Highlander the Dark Dragon (4 page)

Rhys almost reached out and stopped her, but at the last moment he let her be. Later he would lay down some rules and God help her if she did not obey them.

Heather took a look at Douglas’s wound before she allowed them to place him in the cart. She had no choice. The wound had to be seared before he could travel and even then she was not sure if he would survive.

She ordered a fire built and the warriors were quick to summon Rhys.

“Before you argue with me,” Heather said when he stopped in front of her, “please understand that if his wound is not seared shut, he will not survive the journey home.”

“See it done,” Rhys ordered his men and turned to walk away.

“I request that I be allowed to accompany him in the cart.”

“No,” Rhys said bluntly.

“But—”

“Do not question me on this,” he snapped. “Be satisfied with what I have granted you.” He turned and walked away.

Heather turned her attention to the task ahead to keep her mind from dwelling on the fact that she now had to seek permission from someone after years of doing as she pleased. It was not something she could or wanted to comprehend right now. At the moment, making certain Douglas survived the journey was what she needed to think on.

Everything was prepared quickly and the task performed just as hastily. Heather was glad Douglas had passed out from the pain of the searing. He could then be placed on the cart and not suffer more pain until he woke.

Once it was done, Heather was surprised to see that she would ride her own mare. She pressed her face to the mare’s face and whispered, “It is good to see you Meadow. I will find you a nice field where you can enjoy your wild onions.”

As if she understood, the mare nodded and Heather smiled. It vanished quickly, startled when hands caught at her waist and she was lifted with ease onto the horse. She looked down at her husband with wide eyes.

He placed his hand on her bare leg. “Do not grow so alarmed when touched, for the only hands you will ever feel on you—are mine.” He mounted his horse that waited a short distance from them and guided the animal alongside hers.

Meadow snorted as if displeased with the stallion’s presence and Heather reached out to calm her with a soothing hand.

“I have things I must see to. I will see you at the keep.”

Heather wondered over his abrupt departure, but did not dwell on it. She was bone-tired and wanted nothing more than to reach the keep and have this day end. Or did she?

Tonight she would see her marriage to the Dark Dragon consummated.

Heather stared bewildered as they entered the McComb village. She had visited here with her father over the years and with each visit the place had grown more neglected and the clans’ people older with few young ones to replace them. She was amazed to see the changes in the village. The cottages had new thatched roofs, doors and window shutters were all new, and summer flower wreaths graced most of the doors. It appeared as if the village had come to life. Even the gloom of a cloudy day could not diminish the improvements to the village.

As Heather looked about, she recognized few of the clansmen. Many of the women were young, their stomachs swollen with babes. There were a few elderly, but not many she recognized. Where were those she was familiar with?

Rhys was not there to greet Heather and though she was directed to the keep, she ignored the ghost warrior’s orders and saw to the care of the wounded. Many wives and mothers came to claim the injured and Heather spoke with each of them, advising them on specific care needed.

It was when Bea appeared, looking far more pregnant than four or five months, that Heather knew she would need help with her husband. It was also the same time that the Dark Dragon made his appearance, all moving out of his path as he approached his wife.

“It has been a long day and it is time for us to talk,” Rhys said, holding is hand out to his wife.

Heather looked to her husband and then looked to Bea, crying over Douglas who clung to her as if for the last time. She turned to her husband and said, “I cannot desert someone in need of tending.” She waited, seeing the anger in his eyes grow, but what else could she do. She could never abandon someone in need and Douglas and his wife were in dire need, perhaps if her husband understood that.

She stepped closer to him and laid a gentle hand on his arm as she whispered, “I fear he will not last the night. Please let me help them.”

Rhys felt his anger dissipate. She thought not of herself, but those in need. There was a time he had known such kindness, though he could barely recall it, but the memories it did invoke were better left buried.

Rhys brought is face close to hers. “You have asked many favors of me today. What do I get in return?”

“What do you want?” she asked without hesitation.

“A willing wife in my bed tonight.”

Heather braced for the fear that clenched at her stomach. How did she submit willingly when she wanted no part of this marriage? But what choice did she have? The agreement had been made. She belonged to the Dark Dragon and could not refuse him. So, what else was there for her to do but submit?

She spoke truthfully. “I will come willing to you, but know little of what is expected of me, so I beg your tolerance of my ignorance.”

Her words stabbed at him. She had known no other and would know no other but him. His touch would be the first she ever felt. She would truly be his and his alone. The thought turned him hard.

“Fear not Heather, I will not harm you.” He brushed his lips over hers.

Heather shivered from the faint kiss. It stirred her, sparked her, ignited something deep inside her that had lain dormant far too long, and she leaned against him as if she suddenly needed to be close to him.

