The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) (10 page)

He hoped it was enough.

Soon it would be too dark to walk so briskly. He could keep going at a slower pace or he could stop and rest. Care for Anya’s painful legs. When he’d felt her left knee earlier, he’d found it swollen to twice its natural size. She had to be in agony.

If he stopped, they risked leaving a stronger scent trail for any trackers. If he kept walking, he could reach the lake—and the logboat he kept moored at the southern tip—by dawn. Their trail would be lost once they pushed off into the lake, thus buying time for Anya’s legs to heal before they continued to Chroina.

He could go without sleep until they reached the cave, but one thing he could not go without was food. He needed to hunt to keep himself strong for her, even if he just found a fox or two. It was unavoidable. They’d have to stop. Just for a short rest. And he knew the perfect spot.

By the time dark had fallen, the pounding rush of Aine’s Falls filled his ears, and the fresh scent of mist in the air tickled his nose. He followed his senses to the edge of the pool where the falls splashed down into the great river that fed the forest. The black-blue of a moonless night shaded the tall conifers surrounding the pool. Above, the clouds made a gray canopy.

“Wake up, lady.” He lowered Anya to the ground near the bank.

She stirred and stretched then winced.

“Easy. Here.” He put his water skin in her hands and helped her sit up so she could drink. Feeling down the line of her left leg, he found the knee nearly as swollen and hot as it had been earlier. “We’ll rest here. I’m going to hunt. While I’m gone, take off your trousers and soak yourself in the pool. The cold water will ease the swelling.”

She nodded and handed the water skin back. It was nearly empty. “You’re hunting meat?” She had a hopeful lift to her tone.

He hated to disappoint her, but... “It’s too dangerous to have a fire.” If trackers were anywhere nearby, the scent of burning wood and meat would draw them like a beacon.

“No fire?” she said in a small voice.

“I’ll cook meat for you when we reach my cave. For now, this will have to do.” He held out a
half-loaf of bread to her.

She didn’t look at it.

“Take it,” he said, dropping it in her lap.

She touched it and said, “More bread.”

“You like my bread.” He would never forget her throaty moan when she’d taken that first bite.

“Aye, but it’s all I’ve had to eat for two days. A lass likes some variety.” She turned her face in his direction as she spoke but didn’t look higher than his chin. Would she ever look him in the eye again?

“I’ll cook meat for you as soon as I can.” Had she not heard him the first time?

Sighing, she lifted the half loaf to her mouth. Her blunt teeth tore through it, unlocking the aromas of tangy grains, flour, and the honey butter he liked to spread on top just before sliding the bread stone into the oven. After swallowing, she muttered, “Should have picked those mushrooms while I had the chance.” Then she tore off another chunk.

“Mushrooms?” She ate vegetation? He wished he’d known. They’d passed a field of autumn-ripe pitberries while she’d been sleeping. He could have picked some for her.

She looked up, startled, as though she’d forgotten he was there.

He leaned forward, crowding her body with his so she wouldn’t forget again.

“Aye, mushrooms,” she snapped, pushing herself backward with her free hand and her right leg.

Amidst the scents of bread and saliva, he smelled something spicier and headier, something he’d smelled on her before, something that called to instincts he struggled to deny. Instincts he must deny or betray his king.

“The ones growing beneath that fir tree,” she continued. “That’s why I fell down. I was going to pick them, but my legs had other ideas.” She rubbed her left knee with one hand while she brought the bread to her mouth for another bite.

By the moon, his lady had wanted something to eat hours ago but hadn’t been able to have it. She blamed her legs, but the mushrooms had been growing all around where she’d landed. It was because he’d scolded her and then insisted they keep moving that she hadn’t gotten to pick them. He was an ass for not realizing she’d been hungry then.

“I’ll find you some mushrooms.” He stood and checked the hunting knife at his hip. A fox or a rabbit for himself would be welcome if he could find one quickly, but he would not return without a bounty of mushrooms for his lady.

“Ye doona have to do that,” she said too quickly, her voice pitched too high. Did she fear being alone?

“I won’t be gone long.” He’d skip hunting for himself so he could hurry back to her. He’d make do with bread tonight. “Do you need help getting to the pool?”

“Nay. I can hear it.”

“You can’t see it?”

“It’s bloody night time. Of course I canna see it.”

She couldn’t see in the dark? Even enough to make out the falls and the pool? His delicate creature was night blind. He could not leave her to find her own way into the pool. She might drown herself.

Caring for the king’s lady was more involved than he’d been prepared for. Hopefully, King Magnus would know better than him what Anya needed. Until then, she’d have to put up with a bumbling trapper.

He crouched by her side. “I will help you get in.” He reached for her belt.

She swatted his hands away. “I can undress myself. Stop crowding me.”

That quick temper of hers never failed to bring a smile to his lips. “I thought you couldn’t see.”

“I doona have to see to know where you’re looming. You blot out what meager light there is like a bloody mountain. And you smell like...you.”

The spicy scent coming from her intensified. Mystifying. Tempting. It sent his body a completely different message than her brisk tone.

Best not dwell on what that message might be. She belonged to the king. Once he saw her safe to the palace, he would return to his cabin and resume his life. He couldn’t do that if he was locked away in Chroina’s prison for mating with a lady outside a breeding contract.

Anya lay back and raised her hips off the ground to push her trousers down. The instant she did, her scent rolled over him stronger than before. Despite his best intentions, every drop of blood in his body surged between his legs. How easy it would be to lie atop her, to wrap her in his arms and revel in that fragrance all night long.

