Highland Promise (36 page)

        "Do you recognize the ferula?"

        "I cannot say for certain, but I know of an Englishman who carried one similar." And if Edrik had followed Faith to the Highlands, Brendan intended to slow roast his hide over hot coals.

        "There is one other thing, Bren. Alera believes Faith is in danger."

        Brendan thought his heart might stop. Everyone knew of Lady Ranald's gift for sensing danger to those she cared about, and Michael's wife had warned him about danger to Faith as well. "What did Alera say?"

        "She senses that Faith is stalked by evil. 'Tis the only reason I am here while my men search for the beast that killed Brigid."

        "Michael's wife said a minion of the beast means her ill," Brendan replied, suppressing both anger and fear lest they cloud his judgment.

        "I admit I remember little of Michael's wedding," Duncan said. "But I remember the lass was gifted. 'Twas the reason Michael made that giant Rauri her protector. With two such sisters sensing danger, you can take no

chances."

        Brendan nodded. "Tell Alera not to fret. I'll see one of my men is with Faith at all times when I am not."

        "I'll take the first watch," Tormey volunteered. "Our lady will not be harmed."

        The other warriors added their pledges to this vow.

        "She is not to know the reason for your presence," Brendan ordered. "I'll not have her worry over this when we are well able to protect her."

        "What should we say?" Luthias asked.

        "Tell her you are there to help her with Gaelic." Brendan turned back to his friend. "Duncan, come in for a whisky before you depart. I'll send some of my clansmen to aid in your search."

~ * ~

        A giant sneeze woke Faith from a sound sleep. Too tired to open her eyes, she shivered against the chill in the chamber and huddled under the pelts. Sensing warmth nearby, she scooted over, wrapped her arms around Brendan, and wondered when he had grown so much hair. She didn't particularly care. He was warm.

        Heat soon penetrated her bones, and a contented sigh blew from her mouth. Without warning, the unpleasant sensation of hundreds of crawling critters prickled her flesh. Faith scratched her stomach. Then another sneeze shook her. She wiped her running nose with the back of her hand and groaned. This was all she needed her first day in her new home—sniffles. Brendan would declare her frail and never allow her out of the keep. She hadn't planned on sleeping the day away either, but Lord, she felt weary.

        Forcing one heavy-lidded eye open, she peered at the furry creamcolored creature beside her and tried to figure out what she was sleeping against. Realization came with the first fleabite. Then a long, wet tongue slathered her face from chin to brow.

        "Ack!" Faith wiped her face and shoved at the beast. "Get off this bed now!"

        Itching consumed her along with a couple of hundred biting fleas. She jumped from the bed and pulled off her gown. Dog leapt down and ran circles around her as she tried to brush off the pesky creatures. His nose soon made its way to her crotch and she batted his snout. "Nay! Now sit."

        Her command lost some of its force as another sneeze erupted. "I shall probably sound like a croaking frog by the morrow."

        She couldn't rid herself of the fleas and her head itched like it was on fire. "You no-good...ooooh!" She scratched her scalp and glared at the dog. "You are going to have a bath now, and I must have one too. You have probably infested the whole chamber."

        A fire in the hearth that took up most of the wall behind her dimly lit the chamber. A massive bed dominated most of the room, and a pelt covered what was surely a tall, narrow window on the far wall. Pegs near the window held her plaid. Beside the bed, a small table held a bowl and pitcher. Brendan's bundle rested beside hers upon a trunk at the foot of the bed. The chamber was rather stark and utilitarian, but it suited her husband and that was fine with her. She never had liked clutter anyway.

        The room's chill invaded her body and she shivered. She pulled her undergown back on. She dropped her yellow gown on next, but decided to leave off her plaid. Gemma had hung it on a hook far enough away that Faith hoped it wasn't full of fleas.

        She wrapped her belt around the wolfhound's neck and tugged him toward the door. "The bed is probably infested thanks to you."

