Highland Healer (7 page)

“Aye, lass, I can,” Toran countered. “And I have.” With that, he set the Healer on her feet, grabbed her arm, and moved with her to the horses.

“I’m glad to see Banner made it home,” Toran said, freeing one hand to stroke the big horse along its neck.

“’Tis how we knew ye were in trouble and not just delayed by a wen…” Kyle stuttered and then cut a glance to the woman with Toran. “Uh, until Callum and Brian got back, that is.”

“Give me yer spare sword and dirk,” Toran commanded, ignoring Kyle’s gaffe and gesturing for him to dismount. “Keep her here until I return. Tie her to a tree if ye must,” he said, giving Aileana his sternest frown, then warned Kyle, “But don’t let her touch ye.”

Kyle nodded and handed over his weapons. Aileana, he was glad to see, stood stock still, watching them.

He glanced around as the sound of fighting filtered through the trees, then turned back to Aileana. “Stay with Kyle.” He took a few steps back toward the fighting, and then turned back. “He won’t harm ye,” Toran promised her with a mirthless grin, “unless ye give him reason to.”

Aileana’s eyes widened. He decided the message had been delivered clearly enough.

A shout behind him in camp alerted him that their escape been discovered. Toran ran back in time to see his men and several of Angus’s doing battle with the guards. Toran moved fast. He stooped quickly to cut another of Angus’s men free and gave him the dirk he’d used. Then he ran toward the clump of combatants. He got there just the last guard fell. But help from the rest of the camp was starting to arrive a few at a time. They were quickly dispatched by the combined force against them. Toran glanced around. All of the MacAnalens were free of their bonds. Some, weaponless, were already moving into the woods. Several picked up the fallen guards’ weapons and waited with the Lathans. Shouts echoed around the camp and Toran knew more men would arrive soon. They had to get out now or take the chance of being overwhelmed and killed or captured again.

Toran exchanged nods with Donal and Angus MacAnalen who signaled to the remaining prisoners.

They ran.

Angus paced Toran stride for stride. “Take yer men and go,” Toran ordered. “Split up. Make for the cave on Penwyms Hill. ’Tis hard to find if ye don’t ken it’s there. My men will take care of any who pursue ye ahorse.” Toran gave Angus the sword he carried. Angus passed it to Brodric on his other side.

“What about ye?” Angus asked.

“I ride for the Aerie with our prize,” Toran told him. “I’ll send out scouts to find and supply ye as soon as I have her secured,” he promised.

“Aye,” Angus agreed, then raised his sword and shouted, “MacAnalens to me!”

Toran returned to find Kyle and Aileana where he had left them. They were eyeing each other cautiously, but Toran was pleased to see that Kyle had not found it necessary to tie her up.

“Kyle, let’s go. Healer, with me,” he commanded.

The rest of Donal’s party arrived then and mounted up. Aileana chose that moment to begin protesting, backing away from Toran and shaking her head. Out of patience, Toran scooped her up and tossed her onto Banner, then swung up behind her. Toran pulled her upright before him and wrapped one strong arm around her waist.

“Donal,” Toran called, “I need a sword.” One was quickly passed to him. He slid it into Banner’s scabbard. “Take the men and ride escort for Angus,” he continued. “He may need help with stragglers from the camp. I’ll take our lass on toward the Aerie.”

“Aye,” Donal answered. “We’ll find ye. Just make sure none of that lot do,” he said, hitching his thumb over his shoulder toward the invader camp.

“They willna,” Toran agreed and kicked his horse into motion. Kyle’s mount stayed on Banner’s heels. The rest of Toran’s men would follow as soon as they ensured the MacAnalens’ escape by harrying any invaders who managed to round up a mount. Gripping the reins one-handed, he increased their pace until they raced through the trees, ducking branches and flying down slopes, then climbing quickly to the next hill crest. Aileana struggled now and again, and Toran allowed it until Banner nearly stumbled on a downslope.

Toran gripped her waist more tightly as she squirmed. Whether her agitation was from discomfort or an attempt to escape, he didn’t ken, but it mattered not. “Have a care, lass,” he warned her. “I dinna wish to drop ye on yer pretty head. A fall from horseback will likely spoil my plans for ye.”

“Plans?” she gasped. “What plans? How dare you! Let me go!”

