Highlander's Touch (10 page)

Gathering up some apples and scraps in a bowl that she’d saved for the animals, Shona took the treats out to the barn.

Bhaltair whinnied when she entered and kicked at his stall gate.

“I know ye want out of there, beast, but I canna let ye.” She handed him an apple as a peace offering, which seemed to work for a moment, then he was bobbing his head toward the door. “Well, ’haps just a walk around the yard.”

Shona lifted Bhaltair’s bridle and reins from the hook on the wall, watching as the animal perked up at her movements. She slipped them in place and then opened the stall gate. He walked out, nuzzling her hair and lipping her shoulder. Stroking the animal’s forehead, she said, “You’re a good boy, are ye not?”

Bhaltair’s tail flicked back and forth as they exited the barn and she led him around the yard, letting him nibble on grass. Overhead, the sky was still a fierce gray, and the sun was working hard to push through, but judging from the damp scent in the air, rain would be forthcoming. While Bhaltair snacked, Shona tugged a small tree she’d hacked down the day before toward the barn. She needed the wood for her fire, and would have to chop it shortly. Her supply was growing small. Though she didn’t need much—especially in summer—it didn’t hurt to get the pile growing for the coming winter. In fact, she was well behind in all her preparations. She’d need to go in search of nuts, wild apples and root vegetables for drying. Her first winter without Rory had been tough. The second, only slightly better. But she had a plan now of how to prepare, and she didn’t want to repeat those hardships again.

Thank goodness her services as a healer and medicine maker had been good enough to keep work coming, and that people paid mostly in tangible goods.

The barrel beside the barn that Rory had set up to catch water when it rained, was near the brim. That needed to be taken care of, too. They had no well, and the nearest trickle of water was a good quarter mile away. If she ran out of water, that was quite a hike if treacherous weather didn’t permit her to leave. Or, if she was housing a warrior and most likely considered an outlaw for having murdered a man.

Was it really murder if she’d been acting in the defense of Ewan, and herself?

She’d sent a prayer of forgiveness to the Lord, and knew he’d seen the circumstances. Besides, they’d not been found yet, that had to mean something, didn’t it?

She worked to fill several buckets and jugs full of water that she could boil and store, then regrettably informed Bhaltair that grazing time was over. The warhorse seemed to understand and went willingly back into his stall.

Taking the rest of the scraps she’d brought out, Shona fed her pig and goat, making sure they all had fresh hay and water. Working in the barn and yard was calming, and she had started to feel somewhat normal again, even taking a moment to sit down on a stump and breathe in the fresh, rain-scented air, which helped to alleviate the pounding in her head.

When thunder rumbled overhead, she made her way back inside. Ewan still rested on the bed, and had quieted down, thank goodness. She checked on her stew, stirring it and adding in a few more savory herbs. Her stomach rumbled, but it wasn’t quite ready. To stave her hunger, she boiled water and herbs, making herself a calming tea.

The first pings of rain tapped against her roof, and with it the darkened clouds threatened to cover the sun. Shona closed the shutters against the rain and lit a candle, the soft golden glow lighting up the suddenly darkened room. The day or so of warm, dry weather had lost its battle with the storm clouds. She curled up on her makeshift bed in front of the fire. She’d only rest for a little while. There was still much she had to do that she’d not been able to get done the day before.

Ewan’s soft snores lulled her into a state somewhere between consciousness and slumber. But complete quiet never came as her mind continued to question the man lying on her bed. What had happened to him? Something horrible, else he’d not have mentioned how much he
learned
from it. Had someone betrayed him? Was it punishment for something he, himself, had done?

If it weren’t for the healing aspects of sleep, she might have woken him to find out more. But for now, she supposed the both of them would need to rest—that was, if sleep came to her.

Shona couldn’t seem to get a handle on her mind, continuously thinking about Ewan and his kiss, his touch. She slammed her eyes closed and forced herself to not think about his wicked, swirling tongue.

The man was a mystery. Obviously one who’d lived a harsh and dangerous life. Did she truly want to get mixed up with a man like that? Already, she’d lost Rory, and they’d lived a quiet existence. But then, again, a kiss did not mean that she had to be his wife—that she had to live at the castle with him.

If that was where he lived. He’d said he was a Grant warrior, which meant he fought for their laird. But perhaps he was a lesser warrior within the laird’s army, and he lived in the village. She could be a villager’s wife.
Nay
! What was she thinking? The villagers were suspicious people. Frightened by herbs and the healing skills some women possessed. An enchantress, they’d call her. They’d want to string her up, to burn her. Punish her for their fears. She’d never be anything but, the Witch of the Wood.

Perhaps a kiss was a frightening thing. Men and women could fall under the spell of lust. Lose themselves in passion and forget just who they were. That was what happened to her when Ewan kissed her. She wanted things she couldn’t have. Desired a life that was not hers.

An incredible, bone-deep sadness filled Shona. Partly because she wondered if she would live her life forever alone, and partly because if Rory were to come back—she’d not experience a kiss like Ewan’s again. Nay, Rory wouldn’t allow it—and Ewan would be lucky to survive their meeting.

AN hour later Shona still lay awake, sleep refusing her. She tossed back the covers. If sleep would not come, she’d best make good use of her time doing her chores. Her body was sore, muscles aching. She stretched tall, feeling those kinks work their way out.

Several herbs hung above her hearth where they’d been drying. They needed to be ground into powder and stored. She pulled them from their hooks and set them on the table, took a seat and filled her mortar bowl. The aroma of each herb she ground slowly with the pestle filled the air, rivaling her stew.

