Healing the Highlander (8 page)

Lust?

He could not say why he had agreed to escort her to his home any more than he could say why he'd chosen not to tell her that Dun Ard was his home.

Lunacy, most likely.

Everything he'd learned about her so far pointed to this woman being trouble on a grand scale. She claimed to know his cousin Mairi and, try as he might to come up with alternatives, that could mean only one thing.

Leah must have come from the future where Mairi lived.

That inescapable fact led to an even more insidious conclusion. . . . The beauty sitting across from him was somehow connected to the Fae. Likely, she was here because they'd sent her.

That could only mean trouble. Trouble and sorrow and many ruined lives followed in the wake of encounters with the Fae. Certainly his encounter with the Faerie Count Servans had ended that way.

He should have recognized the stench of Fae Magic when he'd first ridden into the clearing.

So many should haves.

Once he'd pulled her from the cold waters, he should have turned his back and continued on, searching for a safer haven in which to spend his night.

Instead of offering to show her the way to Dun Ard, he should have beaten a hasty retreat, leaving her as far behind him as possible.

And yet, in spite of all the should haves he could list, he'd done none of them. Here he sat, waiting for first light in order to head north, dragging this walking, talking bundle of trouble straight into the arms of the people he loved most.

Sliding down to his back, he propped his arms under his head and stared up into the starlit sky. The crack of damp wood in the blaze usually soothed him, lulling him to sleep.

But not this night. This night his mind raced with the possibilities of what was yet to come now that he'd agreed to accompany Leah to Dun Ard.

It wasn't just the Fae he needed to worry about.

"Why are the English after you?"

As he asked the question, he looked over to assess her reaction. Though she still held her head upright propped on her elbow, the wait for her to answer w: so long, he began to wonder if she might have fallen asleep.

"What makes you think they are?" she responded at last.

"You questioned whether or not I was English, in the same breath in which you demanded to know if I had come looking for you."

Another long pause, as if the woman debated ever word she considered uttering.

"It's complicated."

Her explanation for everything, it seemed.

"No half so complicated as my life will be if I'm caught aiding a criminal wanted by the English. I dinna fancy the idea of dancing at the end of a rope to pay for yer crimes."

"I'm not a criminal." She pushed herself up to sit and, crossing her arms defensively, she glared at him. Had he struck a tender spot?

"No? Then perhaps you'd care to enlighten me as to why yer wanting to avoid the English." He might have committed himself to helping her, but he'd be damned if he was going to walk into some bees' hive without at least knowing what awaited him.

"So far all you've told me is that yer uncle could well have men searching for you and that yer grandfather is held prisoner in yer family keep. It's no so much information to go on. It's certainly no enough for me to be putting my own life and freedom in jeopardy over."

"Nobody said you had to help me. You offered of your own free will."

"That I did. And I have every intention of helping you reach Dun Ard. But I must warn you as well, the MacKiernan laird may rightly refuse to endanger his own people if the English are involved in this. I would."

"I suppose I should count my blessings that you aren't the MacKiernan laird then, shouldn't I?"

A twinge of guilt gnawed at his conscience, but only for a moment. His family's safety could well depend on what he learned from her, and he intended to learn all he could before showing his hand.

"I'd expect in return for my agreeing to show you to Dun Ard, you'd be willing to warn me of what I'm up against in doing so." He rose to one elbow, catching her eyes and holding them. "That's no complicated. It's only fair."

"I suppose you have a point. You should know." She nodded slowly, uncrossing her arms and dropping her hands to her lap. "My uncle Richard abandoned his family years ago when he married. He went to England because his wife's father is apparently somebody important in the English court. Last week Richard showed up again. Him and a bunch of English soldiers. He claimed

MacQuarrie Keep in the name of King Edward am locked my grandfather away when he tried to stop him.

"And you think yer uncle has men searching for you because . . ." He dragged out the question, waiting for her to continue her story.

"I escaped to go for help." She looked away, lifting a hand to clasp the pendant hanging from her neck as she did so.

"That's it? That's the whole story?"

She seemed uncomfortably nervous, as if there might be more.

"That's pretty much it." She rose to her knees and scooted closer to the fire, readjusting her blanket as she did so. "It's really cold out here."

A change to the direction of their conversation?

Drew laid his head back down on his arms, closing his eyes as he did so. He'd be willing to bet a saddlebag full of silvers that there was more she wasn't telling him.

For his part, he could only hope whatever she kept from him wouldn't make him regret his offer to help any more than he already did.

EIGHT

If they didn't find a place to camp for the night that suited Andrew soon, Leah wasn't sure she wouldn't simply fall off the horse in a miserable, exhausted heap. Her inner thighs chafed from rubbing against the horse blanket with each step the animal took, and her shoulders ached from holding herself stiffly upright to avoid leaning against Andrew's back.

She'd never been particularly fond of riding and this riding double, especially with a man she barely knew, was one of the most uncomfortable things she'd done in a very long time.

In spite of that, she had to admit it beat walking. They'd gotten much farther today than she would have on foot. And she was headed directly where she needed to go, something she couldn't have been so sure of before, even if her map hadn't been destroyed.

There had been some doubt in her mind last night after Andrew had agreed to show her to Dun Ard. She'd even gone so far as to study the skies, searching out the North Star in exactly the way her older brother Chase had taught her when she was little.

