A Wee Highland Predicament: A Duncurra Legacy Novel Page 4

  He smiled at her sweet innocence. “Good night, Ailsa.”

  She gave a deep sigh and he felt her relax. Soon her breathing became slow and even. She had fallen asleep.

  Having her curled up, asleep, next to him felt very good. He could get used to this.

  Damn it all to hell. Get thoughts like that out of yer mind. Whether she knew it or not, she was his captive being held for ransom. Nothing more.

  ~ * ~

  Ailsa awoke the next morning feeling rested and refreshed. She blushed to admit it, but she liked sleeping next to Lucas Macrae. He was warm and solid and made her feel safe.

  She liked traveling with him too. He didn’t mind talking to her. In fact, he had said he enjoyed it. She had been called a magpie often enough that it was wonderful to find someone who didn’t seem bothered by her chattiness. It made the second full day on the road with him as pleasant as the first. Today, they talked about dogs and horses and their favorite foods and more. It made the time absolutely fly by. When they stopped for the evening, she didn’t feel as if she had been in the saddle all day.

  But then, truth be told, she hadn’t been. She had been comfortably on his lap the entire time and she had quite enjoyed that. The thought made her blush.

  Once Lucas had chosen a place to camp, she excused herself to attend to nature’s call while he tended Captain. When she was finished and walking back to the spot where they would make camp for the night, her stomach growled. She was hungry and ready to eat. Frankly, it surprised her how little he ate. That morning he’d shared an apple with her and ate a single oatcake, then only ate an oatcake in the middle of the day. Come to think of it, he’d had nothing the night before. He said he wasn’t exerting himself as he normally would and therefore wasn’t hungry. But she wasn’t exerting herself either and she was hungry. In addition to the oatcakes and half an apple, she took the dried beef that he offered at every meal.

  Then it struck her. He had been traveling alone. The food he brought for the journey now had to stretch to feed two people. He was giving her the food he’d meant for himself.

  She frowned. He needed to eat too. She glanced around. Maybe there was something edible that she could gather for them. There was a stream close by—Lucas had told her he always camped close to water. Blackberry brambles often grew near streams. It was late in the year, but if she could find them, there might still be some berries left.

  She listened for the sound of the water and headed towards it. When she reached the streambank she was thrilled to see brambles on the other side. The sun had set, but she could see well enough in the early twilight to pick berries if any were there.

  The stream bank was about ten feet above the water. She scrambled down one side, lifted her skirt and stepped on stones to cross to the other side while keeping her feet dry. She climbed up the slightly steeper bank on the other side, finally reaching the blackberry bushes. To her delight, there were some berries left on the branches. Of course they were the ones that grew deep in the bushes and were dried and shriveled, but they were edible. She reached for one, picked it and popped it in her mouth. Aye, no great treat, but edible.

  She reached deeper into the heart of the bush where most of the remaining berries were and plucked a couple more. As she pulled her hand out, her sleeve caught on the thorns. With her other hand, she pulled at the branch on which she was stuck. In the process her other sleeve snagged on a briar. She pulled a little, trying to loosen it, but couldn’t. Finally, she gave an almighty yank, successfully pulling her arms from the bush, but the sudden movement disturbed a bird that squawked loudly as it took flight. Startled, Ailsa stumbled backwards, lost her balance and fell down the steep bank, hitting her head on a rock at the bottom.

  ~ * ~

  Lucas was beginning to get worried. Ailsa had been gone much longer than usual. She couldn’t be far so he called to her. “Ailsa?”

  There was no answer. Where could she be? He had expected her to come right back. Now the twilight was deepening. Soon it would be dark and he hadn’t even paid terribly close attention to which direction she went.

  “Ailsa!” he called again, louder this time.

  He listened for a response and heard nothing. But just as he started to call for her again, he heard her scream. His blood ran cold as he tore through the forest towards the sound. He stopped to listen for her again but heard nothing. “Ailsa! Where are ye, lass?” Still, there was no response. He glanced around but could see no sign of her. As best he could tell, it sounded as if the scream had come from the direction of the stream, so he kept running until he reached the bank. To his dismay, ten feet below him in the water lay a crumpled Ailsa, blood oozing from the side of her head.