“Why, lass? Do ye wish to stay with Colbridge?” Toran tensed, unwilling to accept the possibility that she could choose captivity with the marauding army over the freedom he offered her.

“He has protected me.”

“So far, perhaps.” Toran slowed Banner just long enough to capture Aileana’s chin with his hand and force her to look up at him. It took real effort to ignore the softness of her breasts against his arm. “But ye were never safe there, lass. Ye saw how sloppy his guard became when we wasna able to keep his eye on them. With him gone, ye’d be prey to all.”

“Nay!”

“Lass, even some of the prisoners had ideas ye’d no’ appreciate, could they but get their hands on ye.”

At Aileana’s gasp, Toran returned his hand to her waist and kicked Banner into a gallop.

“Ye’ll bide well with me,” he promised as she digested that bit of news.

“I can take care of myself!”

Toran admired her heart as much as he decried her logic. She was actually arguing with him as they rode headlong through the woods, gaining speed as they went. But words would not free the beautiful Healer now. She was his.

Chapter Four

Aileana was quickly reminded that it was of no use to struggle against the strength of the Lathan laird. Despite his warnings to the contrary, she was in little danger of being dropped. He held her securely against his hard torso, one strong arm an iron band under her breasts. That he controlled his spirited mount with only one hand and the power of his thighs proved testament to his strength and skill, for they rode hard and fast.

Despite the security of his grip, Aileana huddled deeper into Toran’s embrace and held on to his arm for dear, sweet life. As they flew faster and faster, she could not even summon her Voice to order him to stop, or to slow to a pace that would seem less fraught with chances for mishap. But being thrown from the horse, or dashed into trees or rocks, was one thing. She feared even more that Toran was right. If they were caught, Colbridge’s men would kill the lot of them. Even she could not count on being spared, since she now appeared to be a runaway. If Colbridge decided against her, he wouldn’t care if she had been carried off against her will. He wouldn’t believe her. And what he and his men might do to her before they killed her was not to be imagined.

Toran’s grip on her never loosened as they bolted between the trees. They ducked overhanging branches. They bounded down the sides of gullies and flew over ridges until it seemed that they would race into the setting sun itself. Aileana clung to the strong arm wrapped around her. She alternated between squeezing her eyes closed and opening them because not seeing where they went frightened her even more than the sight of branches whipping by. One moment she was holding her breath and the next gasping with fear at an uneven jolt or when Toran’s weight shifted as he folded over her and ducked oncoming obstacles.

Kyle followed them at a distance. Aileana might have thought him gone except for the pounding of his horse’s hooves behind them. He pulled even once or twice and exchanged a nod with Toran, then dropped back again. She supposed he served as rear guard and kept watch for pursuit.

Finally, Toran slowed his mount to a walk, cooling it down. He eased his vise-like grip, allowing Aileana her first deep breath in an hour. Pine sap and leaf mold odors filled her nose, sharp above the musk of hard-ridden horse and the heady scent that was uniquely Toran’s own. She heard nothing but the sigh of the wind, birds chirping in the trees, and the steady beat of Toran’s heart against her ear. Leather creaked as he shifted in the saddle to look behind them. Before long, Kyle rode up and stayed along side them for a few paces until he got his breath. “All clear,” he reported.

“Good. Ride back to Donal; make sure they’re away safely,” Toran ordered.

Kyle raised a hand in salute, turned his mount and headed back the way they had come.

While the men talked, Aileana had tried and failed to unclench her cramping hands from Toran’s arm. Seeming to sense her difficulty, he stopped their horse completely, draped the reins over its neck, and wrapped his other arm around her. Gently, he pried her fingers free.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, half turning in his arms to see him. The frown on his face did nothing to ease her fears.

Then Aileana looked down and saw blood where her nails had pierced his skin. Embarrassment washed through her. How could she have clung so desperately to him without even knowing it?

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, keeping her gaze cast down to the small wounds she’d caused.

Instead of admonishing her, Toran took one of her hands in his two large ones and carefully began to rub and knead her cramping fingers. Pain she had not been aware of finally penetrated, and as quickly, began to dissolve away under his care. Aileana realized that it was not unlike what she herself did when she healed, though he lacked her Talent.

