Fraser 03 - Highland Homecoming (6 page)

“I might be the tallest and strongest son now, but believe it or not when we were growing up, my brother, Connor, and my older brother, Blaine.” He paused and crossed himself. “May the Almighty bless his soul. They stood up for me when other bairns called me names or tried tae do me harm.”

“You look like you could have taken care of yourself.”

“Mayhap now, but back then, I was a tall, lanky lad with flaming red hair and a strong wind could blow me over.”

“A lot has changed. You are no longer of slight build and your hair and beard, while they both have streaks of red running through them, are fairly dark.”

“I took after my da. He had plain features, red hair, and blue eyes. My brothers resemble our mother, with their raven locks, brown eyes, and guid looks. I was never as handsome and it wasna until I reached manhood that my hair began tae change color. Tae be honest, I never thought it would. Even though as a lad I prayed for it nightly. You know what they say about red hair.”

“I’m afraid I dinna recall.”

“Tae be born with hair of fire is a curse.”

“Dinna tell me you believe in such nonsense. I wouldna have taken you for a superstitious man.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue.

“I’m not. But when you are a bairn and people taunt and belittle you, claim you were born under an unlucky star, you find it hard tae discount. There were times when even my brothers teased me about my appearance because they knew it would get a rise out of me. Especially Bryce. He never missed a chance tae annoy me or tae point out the fact that I dinna have his winning way with the lassies.”

“If you were tae shave, you would be quite pleasing tae look at. I think I would find you verra handsome.”

Alasdair stiffened his spine and his brows knit together. “It matters not if you find me appealing or not,” he snapped. “I think you have been up long our first time and I best take you back inside.” He stomped toward her and bent to lift her. “I’ll make some stew while you rest.”

“I dinna mean tae upset you. But if you were tae—” Given the sudden scowl on his face, she decided, she’d said too much, again, and it was best not to continue.

Without saying another word, Alasdair strode toward the croft with her tucked securely in his arms. It broke her heart to learn he thought so little of himself and believed he did not deserve the same kind of love and happiness his brothers had found. No wonder he went out of his way to put on a harsh front.

Chapter 6

After placing her onto the pallet, Alasdair quickly backed away. “Get some rest. When you awaken, the stew will be ready. Mayhap you can try walking a wee bit after we eat. The sooner we get you on your feet, the sooner we can be away. My friend Jayden must be wondering what happened tae me by now.”

He was babbling like an idiot and didn’t wait for her to respond. For some unknown reason, Lauren had gotten him to open up and talk about his past, again. But what bothered him more was the way his senses, every fiber of his being, came alive in her presence.

His body ablaze with desire, Alasdair needed some space between them. He’d not be swayed by a comely face or her flattery. He spun on his heel and exited the croft.

He paused on the porch, his heart hammering against his ribs, his palms sweating, and his loins on fire. The lass had burrowed under his skin and he dinna like it one bit. No matter how hard he tried to keep his distance and stay his randy thoughts, his pulse raced whenever he looked into her beautiful hazel eyes. Her delicate, sweet scent drove him wild, and when he carried her in his arms, the rush of heat and carnal need was stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. It was as if she had been made for him.

The soft lilt of her voice haunted his dreams and thoughts of her occupied his waking hours. What’s more, with her feisty spirit, she commanded his respect. He actually liked the lass and being in her company. Was he losing his mind?

“Mo chreach!” he cursed aloud and gave his head a quick shake. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted by a woman’s wiles. Not that many ladies had bothered showing him any interest. He wasn’t the sort of man women fawned over. Actually, the lassies seldom acknowledged his existence. They were too busy trying to impress his handsome younger brothers.

He clenched his fists and his blood began to boil when he thought about the one and only time a lass had prompted him to let down his guard. “Mhic na galla!” he cursed again as he remembered the humiliation and anger he felt when he learned he’d been played for a fool. He could still hear the crofters snickering when he passed them on the street.

He had just seen his twenty-third summer when Lillian MacCloud, a fae creature with ebony tresses, bewitching features, sea-green eyes, and kisses as sweet as honey, had all but thrown herself at him. She was the kind of lass he had only fantasized about and never believed would pay him any mind. At first, he thought it a ruse, a cruel trick, but when she persisted in her flirtation, he believed she truly found him appealing.

He’d fallen hard and was prepared to put aside his pledge to the cause, his vows to avenge deaths of his family members, and ask for her hand. When Connor cautioned him to beware, told him she was a cunning shrew, and had tried to tempt him in the same way, rage consumed him. Alasdair drew his sword, ready to lop of his brother head for speaking ill of the woman he loved. Had Bryce not intervened and supported Connor’s claim, he might have gone through with the deed.