  He was down the bank in an instant. When he reached her, he thanked the Almighty that she was still alive. Head injuries were always worrisome, but this one didn’t look too bad. It wasn’t very deep and the bleeding had already stopped. She didn’t appear to have any broken bones, so his most immediate concern was that she was completely soaked from the icy cold water of the mountain stream. He needed to get her warm and dry. He scooped her out of the water and holding her close carried her back to the campsite. He laid her down gently and began to undo the laces of her kirtle.

  She moaned and began to stir.

  “Ailsa, lass, are ye all right?”

  “I fell.”

  “Aye, ye did, lass. Ye’ve got a nasty bump on yer head and ye’re soaked to the skin.”

  “I’m c-c-cold,” she said, shivering as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

  “I know ye are and I’ll warm ye up, but we need to get this wet gown off ye first. Once ye’re dry, I’ll wrap ye in my plaid and start a fire. Ye’ll be toasty soon.”

  Her fingers went to the laces, but cold as she was she couldn’t get them untied.

  “Let me help ye, sweetling.” He unlaced her kirtle and without a second thought pulled it off her shoulders, down to her waist. She wore only a thin shift underneath.

  “Y-y-ye c-can’t undress m-m-e,” she said, pushing his hands away.

  But I can sleep next to ye? was on the tip of his tongue but he refrained. “Ailsa, if we don’t get ye dry, ye’ll freeze. Ye’re practically frozen already. Let me help ye.”

  “N-nay. N-n-now that the l-laces are undone. I c-c-can d-do it m-myself. T-turn yer b-back.”

  “All right. But take the shift off too. Ye can’t leave any wet clothes on.” He helped her stand before turning away from her. He removed the extra plaid from his bundle, as well as an extra léine and hose that he had packed.

  “Here, put these on,” he said, turning back to her with the items. He intended to keep his gaze averted, but caught sight of her slender legs and could not stop himself from glancing up the full length of her. She was turned away but he saw her shapely backside, narrow waist, and for a moment caught a glimpse of the curve of her breast as she reached back to take the garments from him. Her creamy skin nearly glowed in the waning evening light. By the rood, she was a lovely creature.

  He turned away again as she pulled his léine over her head. He needed to get his thoughts off of the beautiful, half-dressed woman…who trusted him. So, he began gathering wood for a fire. It could draw unwanted attention, but it was the only way to warm her sufficiently. He’d just have to stay awake and watchful.

  By the time she had donned his overlarge garments and was enveloped in his plaid, he had the beginnings of a blaze started.

  “I-I th-thought we c-couldn’t have a f-fire.”

  “We have to warm ye up or ye’ll catch yer death. I think it’ll be all right for one night.”

  Once the fire was burning steadily, he turned his attention back to her. “I want to clean that wee scratch on yer head now.” He picked up her damp shift. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything else to use. Can I tear a strip of fabric from this?”

  “That’s fine.” Her shivering seemed to have stopped. “I’ll be home soon anyway.”

  H
e knew she wouldn’t, but between both of his brothers’ wives, they would have clothes for her. He tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of the shift and tore it in half. Head wounds often bled quite a lot. He needed to see how bad it was to know how much of her shift he might need to use as a bandage. Squatting in front of her, he wet one half with the water from his costrel using it to wash away the blood and dirt from her injury. He used the other half to pat it dry gently.

  “It’s not as bad as I feared. It has stopped bleeding. I don’t think we even need to put a bandage on it. It looks like ye might have an ugly bruise from it. That’s all.” He sat back on his heels and looked at her. She was a mess. The ribbon holding her hair had come off. Without it her braid was no match for her wild curls—it was almost completely undone. His léine was so big, it slid off one smooth, white shoulder. She yanked it back up only to have it slip down her other shoulder. She had a smudge on her nose, not to mention her injury. Still, she was lovely.

