In the Kingdom's Name (Guardian of Scotland Book 2) (30 page)
Read In the Kingdom's Name (Guardian of Scotland Book 2) Online
Authors: Amy Jarecki
He willed his eyes to open. At first the fair-haired beauty posed a blur to him. With all the concentration his fevered head could muster, he forced himself to focus. His heart actually fluttered. Oh, Lord in heaven, such a gift he’d been given in these final moments of life. Her wide-eyed gaze expressed her surprise, almost as if she feared he’d do something ungentlemanly. No, no, no, never in his life would Hugh act out against a woman—especially one with bonny wisteria-blue eyes. He guessed with such an expressive countenance, she’d never be able to keep a secret—not with blues the size of silver coins.
If only he could enjoy such a morsel for himself. If only he could ask her to lie in his arms and succor him until he drew his last breath. Damn the unrelenting hammering against his skull. He smirked at the irony—Hugh may not trick death, but bloody Colonel Hill wouldn’t have the satisfaction of putting a noose around his neck. Hugh hadn’t heard much the physician had said, but the drivel about the false king not caring about a few miserable souls rotting in Fort William’s pit rang true. Christ, he’d known he was doomed all along.
Through his hazy vision, Hugh watched the bonny lass. Wasn’t a man entitled to a last request?
How long had it been since he’d held a woman in his arms? At two and thirty, he should be married with sons and daughters at his feet. But war had a way of stalling a man’s plans for his life.
“What is your name?” she asked with a gentle coo that sent a shiver along his fevered skin.
“Hugh MacLeod,” he replied with the same answer he’d given everyone else since his internment into Fort William’s hell. If anyone discovered he was the heir to the lands of Glencoe, the bastard dragoons wouldn’t wait to hang him. He’d lost count of all the sordid ways they could ensure he died within these walls. His entire body convulsed.
Death be damned
. He must fight to survive, not for himself but for his clan. Clenching his fists at his sides, he stilled his chattering teeth. “And you?”
“Miss Hill,” she whispered, as if ashamed.
Hugh’s eyes flew open.
Hill?
Blast his rotten, miserable, bloody luck. “The Colonel’s daughter?” he croaked, hanging on to a shred of hope that she was of no relation to the sadistic governor of this ill-fated prison.
“Yes.” She turned away and doused her cloth in the bowl.
A lump took up residence in his throat.
Earlier, Hugh had been remotely aware of her gentle ministrations—her lithe fingers upon his chest. He’d come to consciousness enough to consider asking her not to stop—to keep kneading her magical fingers all the way down to…
Boar’s ballocks
. Now he knew her father was Colonel Hill, Hugh would immediately cease his errant thoughts. Absolutely nothing positive could come from befriending this lass.
He gasped when she placed the cold cloth on his forehead. She was the bloody daughter of Satan incarnate. Why the hell was she in the surgery? Had the devil put her there to tempt him in his last hours?
Damn, he would be far better off if he had no luck at all.
“Do you think you can take another sip of claret?” she asked. “Doctor Munro gives it to all the soldiers—says it will help them regain their strength.”
Jesus Christ, did she have to sound so bloody bonny? With a voice like that, he’d offer to gulp down a draught of nightshade. His mouth dry, Hugh only managed to nod. But this time he watched her while she held his head and offered the cup. The fruity wine slid over his tongue, down his gullet, and instantly swam in his head as if he’d guzzled a healthy tot of whisky. Holy Mary, it had to be the most flavorful ambrosia he’d tasted since his capture at the Battle of Dunkeld.
“Why…” He eyed her well-tailored gown, cinched tightly at the waist. Though petite, she was full-bosomed, yet wore a lace modesty panel to prevent him from stealing a glimpse of the velvety white flesh swelling above her bodice. Just as well. The last thing he needed was to be brought up on contrived charges for ogling the Colonel’s daughter’s breasts.
“Yes?” She regarded him, the expressive concern painted on her bonny face unwavering. Why on earth did the daughter of the devil have to have creamy porcelain skin and a smile that would melt the snow atop Ben Nevis in winter?
“Hmm?” was all he managed to utter as a wave of nausea clamped his gut.
“You were about to ask something?”
The pain eased. Ah yes, now he remembered. “Why does your father allow you in the surgery alone?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a rasp.
She glanced back toward the door. “He doesn’t really. Since my arrival, I’ve been assisting Doctor Munro with simple tasks—rolling bandages and tending ill soldiers whenever necessary.” She bit her bottom lip. Indeed, the lass shouldn’t be alone with Hugh at all.
“Why doesn’t he have a local woman assist him?” With his next shudder, chills fired across his skin.
High color blossomed in her cheeks. “Honestly, I needed something to occupy my time. One can only embroider and practice the violin so much in a day.”
“You’re a fiddler?” he asked through chattering teeth, willing himself to focus. Why couldn’t she have a hooked nose with a wart atop?
“Yes, of sorts.”
“I wish…” He shivered. “I could hear you play someday.” God, he was daft.
Right. Ask the Sassenach lassie to come down to the pit and play a merry tune for the poor bastards as they wallow in their stench. Och, she could accompany the drummer beating the death knoll as he climbed the steps to her father’s gallows.
A bell rang in the distance. Miss Hill cringed and snapped her gaze toward the door. “I’m afraid I must go.” She wrung her hands. “Will you be all right?”
Honestly, this cot was the most comfortable thing Hugh had lain upon since his arrival at Fort William. He regarded the chain securing his leg irons to the footboard and the pounding in his head resumed. But still he eyed her. “How about giving a dying man a last request?”
Standing, she grimaced as she rubbed her wrist. “What would that be?”
Hugh squeezed his eyes shut to block the pain. “The key to these bloody manacles for starters.”
~End of excerpt from
The Fearless Highlander
Rise of a Legend
, Guardian of Scotland Book 1
Highland Dynasty Series:
Highland Force Series:
Return of the Highland Laird
(A Highland Force Novella)
Pict/Roman Romances:
Coming Soon, Highland Defender Series:
The Valiant Highlander
The Highland Duke
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In the Kingdom’s Name
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~Thank you!
A descendant of an ancient Lowland clan, Amy adores Scotland. Though she now resides in southwest Utah, she received her MBA from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh. Winning multiple writing awards, she found her niche in the genre of Scottish historical romance. Amy loves hearing from her readers and can be contacted through her website at
www.amyjarecki.com
.
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