The Highlander's Curse (8 page)

God,
the way he said
wooman
. My pulse could slow down already. Really.

“More
or less,” I replied. “It’s what leads up to it. It means to touch her, in the
hopes of getting her into bed.”

He
shook his head, mortification plain on his face. From where I laid, I could
feel that another part of him wasn’t mortified at all, and that was growing
increasingly obvious. “Elizabeth,” he said, a little strained. “I’ve held many
lassies, but ne’er for the hopes o’ takin’ her. I couldn’ae shame ye that way,
and especially no’ since ye’re in ma care. I wouldn’ae dae that e’en tae a
whore.”

“A
whore
?
I take it you know a lot of prostitutes?”

“Nae!”
he stammered, his eyes widening. “I just meant that I couldn’ae dae that. Tae
any
woman.”

“Are
you telling me that you’re never going to have sex?”

Cailen’s
face flamed as red as I’d ever seen it, which wasn’t nearly as much as mine did
whenever I was embarrassed. “No’ unless she’s ma wife, and I dinna think that
likely tae happen.”

Something
in his expression actually made me believe him. That this rugged Scot could
honestly be telling me that he wasn’t going to get laid until he was married.
It made feel safer—
and not at all upset
—that this powerful man wouldn’t
even consider sex with me as a possibility.

I
placed my cheek against his chest again, relaxing as his heartbeat slowed to a
normal, steady thump. I cuddled as close as I could get to him, watching the
fire lick into the air as I slowly dozed to sleep.

****

Och, that woman.

Cailen
laid there with Elizabeth’s tiny body against him, breathing in her delectable
scent, and unable to ease the ache in his groin. She’d fallen asleep some time
ago, but with her soft curves pressed against him, he’d never felt more awake.
Nor more alive, for that matter. Even last night, watching her lay there in his
shirt, he’d felt an inexplicable sense of pleasure at seeing the bonny lass
wearing something that belonged to him. And tonight, seeing her pert arse poke
out from under the cloth as she tucked her knees in close to her…

He’d
never been so desperate to see more of a woman. Not even when he’d been a randy
lad chasing the skirts of the lassies in his clan.

Elizabeth
nestled in closer to him, straightening her legs as her wee body relaxed into
slumber. Jesus God in heaven, the soft flesh of those legs tantalized him until
his heart felt as though it would burst. It may still, before the night was
through. He should cover them with his tartan, but it could wait a bit. It
wouldn't hurt to admire her first. He’d never seen such a beauty, and it would
be a shame to live the rest of his life through without memorizing every inch
of her bonny wee body.

That
brought Cailen to thinking of the painting of her in nothing but bits of fabric
that barely covered her breasts and the patch between her legs. He nearly
groaned at the mere thought of what lay beneath that cloth. Clenching his fists
and jaw, he tried to force his thoughts from where they were. It wasn't his
place to think such things about Elizabeth. She wasn't his, nor would she ever be.
She deserved a gentleman to be her protector until she could be restored to her
family.

And it
had been long since he’d ever been thought a gentleman of any sort.

No, he
couldn't let his thoughts wander over what he may have seen in Elizabeth’s
eyes. He’d thought that maybe she’d
desired
him. And when she’d kissed
him, he was certain of her affections. At least for a time. It was likely just
the whisky, affecting her the way it often had men that were once considered
gentlemen. A great deal of him hoped it wasn't the alcohol driving the fire in
her eyes, while part of him did. He could never do anything about it anyway.
Not even when she’d glanced at him wantonly after he’d slain the boar. He
didn't ken what he might have done had she kissed him again.

Och,
the wee lass stretched against him, rolling over and sticking her arse against
his side. Surely it wouldn't hurt if he just enjoyed this. She certainly seemed
to.