  She smiled at him and it was so endearing it took his breath away.

  “Thank ye, Lucas. Now, not only have ye rescued me from kidnappers, ye saved my life.”

  He grinned at her. “Ye’re welcome. Now would ye care to tell me how ye ended up in the stream bed?”

  A warm blush suffused her cheeks. “I noticed that we’re running out of food. I figure ye only brought enough for yerself and now ye’re having to share it with me. I thought I’d look for some blackberries.”

  “Sweetling, blackberries ripen in August. It’s October now.”

  “I know that, but sometimes ye can find dried berries left on the bush even into the winter. I saw the bushes on the other side of the stream and climbed up for a look.”

  “Were there berries?”

  “A few, but they were deep in the brambles and I caught my sleeve on the thorns. In the process of getting loose, I flushed a bird from the bush. It startled me and I lost my balance.”

  “Ye could have broken yer neck.” He reached out and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. She had warm, beautiful brown eyes.

  “But I didn’t.”

  “Nay. Thank heaven for small blessings.”

  ~ * ~

  Ailsa had never noticed Lucas’s eyes before. They were the deep blue of a summer sky. Aye, a cloudless summer sky, so blue it makes one’s heart ache with the beauty of it. He had been so gentle with her. So caring. He’d rescued her, given up his food for her, and now he’d saved her life.

  Ailsa knew instantly that she was in love.

  She thought she’d been in love before.

  More than once.

  A lot more than once.

  Gillian always teased her about it, saying Ailsa fell in and out of love more often than they changed the rushes in the great hall.

  But this time was different.

  A little voice deep within her said, ye say that every time. But this was different. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before. She watched as he made a tripod out of long sticks, placing it near the fire. “What are ye doing?”

  He smiled at her, picked up her dress and what remained of her shift and hung them over the tripod. “Making sure ye have dry clothes for tomorrow. Although ye look quite lovely in my léine, if we happened across anyone, ye might be more comfortable in yer own clothes.”

  He was so thoughtful and he said she was lovely. Quite lovely, to be precise. “Thank ye.”

  She curled up that night with her head on his lap. He said he wasn’t sleepy yet. Each time she woke during the night, he was still sitting up, his back against a tree and her head in his lap. The last time she woke—to leaden morning skies—he was no longer there and a delightful aroma filled the air. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and saw him crouching by the fire, roasting a rabbit.

  “Ye went hunting?”

  “Aye. But I didn’t venture far. I could see the fire the entire time. I figured it was worth a try although I really didn’t think I’d get anything. It was only by sheer luck that I found the rabbit.”

  “I didn’t know ye had a bow with ye.”

  “I don’t. But I’m rather good throwing a knife. I can usually bring down a rabbit with my dagger.”

  “That’s impressive.” She inhaled deeply. “And it smells delicious.”

  He winked at her. “I thought it might be a bit more filling than dried blackberries.”

  She felt a blush warm her cheeks. “Aye, I suppose so.” She motioned to her injured head. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

  “Nay, lass. It was thoughtful of ye. I’m just sorry ye got hurt in the process.”

  They ate half of the rabbit and he put the rest in the food bag. “We have an apple and some oatcakes left. That should be enough to feed us today. If we push our pace a little and the sky remains clear enough that we can see by the moonlight, we might be able to make it home late tonight.

  Home tonight? That would be good. She could finally send a messenger back to Edinburgh to let Fingal know she was safe. Of course, Gillian would be angry with her, but she never stayed angry long. In the end, she’d be glad Ailsa had made it home safely. After that, Ailsa wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long rest in her own bed with Duff warming her feet.

  She frowned when she realized that she had quite liked sleeping next to Lucas, with his solid form keeping the chill away and once they reached Brathanead, they’d part company.

  She wasn’t ready for that. “When we get to Brathanead, ye should plan to stay for a few days.”

  He smiled enigmatically. “And why would I do that?”