        Dog pulled and tugged, dragging her around the chamber in an attempt to get away. She finally managed to push open the door and came face to face with Tormey. The Irishman's jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight of her struggling with the enormous wolfhound.

        "Is all well, milady?" He reached out to help her hold the animal.

        "Nay." Faith kept a firm grip on Dog with both hands as he whimpered a high-pitched plaint. "This mongrel is infested with fleas, and now I am covered too. I am taking him outside to give him a bath. Why are you here?"

        "The laird wishes one of us with you at all times until you are at ease with our language."

        Relief eased a knot in her belly she didn't know she had. She must have been worrying in the back of her mind over her inability to communicate, and Brendan had solved her problem before she knew she had it. "That was thoughtful. Will you show me down, and find a few people to help me start a fire and bring water and a tub for a bath?"

        "Aye, but would you not prefer the kitchen?" the warrior asked as they began tugging the wolfhound toward the stairs. "'Twill be warmer and you will have more privacy."

        "Nay." Faith sneezed and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. Her manners weren't usually so atrocious, but she had forgotten her linen square and excused herself with the knowledge that she would have to wash this flea-covered garment anyway. "I will not risk these mean creatures invading that room too."

        "I will fashion a tent to keep the breeze at bay then," Tormey offered as they reached the hall.

        "My thanks. I shall need the pelts from the bed and my bundle, though I would prefer they not be carried together."

        Later, after bathing the contrary canine in the makeshift tent, Faith turned to the task of cleaning the pelts and her clothing. Her hands were raw from the harsh lye and salt water by the time she settled into the tub for her own bath. No matter that the tub was as close to the blaze as possible without setting the wooden slats on fire, she still shivered and sneezed from the cold Highland breeze that sneaked into the tent.

        She quickly bathed and rinsed the salty water from her body and hair. Then she dried off and rubbed herself down with lavender oil. After slipping into her undergown, she spread a clean pelt near the fire and settled down to comb the tangles from her hair.

        The tent flap opened, letting in a gusty cold wind.

        "What in the name of all that is holy do you think you are doing?" Brendan demanded.

        Faith startled and placed a fist over her panicked heart. Then she shuddered from shivering so hard and another sneeze erupted. She decided her husband's question was ridiculous, considering the evidence about her. Now she had to grit her teeth to keep them from chattering thanks to the inconsiderate man. "I think I am freezing. Close the tent please."

        Another sneeze punctuated her words. He closed the tent and hurried to her side. Going down on one knee, he placed a hand on her brow. "Have you a fever?"

        The concern in his voice made her feel better. She caressed his forehead, trying to wipe his worry away. "Nay, just sniffles and before you get angry, I had to bathe. Dog covered me with fleas."

        "You should have bathed inside." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. "You are too fragile to be wet outdoors this late in the fall. Winter is almost upon us."

        "Oh, for heaven's sake, I am not fragile." She stood and tugged a quilt about her shoulders. "I shall soon be over my sniffles. And I had to bathe out here to keep the fleas from our chamber."

        He gripped her upper arms as if he wanted to shake her. "I will not forgive you if you die on me."

        "That is well, because I will not forgive you if you die on me either," she snapped, trying to pull from his grasp. "And I am glad to know you would care."

        "I did not say I would care. I went to a lot of trouble to get you to have you die this soon."

        "Why you—" She was so angry over his hurtful words, she couldn't think of anything bad enough to call the surly brute.

        They were in the midst of a glaring match when her eyes dropped to his mouth. She released a sigh and rather wished he would kiss her. His hot mouth on hers always caused a fire to burn through her veins, and she could use the heat right now.

        "You know what I think, Brendan?" She walked her fingers up his chest. "I think if you are worried about me being cold, then you should warm me."

        His sigh should have blown down the tent. Then the corners of his mouth turned up the tiniest bit. "How do you always manage to calm my anger?"

His husky voice sent a thrill shivering through her. She met his passion-filled gaze. Time suspended. His lips moved ever nearer. Her heart raced. Tension coiled in her belly. And rats, if pressure wasn't building in her head. Faith promised herself she wouldn't sneeze.