Cailen
turned, letting his aching cock settle against the warmth of her backside. God
in heaven, could there be anything that felt better? He gently lifted her head,
placing his arm as a cushion lest she get uncomfortable in her sleep. In doing
so, he was brought much closer to her body, and wrapped his free arm over her,
holding the lass to him tightly. She moaned in her sleep: a reverent, soft
sound that went straight to his bollocks.

He laid
there with her firmly against him, wishing for all the world that this night
would never end. He wasn't sure what he’d do when he was back to being alone
once more. Not with this feisty wee lassie keeping him on his toes.

A twig
snapped somewhere in the surrounding forest, and as the dogs chuffed to
attention. There were multiple sounds, all coming from the same direction, and
they were far too clumsy to be from any animal.

He
whistled quietly. Broch and Duff stood up and loped away, obeying his command.
He’d found the two hounds in these woods when he’d first moved here, the two of
them often took care of themselves and did so whenever he left. And it appeared
it was time for him to leave once more. He was still recovering from slaying
the boar, and there was no telling who was heading their way.

There
was only one thing for certain: Someone was in the woods with them, and that
meant his time with Elizabeth was coming to an end.

****

I woke sometime in the
night, feeling Cailen’s body stiffen against mine. “Hmm? What’s going on?”

“Shhhh.”
He pulled his plaid from around the two of us. “We’ve got comp’ny.”

I
jolted awake and jumped to my feet at the same time he did. The fire was still
burning, but the flames were only maybe an inch or two above the wood. Taking a
cue from him as he picked up his sword and sheathed it, I quickly bent and
picked up my clothes, purse, and high heels.

“If I
tell ye tae, run that way,” he pointed to his left. “And dae it as quietly as
ye can.”

I
nodded, my heart seeming to claw its way up into my throat as he packed his
things. He didn’t have much to speak of, but the few belongings I’d known he
had were quickly placed into a satchel.

The
Scot returned to me, getting very close as he leaned down and whispered, “They’re
comin’ at us from that direction.” He hitched his chin to the side. “I’d say
there are three, if no’ more.”

“Do you
think they’re here to hurt us?” I breathed.

“Dae ye
recall what I told ye about the MacDougalls?”

I
nodded.

“Then
aye, they’re here tae hurt us.”

What if
it wasn’t the MacDougalls at all? What if it was my dad or the Scottish police
searching for me?

“How is
yer foot?”

“It’s
okay, I think,” I whispered back. “I’ll go as far as I can.” I’d deal with my
foot as long as possible. Especially if it meant I could get away from the men
who had probably killed the coach driver. “Are you sure it’s not someone here
to help?”

He
nodded and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I ken it isn’ae. Anyone who
means nae harm doesn’ae try tae sneak up on ye. Stay close.”

Cailen
turned and walked away, and I followed closely behind. The man moved silently
even though he carried a bag full of whiskey bottles and the cooking utensils
he used over the fire. I was surprisingly quiet too, even though every step on
my right foot nearly made bite through my lip. So much for being okay.

We
walked and walked, and he frequently turned to check on me, making sure I
stayed close. My heart pounded in my ears from fear, matching the rhythmic
throbbing in my foot. How close were the others? Were they following us even
now? I’d wanted to ask, but feared any sound I made could draw their attention.

“So, ye
dae ken how tae follow orders.”

“Hmm?”
I asked, startled.

“Ye did
verra braw back there, lass.” He stopped and turned, smiling at me. “Ye didnae
panic as I would hae expected.”

“Can we
actually talk? I mean, are we far enough away from them now?”

“Aye. We’re
almost tae the place where ye were injured yesterday.”

I
sighed in relief and found a place to sit down, giving my aching feet a break.
As much as I’d wanted to ask him about the threat behind us, it was even more
excruciating not to tell him I’d needed to take about a million breaks since
the time we left. “Where are Broch and Duff? I wanted to ask a while ago, but I
didn’t really dare talk.”

“I
alerted them tae leave.”

“But
shouldn’t they stay with you?”

