Highland Belle (4 page)

An uproar near the tent silenced Percy and the brothers turned in that direction. Jamie approached with a near-hysterical Spring in tow.

The Sassenach is gone, Jamie said, and weeping, the tirewoman nodded.

W-when I w-woke, Spring sobbed, B-Brie was g-gone!

Damn the chit! Iain swore. When I find her, Ill beat her black and blue. He raced for his horse.

He doesna even know what she looks like, Percy said before following his brother. Take Spring to Dunridge. Well meet ye there.

Brigette awakened early and found the fox cuddled upon her lap. She smiled at the sleeping ball of copper fur, then set it aside and rose slowly, each muscle protesting the tense night just passed. When her stomach growled loudly, she realized she was hungry. I must find a stream, she thought. The water will fill me until I find help.

Ignorant of where she was going, Brigette walked. Glancing back, she saw the fox following, and when she turned around, it stopped.

Come along, if you wish. Brigette held out her arms in invitation, and the fox accepted. Youll be known as Sly, she added, lifting it. Understand? With doleful eyes, Sly looked up at her, and Brigette felt strangely pleased that the beast had adopted her for its mother.

Attempting to quell her stomachs protests, she picked unripened berries along the way. Sly and she shared the fare, but were dissatisfied with its lightness. Brigette thought longingly of beef and pork and mutton; Sly yearned for a plump and juicy rabbit or chicken.

After meandering along for what seemed like endless hours, the hapless duo stopped. Brigette listened carefully. Then she heard it again, the babbling of a stream. She set Sly down and hurried after him in the direction of the water.

When the stream was in sight, Brigette and Sly raced to its rocky edge. Sly delicately dipped his tongue and drank. Brigette knelt and ducked her face and came up laughing. Ive found a stream, she thought happily. Next Ill find someone to help me, and then Ill find my own way home!

Brigette glanced at Sly. The fur on his neck and back was raised in hackles. Danger! her senses screamed, and she turned. A dark rider, astride an even darker horse, watched her from the edge of the trees. The devil! Brigette thought wildly, her mouth dropping in surprise.

Madame! Iain called, but she continued to stare dumbly at him.

Iain dismounted and Brigette sprang to life. She leaped to her feet and raced away. Iain gave chase. When she looked back to see him gaining on her, Brigette slammed into a tree and fell unconscious to the ground.

Kneeling beside her, Iain quickly inventoried his brides beauty. Her skin was pale and silky to his touch. She had a tiny oval face that ended with a stubborn, pointed chin. Her nose was small and turned up slightly at the tip, giving her a puckish expression. Rosy and inviting, her lips were meant for kissing. A lump was already forming on her forehead above her right brow, and a smudge of blackness was rising beneath the same eye, now closed to him in unconsciousness.

I wonder what color her eyes are, he thought. As big and dark as I am, my wife is petite and pale. Opposites! Iain chuckled. I perceive no real contest of wills from this tiny vixen! Hearing a sound, Iain turned.

I see yeve captured yer bride, Percy said, dismounting. He peered down at Brigettes face. My God, Iain! What did ye do to her?

Nothin, Iain growled. He turned back to Brigette and lifted her into his arms, a plan formulating in his mind. Im takin her to the huntin lodge. Well become acquainted, away from the pryin eyes of others. Tell Black Jack where Ive gone.

When she comes around, Percy asked, smirking, how will ye get her to stay? Ye canna keep her tied forever and the lady hates yer guts. Nae offense, Iain.

None taken, brother. Iain smiled. I willna tell her who I am. Ill say Im Ross MacArthur, Black Jacks bastard and her rescuer. Ill help her stay well hidden from Iain.

Percy threw back his head and shouted with laughter.

I beg a favor, brother, Iain added, and Percy nodded. Dinna tell Antonia our whereaboots.

Unconscious, Brigette lay in the hunting lodges only bed. Iain sat beside her and pressed a damp cloth to her forehead.

Shes lovely, he thought. Ive done well in my bride. Brigettes eyes fluttered open; silently, husband and wife stared at each other. Green eyes!

How are ye feelin? Iain broke the silence.

Brigette touched her forehead. My — my head hurts.

Yeve a nasty bump, he said. Im sorry I frightened ye and caused yer accident. Who are ye?