He stood and stalked away from her, which didn’t do him any favors since the distance between them now offered him a view he couldn’t look away from no matter how hard he tried. From beneath the hem of her shirt, her bare legs stretched across the rocky earth like two graceful, shapely columns. In the dark, he couldn’t see the swelling or the way her left leg bent differently than the right. In the dark she didn’t look crippled. She looked beautiful as she flexed her tiny toes in the pebbles.

Distracted by those wiggling toes, he almost missed it when her lithe fingers pulled at the laces of her collar. He held his breath as she lifted the shirt over her head and laid it on the ground beside her trousers. There was nothing between her skin and his hands except a few pitiful shreds of restraint.

Her breasts were as hairless as he’d imagined, but the reality of them was a thousand times more potent than even his most illicit fantasy. He’d seen the trading cards men collected, showing painted images of ladies in various states of undress. There wasn’t a man alive who hadn’t fantasized about stroking his hands over the luxurious coats covering the breasts of Marann’s esteemed ladies. But these breasts were far superior to any image he’d ever seen. Lacking hair, they seemed so much more accessible to a man’s hands, so much more inviting. Needing to heed that invitation, he took one step toward her, then two. He started a third before he managed to stop himself.

Her head whipped in his direction. She hugged herself, covering her breasts. She wrapped her arms around her shins, spreading her fingers over the unnatural curve of her lower left leg.

She spoke, but he didn’t understand her.

“Your gemstone,” he told her.

She likely didn’t understand the words, but her eyes widened with comprehension. She fumbled in her trouser pockets and came away with her fist clenched tightly, protecting her treasure.

“How well can
you see me?” she said.

“I can make out your shape,” he said, though truthfully he could do much more than that. He could see the whites of her eyes as she searched the darkness for him. He could see the play of tendons beneath the skin of her neck as her shoulders relaxed.

She rubbed her arms once against the cold then dropped them, accepting his vague answer.

Guilt made him shift on his feet.

With the hand not clutching her gemstone, she reached out blindly in his direction. “Are you helping me or do I have to crawl to the water?”

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his groin, he closed the distance between them and took her hand.

She latched onto it and pulled herself to her feet with a long, low groan. It softened the edges of his need, remembering how badly she was hurting. He was despicable for wanting her like this.

She leaned heavily on his arm as he directed her down the bank. At the edge of the water, he said, “Will you trust me to hold your gemstone? I’m worried you’ll lose it in the water.”

“Aye. We’ll understand each other just as well if you keep it.” She transferred it to his hand.

He tucked it deep in a pocket and moved his hands to her waist. “Careful now. There’s the water.”

She hissed. “So cold.” Her skin pebbled beneath his hands.

H
ow shameful that he found even that arousing! She was suffering because
he’d
failed to read the signs she was hurting and hungry.

He cleared his throat. “It’ll be good for the swelling. Just go in far enough to sit and have your legs covered.” He stood watch while she made her shivering, moaning way into the water, inch by torturous inch. He wanted to go with her and warm her with his body so her teeth didn’t chatter, but she’d never allow it. “I’ll spread my cloak for you. You can use it to dry yourself when you climb out.”

“Y—ye have a c—cloak?”

“In my pack. The nights will be cold. It’ll keep you warm.”

She gave a jerky nod and started to lower herself into the water. She didn’t get far before she cried out and started to fall.

He lunged and caught her, held her tight against him. Cold water spilled into his boots. He didn’t care. Not when his lady gasped in pain in his arms. Under his hands, the skin of her back and arms was rough as a sanding stone with goose bumps.

It should not be this way for her. She deserved the best doctors and luxuries Chroina had to offer, not to freeze half to death to treat her painful legs. But there was no help for it. Half an hour from now, she’d be out and warm in his cloak, and her legs would feel better. He’d even rub them for her if she’d let him. All night, if that’s what it took to soothe her pain. Trackers be damned. He’d tear out the throats of anyone who thought to take her from him.

“Easy. Easy does it.” He scooped her up and lowered her into the water, soaking himself to the knees and elbows. Once she’d settled herself, he crouched behind her in the shallow water. His senses told him there were no predators nearby. She would be safe if he left to hunt. But he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave her for even a second.

“I k—ken this is what my legs n—need, but a d—dip in this poo—ool would be m—more pleasurable in s—summer. And d—daylight.” Her voice shook less as she adjusted to the water’s cold embrace.

Her strength of spirit warmed him. He hoped she found some warmth in it too. “I’ll go find you some mushrooms while you soak.”

“The b—bread was fine. If we see some tomorrow, we can pick them. B—but you should hunt. You must be hungry after carrying me all day.”

He couldn’t help himself. He stroked a hand over her hair. The knot she’d had it tied in earlier had come loose. Her waist-length strands were warm and dry above the water line, cold and clinging to each other beneath. Her arms tightened in a violent shiver, and he wondered if his
touch had done that to her. She did worse to him, just by being near him.

“Go on with you,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you need anything, call out for me. I won’t go out of earshot.”

Longing rent
him to pieces as he left the pool and stalked into the forest.

A lone bird trilled high above. Anya opened her eyes to a forest a shade brighter than full dark. Another bird answered the first. Within minutes, the forest was gray with morning light and
awake with the music of life.

’Twas an oddly optimistic thought. Mayhap she owed it to the juicy, filling mushrooms Riggs had brought her last night, even though she’d told him not to bother. Mayhap she owed her buoyant mood to waking for the first time in three months to the sounds of birds and not the fire of cramping muscles in her legs. That was because of Riggs as well, since he’d ignored her demand to leave her be and used those strong fingers of his to knead her legs through her trews and work out deeper knots than she had ever been able to reach on her own. Mayhap she owed it to the solid warmth of him as they lay back to back on the forest floor, the security of his protection more certain than anything she’d ever known.