“Nae,”
he drawled. “They’ve ne’er actually been ma hounds. We just found each other. They
take care o’ themselves mostly.”

“So you
just leave whenever you want?”

“Aye,
and they dae too.”

I
pointed and flexed my feet, hoping to alleviate some of the pain from walking
on them for so long.

Cailen
set down his own bag and approached me before lowering to his haunches. “We
must get yer foot seen tae when we reach Kilchrenan, I think.” He eyed the
bandage that was barely hanging on after all that walking. “Can ye walk
farther?”

I bit
my lip, considering as I rubbed my aching feet. “How much longer?”

“Two
hours, maybe, so we haven’ae much farther now. If we hurry, we might find
breakfast.”

I
smiled and pushed to my feet. “I could so handle breakfast. Let me get dressed
first and we’ll go.” I moved to limp away, but Cailen put up a halting hand.

“I’ll
turn ma back. We must keep ye from walkin’ as much as we can.”

Ducking
inside Cailen’s shirt, I clasped my bra hooks together and looped the straps
over my shoulders. Once that was in place I yanked on my skirt and replaced his
shirt with my own.

“I’m done.”

Cailen
peeked over his shoulder. “That was fast.”

“Try
doing that in a locker room full of girls when you only have three minutes to
get dressed
and
get across campus to your next class.”

He
blinked at me and shook his head. “Uh, well, let’s see if we can fashion
something for yer feet, aye? An idea occurred tae me while ma back was turned.”
He bent and plucked a leaf off of a bush and placed it on the ground, gesturing
for me to step on it.

The
Highlander grabbed more leaves, layering them on top of one another until there
were two piles. He then removed the cloth strips that had been wrapped around
my foot. “Here, step on these.” When I did, he set to wrapping my feet with the
cloth, binding the leaves to them. “There, that’ll dae for now.” He stood and
smiled approvingly.

I
guessed I couldn’t complain. He’d provided a solution that would keep my bare
feet from the elements, and keep me from having to wear my heels in the middle
of the wet, grassy, bushy forest. “Thanks.”

He
shrugged uncomfortably. “Och, dinna mention it. I’m only sorry I didnae think
tae dae it before.”

“Well,
I don’t think there was really a chance while running away from whoever was
going to jump us in your camp.” I shifted my feet, surprised that the leaves
did actually provide some comfort. Looking up at Cailen, I smiled. “Okay, let’s
go. I’m starving. Whoa,
whoa
. What are you doing?” I pushed him away
from me as he bent to pick me up.

He
frowned. “I’m goin’ tae carry ye.”

“No you’re
not.”

“Aye, I
am. Ye dinna really think ye can walk the rest o’ the way, dae ye?”

“I can
try.” Damn, why did my feet have to hurt so much?

“There’s
nae need tae be stubborn, lass.”

“And
there’s no need for you to carry me unless I absolutely need it. Besides, I—
Whoa
!”

He
flashed me a smile as he lifted me in his arms. “I’m tellin’ ye, woman. Ye need
tae be carried. I should’ae been daein’ so this entire time, and it’s ma fault
ye’re in pain now. So, I’ll carry ye some o’ the time and let ye walk others.
And I dinna want ye tae argue wi’me.”

I
melted at the dark, heated gaze peering back at me as our eyes locked. “Why
not?”

“Because
ye dinna want tae find out what I’m like when I’m angry.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“This is a
town?
” I hissed after the old
woman disappeared through the door.

“Aye.” Cailen looked down at me,
his brows lowering in confusion. “What did ye expect?”

Seriously? What did I expect? I
plopped down in a huge wooden chair in the woman’s small parlor, shaking my
head in my hands. I hadn’t dared say anything until after she’d left—not with those
untrusting glances she’d already thrown my way.