Outside the wind howled and thunder cracked, flashes of lighting made Shona’s small cottage go bright then dim. How long would this summer rainstorm last?

The wind ripped open the shutters. Silver lightning flashed into the candlelit room.

The clatter of the shutters against the wall caused her charge to stir in his soundless sleep. Shona jumped from the chair and rushed toward the windows. She had to reach up high to shut them tight, tinkering with the iron clasps until each felt secure.

“Lass…” Behind her, Ewan called out, his voice raspy.

Glancing at him, she saw that he still slept. Perhaps he was dreaming. She did not want to disturb him. He needed to heal. Sleep, along with her remedies, was the best way to restore his body to health.

He shifted restlessly, one arm flopping over his face, and the other landing on his chest. A wince scrunched his sleeping face and he groaned. Shona moved slowly and quietly toward him, prepared to wake him if he pulled at his bandages.

Ewan’s hands settled, and the flow of the hearth fire waved shadows over his stubbled cheeks. A sense of warmth filled her when she looked upon him. The man was a stranger to her, and yet, he was the only other human she’d connected to in this place besides Rory.

“Nay…” he muttered. “Nay, ye bloody…”

Shona turned from him, feeling as though she were encroaching on his private thoughts. She went back to her herbs, working extra hard to grind them. Ewan continued to mutter in his sleep, and she continued to pay him little attention. But, when he whispered her name,
that
she could not ignore.

Shona rushed to his side and bent over him, studying his complexion, which was still flushed. She put her hand to his forehead. Zounds, but he was not nearly as hot as he’d been before. Her tincture was working. Shona refilled the cup and brought it to his lips, catching the scent of the mint she’d used to flavor it.

“Drink,” she said.

Ewan blinked open his eyes, and for the first time she noticed how light their color. An icy, sparkling blue, like the way she imagined a spring would look if ice-covered, or the purest blue of the summer sky. She was momentarily stunned by their beauty. Thick black lashes framed his eyes. She could have stared at him all day. In fact, she was probably already staring too much.

He took a sip, then his lips quirked into a grin—a wicked grin that had her body heating and caused a smile of her own to curve her lips. Her mind was suddenly filled with the taste of his mouth and her body yearned for him to touch her. How could he unnerve her in such a way? How could he command her body with just a grin?

Why did he look at her like that? And why did she like it?

“My healer,” he rasped.

Shona nodded, glad that he seemed to be more aware, and that he recalled who she was. A definite sign of improvement. The warrior’s gaze dipped to her lips, remaining there intently. Was he thinking about kissing her? On instinct, she wet her lips, suppressed a shudder. She should move, shouldn’t be hovering over him like this. She was only enticing them both to something that should not happen again, no matter how much she wanted it.

Heaving a sigh, Shona set down his cup, but could not force herself to step away. Rather, it seemed she leaned closer. She sat on the bed beside him, liking the heat of his body sinking into her. And the way he was looking at her as though she were a morsel he’d like to devour. Interest, curiosity and the intense need curling in her belly kept her frozen in place.

“How long have I been here?” he asked.

“Not long. Only a couple of days,” she whispered, unable to find her voice.

Her heart pounded. Breath caught.

Ewan’s hands trailed up her arms and over her back sending ripples of heightened sensation racing along her spine. How did he know to touch her in just the right way? And why wasn’t she yanking away, putting distance between them? This was wrong, wicked, wanton. And yet, she embraced it, because it also felt right.

“Was it ye with the arrows?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

Seemed he was coming to his senses. Shona nodded, fearing if she spoke, the only sound that would come out was a soft pleading moan. He swirled slow, sensual circles at the base of her spine and on her hips. Did he realize how much his touch affected her?

“Ye’re an angel.” He leaned up, his face coming closer to hers and stealing her breath. “I’ve always wanted to kiss an angel.”

Shona nodded, then quickly shook her head. The man was clearly still under the influence of her tea. He had to be, else he wouldn’t truly want to kiss her, would he? It didn’t matter, she couldn’t let him kiss her again. But her lips seemed ever closer to his, and she couldn’t pull away. Was frozen in place by his mesmerizing, whirling fingers and heated gaze. This was sinful. Kissing a man who didn’t have his wits about him… But he appeared clearer than he’d been in the past couple of days.

“Let me kiss ye, Shona,” he whispered, not more than a hair’s breadth from her mouth.

He remembered her name, and the way he’d said it stroked away any last resistance she had. One more kiss could hardly hurt. “Ye know my name,” she managed as their lips brushed.

Wicked heat wrapped around her middle, her nipples hardened, and gooseflesh rose along every inch of her skin. Between her thighs grew damp. Though most of her past memories were fuzzy at best, Shona was certain she’d never responded to a touch like she did when in Ewan’s arms. She couldn’t shake how wrong this was, but that it felt so right… There was no one here to judge her, only herself and the man who demanded her mouth’s attention.

Just another kiss to remember him before he left, was found by his men, or worse by the enemies that lurked in the woods. His people had to be looking for him, though there had been no sign of anyone when she’d worked in the yard. Even still, that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking. They could knock at any moment. Within the hour, he could be torn from her embrace and forever a stranger to her. Knowing that seemed to only heighten her urgency. Shona threaded her fingers into his soft golden hair. Hair, she’d washed herself. Indeed, she’d washed his entire body, felt his skin prickle as she’d glided the soapy cloth over his taut, muscled flesh—and felt her own flesh tingle in response. She’d been good about keeping him clean, aware that when the fever caused him to sweat she needed to wipe away those tainted drops.