Unwilling to believe his traitorous siblings spoke the truth and determined to prove them wrong, he went to her family’s croft, to ask her to marry him. When he came upon Lillian with Gavin Maclean, wrapped in each other’s arms, and rolling in the hay behind the barn, the bugger’s hand beneath her skirt, Alasdair had been devastated. When he challenged MacLean to a battle of swords and informed Lillian of his intent to propose, she’d laughed in his face and called him a buffoon.

“Women are selfish, conniving, and are not tae be trusted. I’ve managed this long on my own and dinna need one in my life,” he grumbled as he trotted down the stairs, then raced toward the shore. Another dip in the cold ocean surf would get his muddled mind and lust-ravaged body under control.

Unfortunately, his plan failed and he emerged from the frigid water even more frustrated and confused than before he took the plunge. He dried off using a length of plaid, tugged on his trews and boots, then trudged up the beach, stopping when he came across a huge boulder and plunked himself down.

Things had not gone as planned and he had to put Lauren out of his mind. Hell, she could be married for all he knew. If not, a lass that comely would surely be spoken for. Given his penchant for bad luck, she most likely had bairns, too.

But what if she wasna wed? He scrubbed his hand across his bearded chin. Was what she said true? Could she possibly find him good-looking if he were clean-shaven and brushed his hair?

Nay. He slammed his fist on the rock, the blow causing his knuckles to bleed. He was only setting himself up for a major disappointment by even thinking such a thing. If she claimed to have any feelings for him, they would only be out of gratitude for saving her life or because she felt sorry for him. He didn’t want her pity. Once her ankle healed, she would be anxious to see the last of him. Besides, Robert the Bruce was counting on him to rejoin the cause at the end of the summer. He’d pledged his sword, and if need be his life, to his king, and had no time or desire to court a lass. Or so he tried to convince himself.

She dragged her hand across her eyes, then cupped her mouth and yawned. How long had she slept? She glanced around the dimly lit room. A half-spent candle and the soft glow of the fire burning in the hearth provided the only light.

The aroma of stew simmering over the fire filled the room. Her stomach growled. Alasdair promised it would be ready when she woke up, but he was nowhere around. He’d been cross and evasive when he’d brought her back to the croft. Talking about his mother and his past obviously made him uncomfortable. She’d meant no harm in asking.

The door swung opened and Alasdair entered. “I see you’re awake. The sun has set and the hour grows late. You must be hungry.”

She sat up and narrowed her eyes as he stepped from the shadows and into the firelight. Her heart skipped a beat when she caught a glimpse at his face. Shocked, she noticed his beard was gone. Freshly washed hair had been pulled back and bound with a length of leather. How this man could think he was unattractive or plain was beyond her comprehension.

Her breath caught as she took in his rugged features, a straight aquiline nose, high cheekbones, strong, square jaw, straight white teeth, and expressive blue eyes. She could hardly believe this was the same man who’d been tending her needs for a sennight.

“Is something amiss?” he asked with a grin that caused her pulse to race and her stomach to do a wee flip.

“N-nay,” she forced out the words. “I was surprised tae . . . um.” The heat of a blush rose in her face and she glanced away.

He moved to the pallet and touched her cheek. “Are you ill? Your face is flushed. I hope it doesna mean a fever is brewing. Mayhap I kept you outside too long this afternoon and you caught a chill.”

“I’m fine.” She pulled away. “You shaved off your beard. I hardly recognized you.”

“I grew tired of it and decided it was time,” he answered.

“What do you have there?” Trying not to stare, she pointed to a long, slender, carved piece of wood he was carrying.

“I made you a walking stick. I thought it might help you to get around until you’ve regained your strength and your ankle is fully healed.” He laid it across her lap, then took a step back.

She ran her fingers over a row of thistles carved along the length of the shaft. Amidst the prickly wildflowers was a single rose. “I canna believe you did this for me. You are verra gifted. When did you find the time?”

He shrugged. “While you were asleep. Carving relaxes me and I have put dirk to wood since I was a lad. When you spend as many hours abed as I did, you need something tae keep you from going daft.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you tae stand.”

“I’m not sure I’m able,” she lied. If he knew how many times she’d walked on her own and not told him, he’d be furious. This was not the right moment to reveal her secret.

“You can and will.” He slid his thick arm under her legs, one around her waist, then slid her to the edge of the pallet. “Lean on me if you dinna feel steady or find it too painful. If you dinna get up soon, you willna be able tae leave.”

Her heart sank. He was still talking about departing. She winced when he placed her feet on the floor.

“Are you all right, lass?”

She softened at the concern and tenderness in his voice. “Aye. I just need a minute.” Guilt tugged at her gut and she nibbled on her bottom lip. Would he know she was lying, that her injury had healed more than she’d let on?