Who are you? she countered, alert to the danger couched in his question. Whoever he was, the man wore the black and green plaid of the MacArthurs and probably knew her husband.

Ross MacArthur, bastard son of the Earl of Dunridge, at yer service, Iain smiled. And ye are?

MacArthur?

Yes, Ross MacArthur. And ye?

I — I cannot recall, Brigette hedged, peeping at him from beneath her long, copper lashes. Would he digest the outrageous lie she was formulating? A Gypsy! Im a Gypsy! At least, I think I am.

Swallowing his laughter, Iains expression remained sympathetic, but his eyes sparkled with suppressed merriment. Its the rattlin yer brains took today, he said. Im certain yell shortly recall who ye are. Take a healthy swig of this medicine.

Iain helped Brigette sit up, and she gulped a large mouthful. Her eyes widened in shock as the whiskey burned a path to her stomach. Brigette choked and then shivered, in the process suddenly noticing her state of undress.

Im naked! she cried, shocked and embarrassed.

Ye couldna be put to bed wearin yer clothes. Iain grinned and patted her arm. Dinna worry. Ive seen many and many naked women before, and make nae mistake aboot it.

Brigettes embarrassment mingled with anger, but Iain pressed her back to the pillow and gently brushed a few strands of copper hair from her forehead. Close yer eyes and rest. I promise yell be feelin better when ye wake.

When she awakened later, Brigette did feel better, the pounding in her head having subsided to a dull throb. She opened her eyes. Her host was nowhere in sight.

Dizzy but determined to leave, Brigette tried to rise but fell back to the pillow. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, then opened them again and looked around.

The lodge was one large chamber. The bed was situated along a side wall. On the back wall was the hearth, where a fire was burning. Something that smelled delicious was simmering in a black pot, and Brigettes mouth watered.

A rug, made from several animal pelts, lay on the middle of the floor. Beyond that was an oak table and two chairs, simple but finely crafted. The door was along the wall that faced the foot of the bed. As Brigettes eyes touched the door, it opened.

I see yeve awakened. Iain smiled pleasantly. Feelin any better?

Much better. Brigette smiled faintly in return.

Iain took a bowl from the table and filled it with soup from the black pot, then crossed the chamber and sat on the edge of the bed. Sit up, he ordered. Ye must eat some of this.

Brigette obeyed, but Iain neither gave her the bowl nor fed her. He appeared to be in a trance. Brigette followed his mesmerized gaze and gasped. The coverlet had slipped, exposing one plump breast. Blushing to the tips of her toes, she yanked the coverlet up.

As I said before, Ive seen many and many —

I heard you the first time! Brigette snapped irritably. For some unknown reason, the thought of Ross MacArthur viewing parades of beautiful, naked women bothered her.

Iains dark eyes narrowed at his wifes waspishness, but then he smiled with patience, assuming the cause was the pain in her head. Have ye recalled yer name yet? he asked, filling her mouth with soup.

She swallowed, then answered, Bria, I think.

Bria? Iain hid a smile. It sounds like that French cheese. And what of yer family?

Brigette hesitated, wondering what she should say. I remember now! I am a Gypsy!

With yer red hair and green eyes, he scoffed, ye dinna look like a Gypsy to me.

I resemble my mother, Brigette answered without thinking. Shes French.

So, yer mothers French?

Father met Mother while he was traveling in France, and the rest is history. A lie that contains some truth will be easier to remember, she thought.

As if deep in thought, Iain rubbed the dark shadow of stubble on his chin. I know of no Gypsies passin through the area. How came ye to be on these lands?

We were on our way to Edinburgh when I became separated and lost.

Edinburgh, ye say? Iain choked on a chuckle. Thats the other side of Scotland.

I just told you that I became lost!

He made no reply, but stared at Brigette, who had the uncanny feeling he could see into her soul and knew the truth. But how could that be? If you give me directions to Edinburgh, she said, Ill be on my way in the morning.

Ye willna be goin anywhere in the mornin.

But —

I forbid it. Iains voice rose. Id be worried aboot yer welfare forever and a day. Yell remain here a few more days, and then Ill see ye safely to yer family.

But —

Nae more talk, he insisted, not unkindly. Ye need rest. Ill go huntin in the mornin and well sup on rabbit stew. Lie back now and close yer bonnie green eyes.

Brigette closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep.

