Highland Hero (34 page)

Slowly, so as not to cause himself pain or wake Tatha, he wriggled himself up into a partially seated position. His mouth felt as if someone had stuffed a dirty woolen rag into it and left it there for a few days. Using some of the wine set at his bedside, he rinsed out his mouth, gently rubbed his teeth clean with a scrap of the linen rags piled neatly on the heavy table, and then had a drink to ease the dryness in his throat. Although he still felt a bath and a good hair washing would be most welcome, and were decidedly needed, he felt more presentable.

As he made himself comfortable by Tatha’s side, she murmured and huddled closer. When she placed her small, long-fingered hand on his bare chest, he drew in a sharp breath. His body’s response to that light touch was startling. Despite the weakness left by his illness, he grew hard and warm with desire. The kiss they had shared had told him that he desired her; he just had not allowed himself to consider how much. Now there was no ignoring the fact that she was a fever in his blood.

He gave in to the need to touch her and brushed his lips over her forehead. Tatha murmured and shifted closer to him. The feel of her soft breasts pressed against his side had his heart pounding so hard and fast he was surprised it did not wake her up. He touched a light kiss to each of her eyes and felt her lids flutter beneath his lips. Watching her eyes open as he brushed his lips over her cheeks, his breath caught in his throat at the soft warmth visible in their rich blue depths.

“What are ye doing?” she whispered, trapped by the heat in his dark gaze.

“Kissing ye.” He touched his lips to hers.

“Your fever has truly passed, I see.”

“Has it? I am nay sure, for I am feeling verra heated.” Her husky giggle made him tremble. He thanked God that the woman seemed blissfully unaware of the power she held over him.

“This isnae good for your wound.”

“It feels verra good to me.”

“I think ye are a rogue.”

“Nay, lass. Although there is something about ye that makes me feel like one.”

Before Tatha could say anything he kissed her. She hesitated only a moment before slipping her arm around his waist and pressing closer to his hard body, eagerly parting her lips to welcome the invasion of his tongue. The way his hand pressed against her lower back, moving in small circles, warmed her, urging her even closer, until she was almost sprawled on top of him. She trembled and heard herself groan softly in delight when he slid his hand over her bottom, moving her groin gently against his leg. Tatha found herself aching to rip away the covers between them, almost frantic to get as close to him as possible.

“Ye shouldnae,” she mumbled in a weak protest as he began to kiss her throat. “Your wound.”

“I am barely moving that arm.” He slowly ran his tongue over the pulse point in her throat. “Ah, lass, ye taste so sweet. I fair ache to lick every soft, pale inch of ye.”

When she gasped softly in shock, he quickly kissed her again. His whole body trembled with the force of his need for her. The signs that she returned his passion, her rapid pulse, the soft noises she made, the faint tremor in her lithe body, all enhanced his own desire. He cursed his wound, his lingering weakness, and all else that kept him from fully possessing her now while she was warm, willing, and in his arms.

“Weel, ’tis glad I am to see that ye have recovered, cousin,” drawled Leith.

That highly amused voice acted on Tatha like a dousing of icy cold water. She squeaked in dismay and pulled away from David so fast she tumbled off the bed. Tatha sprawled there on the sheepskin rug, almost afraid to move. She did not think she could add to the embarrassment she felt now, but she was not sure she wanted to risk it. Through her lashes she saw David leaning over the side of the bed to look at her and heard Leith walk to her side. She silently cursed, almost able to feel their amusement.

“Are ye all right, lass?” asked David, his voice strained as he struggled against the urge to laugh.

“Aye,” she replied. “I shall just keep my eyes shut for a wee while so that the two of ye are allowed the privacy to laugh.”

“Oh, lass, ye need not do that.”

“Nay?” She slowly opened her eyes to look at a widely grinning David.

“Nay, we dinnae mind having a good laugh right in front of ye.”

When he and Leith burst into hearty laughter, Tatha cursed and scrambled to her feet. Complaining loudly about men who had no respect for a lass’s sensitive feelings, she grabbed her shoes and marched out of the room. Even when she slammed the door behind her they did not stop laughing. Tatha cursed again and strode off to her bedchamber.

