To Love and Protect (25 page)

Clarissa felt him fighting her.
 
His lips were a hard line, an impenetrable barrier.
 
His heart thumped madly against hers.
 
He definitely was not unaffected by her.
 
Clarissa clasped either side of his head in her hands and let her fingers stroke through the hair at his temples.
 

“Did you know you already have some gray hairs shining through at your temples?” she asked, suckling his earlobe after.

“Every one of them is named after you,” he replied stoically.

“Now that’s not fair.
 
I’m sure your sister has given you a few.”

“Perhaps.”
 
He walked over to the pallet and bent over, dropping her a little over a foot to the hard wooden floor below.

“Ow,” she yelped and grabbed at her elbow, tears stinging her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hit my elbow.
 
That was not very nice of you.”

“It was nicer than you think.
 
Go to sleep,” he walked out of the building leaving her alone so that he could cool off.
 
The snow continued to come down, and the moon glistened off of it making it almost appear like midday outside.
 
His body ached with unfulfilled passion, but sleeping with Clarissa would be a mistake.
 
Justin did not believe himself an appropriate match for her.
 
Although her father might be grateful for him saving his life, he would definitely not approve of her marrying a man with Scottish blood in his veins.

Marry?
 
The thought pulled him up short.
 
Was he really considering her as a wife?
 
It would never work.
 
Oh, they were physically compatible, but they fought more often than not.
 
Only lately did it seem they fought all the time, and Justin imagined that could be chalked up to the sexual tension between them.
 
He stomped around outside for quite a while on the pretext of looking for trails he had missed before.

His body having cooled, he walked back into the little hut.
 
She lay on the pallet, her back to the door.
 
He didn’t know if she slept or not, but he refused to take the chance.
 
Justin walked to the driest corner the farthest distance from her.
 
He lowered himself to the floor and prepared for a long, sleepless night.

Chapter 11

Somehow he had managed to doze off only to be awoken by a piercing scream around dawn.
 
Little shafts of light pierced through the cracks in the shutters and around the door.
 
Startled awake, he reached for his gun that he usually carried, but found nothing there.
 
Everything flooded back.
 
The picnic, the boulder, searching for shelter, alone with Clarissa.
 
He looked around startled, trying to place what woke him.

Justin first thought it had been Clarissa, caught up in a nightmare once more.
 
But when he looked over, she slept peacefully where he had left her last night.
 
He heard the piercing scream again.
 
This time he identified it as coming from outside.
 
Wishing he hadn’t forgotten his gun, he stood, grunting from the cold and stiffness, and made his way to the lopsided door.
 
What he saw had him grinning in relief.

Grandfather’s hunting hawk lazily circled the hut.
 
When he stepped outside, the hawk flew off.
 
He heard the sounds of dogs in the distance as well.
 
Rescue would be here shortly, thank goodness.
 
He remained uncertain how much more of the enticing Clarissa he could take in such close quarters without going mad.
 
At least at home there were lots of rooms to put between them.
 

He walked over to the lovely Clarissa who still wore no clothing beneath the blankets.
 
The blanket had slipped during the night, giving him a tantalizing view of one milky breast.
 
The peak reminded him of a pink rose and the nipple pebbled in the cool air.
 
His body reacted swiftly.
 
Counting to one hundred before moving, he bent down and pulled the blanket up, letting his hand graze against her breast.
 
He knew he only tortured himself, but he could not resist the contact.
 
Once covered, he placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her to wakefulness.

“What?” she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

“Help is coming.”

“Truly?” She sat up and the blanket slipped completely.
 
She noticed her exposure and the strained look on Justin’s face.
 
Clarissa covered herself, but took her time doing it.
 
“How do you know help is coming?”

“Grandfather’s hunting hawk was circling.
 
They’re smart hunters.
 
He’ll bring them to us.
 
He has the dogs with him as well.”

“I had better get dressed then.”

“Yes.
 
I’ll give you some privacy.”

“What if I need help standing?”

“I’m sure you can manage,” he muttered, making his way outside.

“Do you have a knife I can borrow?”
 
The question stopped him at the door.

“Why?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m not going to do anything drastic.
 
Just let me borrow your knife.”
 
He reluctantly left it with her and walked outside into the breaking dawn.

Inside, Clarissa dressed in her filthy, stiff dress and ate a few berries, refusing to eat the only food that remained in the picnic basket—the haggis.
 
They really were quite tasty.
 
She took the knife to one of the blankets. Before falling asleep, she had determined she would not be a burden on their rescuers or getting out of this valley.
 
She would walk out of here under her own power.

“They’re coming,” Justin called from outside.
 
She heard the hawk squawking overhead.
 
Clarissa stood, walking herself up the wall.
 
Her feet were ached with every step and she bit her lip not to cry out.
 
Clarissa moved slowly but steadily across the floor towards the door.
 
She opened it and stood in the doorframe, breathing deeply of the cold, fresh morning.
 
Everything sparkled white, and she had to hold her hand up to her eyes to ease the brightness.
 
“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Standing on my own two feet for a change.
 
Shall we go and greet our rescuers?”
 
She took a step on the uneven ground and almost took a tumble.

“Dammit, let me help you.”

“No,” she held up a hand.
 
“I can do this.
 
I have to do this.”
 
She straightened once more, and this time she did not stumble when she walked.
 
