Highland Lover (14 page)

inept. Just as that thought passed through his mind, fate decided he had become too vain and that he

needed to be taught some humility. Gregor stumbled over a rock and heartily cursed when his

opponent’s sword scored his right side. He quickly recovered and knew the wound was not a

serious one, but he also knew that a loss of blood could weaken him in time.

Alana cursed, fear a sour taste in her mouth as the Gowan man’s sword slashed across Gregor’s

right side. She suspected it was not a deep or serious wound, for Gregor barely faltered, but the

widening dark stain upon Gregor’s doublet told her that it was bleeding freely, and that could prove

dangerous. Both men were fighting hard and seriously and she doubted the Gowan man was about

to suddenly recall that Gregor was to be taken for ransom, not killed.

It was a strange time for her to realize that her feelings for Gregor far surpassed a mere infatuation with his pretty face or a lusting for his fine, strong body, she mused as she searched for a weapon.

Espying a thick branch upon the ground, she picked it up and began to creep toward the Gowan

man. Both men were so intent upon each other they never even glanced her way. She would not be

surprised to discover that they had both completely forgotten about her. This ought to remind them,

she thought, and the moment she saw her chance, she clubbed the Gowan man on the back of the

head as hard as she could. He stood very still for a moment and then slowly collapsed facedown on

the ground.

Breathing heavily, Gregor stared down at his unconscious opponent and then looked at Alana. “I am

nay sure that was a particularly honorable way to end the fight, lass,” he said calmly.

“I dinnae care,” she said as she tossed her rough club aside. “Gregor,” she murmured in a concerned

voice as she started toward him, “ye are bleeding.”

“Aye, but ’tis only a scratch.” He sheathed his sword.

“At least allow me to bind it.” She hastily pulled one of the bindings she had once used upon her

breasts out of her pack and wrapped it around him. “It really needs to be cleaned and looked at most

closely—”

“I ken it, but, later, lass.” Gregor knelt to relieve the Gowan man of his small purse, stuffed it into his pack, and looked toward the village. “For now ’tis far more important to get as far away from

here as we can.”

Alana knew he was right and tried not to worry about him as they hurried away. In her experience

men could be very foolish about their wounds, ignoring them far beyond what was wise or safe. She

knew they could not linger so close to the Gowans, but she was determined not to let Gregor push

onward for so long that a minor wound became a dangerous one. A loud cry from behind them told

her it might prove difficult to keep that promise to herself. It appeared that the Gowans had finally turned their attention to the woods.

Chapter 9

Gregor slumped against a tree and closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body was screaming in

protest of how hard he had pushed them and he knew it would take a while before that faded. He

heard a soft thump by his feet and looked down only long enough to make sure that Alana was still

conscious. She had gracefully sprawled on her back on the grass by his feet, Charlemagne still

cradled gently in her arms. Slowly, Gregor sank down until he sat beside her, his back still against

the tree. He hoped he was right in thinking they had lost the Gowans, for he doubted he had the

strength to even crawl away from them now.

“Have we lost them?” Alana asked when she had finally caught her breath.

“Aye, I think so. ’Struth, I think we lost them just before the sun set.”

“That was o’er an hour ago.”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“And ye are sure now, are ye?”

“Aye, I am,” he replied after a moment’s thought. “I doubt they will continue to search now that it

is dark, either. So, we can rest for a while.”

“Oh, good. Dinnae think I could move right now anyway, not e’en if the fools threatened to ride

right o’er me.” She slowly sat up. “Howbeit, I should tend to that wound.”

“Truly, ’tis but a scratch, lass. My doublet took the worst of the blow.”

“E’en the smallest of scratches can prove a danger if it isnae tended to.”

There was no arguing that. Gregor remained where he was, watching as Alana collected a few strips

of linen, water, and a small pot of something from her pack. He was pleased to see no needle and

thread. As she returned to his side, he removed the rough bandage she had wrapped around him and

then took off his doublet. Each movement caused him to wince with pain and he meekly accepted

her aid in removing his shirt.

Alana quickly retrieved a candle stub and flint from her pack. She lit the candle and carefully

studied the wound. “I dinnae think it needs stitching,” she said.

“Thank God,” Gregor muttered.

