Healing the Highlander (7 page)

So that was it. A runaway. That would explain why there'd been no one around to save her.

"Since I've no idea who you are, I can say with certainty I was no looking for you, nor anyone else for that matter, until 1 heard yer scream for help." He turned his back to begin gathering bits of fuel for his fire. "And all I search for now is the makings of a good fire to warm us after our wee dunk in the water." "Wait."

Drew straightened, a pile of broken twigs in one hand, and turned back to face the confounding woman.

"My name is Leah MacQuarrie. Listen, I know my request seems odd. It's just that. . ." She paused, pushing wet bits of hair behind her ear as if stalling for time while she made up her mind whether or not to say more. "There's a chance my uncle may have men out looking for me. If you start a fire, it'll be like setting a beacon out for them. I can't risk having them find me."

More confirmation of his runaway theory. Likely some family dispute he had no intention of entangling himself in. After all, he remembered all too well how dramatic his own sister had been growing up. Though, in truth, he'd be the first to admit that the female in front of him now was a woman grown, not a girl.

Drew nodded, hoping to convey that he might actually be considering her request. They were having a fire this night whether she liked or not, there was no question in his mind to that. Still, for now, distraction might be a better tactic than honesty.

"Have you brought with you dry things you could change into?"

Her forehead wrinkled in her confusion and she blinked several times before answering, as if his change to the discussion was formed of words she didn't quite understand.

"No," she answered at last. "Just some food and a blanket."

"Very well." He strode to his horse and dug into his bags, pulling out a tightly rolled shirt and handing it over to her. "I've only one spare set myself, so we'll share. You take the shirt and I'll have the plaid, aye?"

She took the garment he offered and disappeared behind the boulders, stopping to pick up a small bundle he hadn't noticed earlier.

Good. Untying all those wet laces should keep her busy for a good while. By the time she got out of those wet things and returned, their fire would be well under way.

SIX

Not even the most determined silent treatment in th world could hold out long against a growling stomach and the smell of fresh-roasted fish. Whatever.

Now that Leah was over being angry about the fire maybe it was time to focus a little more thought on how lucky she was this guy had showed up. This guy and no one of Dick's men.

"That was so good. Thank you. I hadn't realized how hungry I was."

Leah licked the remains of dinner from her finger: and studied Andrew MacAlister across the fire. Discreetly, of course. Wouldn't do to have him catch her ogling, even if he was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

Maybe especially because of that. "I'm pleased you liked it."

He shifted his attention from the food in his hand to smile at her and she darted her eyes away.

That was too close! He'd almost caught her staring.

"Does this mean we're speaking again, then?" His grin widened as he asked the question. "That yer over yer temper about the fire?"

She didn't answer right away, instead taking her time to consider an appropriate response.

When she'd returned from slipping into his dry shirt and found he'd started a fire, she'd tried to argue him into putting it out. He'd turned his back on her, completely ignoring her request, telling her to stop being a silly female and to let him worry about anyone whose attention the fire might draw.

It was the "silly female" crack that had really gotten to her. Even after more than a decade in this century, she still hadn't reconciled herself to accept the pervasive male superiority garbage.

"A fire didn't seem like a smart thing to me. Not when I can't risk being caught before I reach my destination."

Andrew nodded thoughtfully, shifting the woolen blanket he wore draped around his shoulders. "I accept that. Though I dinna suspect dying from exposure would be a much better choice, now would it?"

She looked down at the ground, feeling his soft brown eyes bore into her when he paused, as if he expected an answer she had no intention of giving. If he planned to wait for her to admit that he was right and she was wrong, he was in for a mighty long wait.

Even if he was right.

"I'd say the time has come, lass, for you to be telling me what this destination of yers is and why you'd be willing to risk yer life to reach it. Perhaps I can help."

Perhaps he could, but getting his help meant she'd have to trust him enough to tell him everything, and how could she trust someone she'd only known for a couple of hours? Of course, he bad saved her life and that had to count for something in his favor. Other than starting the fire and calling her a silly female, he'd been considerate and respectful, more big check marks in th trustworthy category.

Tick, tock, Leah. She needed to make up her mine And, really, what did she have to lose at this point They sat out here alone, in the dark, in the middle of freaking nowhere. If he were a bad guy, his knowing where she was headed and why could hardly make he situation any worse than it already was.

Looking up, she met his unflinching gaze. Goodness but he had great eyes.

And that, as stupid a reason as she recognized it to be, was what ultimately aided her decision. She refuse to believe that a man with eyes like those could possibly be all bad.

"My grandfather is being held captive in MacQuarrie Keep. I'm trying to reach the only people I know to turn to for help."

"Who are these people?"

"The MacKiernans of Dun Ard."

Andrew froze in the act of stirring the fire, the stick in his hand flipping up a poof of embers as it came to re: against the surrounding stones.

"And what makes you think these MacKiernans will be willing to help you?"

"They're honor-bound to help because they're family." She paused, weighing her words. "Family of a sort. They're related to the man my sister married."

She wouldn't even try to explain that none of the MacKiernans would ever have heard of her sister's husband since he wouldn't be born for another seven hundred years. That was the whole reason for the letter.

The letter.

"Oh my God." Her stomach flip-flopped as she thought of the single thin sheet of paper, folded and tucked into the cloth bag she'd worn at her waist. The same bag that had gone into the water with her.

Leah jumped to her feet, dropping the warm cocoon of her blanket as she scrambled to locate the little purse.