Justin walked a little behind her and beside her, ready to catch her if she fell.
 
Two massive hounds, looking much like those at Justin’s estate, came bounding up to them.

“Easy, boys, easy,” Justin crooned to the dogs.

Justin’s father greeted them first.

“Son, your mother has been out of her mind with worry ever since the coachman came home without you and said there was a storm.”
 
The man pulled Justin into his arms and hugged him as if he would never let him go.
 
The sight made Clarissa melt inside.
 
Soon his grandfather embraced him as well.

“Matilda told me if I didn’t bring you back alive then I shouldn’t come home at all.”

“You knew it would be hard to keep me down.”

“What happened?”

“A lightning bolt dislodged a boulder and almost ended Clarissa’s life,” he said harshly.
 
The memory of her lying in its path, unable to move, still frightened him.

“You all right, girl?” Seamus asked gruffly.
 
He made a motion, and the hawk landed easily on the man’s gloved arm.
 
The hounds continued to bounce around the group.

“Yes,” she said.

“She is not.
 
Her feet are torn and bruised, and she won’t let me carry her out of here.”
 
Five more men, who had the look of servants, joined them.
 
Seamus barked out directions, and the men quickly began working.
 
They made a sled of some type, and one of them pulled out a cloth he carried in a pack and worked over the branches they had picked to make the device.

“Put her on the sled boy,” Seamus ordered, his hawk echoing the order.
 
He walked over and gave the servants instructions.
 

Justin marched towards her and swung her up in his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You heard Gramps.”

She felt herself being lowered to the ground, but did not feel the cold snow beneath her.
 
Instead, it felt like a thin, but comfortable mattress.
 
Justin wrapped a belt-like thing around her chest after instructing her to raise her arms.
 
Once he had completed that, he tucked the blankets around her.
 
When she felt her head and torso being lifted off the ground, her body at an angle, she became worried and glad of the bracing across her chest at the same time.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re going home.”

“I said I could walk.
 
Stop this thing right now,” she commanded in her best authoritative voice.

“Keep walking,” Seamus overruled her.

“Justin, tell your grandfather I am going to walk.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one changes Gramps’ mind once it is made up.”
 
Resigned to her fate and not wanting to act like a spoiled child in front of all these men, she lay back on the canvas and watched the clouds drift overhead, the blankets from inside the hut tucked tightly around her once more to ward off any chill.

***

Clarissa found the trip to be long and arduous, even after being loaded into the carriage.
 
Once they arrived at the house in Dumbarton, they were greeted once more by shouts of joy and hugs.
 
Clarissa’s father had been demanding to see her, and Justin carried her up the stairs to her father’s chamber.

“There you are,” he said upon seeing her enter the chamber.
 
“Where have you been?
 
You look terrible.
 
Why is young Southerby carrying you about?”

“I’m fine, Papa,” Clarissa assured him, a little upset that he had not demanded a hug like Justin’s family had.
 
They had even gathered Clarissa up and told her over and over how glad they were no harm had come to her.

“We were caught by the weather.
 
We were trapped in a small hut overnight,” Justin explained after lowering Clarissa down onto the chair next to her father’s bed.
 
He had stepped back to give them privacy, but could not help intruding when he saw how coldly Hamilton treated his own daughter.
 
“A loose boulder nearly killed your daughter, Your Grace,” he added.

“Well that would certainly explain your ragged garments,” the old man replied, reclining once more.

“I should clean up,” Clarissa said softly.
 
Justin could detect the hurt lacing her voice.
 

“Wait,” the duke halted her movements.
 
“You two were alone together overnight?”

“Nothing untoward happened, Papa.”

“Not proper, nonetheless.”

“Of course,” she murmured.

“Your daughter would have died if we had not sought shelter.
 
There were several occasions I thought she might not make it.”

“Must think about this,” he mumbled, eyeing both young Southerby and Clarissa very carefully, ignoring what Justin had just said.

When she stood, Clarissa almost cried out in pain.
 
Her feet throbbed and felt like they were on fire, but she would not cry out and give her father one more reason to be disappointed in her.
 
She walked slowly and stiffly across the room.

“What’s wrong with you?” her father demanded from the bed.

“Just a little stiff,” she called over her shoulder.
 
She felt the trickle of a tear run down her cheek and hid her face as Justin approached her.

“Let me help you to your room,” he said softly, sweeping her up into his arms.

“She can walk on her own, young man.
 
No need for you to carry her hither and to,” the Duke of Hamilton blustered from his bed.
 

“Your daughter’s feet were almost frozen blocks of ice.
 
They have also been shredded and bruised, Your Grace,” he bit out.
 
“So, yes, Your Grace, I will carry her ‘hither and to’ whether you approve or not,” and Justin carried her out of the room to her own bedchamber.

“Justin, you shouldn’t have said those things to Papa.”

“Someone should have, and better he hear it from me.
 
I will send Gram up to see to your feet.”
 
He lowered her to a chair near the fire someone had already started.
 
Before leaving, he lifted Clarissa’s chin and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.
 
He broke it off before either of them could get too carried away.
 
Inside, he seethed that the man would treat his daughter so callously.
 
What happened to the father that Clarissa had spoken so fondly of?
 
The man in the other bedchamber did not deserve to have a daughter that cared for him as much as Clarissa did.