His lips pressed against her. She jerked back and sprayed his chest. Fire burned in her cheeks as she sniffed and wiped at her running nose. "I am sorry, Brendan."

        He arched a mocking brow. "Where is your plaid, sweet?"

        "In our chamber." His brow drew into a scowl so she rushed to add, "I did not want the fleas to jump onto it when they jumped off of everything else. I have my blue kirtle in my bundle."

        Brendan kissed her nose, then retrieved her gown. She reached for the kirtle. He pushed her hands aside and dropped it over her head. His strong, callused hands caressed every part of her body as he lowered the garment in place. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and her knees grew weak.

        "Ah, Brendan, I am feeling warm now." She tugged on his plaid and ran her tongue over her lips.

        "You are still going to our chamber and back to bed. 'Tis early in the season, but I'll start a fire in the hearth to warm you."

        "Will you join me this time?" Her cheeks flamed from the brazen question, but the man had stirred her lust so he ought to take care of it.

        "Will you be sneezing on me again?" he jibed.

        "Nay." She knew she had erred the moment she spoke. Another sneeze blew from her nose. She peeked up at him from under her lashes and lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. "I might."

        Brendan slipped a warm hand behind her neck and kissed her forehead. "You are going to rest and get over this before you get sicker."

        "But if I take to our bed, our clan will think me lazy and weak."

        "I do not give a damn what anyone thinks. You are more important to me than their opinions."

        "I am?" Her breath hitched and a warm glow lit in her heart.

        He glowered and glanced about the tent. "Where are your shoes?"

        The man was obstinate and didn't want to admit he cared for her. That was probably the reason for his hurtful comment earlier. The realization made her feel like throwing her arms around him and kissing him all over. Faith grinned and shrugged. "I didn't wear any shoes."

        He proceeded to chide her for that lapse. She didn't mind his tirade one bit. He thought her important. Aye, he was learning to care for her.

~ * ~

        Brendan lifted his remiss wife into his arms and carried her to their chamber. Damn if she didn't have his head pounding. The lass was too stubborn to recognize the danger her fragility placed her in. She would die before spring if he didn't take her in hand.

        He placed her on the bed and went to the hearth where he built up a stack of logs and then threw on a few handfuls of peat. After he had a fire blazing, he clasped his hands behind his back and faced his wife.

        "Faith, since we met, I have tolerated much from you. I wish you to be content here, but there are some orders I give you now that you are not to defy. First, you will go nowhere without me or one of my men. Second, you will not leave the keep until you are over your ague."

        "I do not have an ague." She pulled off her gown over her head and settled on the bed. "I have sniffles."

        The sight of her in the transparent undergarment was too much of a distraction. He chided himself for his randy desires when the woman was sick and might die. Turning his back on her, he continued. "You will not leave until you are over your sniffles, and then you may only leave if you are well covered against the cold. We shall be seeing snow within the next few weeks. Then you will not leave the keep until the spring thaw."

        "But that is months away." She jumped from the bed and crossed the chamber to stand before him, a fire in her eyes. "I do not wish to be so confined."

        "You do not realize how delicate you are, but I do. As your husband and laird, it is my duty to protect you."

        "Have you any other orders for me," she clipped out.

        "Stay away from the mountains."

        "How am I supposed to do that, for heaven's sake?" She threw her arms wide in exasperation. "We live on top of a mountain, or did you fail to notice because you're almost as tall as it is?"

        Damn, she was vexing. "I mean mainly the north peak. The trees have been cleared from the valley side for the building of fortification and additional cottages. During the winter and spring, we have problems with snow and mudslides. The least sound or movement near the unstable areas sets them off. If you get caught in either, you would be dead before we found you." His blood went cold at the thought of losing her. Damn it, she was a definite weakness now, but how could he avoid his own wife? He rubbed the back of his neck and scowled.