  Aye, why would he do that? “Uh…after all ye’ve done for me…that is…the least I can do is offer ye a comfortable bed and see ye’re fed well. Besides, Laird MacLennan will want to thank ye for saving me and I suspect he won’t leave Edinburgh until he knows what happened to me. It’ll be days before he’s home.”

  He nodded. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Chapter 4

  Lucas guessed it had been too much to hope that they’d have dry weather the entire journey. They had barely gotten started when a light mist started to fall. He pulled Ailsa close to his chest and wrapped his plaid around her, hoping to keep her warm and a little drier. By midday the mist had become drizzle and by late afternoon it had progressed to a steady, cold rain.

  She was clearly miserable. She had stopped talking.

  He shuddered to think of the litany of grievances Moira MacNaughton would have were she in the same position. While Ailsa might have a lot to say, he hadn’t heard her grumble once. Even the first night, when she’d said she was cold, it was just a statement of fact more than a complaint.

  He was even more impressed when it occurred to him that worse than just being damp and cold, Ailsa must surely be feeling the effects of her fall the previous day. There was little he could do about it, but he still felt sorry for her. If he could just get them to Castle Grant, he could see to her comfort better there.

  See to her comfort? Why the hell did her comfort matter to him?

  It didn’t.

  He was just cold and tired himself. After all, once he’d built the fire the previous evening, he’d stayed awake the whole night to stand watch. He needed to stop allowing Ailsa MacLennan to affect him in that way. He reminded himself he had one goal—hand her over to William to be ransomed. Then he’d be done with all of this.

  Unfortunately, as evening fell, it became clear reaching Castle Grant that night would be impossible. The skies showed no signs of clearing and the rain never slackened. By early evening the heavy cloud cover was making it difficult to see. They’d have to spend another night on the road.

  “Lass, it looks as if the elements have conspired against us. We won’t make it home this evening.”

  She sighed heavily. “I thought as much.” Again, she didn’t whine or complain, nevertheless the disappointment in her tone tugged at his heart.

  “But, I think I can get us out of the rain. There are some
caves not far from here. They’re a little out of our way. But we should easily make it home early tomorrow afternoon.” There was at least one cave that had a large enough opening he could even tether Captain within its shelter too.

  When they reached the protection of the caves, he was pleased to see a pile of dry wood inside. “Well at least one thing has gone right today. It looks as if others have stayed within this cave before and have left the means for us to start a fire.”

  She stood and looked around, frowning. “Aye. In fact, we camped here one night on the way to Edinburgh. Fingal said they often stop here the first night and he always tries to leave the makings for a fire just so those escaping bad weather have a way to get warm.”

  “Well then, we’ll have to thank Laird MacLennan for his thoughtfulness. Tonight, of all nights, a fire will be welcome.” He removed Captain’s saddle. “I’ll see to ye as soon as we get a fire going, lad.” Then he took the small leather pouch containing his flint, steel, and tinder from the saddlebag.

  He noticed that Ailsa hadn’t moved and she wore a confused expression.

  “Is something wrong, Ailsa?”

  “Nay.”

  He didn’t believe that. “Are ye sure? Ye seem lost in thought.”

  “I was wondering…well…I guess I’m just confused about something.”

  “What confuses ye?”

  “It’s just that, ye said the caves were a little out of our way.”

  Damn. He should have realized she might be familiar with them. The caves were close to the track the MacLennans would have taken from Brathanead. But maybe Ailsa didn’t know this. “Aye, they are. But…uh…not by much. I suspect Laird MacLennan made the same wee detour in order to avail of the shelter it would provide.”

  She nodded, appearing to accept his explanation.

  He needed to change the subject. “Ah, sweet lass, ye’re soaked and practically frozen.” He removed the léine and hose she’d worn the previous evening from the thick leather saddlebag where they’d stayed relatively dry. “Here,” he said, handing them to her. “Go into the cave a bit and change out of yer wet gown. I’ll get the fire started.”