When Drew had headed his horse in that direction this morning, she'd been able to allay the last of her doubts about him.

But that had been many, many hours ago.

As the sun had dipped lower in the sky, she'd heard her inner child ranting are we there yet for so long that she could think of nothing else. Nothing except her raw thighs, that is. And her aching back.

The sun had disappeared behind the trees and the sky had turned dusky purple with the promise of night. And still Andrew showed no sign of slowing or stopping.

She didn't need perfect; she simply needed off this damn horse.

"What about over there?" Leah pointed to a tree-covered area to their left. "Surely we could manage just fine there for the night."

"No," her companion grunted over his shoulder. "We'll no be staying out in the open again. I've no wish to chance one of the English patrols stumbling upon us."

He did have a point there. English patrols would be a bad thing. Especially if they'd had any contact with her uncle Richard. But how could they not camp out for the night? What was he thinking? It wasn't exactly like they could stop at the local Holiday Inn.

"What are we going to do then?" Surely he didn't think they'd just keep riding for days on end.

"There's a wee monastery no too far ahead. If we keep up our pace, we should be able to reach it no too long after the moon's rise. You'll be safer there."

A monastery. She recalled her grandpa Hugh having spoken of staying at a monastery when he traveled to and from Inverness. For all she knew, it could be the very same one. She wished now she'd asked him more questions about his travels.

Andrew's comment about her being safe at the monastery took her by surprise, like it was only her safety that concerned him and not his own. She felt a little smile curving her lips in spite of her discomfort. First he'd saved her life and now he was acting like her personal bodyguard. If she actually believed in random luck, she'd be tempted to believe that she'd gotten beyond incredibly lucky in bumping into Andrew.

"Do you need to walk about for bit?"

"No." No way. If she climbed down off this huge animal now, she'd likely refuse to get back on. Her thighs stung like crazy and there didn't seem to be any position she could wiggle into that gave her relief.

Thank goodness she'd be healed by morning or she'd never make it to her journey's end.

Andrew shifted in the saddle, straightening his leg, and a flash of panic hit her, as if she were going to slide off her seat. Without thought, she threw her arms around his waist, clenching her fingers into the folds of his shirt.

When he patted her hand, like some grownup reassuring a frightened toddler, she could actually feel her face turning red with embarrassment.

Minor payment for feeling more secure on the horse's back.

Embarrassment be damned. She had no intention of moving her arms away now that she'd latched on to the man. It was the first time all day she hadn't felt like she might topple off if their mount came to a sudden stop, a feeling that had grown more pronounced as she'd grown more tired.

What was that thing her mom used to say? In for a penny, in for a pound? Something like that. Whatever the exact wording, she remembered the meaning well enough and intended to utilize it right now.

Gently, ever so slowly, she laid her cheek against Andrew's back, scooting forward a little as she did so, tightening her hold around his waist.

And why exactly hadn't she done this hours ago?

It felt wonderful. Especially when he clasped his big, warm hand over hers.

Warm and safe and somehow oddly comforted, she relaxed, letting her mind go blank until new thoughts colored the canvas.

"Why wouldn't you help me save my grandparents if it were up to you?" The comment Drew had made last night continued to haunt her. "It's a worthy cause. They're good people whose lives are at risk. They deserve justice."

Long moments passed and she'd begun to wonder if he'd even heard her question.

"I dinna doubt either their need for or their right to justice. But, if it were my people I had to send into battle, I'd be thinking of the risk to them. Is one life worth more than another?" He paused, as if carefully considering his words, starting and stopping twice before he continued. "For myself, I canna partake in battle so I have to think, by what right could I ask another to do that which I would no do myself?"

She refused to accept the logic of his words. Accepting would refute everything she hoped to accomplish. The very reasonableness of his argument irritated her. But not enough to force her to break the physical contact she had with him.

Instead she consoled herself that, as she'd said to him once before, it was her good fortune that it was the MacKiernan and not him she sought help from.

"If you look through the trees just ahead, you can see the light from the monastery."

She jumped when he spoke, grateful he'd not tried to talk her out seeking the MacKiernan's help.

The trees through which they rode seemed to loom over them in the dark but, in the distance, as if below them, she could just make out the flicker to which he'd referred.

"They leave a light on?" How'd they do that?

"A torch burns through the night, attended by a chosen monk, as a welcome to weary travelers."

Weary travelers? She certainly qualified as one of those.

Thank the Fates the monastery was in sight at last.

Since well before sunset, the muscles in Drew's leg had cramped without yield and he knew all too well that his only relief would come once he climbed down off this horse and moved around.

As usual, the big wooden gates stood invitingly open. The main keep was smaller than Dun Ard, though it abutted a chapel, which gave it the sense of size. He knew, from a lifetime of visits that this main structure was only a minor part of the property. There were stables and workshops stretching out around the periphery of the property, bordering neat, well-tended gardens, with fertile fields beyond.

Drew directed his horse to the far side of the main stairs, turning the animal so that he might dismount on the side away from the light. If he stopped close enough to the building, he could use the wall to help support the weight he knew his leg would not.

Over the years, he'd learned many such tricks to hide his shortcomings.

The woman behind him lifted her head from his back, though she still clutched at his shirt.

Probably the best thing about the evening so far.