When we’d first strolled up to
her house, I’d assumed it was a shack, or maybe a barn of
some sort, until I’d seen a small sign stating that Mrs.
Ferguson was a seamstress. It was even harder to believe when I walked inside,
seeing dark wood walls and wooden furniture. It was like I was in one of those
time-capsule cabins that were preserved exactly as they’d been so long ago.

The
room wasn’t very bright, with the only light coming through the window on the
front of the house, and from the candles which didn’t make the place smell all
that pleasant. I realized with a shock that there weren’t any lamps on end
tables, or even lights on the ceiling. At least, not the lamps I was accustomed
to. Other than the wooden chair I sat on, there were two benches and a table
with needles and thread on it. On the floor, was what looked like a hand-made
rug.

Freakin’
time capsule
.

Even
Mrs. Ferguson was a bit surprising, in her red plaid dress, and her brown and
silver hair that was pulled up underneath a white cap.

Was the
Highlander really just screwing with me here? Had he really known what a cell
phone was the entire time and called ahead to pull off this prank? Unlikely. It’s
not like I’d known him for long, and unless Scots had really weird senses of
humor, one probably wouldn’t go through the trouble to mess with me.

And
yet, that was the only explanation my mind would accept. Either that, or I
really had stumbled on Amishville, Scotland.

“Whate’er
happened tae yer clothes, ma’dearie?” Mrs. Ferguson stammered when we’d been
welcomed into her home.

After
getting over my irritation at yet another person gawking at my clothes, I’d
explained some of the details of my kidnapping. Cailen had thrown in the bit
about the gunmen—tactfully leaving out his involvement, or lack thereof, during
that part—and Mrs. Ferguson had patted my hand sympathetically.

“Well,”
she’d said. “We’ll get ye fixed up fine. I’ve got a brown dress that might fit,
and some skirts tae go along wi’it. I was makin’ it for ma granddaughter,” she
said pointedly at the Highlander, “but it should work just fine for ye.”

“Hae ye
any shoes we might purchase for her?” Cailen had asked.

“I
dinna hae any here, but I can go doon tae the shoemaker’s tae see what he has.”
Turning to me, she’d continued, “First, let me see what I’ve got tae get ye
dressed. Ye’re no’ fit tae be in the comp’ny o’ a gentleman.”

“Thank
you,” we both said before she’d whirled around in her skirts and disappeared
through her parlor doorway.

“I
expected an actual town,” I snapped. “This place looks like a ghost town. And
what is with everybody’s clothes?”

“What
is wrong wi’our clothing?”

I
glared and opened my mouth to tell him just what was wrong with everyone
wearing kilts and dresses when Mrs. Ferguson whisked her way into the room
again, carrying a brown dress and a whole lot of nearly white fabric. “I trust
ye hae money tae pay for this?” she asked, sending a questioning glance toward
Cailen.

“Oh
aye, we’ve plenty.”

“Good.
Now, depairt so we may get the lass fitted and dressed. We’ll call ye in
presently.”

Dismissed,
Cailen left the house. Mrs. Ferguson disappeared through the door, returning a
few minutes later with a bowl full of water, and a washcloth. “Here,” she said,
setting them down on the table. “Get cleaned up.”

Not a
request apparently.

I could
have just used the sink in her bathroom, but the way she stared at me
expectantly had me dunking the cloth in the cold water. It really didn’t look
all that clean. The water was brownish and not all that transparent, and the
rag looked as though it’d been used countless times washing things I didn’t
even want to think about. I rung out the rag and brought it to my face,
silently sniffing it, and hoping that Mrs. Ferguson hadn’t seen me. At least it
didn’t smell bad. In fact, it smelled like it was infused with flowers. I
scrubbed my hands, arms, neck, and face before Mrs. Ferguson helped me off with
my shirt.

“Michty
me!” she exclaimed, causing me to whirl around, gaping from her loud, surprised
tone. “Whate’er are ye wearing?”

Jeez!
What is wrong with these people?
“That’s
my bra.”