By the time she had washed, changed her clothes, and flopped down on her bed to rest for a while, her embarrassment and sense of ill usage had passed. Tatha then began to wonder what to do about Sir David and the fierce, blinding desire he stirred inside of her. He was pure temptation from his thick black hair to his long, muscular legs, and she was tired of fighting that.

And why should she fight it? she suddenly asked herself. She was nineteen, a spinster by many people’s reckoning. She was free of all bonds and vows. Her own father had sold her into a betrothal to a man she loathed, a man who might well have ordered the murder of David’s mother. She dared not hope that some miracle would free her of the obligation her father had thrust upon her. There was still the chance that she would be found and forced to honor the agreement he had made with Sir Ranald. Tatha knew she would never allow David to put himself at risk by placing himself between her and her father.

“And why should I cling to my maidenhead for that disgusting old mon?” she asked herself. “Why should I hold to something my father bartered away without a thought?”

The answer to both those questions came swiftly. She should do as she pleased. There would be consequences if she found herself back in her father’s hold, a maiden no longer yet still bound to Sir Ranald, but she could not make herself be concerned about those. Marriage to Sir Ranald would be such hell, a little sinning now seemed perfectly acceptable.

And she loved, she thought with a sigh. There was no ignoring it, no denying it. Her heart and mind would no longer allow her the comfort of a lie. She loved Sir David. Tatha suspected she had probably started her ill-advised fall into love from the moment she had set eyes on him. The kiss they had shared had sealed her fate.

As she huddled beneath her blanket and tried to relax enough to sleep, she decided that seeing Sir David’s face in the well had indeed been a sign. There were several reasons she had been drawn to Cnocanduin, but the well wanted her to see that one of those reasons was most assuredly to meet Sir David. There was also the fact that he could turn her brain to watery porridge with just one warm look from his sinfully dark eyes. As the urge to sleep crept over her, she decided that the next time Sir David took her into his arms she would do her best to stay there. The chance that she might have to leave still loomed like a black cloud overhead, and she was now determined to savor all the joy she could before that time came. And, she mused, a faint smile touching her lips, there was always the chance that Sir David’s passion could grow into something deeper. Occasionally miracles did happen.

“She has been sold to Sir Ranald,” Leith said quietly as he helped David sit up and put a tray of bread and cheese on his lap.

“I ken it.” David slowly began to eat the plain fare. “To even think of that mon touching her is an abomination.”

“Aye, but ye needed to be reminded. ’Twas a bargain made by her father, and the mon may yet find her and demand she hold to it.”

“By then I hope to have proven the bastard a murderer.”

“It has been five years. That may not be possible.”

David frowned at his cousin. “Are ye purposely trying to depress my spirit?”

Leith smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Aye and nay. I but try to make ye see all of the truth, nay just what ye wish to see. Aye, no lass that young and sweet should be given o’er to a mon like Sir Ranald. Howbeit, she is her father’s chattel, and unless ye can prove Sir Ranald had a hand in your mother’s death, there is naught save war to stop her father from taking her back and handing her o’er to that mon. Aye, and fighting him o’er that right could cause ye more trouble than ye may realize. We dinnae ken how powerful her father is. If he has the king’s ear, ye risk outlawry. “

A soft curse escaped David and he chewed his bread rather savagely. “I cannae let Sir Ranald have her. Aye, proving he had a hand in my mother’s murder may be impossible after five long years, but I now believe him guilty. That also makes me wonder why he wants another healer, and I do believe Tatha’s healing skills are one reason the mon seeks her. Mayhap the only reason.”

“Have ye learned much about the mon from Tatha?”

“Nay too much aside from the fact that she loathes him. I was seeking time to speak about him when I got wounded. I dinnae believe her aversion to the mon rests solely in his age and ill looks or e’en in simple reluctance to obey her father.”

“Nay, I think there had to be more than that to make her ride away from her home, alone, and with no place to go. She is a high-spirited lass but she isnae a stupid one.”