"What is it?" Andrew was on his feet, too, pulling his sword from the sheath on his back as he rose.

"Oh no, no, no, please, no," she all but chanted as she dropped to her knees and snatched up the bag from under the bushes where Andrew had spread their clothing to dry.

Without the letter, how would she ever convince the MacKiernans she'd legitimately been sent to them? Without the map, she wasn't even sure she'd be able to find Dun Ard in the first place.

Heedless of the stones and debris digging into her knees, she fumbled with the ties holding the bag shut, her shaking fingers slowing her progress in opening it. Reaching in, she hastily pushed aside the little dagger Maisey had given her, hardly noticing the sting when her thumb slid past its sharp metal edge. Beneath it, her fingers closed on a water-soaked lump that had been her precious paper.

Slowly she pulled the wad from the bag, confirming her worst suspicion.

"Oh, no." Screwed. She was so screwed.

"What's that you have there?" Andrew's question startled her, his voice coming from right behind her.

"My only chance to save Grandpa Hugh's life," she whispered, gritting her teeth in her frustration. This couldn't be happening.

Andrew reached around her, scooping the wet mess from her hand. "What is this?"

"It's a letter, was a letter," she corrected, "introducing me to Mairi's aunt. With a map to Dun Ard drawn on it so I could find my way there if I ever had need of the MacKiernans. Maybe if I try to dry it near the fire—" She half turned, reaching out to take it from him, but he grabbed her wrist, dropping the wet lump of paper to the ground as he did so.

It wasn't his action that froze the words on her lips or prevented her leaning over to pick up the letter.

It was the glimpse of his bare chest.

Somewhere along the way, he'd dropped the blanket he'd wrapped around himself and now wore nothing but his plaid. The long tail draped over one shoulder might cover that one side, but that still left a whole swath of bare naked muscles open to her view.

Leah swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away, up toward the night sky. It had been a very long time she she'd seen bare, naked muscles to match the likes of Andrew's. And even then, they'd been in the pages of a magazine, not up close and personal like these.

"Yer bleeding."

He pressed the edge of his plaid to her thumb, applying pressure to the cut.

"It's no big deal. Don't worry about it. It'll stop in a little bit." A fact she took for granted. Her body healed quickly. For now she simply wanted the sting in her thumb to distract her thoughts from the man who held her hand.

So far, it wasn't working very well.

"Who is this Mairi you spoke of?"

"Mairi is . . ." She began to answer, but the words stuck as if her mouth had gone completely dry when Andrew leaned past her to drag his damp shirt from the bush.

She darted her gaze down to her own hand and pressed her forefinger to her thumb, focusing on the stinging throb in the cut. Anything to avoid watching the muscles in his forearm ripple as he tore a strip of material from the shirt's tail.

He caught up her hand again and gently wrapped the cloth around her thumb, tying it off and tucking the ends neatly under the wrap.

"Mairi is ..." He repeated her words, dragging them out as if they were a question.

That's right. She'd been speaking. Trying to answer his question.

"Mairi is," she tried again, concentrating on her words. Her relationship to those people was hard enough to figure out without the added distraction of his half-naked body. "It's mind-bogglingly complicated. She's a MacKiernan. Her brother's wife is the sister of my sister's husband." There. Could she make it sound any more confusing? Could she make herself sound am more idiotic?

"Mairi MacKiernan?" he asked, his voice so soft she had to lean in closer to make sure she understood tin words.

Big mistake. She could feel the heat rolling off him when she did.

"Yes. No," she corrected herself, all too aware of the man next to her. "Not MacKiernan. She's married. Her husband's name is Ramos ... Ramos, damn!" Her mine had gone completely blank but for thoughts of chests and muscles. You'd think she could concentrate enough to remember something as simple as the man's stupid surname? So what if she'd only known the whole bunch of them for a handful of days? So what if all she could picture in her mind was Andrew's bulging biceps?

"Navarro?" He supplied, his voice still hushed.

"That's it! You've heard of them?" Mairi had told her that she and Ramos had spent quite a while in this time.

"I have."

This was too good to be true. If he'd known Mairi and Ramos, maybe he knew more. "And Dun Ard? Do you know how to get there?" Leah finally forced her eyes up to meet his, all but holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

"I do."

Maybe she wouldn't completely fail Hugh and Margery after all.

"My only hope to save my grandfather is to reach the MacKiernans. The map drawn on that paper was my only way of finding them. With it gone ..." She allowed the words to hang in the air as she searched his face. "You said earlier that perhaps you could help me. Showing me the way to Dun Ard would be the biggest help I could hope for."

Bizarre how the pendulum of her world had taken a full swing in the span of mere minutes. Leah could hardly believe how quickly she'd gone from trying to decide whether or not she could trust this Andrew enough to tell him anything about herself, all the way to the point where she found herself now—ready to beg him to take her where she needed to go.

SEVEN

Curiosity? Morality?

Drew shifted against the boulder that served as his backrest, staring across the flames at the woman on the other side of the fire. She lay on her side, her head propped up on one elbow. Her long blond hair fanned out around her shoulders, glinting in the firelight like cape of spun gold.

She'd wrapped her woolen around her, covering he from the waist down, but the blanket might as well be invisible. Drew knew all too well what it concealed. She's forgotten all about the woolen when she'd scrambled after her pouch in search of the letter she claimed to carry. Wearing naught more than his shirt, she'd exhibited pair of shapely legs which had looked to go on forever.

He licked his lips at the memory.