Blessing The Highlander (4 page)

 
           “Do not insult my intelligence, Princess. You know what I speak of.”

 
           “Oh bother! I was just attempting to do a good deed. The poor girl had a miserable life and was dying. I simply offered her a new one.” She waved her hand dismissively but felt it captured in a steel grip. She gasped as Lokai spun her into his chest glaring down at her.

 
           “It is reckless and you have been careless with her! If you had looked at her injuries you would know that she would be dead right now.”

 
           “Not so!” she shouted at him. “She had only struck her head.”

 
           “You are wrong, Diedre. Her ribs were broken...her lung was punctured... she was bleeding inside. She was on death’s door when I found her.”

 
           Oh dear. Had she almost killed her sister? She will need to be more cautious in the future. Her eyes flew wide as she looked up at Lokai. Barely a whisper, she asked, “Did she die?”

 
           Lokai glowered at her for a few moments, pausing long enough to let the seriousness of what she had done sink profoundly in her heart.

 
           “She lives...no thanks to you.”

 
           Tears welled in her eyes as a sigh of relief left her. It pricked her that Lokai held her in such low esteem. Why it disturbed her she did not know, but just the same, it did. Abruptly, her head jerked up to examine his handsome face.

 
           “You saved her.” It was a declaration. “You could lose your position over this! Your immortality! Why did you interfere?”

 
           “Still you play me for a fool. Do you think that I do not know what...? ‘Who’ she is? I saved her for King Alred!”
“And for you.”
But he would not speak the words. It was too precarious to give her that power.

 
           She nodded to herself. Meekly she whispered, “I meant no harm.”

 
           “Whether you meant it or not the harm is done. Now finish it so we may return to our realm and leave these mortals in peace.”

 
           “But...” she protested.

 
           “No!” he roared. “Lead him to her and be done with it! And be cautioned, Diedre. I will not stand for this once we are wed. You will obey me on this.”

 
           A slow smile spread across her impudent lips as she realized he would still wed her. For some mysterious reason it pleased her deep down inside. She did not discern why...but it did.

            Garrick stood in his stirrups to stretch the ache from his thick-muscled thighs. Visiting Laird Fraser had been a welcome respite from his daily mundane duties as laird of the Brodie clan. He did not regret the responsibility but he wished that his father had lived a few more years before getting himself killed reiving.

 
           His eyes hardened as he remembered that time. It was such a waste. Reiving was a fact of life among the Scottish clans. They had done their fair share of it. It was like a rite of passage for young lads into manhood. Besides, the MacGregors could have stolen the sheep back. But his father chose to risk clansmen’s lives, and his own, over five sheep. And for that he died.

 
           Garrick had despised the MacGregors because of it but he had refused to escalate the situation further. A good laird chooses his battles wisely. And Garrick was a very good laird. He could not blame Seamus MacGregor for his own father’s foolishness.

 
           That was seven years past now. He was only three and twenty when he became laird. It was time to begin a bride search and get an heir. That was part of the reason for visiting his father’s friend, Laird Fraser. He had a strong clan. It was a shame that his daughters were so hard to gaze upon. They were pleasant enough. He could not fault them there… but he could not tolerate the thought of bedding one of them. He shuddered.

 
           “Thinking about those Fraser lasses yet again,” Angus chortled taking a swig from his leather flagon. “They shore be a sight. Near scorched me eyes gazing upon ‘em.”

 
           Garrick grinned at his cousin. “Aye, they were that. But I am thinking that someone else should be blessed with that sight...nae me.” His men laughed quietly behind him. He grew somber after a few moments.

 
           Garrick glanced over at Angus as their horses plodded along the burn that ran the length of Brodie land north to south where it ultimately joined Fraser’s borders. His cousin was ten years his senior and captain of the guard. Garrick and he had been friends all their lives and he held him in high esteem.

 
           “How did ye ken when ye had found the right woman, Angus? Was it a certain look? A touch? A smile?”

 
           Angus grew serious. His brown eyes constantly alert in spite of the uisge beatha that he always had with him, softened in his red-bearded face. “Aye...and nae. Do nae misinterpret, Garrick. There was a powerful pull of those things. Nae other woman drew me like me Mary. But when I asked me self if I could live without her...that is when I kenned for certain. Cause the answer was always ‘nae’.” He slapped Garrick casually on the shoulder. “Doona fear, me Laird. Ye will find your woman. Just be sure ye do nae lose her.”

 
           “Aye. I hope so.” He shook himself out of his reverie, studying his surroundings. He noted that it was getting late in the day, nearly gloaming, and they still had a day’s ride left to Brodie Castle. His black destriar, Cadence, tossed his head snorting, side-stepping as he got a whiff of blood on the breeze. His nostril’s flared as he pranced apprehensively beneath Garrick.

 
           “Easy boy,” he murmured as he silently slide his claymore from its sheath on his back. Five more behind him followed suit. Two men in the rear slipped like ghosts into the thick growth of trees along the bank in opposite directions to flank them, if need be.

 
           “What is it?”  Angus whispered as he drew close to his side.

 
           “Cadence scents blood.” As they continued onward toward the bend, Garrick kept his eyes trained on the branches above him as Angus watched their sides.

 
           “Laird Brodie!” shouted one of his scouts from round the bend. Garrick put his heels to his horse. He thundered around the copse of trees blinding him of the burn only to rein in his horse abruptly. Cadence reared whinnying his displeasure at the halt of his blood-lust.