David considered that as he finished the meal of bread and cheese and drank the wine Leith poured for him. His cousin was right. There was a streak of stubbornness and defiance in Tatha, but that alone would not have driven her to leave her home and family, to travel alone over some very dangerous countryside. She would have stayed and argued the matter if it was simply a matter of not wanting an aging, unattractive husband. Even in the short time he had known her, David had seen how well Tatha could judge people, how easily she could see into their hearts. He strongly suspected she saw something in Sir Ranald that was terrifying enough to make her choose traveling alone, seeking a life elsewhere.

Then he worried that he might just be making excuses, trying to find some reason to hold her. She had said she would leave if her presence brought trouble to his gates, and he believed her. There was a chance his desire for her made him try to find reasons to convince her to stay no matter what happened, perhaps even to excuse his taking up arms to keep her.

After another moment’s thought, he inwardly shook his head. Even if he could not get her in his bed, there was reason enough to defy her father’s plans for her. In his heart he was sure Sir Ranald was a murderer. David knew he could never hand any lass over to the man.

“Ye are looking verra troubled, cousin,” Leith said as he removed the tray and helped David lie down again.

“I but argued with myself. I wondered if lust clouded my reasoning.”

“Weel, ’tis clear ye lust after the lass, but e’en if ye didnae, she doesnae deserve the hell of being wed to that bastard.”

“True. I wish I had more proof. Then I would send word to her kinsmen. Her father may be a hard mon who thinks naught of selling his daughters like cattle, but I cannae believe he would sell them into a sure grave.”

“One would hope not. Then again, I am nay sure how I would feel if I carried the weight of thirteen daughters.”

David chuckled. “Aye, ’tis a mighty burden. I dinnae envy the mon. Howbeit, she seemed honestly hurt and e’en confused that he would do this to her, so one must assume that it all came as a surprise, that she ne’er saw him as cruel or completely unfeeling.”

“True. And if ye do save her from Sir Ranald’s clutches, what do ye mean to do with her?”

“Ah, weel, there is a puzzle. I am in a fever for the lass, a heat I have ne’er suffered from before.”

“Then wed her.”

“At the moment her father has betrothed her to another mon. The bride price may already have been paid. I could pull us all into the middle of a clan war. Or, as ye said, I could risk outlawry.”

Leith cursed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Since the mon was willing to sell her to one mon, mayhap he would accept a higher bid.”

“ ’Tis a thought, but we dinnae ken what was paid for her. Sir Ranald is far richer than we are. E’en if we offered more than he has, he could simply top my bid. There is also the matter of a bargain made. ’Tis nay too honorable to break a bargain.”

“I dinnae think it too honorable to sell your daughters off to the highest bidder.”

“Most people would see nay real wrong in it. Nay, especially when ’tis discovered just how many daughters the poor mon has. Most would probably think he was mighty clever.”

Leith stood up and idly fixed the blankets over David. “Then the only answer is to prove Sir Ranald is a killer or pray that he has given up on her because none can find her.”

“Tatha is a skilled healer. Word has probably already begun to spread. It doesnae have to go verra far to reach Sir Ranald’s ears.” He curled his good hand into a fist and lightly pounded the mattress. “ ’Tis a poor time for me to be trapped abed.”

“Dinnae waste your strength fretting o’er that. I will work to find proof, at least enough to convince her kinsmen that they made a poor choice.”

“Thank ye.”

“I do it for her too.”

“I ken it.”

“And I still think ye would be wise to marry the lass.”

David smiled sleepily. “Aye, ye may be right. I wasnae looking for a wife, but mayhap ’tis past time I took one. The fever she can put me in certainly makes her a good choice.”

“And ye are no longer troubled by what she is?”

“Ye mean her beliefs? Her healing skills? Nay, not truly. She isnae as caught up in the old ways as my mother. As she says, she is no heathen. Aye, mayhap that is what I must do. Wed her.” He closed his eyes. “It begins to look as if I will bed her if she gives me the chance, and honor will demand it anyway.”

“If ye mention marriage to her, I think I would try to be a wee bit more romantic,” Leith drawled as he started to leave.

David laughed softly, then sighed as he heard the door close behind Leith. The only thing he was sure of concerning Tatha Preston was that he wanted her in his bed, needed her there. If there was a romantic way to explain that, he was too weary to think of one.