A Gypsy! Iain grinned, thinking her story was most inventive. He rose, dragged a chair over to the hearth, and sat down with his whiskey.

How verra bonnie my wife is, he thought. Ive the urge to take her now. One look at that sweet flesh had stiffened his rod to full strength, and remembering it made him tingle. Yes, Ive the right to take what I desire, though its a sorry man who cannot control his urges. But Ill be damned if I sleep in a chair all night!

Iain stood and stripped, then crawled into bed beside Brigette, who slept peacefully, oblivious to her bedmate. He fell asleep but awakened a short time later to the feel of his bride cuddled into him. Her face was buried against the side of his chest, and one of her legs was thrown over his muscular thighs.

To touch yet not touch was the sweetest torture Iain had ever known. He stroked her back lightly, savoring the silken texture of her skin. A sigh escaped her lips, and he smiled in the dark, then closed his eyes and slept.

Brigette awoke the next morning to the smell of something heavenly simmering in the pot. Her nose twitched and she rolled over.

Good mornin, Iain greeted, standing in front of the hearth.

Good morning. Uncomfortable with her nudity, Brigette glanced down. The coverlet was doing its job. Id like to get dressed, she said.

With his hands resting on his lean hips, Iain studied her thoughtfully. Well, ye ought to be spendin the day where ye are, but if ye promise to rest . . . With a shrug, he turned away to stir the oatmeal porridge.

My — my clothing?

On the chair over there, he answered, without bothering to look at her.

Brigettes eyes moved from Iain to the chair on the far side of the room, then back to Iain. She stared at him in growing consternation. When there was no movement from the bed, he looked over.

My lord, she whispered, her face coloring to a vivid scarlet, Ive other n-needs as well.

Iain stared a moment longer and then grinned. Ill return in a few minutes, he said, then sauntered to the door. Theres a chamber pot in the corner near the foot of the bed.

Brigette thought she would die from the humiliation. How could he be so public about such a private function? Alone, she raced for the chamber pot and relieved herself, then rushed across the room and dressed hurriedly. Dizzy from the activity, Brigette sank into the chair.

The door opened and Iain entered, chuckling. In his arms was a squirming lump of copper fur. Look what I discovered sniffin aboot! Have ye ever eaten fox stew, Bria? Would ye like a muff?

Sly! Brigette sprang from the chair.

Sly leaped from Iains arms and ran to Brigette, who knelt upon the floor and gathered him into her arms. There now, she soothed, cooing to the frightened fox.

Are ye acquainted wi this beastie?

Hes my pet! Brigette roared, turning flashing green eyes on him. Iain was startled by their murderous glint. Percy had obviously been correct, his wife was no meek lady.

Sly kept me company when I was lost in the forest, she said more calmly.

Iain grinned. Does this mean we willna be enjoyin fox stew?

Would you murder a poor, motherless bairn? Even a Highlander could not be so cruel.

At the insult, Iains eyes lost their humorous gleam. Frightened, Brigette realized shed said too much and tried to make amends. Forgive me, she apologized. My careless mouth is my worst flaw. Please, may we feed him?

Iain filled a bowl, then knelt beside Brigette and Sly. Come on, laddie, he invited, placing the steaming porridge in front of the fox. Eat yer breakfast.

Over Slys head, Brigette and Iain looked at each other. Her eyes became trapped by the dark intensity of his. He leaned close; then his lips touched hers. One of his powerful hands traveled to the back of her head, held her immobile. His tongue forced her trembling lips apart, flicked this way and that, exploring and tasting the sweetness of her mouth.

When he finally released her, Brigettes face was pale, and her expression was dazed from the earth-shattering experience of her first kiss. Iain smiled lazily, seeming to be unaffected.

A virgin Gypsy? he mocked gently.

Brigettes complexion took on a rather rosy hue. How do you know?

Och! Ive kissed many and many a —

Thank you for your hospitality. Brigette cut him off, her voice cold. Sly and I must be on our way.

Ye willna be goin anywhere til yer better.

Its improper for me to stay.

Allowin ye to traipse aboot the Highlands while yer still weak would be even more improper, my lady, Iain countered. Ill let ye know when yer fit to travel.

You mean, youll tell me when Im feeling better? Brigette was flabbergasted.

Correct.

Why, of all the —

Lets eat breakfast, he said in dismissal.