“Ach, lass, calm yerself,” he admonished, and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated not only in her ear, but in her back where she leaned against him. “There’s naught to fear. I didna drop ye, now did I? And I’ll get ye to the Aerie ahead of Colbridge’s men.”

Leaning against his skin was like leaning toward a blazing hearth warding off the chill of the gathering gloaming. His voice and his hands were so soothing that Aileana could almost believe him. No one had tried to comfort her in a very long time and the simple kindness of this man’s caring touch filled a need she hadn’t known she had. But she also worried that his kindness might reflect more than simple caring. What if he was trying to lull her into accepting him, allowing him to use her as he pleased?

He released her hand and picked up the other, treating it to the same gentle stroking pressure. Despite her misgivings, she could barely hold back a moan from the pleasure of his touch, until she saw again the blood on his arm and was reminded both that she was his hostage, and that they were not safe.

“How much farther must we go?”

Toran pulled her hand up and dropped a light kiss on the back, sending a thrill up her arm to somewhere deep in her chest. She clamped down on the feeling, refusing to be taken in. Then he released her hand and pointed at the high ground still ahead of them in the distance. “We’ve still a way to go, but just over that ridge and the next, ye’ll look upon it.” He picked up the reins and flicked them, urging the horse into a walk.

Aileana flexed her fingers, already missing the soothing warmth of his hands, telling herself sternly to forget the velvety feel of his lips on her skin. But her hands were lax and supple again. She laid them atop his arm, covering the bloody punctures she’d made, and called on her Talent. Toran stilled behind her. She knew he was aware of the soreness diminishing when he tensed. Finally, she lifted her hands and brushed away the bits of dried blood that remained under them, revealing newly healed pink scars.

“Good God, lass, that’s a rare skill ye have,” Toran breathed behind her as he raised his arm and saw her handiwork. “Is it witchery that ye do? To see it…what ye started to do to my wrists in the tent…and now this…”

His question shocked her, and she berated herself for her audacity. She should have let him bleed rather than give him more evidence against her. Then she sat up straighter. No. She would not be labeled that way. She was no witch, but an orphan, a prisoner, and a healer. If he did not see her as herself by now, nothing she said would change his mind. Her anger made her bold. “That was just a small thing,” she boasted, “and simple to do.” Let him make of it what he will.

Silence greeted her announcement. They continued at a walk for a while. Aileana wondered what Toran was thinking. She longed to touch him and get a sense of what he felt, but her boldness fled with her annoyance and she didn’t dare. Had she said too much? Had her defiant tone provoked him in some way? He did not move, except to avoid low-hanging branches. Finally, he flicked the reins again and increased their pace up the hillside.

“I’m thinking that ye’re a rare prize, and one I’m wagering I’ll be glad to keep. Let’s get ye home to the Aerie. Ye’ll be safe there. Colbridge willna be able to reach ye once ye bide inside its walls.”

Walls? Aileana’s heart lurched to her throat. Once Toran got her in there, would she be able to get out? Would it be just another prison for “such a rare prize” as she? One even more impossible to escape than Colbridge’s camp?

And how would Toran use such a rare prize? She no longer had Ranald to assist her and care for her after her healing sessions drained her.

Or could she believe Toran? “Let’s get ye home to the Aerie,” he’d said. Could she find a home there? she worried, wishing suddenly that she was back in Colbridge’s camp, where she knew her role and her place.

“What is it like, this Aerie of yours?” Aileana asked.

“Ye’ll see soon enough,” Toran deep voice rumbled behind her “’Tis a home like any other, filled with kin and friends, bairns and beasts.”

Aileana heard the pride in his voice as he described something so commonplace to him, yet so foreign to her. Sadness she usually kept at bay welled up, and she fought it back. She would not get homesick now. Her parents were long dead, her life in the village gone forever. She would not cry in the arms of this stranger. She would do as she had done for the last two years—she would do everything necessary to survive.

They rode on, stopping occasionally to rest the horse and relieve themselves. During the first such stop, Aileana considered slipping away into the forest, but suspected that Toran’s tracking skills might equal his fighting and riding abilities. Nor could she outrun his horse. She considered using her Voice to order him to release her, but here in this vast wilderness, she doubted her ability to survive more than a few days. She had no idea where the next village might be.