“I’ve
ne’er seen somethin’…well, so revealing. Off wi’it.” She looked at me like I
was the spawn of Satan as she wrenched it off over my head and dropped it to
the floor along with my Juicy shirt, forcing me to face away from her yet
again. “Where are the ties for this…this…” Her voice died away as she pointed
at my skirt.

I
rolled my eyes and unzipped it, letting it pool at my feet. Mrs. Ferguson
gasped and I turned to face her, backing away as I saw that look in her eyes. “No.
Don’t you even think about it. I’m
not
taking off my underwear, and I
swear, if you try, you’re not going to like what happens.”

“I’ve
ne’er—”

“You’ve
never seen anything like it. Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I groaned. “I’m not taking them
off.”

She
glared. “Fine. Wash yerself and I’ll set tae work on pinnin’ the dress. I can
see already that it’s too long for ye.” She turned and walked over to the chair
that the dress and skirts were folded over.

I
waited until I was reasonably sure she wasn’t going to sneak up and force me
out of my thong. When I saw that she really was busy with the dress, I dunked
the cloth in the water and ran it up and down my legs until they were cold, but
probably cleaner than they had been. The wraps around my feet were easily
loosened, and I stepped off the leaves before I scrubbed them, careful not to
put too much pressure on my right foot.

“All
right,” Mrs. Ferguson said a while later, obviously in a much better mood than
she was before. “Stand right there. Aye, just that way.” She slid whitish
fabric over my head and shoulders, and then gave me a matching set of loose
M.C. Hammer pants. I may have told her what they looked like, but Mrs. Ferguson
seemed way too uptight and probably wouldn’t know what I was talking about
anyway. Did people in Scotland even know who M.C. Hammer was?

Next
came another slip and then a thick skirt, followed by the brown dress. “Holy
crap. How much do you actually expect me to wear?”

“
Wheesht
,”
she shushed as she balanced pins between her lips. The old woman dropped to her
knees and pulled pins out of the fabric. “I think this will fit just fine once
ye get proper shoes. Gi’us a turn so I can see about the laces.” She finished
pulling out the last of the pins and stood up, yanking on the ties at the back
of the dress. I nearly fell over three times and she chastised me about acting
like I’d never done up a dress before.

“Exactly
why do I have to wear all of this?” I asked, feeling like I was under a million
layers of fabric. The dress was white and brown, with white lace that rimmed my
neck and arms. “It’s not like there’s anything wrong with the clothes I’ve
already got.”

Other
than the fact that they seemed to offend every single person I’d seen since my
kidnapping.

“Why,”
she breathed. “Ye canna wander around the whole o’ Scotland wearing naethin’
but yer undergarments, dearie. I’m surprised naethin’ has happened tae ye yet.”
She brushed through my hair, pinning it in random places and pulling it up
before placing a hat on top of my head. “Ye’re verra lucky yer laddie found ye
before someone else. But e’en a gentleman like him could lose his head o’er a
wee lassie in her underthings.”

“Did
you just call Cailen a gentleman?”

“Och,
aye. Is that his name then? He’s ne’er told me.”

My ears
felt heated suddenly. Why wouldn’t the Highlander have told her his name? Was I
supposed to keep my mouth shut?

“That
young laddie has ne’er been anythin’ but a gentleman.” Mrs. Ferguson’s eyes met
mine, her expression changing to inquisitiveness. “I think it’s done him good
tae hae ye tae take care o’.”

“Why’s
that?”

“He’s
been comin’ here for years now, and I’ve ne’er seen that spark in him.”

Spark?
I caused a spark?

“He’s
been on his own a long time, ken. Whene’er someone comes intae town and they’ve
been awa from other folk for a long time, there’s somethin’…different about
them. That’s how yer lad has been since he started comin’ tae me for mendin’ or
for new clothes. He’s always been cordial, but distant.” Mrs. Ferguson’s lips
curled into a smile. “Aye, there’s a spark in him now. Almost as though he’s
needed someone wi’him. Someone tae care for, maybe? Shouldn’ae come as a
surprise,” she added. “He’s a fine young man. Any lass would be lucky tae call
him hers.”