“Take as long as you need.” He supported her weight and pulled her against his chest. “You’ve been abed for many days. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

He held her so close, it was hard to ignore the clean woodsy scent of musk and man. Her knees buckled and before she could speak, he lifted her into his arms, carried her toward the hearth, then sat her on a wooden stool.

“We’ll eat first and then you can try tae walk back to the pallet.

He dipped the ladle into the pot and scooped out a generous portion of stew. “The fare is not fancy, but will stick tae your ribs.” He placed the trencher on the table before her and handed her an eating knife.

She folded her hands, bowed her head, and whispered a prayer of thanks over the food. While she was not sure what possessed her to do so, it felt right.

Alasdair halted. With the knife halfway between the trencher and his mouth, he waited until she finished speaking. “Best you eat afore it grows cold.”

She picked up the knife, brought the stew to her lips, and blew on it before popping it into her mouth. “Your cooking skills never cease tae surprise me. This is delicious.”

“I made plenty if you want more.” Alasdair, downed several mouthfuls, then leaned back in his seat. “What prompted you tae say the blessing? Have you remembered anything about your past?”

“Nay, I recall naught,” she lied. Again. She’d had several vivid dreams about being on a ship and falling overboard, of being in danger, and a confrontation with a man whose face she could not see. Alasdair had given her no reason to fear him, but she was still uncertain who she could trust.

“I find that hard to fathom. You should have remembered something by now. Your name perhaps.” He tilted his head to one side and waited for her reply.

“I don’t know my name for certain, but as I mentioned before, the name Lauren is all that comes to mind.”

“Lauren. The name suits you well.” he said, then touched the back of her hand. “Since I couldna keep calling you lass, I will continue tae call you Lauren, until you tell me otherwise.”

She nodded and lowered her eyes, trying to concentrate on the food—anything but him. Hearing the name roll off his tongue sent a warm tingling sensation to her belly, and beyond. She enjoyed his company when he wasn’t grumbling about leaving. He tried so hard to hide beyond his gruff exterior, and she was finding it more difficult with each passing day to resist the growing attraction she felt. But with no memory of who she was or where she belonged, to even consider the idea of being anything more than friends with a man was wrong.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. When finished, Alasdair cleared away the dishes and returned to her side. “Are you ready tae walk back tae the pallet?”

Her stomach fluttered and her heart skipped at the thought of him enveloping her in his arms again. But he did not give her time to respond. He took both her hands, helped her to stand, then slid his arm around her waist.

“When you’re ready, Lauren, we’ll try taking a wee step.”

She did not want to prolong this any longer than necessary, so shuffled her right foot forward and then her left. He remained steadfast at her side, taking the bulk of her weight on his hip.

“Excellent. You will be walking on your own in no time at all.”

He didn’t rush, waiting for her to take the next step and then another. Her mind raced as they neared the pallet. Now that he had her up and walking, he’d expect her to be ready to leave in the next day or so. She’d do her best to stall, but for how long? She could not accompany him to Sinclair Castle. She did not know why, but something in her gut told her it was not a prudent thing to do.

While common sense told her it would be dangerous for a woman to travel alone, and as foolish as it might be, she could not help believing that going with Alasdair would put her in far worse peril. She’d wait until the time was right, when he was away from the croft, and leave before he returned.

They reached the pallet and he gave her waist a squeeze. “You did well. Rest now and we will try again in the morning.” He held the pelts while she climbed beneath them. “Is there anything you need?”

“Nay. Just some rest.” She rolled over and closed her eyes.

“Sleep well, Lauren.”

She didn’t answer.

Perched on a stool by the fire, he watched her sleep, wondering how he was going to ever let her go. She was by far the loveliest woman he had ever seen, and she did not seem to be put off by his size, awkwardness, or lack of manners. But duty dictated that they part ways.

After tossing a log on the fire, he spread a pelt on the floor in front of the hearth, then lowered himself to the ground. He pulled the tunic over his head and tossed it on the stool, then did the same with his trews and boots, before settling beneath a length of plaid.

The last thing he wanted to do was lie on the floor and go to sleep. If truth be known, he wanted to slip beneath the covers, take Lauren in his arms, and make her his own. But that would not be right or proper. They were not betrothed and despite what people might think of him, he was a man of honor.

The women he’d bedded in the past had all been of questionable repute and none had been untried maidens. If Lauren was not already married or spoken for, he held enough respect for her that he would wait until their wedding night. But then again, if she did not get her memory back, he might never know for certain.

He slammed his fist on the floor. What the hell was he thinking? He was never going to take a bride. Especially one with no past. He was a warrior. There was no future for them, something he best not forget. He tucked the plaid around his shoulders and dozed off.