Rhys arms drifted around her and held her firmly. She leaned against him as if she wanted to be there, wanted his arms around her, wanted to feel him against her, wanted to be near him and he relished her closeness.

He brushed is cheek against hers and whispered, “You are mine.”

She moved her lips to whisper softly in his ear, “Are you mine?”

“Forever,” he said and his mouth drifted to hers and settled a soft kiss on it.

Heather closed her eyes and let her senses take hold. His kiss tempted, excited, and sparked a stirring in her, and she found she was disappointed when he abruptly ended the kiss.

Rhys rested his brow to hers. “Do what is necessary, but if you are not finished by nightfall I will come for you. Tonight is for us and I will let nothing stand in its way.”

Heather did not turn and watch him walk away, her legs too weak from his kiss to move. It had been ten years since she had last been kissed and the memory still lingered. She had been so young and in love and the kiss had stirred her wet. She had so wanted to make love with Quinn that day, but he had remained honorable, telling her that he would claim her properly when she became his wife. She had promised him then and there that she would not give herself to another or never feel for another man as she did for him. She would wait no matter how long it took for him to return to her.

Tonight she would break that promise.

With tears she refused to shed, she turned and hurried to the cart to help Douglas and his wife.

~~~

Rhys approached the keep steps, his lips still pulsing from the kiss. He had not expected his wife to so eagerly return his kiss or be so hungry for it, but then it had been some time since she had last been kissed. He knew her past well, knew more of it than she did, though he would not let her know that. Some things were better left unspoken.

Tonight he would seal their vows, forever uniting them, and hopefully he would plant a seed and a babe would grow, one of many. But that was later this evening. Now he must keep his thoughts focused on the matter at hand.

He reached the bottom of the keep steps as his top warrior Pitt was coming down them. He was almost as tall as Rhys, his body lean and hard from constant training. He kept his shoulder length auburn hair tucked behind his ears and his deep blue eyes drew the lasses to him like bees to honey. He had been with Rhys for five years now and the many difficult times they had faced together had made them more brothers than friends.

“You have news?” Rhys asked, remaining where he was.

Pitt shook his head. “Nothing. We can find nothing. Perhaps they left the area.”

“Have the men keep searching. Something may turn up.” He paused before asking, “How many men did we lose?”

“Five,” Pitt said. “Too many, but minor compared to the twenty-five dead enemy warriors.”

One warrior was too many for Rhys, but lost lives were inevitable in battle and there was no telling who would be claimed.

“Tell the sentries to keep alert. This is not over; it has just begun.”

~~~

As soon as Heather saw Douglas settled in bed in his cottage, the area around his wound cleansed and redressed with clean bandages, she got busy brewing a mixture of herbs to give him in hopes of preventing a fever from settling in or the wound turning putrid. She also readied a soothing brew for Bea. It had taken time for the young woman to stop crying after seeing how badly her husband had been injured. And she had asked Heather several times if Douglas would be all right.

Heather had hopes he would survive, especially since the journey home had not claimed him. So, it was with more confidence that she told Bea that with care, time, and rest he should be fine.

Once Douglas was asleep, Heather insisted that Bea sit and enjoy the brew she had made for them. Bea did not argue, she sat at the table in front of the hearth and let Heather serve her.

It was when Bea was about to take a sip of the brew that her eyes rounded and she hurried to get out of the chair. “Forgive me, my lady, it is I who should be serving you.”

Heather placed a firm hand on her shoulder and eased her down on the chair. “At the moment, I am simply a friend.” Heather did not give her a chance to say anymore on the matter. She asked, “When is the babe due?”

Bea smiled and caressed her stomach. “As winter falls upon us.” She looked over at her sleeping husband, her smile fading. “Tell me he will be here to see our babe born.” She turned back around, tears pooling in her eyes.

Heather reached out and rested her hand on Bea’s. “I cannot say whether your husband will live or die. I can tell you with care and rest, he has a good chance. And he fights to live, another good sign. I will keep a close watch on him and do what I can to help him.”

“That is kind of you, my lady, and I am ever so grateful to you for your generosity.”

A moan from the bed drew their attention and Heather reached Douglas before his wife. One touch of his brow confirmed a fever had set in and she was unable to hide her concern.

Tears started rolling down Bea’s cheeks after caressing her husband’s brow and seeing the worry in Heather’s eyes. “Few survive fevers after suffering a bad wound.”

“But there are those that do,” Heather said. “Now let’s get this blanket off him and a cool cloth on his brow.”

