassuming kiss, by his standards.

  He was glad when she didn't step away from him or push him back.

  “I wondered what it would be like to kiss the woman who poked me with a pitchfork earlier this day.” He loosened her hair from the ribbon that barely confined it and gently pulled her closer. “You intrigue me more than any other woman I have ever known.”

  “Mayhap, then,” Anora said, as she tried to wriggle free from him with a subdued air this time, unlike the energy she’d expended in the effort earlier in the day, “you will have to arm your ladies with pitchforks when you return to your castle.”

  “They would not know how to use them as well as you do, lass. I would be afraid they would do me bodily harm.”

  She chuckled softly. “Had you not knocked the fork from my hand with your sword, I may have done you harm also.”

  “Nay, lass. Though you pretend to be harsh, you are as gentle as the lambs that you tend to.” Niall reached up and ran his hands through her soft, silky hair, then kissed her lips again, pressing his mouth more firmly against hers. He was tender though, not forceful—like Matthew—willing her to partake in the kiss, but ready to part company if she was unwilling.

  Anora could feel Niall's heartbeat quicken as his chest touched her breasts. She closed her eyes as she felt his hand slip down her back, pressuring her to feel his desire for her as he leaned close to her. By the heavens, he felt so… so… masculine. She should be pushing him away, but she couldn't. She'd never felt a man up close like this, pressing indecently against her, wanting her, and despite knowing how mad it was to think such a thing—she wanted him right back. What was the matter with her? She was his hostage for the moment—naught more.

  “Oh, Anora,”
he whispered, “you should discourage me.”

  He was so different from Matthew—so in charge and commanding. And yet, he had his tender moments like now. His lips begged for more, and she loved the way he pressed his against her mouth—warm and appealing—not like Matthew's as he had mashed his lips hard against hers. She'd wanted to shove Matthew away—and would have if it hadn't been for Niall watching, and she had been afraid he might draw his sword if Matthew became angry.

  But with Niall, she wanted desperately to lean into his kiss.

  And she did, ignoring the warnings her guardians had given her about kissing men and what that could lead to.

  She cupped his face, angled hers, and kissed him on the mouth, as gently as he had her. She loved hearing the hitch in his breath, the way his arms wrapped around her, and pulled her even tighter. But then he groaned, and she was certain it wasn't a groan of lustful need.

  He was hurting.

  She pulled quickly away from him. "I am so sorry."

  "Ah, lass," he said, his voice dark with desire, "'tis naught to be sorry for."

  "You are hurting," she said.

  "Aye," he ground out, sounding frustrated. "Though to be sure, for a moment, I forgot all about the pain. To bed with you, lass." He took her hand and led her to her bed.

  She shook her head. “We cannot…”

  He let out his breath. “I only wished to lead you to your bed so that you wouldna trip over your dog anymore, or me either, for that matter.” He sat her down on her bed. “Again, I wish to thank you for your generosity, Anora. I fear I wouldna have found a more helpful soul in this shire.”

  "I wish… I wish you had not been injured here, but I…" What? That she had changed her mind about his being here? If they'd kissed any further, and he hadn't been injured, she could imagine where that would have led. And she was afraid she would have encouraged it. But she couldn't say she welcomed his presence because they'd soon part company, and she was certain now she'd miss him. "I am glad I could help," she finally said.

  He kissed the top of her head, and she sighed deeply.

  "Night, lass." Niall left her and settled onto his mattress of straw.