I shook
my head. “Oh no, no, no. He’s not mine.”

“I
dinna ken, I think there’s more between the two o’ ye than either o’ ye ken.”
She leaned in closer. “I’ve seen young lassies and laddies fall in love for
forty years. I just may ken a thing or two,” she teased.

I shook
my head, ready to tell her yet again that Cailen and I were nothing more than
acquaintances, but she cut off my reply.

“Now,
ye just hae a seat. I’ll send ma servant wi’some tea while I fetch ye a pair o’
stockings and shoes. Oh, and I’ll send the doctor tae come hae a look at ye.”

She was
gone before I even blinked, and the next thing I knew, Cailen was standing in
the doorway, peering at me with an indescribable expression on his face.

He
blinked and took a single step inside, ducking through the doorway before
bowing. “Yer servant, mum.” He straightened, his gaze never leaving mine as he
rose as close to his full height as he could in this house.

The way
he stared caused a flush to work from my chest up to my face and ears, and I quickly
glanced away.

“Ye
look bonny, Elizabeth.”

I
flicked my gaze at him and smiled. “Thanks.”

The
Highlander nodded, but it looked more like a mini bow as he took a seat on the
bench next to me. The servant bobbed her way into the room and set down a tray
of tea and cookies, before she poured two glasses and handed them to us. She
was gone as fast as she’d come.

“She
has a way about her, aye?” Cailen said. “Mrs. Ferguson, I mean.”

“Yeah.
She sorta just makes you do what she wants.” I sipped the tea and shuddered as
the taste of weeds flooded my mouth.
Stupid tea
.
Sooo gross.
“Why
did you make me get into a dress anyway? Isn’t there like a mall or store
around somewhere? I mean, I saw Glasgow and Oban, and a lot of cities and towns
in between, so I know you all aren’t that far behind the times.” I stood and
bent for my purse, finding it more than a little difficult to breathe in the
garb I’d just been forced into. I turned on my cell and sat down. “Seriously?
Ugh
.”
Still no bars.

“What’s
the matter?”

“I
still
don’t have any service, and you seem to have brought me to a town that
doesn’t have anything. No cars, no phones, no freaking lights!” This was
turning into a nightmare, and that rock in my gut just continued to get bigger
and bigger.

The
Scot was silent for a minute as I turned off my phone and shoved it angrily
back into my purse. I threw it and it landed near my discarded clothes.

“I’m
sorry,” he said. “We mustn’ae hae certain comforts ye’re accustomed tae in the
Colonies.”

I
dropped my face into my hands, feeling even worse for causing that defeated
tone in his voice. “Yes you do. I’ve seen them. Two days ago I was surrounded
by people carrying cell phones and driving cars.” I had just somehow ended up
in the Twilight Zone.

Mrs.
Ferguson’s front door opened and a man walked in, followed by the lady of the
house herself. “This is Mr. Docherty, our doctor,” she said proudly, gesturing
to the forty-something guy next to her.

Dr.
Docherty dropped down to his knees and took my foot in his hands. “Och, aye. It
looks like someone has already cleaned the wound. It’s healin’ up just fine.
Just fine.” He poked at it a few more times and then opened his black case. “Ye’ll
want tae rub this on it twice a day and be sure tae keep it clean. Mrs.
Ferguson said ye’ve gone a while wi’out shoes. Ye canna dae that if ye want it
tae heal. I dinna want tae hear that ye’re runnin’ around shoeless again, aye?”
He smiled kindly and winked.

I
couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright. I’ll be sure to wear shoes from now on.” I
took the small vial from him and he stood and left the room, nodding at
everyone and speaking in a language I couldn’t have understood if I’d tried.