 
           He could not be certain of the sight before him. At the bottom of a steep cliff lay a palfrey with its head at an unnatural angle… obviously dead. What astounded him was a pack of wolves totaling about ten that defended the meal in spite of the fact that he and his men drew near to them. Most would have dispersed at the threat.

 
           “My Laird!” one man cried in distress pointing beyond the steed toward the burn’s edge. Garrick’s stunned gaze snapped toward the bank spying a lone wolf looming near a motionless form laying on the muddy shore. He did not waver. Putting heel to horse, they attacked as one at the lone wolf. Within seconds Cadence was atop him pounding his hooves into the already lifeless animal. Garrick leapt from the saddle running to the still figure to examine it for life.

 
           Behind him, his men were busy dispatching the remainder of the pack. He sprawled on his knees as a second wolf plowed into him snarling and snapping his strong jaws. Having lost his sword, Garrick rolled over drawing a dirk from his boot just afore the beast was on him again, straining to rip out his throat. He clamped his hand under the wolf’s jaw as he thrust upward with his dirk stabbing it in the chest. The wolf yelped rolling off of him and Garrick speedily slit its throat.

 
           He rested on his hands and knees for a moment drawing in great gulps of air.
That was too close
.
I have never seen such resolve before. They were too brazen.
As Garrick’s heart slowed to a sounder beat and his breathing steadied he glanced at the still form a few feet away. His mouth fell open as he forgot to breathe altogether.
Stunning!
That was his only thought as he gaped at the striking woman before him.

 
           She was the most beautiful lass he had ever seen. Her face was heart-shaped with high cheekbones and thin dark brows arching at the outer edges. Her small pert nose had the slightest upturn at the tip above the sensuous rosy lips. Her eyes were exotically raised at the ends. All of this perfection was surrounded by lightly bronzed skin and crowned with glorious light auburn hair. For a moment, all he could do was drink in the sight of her… feasting on her beauty.

 
           That is when he detected the pool of blood beneath her head. He shook off his stupor and quickly determined that she was still breathing. He ran his hands gently along her limbs and ribs, checking for broken bones or swelling. He could not seem to stop himself from tenderly brushing his fingertips over her full breasts. That is when he found the parchment tucked inside. Garrick shoved it into his sporran for reading later and ran his hands behind her neck and down her spine.

 
           Satisfied with his examination of her, he rotated her over toward him placing her head on his powerful thigh to have a nearer look at her injury.

 
           She did not make a sound as he prodded the lump the size of a hen’s egg on her temple.

 
           “Angus, we will make camp here. Build a fire and make a pallet close by. Get me spare plaid ta cover her,” he added as he perceived the rents in her gown, “and me undertunic.”

 
           His men set about following his commands as he assessed the cut of her clothing. They suggested that she was highborn but not excessively wealthy...a chief’s daughter perhaps. But what was she doing on Brodie land? He shook his head. Taking his dirk, he cut a strip of cloth from his tunic wetting it in the burn and began wiping the blood and mud from her face. The bleeding had ceased.  He was wrapping a loose binding on her head when Angus approached him with the tunic.

 
           He sucked in his breath when he saw her. “Jesu! What a feast for the eyes this lass be! Do ye ken who she be?”

 
           “Nae. I do nae ken her but I would like to. Help me with the tunic so I can move her.” Once she was settled on the pallet Garrick examined the trappings on her steed.

 
           “There be nae help there, Laird. I saw naught that revealed her clan colors. Mayhap when she wakes she can tell us.” Angus shook his head. “If the lass wakes atoll. Her breathing is nae good. Tis scarcely a breath she takes. And she is excessively still...nae a flicker of movement or sound.”

 
           Garrick nodded to himself. He was disturbed with her motionlessness, too. He had seen enough injuries like this one to know that it was not a normal sleep and some never woke again. He prayed that this was not this lass’s destiny.

 
           He walked back to the camp and sat across the fire from her puzzling over her identity. She was beautiful. He speculated what color her eyes were behind the long dark lashes gracing her slightly flushed cheeks. He felt his loins begin to harden as his gaze stroked her from head to toe. Who could have spawned such perfection? He recalled the parchment in his sporran but dreaded the reading of it. He did not want to know where she belonged...that perhaps she was promised to someone.
She is mine! I found her. I saved her. And I want her!
The thought was so powerful that it shook him. He had to know who she was though. Perhaps he could ask her father for her. That was the honorable thing to do. He just was not sure he could be honorable where this lass was concerned.

 
           Sighing to himself, he pulled the parchment out reading its contents. He smiled.
Her name is Seonaid. It suits her. And she is nae pledged ta anyone...yet
.
But I still do nae ken who ta ask for her hand.
He smiled grimly...
but that will nae stop me.
His eyes darted back across the flames to find himself captured in two exotic emerald pools.

 
           Her head was pounding like a drum in time with the beat of her heart. Why did it hurt? She could not remember. She kept her eyes closed as she swam closer to the sounds above her. She acknowledged the sound of horses blowing and pawing the earth. Night birds singing, bugs chirping too stridently for her sore head. She felt the heat of a fire close by, its pungent smoke drifting lightly in her nostrils. She heard the crackle and pop of burning wood and...men... snoring!

 
           Her eyes flew open in alarm but she dared not move. She hurt all over. Right down to her fingers and toes. She glanced across the flames to see a rather large highlander reading something. His forehead was broad with slashing black eyebrows, a straight nose, high cheekbones and a squared chin. He was topped off with a strong, lightly whiskered jaw, sensuous lips on a full mouth with long blue-black hair braided at his temples and...startling sapphire eyes, she realized as his attention was drawn to her.