A soft rap at the door had Bea going to it and opening it to find two women there, offering their help. They obviously were friends since they hugged Bea and tears filled all their eyes.

Heather was so pleased they were there, worried that it would be too much for Bea to handle once she took her leave, having to be at the keep by nightfall. After explaining to the women what needed to be done and making Bea promise to send for her if a problem should arise, Heather bid them good day.

She was no more than a few steps out of the cottage when an old woman approached her and she wondered if perhaps she was a McComb and could tell her about the changes that had taken place here.

“My lady,” the woman said with a bob of her head. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for my nephew. Several warriors told me how you remained with Oran while he lay dying with no thought to your own safety.” Tears clouded her eyes. “You do not know how grateful I am that Oran did not lay there on the battlefield dying alone. You are not only brave, but so very kind.”

“He held tight to my hand and passed without great pain,” Heather said tears filling her eyes. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“He had an honorable soul and was so very proud of being one of the Dark Dragon’s warriors. He was all I had and I will miss him greatly.”

Heather reached out and hugged the woman and when she stepped away from her, she saw the surprised look on the old woman’s face. She often forgot that a chieftain’s daughter or wife did not hug those beneath them, but Heather never thought that anyone was beneath her. It did not matter what station in life one held. Everyone hurt, bled, or suffered in some way. People were more alike than different, though few saw it that way.

“You are a very special woman, my lady,” the older woman said. “I can see by your torn garment that you gave much of yourself to help the injured. I am glad the Dragon chose you for his wife. You will be good for him.” She bobbed her head once again and walked away.

Heather had been so engrossed in making sure all the injured had been seen to that she had forgotten about her appearance. Disheveled and her garment torn, was not the way for her to be introduced to Rhys’ people. She hurried along anxious to make herself presentable. She took only a few steps when she was stopped once again.

“Forgive me, my lady, for disturbing you, but I fear my husband’s wound has worsened and I hear that the wounds you tended are doing well.”

The woman was taller than Heather and thick in body, though it was a firm thickness. Her brown hair was sprinkled with gray, though her round face held few age lines. Her dark eyes held a note of worry and she gripped her hands anxiously.

“Let me have a look, and I will see what can be done to help him.”

“Thank you, my lady. I am Belle and my husband is Henry. He can be a surly and stubborn one. He let one of the warriors tend his leg, no doubt thinking they knew more than you, not that they do not know how to tend a wound. Most have learned out of necessity. But I hear you have a tender and kind touch that helps heal well.”

“It is my sister Emma I owe my knowledge of healing to,” Heather said as she walked alongside the woman.

Belle shook her head. “I think not. Your mum had the healing touch, God rest her kind soul. You are much like her.”

Heather almost stumbled over her own feet, she got so excited. “You knew my mum?”

Belle nodded. “Lady Enis saved my life. I am my mum’s only child, she being older than most women when she had me. It was not an easy birth. I gave no cry when I was born and my mum told me that her heart broke at the deafening silence. But Lady Enis worked her healing touch on me and suddenly I was crying as loud as a banshee.” Belle laughed. “And as my mum liked to remind me, I never stopped.”

Heather had no time to respond, having reached Belle’s cottage. There were questions she wished to ask Belle, to talk with her mum if possible, and to find out about the changes here, but that would have to wait.

“I warned you, woman,” came the gruff shout when Belle entered the cottage and announced Lady Heather’s presence. “There is no reason to be bothering Lady Heather. I am fine.”

“Then you will not mind if I have a look so that I may see what a fine job your warriors have done in tending you,” Heather said with a smile, though she could see from the soiled bandaged on his leg that the wound was far from fine.

“It’s a scratch, nothing more,” Henry insisted.

He was a sizeable man, thick in body like his wife, though age lines clung to the corners of his eyes and his hair was more gray than brown. And where his wife kept a smile on her face, he wore a frown, except when he looked at his wife. His whole face softened even when he spoke gruffly to her.

“Then it will be a quick glance I take,” Heather assured him.

Henry looked to Belle. “You do not listen, wife.”

Belle laughed. “What wife does?”

“Bah,” Henry said frustrated, “have a look and be done with it.”

“Henry, your manners,” Belle scolded.

Henry shook his head before giving Heather a nod. “Forgive me, my lady, I am a rude, old fool.”

Belle walked over to him and draped her arm around his wide shoulder. “You are my old fool and I love you dearly, and I will not let your stubbornness take you from me.”

Henry slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “You can be a chore, woman, but I do love you.”

Heather watched the couple with envy. She had thought that she and Quinn would be like them, growing old together and more in love each day.

“A peek and I will be gone,” Heather said as she hunched down to unpeel the dirty bandage off his leg.