She ignored that. “E’en with all the running ye did, the bleeding has nearly stopped. I will clean it, put some of this salve on it, and bandage it. That should be enough. It would be best if ye can rest

for a day or so, so that the wound can begin to close. Do ye think that is possible?”

“It may be.” Gregor hissed a curse between tightly clenched teeth as she bathed his wound. Her

touch was gentle, but he doubted that eased his pain by very much. “I will ken better in the

morning.”

“I pray we have thoroughly lost the Gowans, left them wandering in circles e’en now.” She put

salve on his wound as gently as she could, but still heard him grunt softly in pain. “E’en if ye

werenae wounded, I would like a wee respite before beginning our journey again. I ken I will be

aching in the morning.”

“As will I, I suspect, and nay just from this wound.”

“Hold this here for a moment,” she ordered, placing his hand against the linen pad she had put over

his wound. “I will make up our poor bed and ye had best lie down,” she said as she wrapped the

long strips of her linen bindings around him to hold the pad of linen in place over his wound. “This

injury will be pulled and pained each time ye move, I fear. ’Tis in such a place that it willnae be

ignored. It will close faster if ye can bring yourself to lie flat and still for a day or two.”

“It didnae seem that deep,” he murmured.

“It isnae, but it still bleeds, aye? If ye pamper it for a wee bit now and we continue our journey at an easy pace for a few days, after that it should heal weel. I doubt I need to tell ye that e’en a slow loss of blood, if continuous, can fell a mon and tempt a fever.”

“Aye, I ken it, but ye will need help to set up our camp.”

“Nay, I can do it.” She smiled faintly at his look of doubt. “Trust me.”

He nodded slowly. He might trust her to do it, but that did not mean he had to like it. Unfortunately, his side burned and he felt somewhat light-headed. Gregor knew he would be more hindrance than

help right now. Slumped against the tree, he watched as she skillfully built a small fire and then

brought him some bread, cheese, and cold venison to eat. As he ate, she made up a bed for them

near the fire. Someone had obviously taken the time to teach her a few skills so that she could

survive on her own. Gregor supposed that was a good thing, but it made him uncomfortable, for he

had to wonder why she needed him at all.

She needed him to protect her, he told himself, and then grimaced as his cruel memory reminded

him of why she was the one setting up their camp now. In his first battle for her sake, he had

stumbled like some untried oaf and gotten himself wounded. She had ended the fight and downed

their foe. It was a sad blow to a man’s pride. While it was true that she had needed him to escape

the oubliette and while she was feverish, it was also true that anyone could have done the same.

Gregor did not know exactly why he so wished her to see him as necessary to her, but he did. There

was one way left to him in which he could bind her to his side, but she was proving resilient to his

seduction. He really did not wish to discover that he was not as good at wooing a lass as he had

thought.

When she helped him to his feet, she put her arm around him and pressed close to his side. That

cheered Gregor up, and he began to think of ways to take advantage of her closeness. It only took a

few steps for him to realize he would not be taking advantage of her gentle solicitude this night.

What had started as a nice embrace became a necessary support to keep him on his feet. He had

clearly lost a lot more blood than he had realized.

Alana frowned at him as, once he was settled on their bed, she covered him with a blanket. “Ye are

looking verra pale, Gregor.”

“’Twill pass,” he said. “I was just thinking that my wound must have bled more freely than I

thought.”

“The small wounds can fool ye that way. Many people think that because the blood isnae flowing

freely, the wound isnae so verra dangerous, but ye can still lose too much blood if ’tis a slow, steady loss. My cousin Syme near died of a wound upon his ankle. He was out hunting and got stabbed in

the ankle by something, but he just cursed the brief pain and kept on hunting. When he finally

collapsed his boot was fair soaked with blood and he had left a trail of it behind him. ’Tis fortunate that my other cousins, Uilleam and Kelvin, were hunting with him. They got him to Grandmere

verra quickly, but ’twas a near thing.”

“A wound in his ankle?”

“Aye. Something poked a hole in just the right place. Grandmere says there must be one of those

bleeder veins down there. I kenned about the ones in the throat and in the wrist and thigh, but I was verra surprised to discover there was one in the ankle.”

Gregor watched her as she removed her boots and used a little water from their supplies to wash her

face and hands. Fiona had said that most Murray lasses trained with Lady Maldie to become healers.

It was clear that, although she claimed her sister was the true healer, Alana was not without skill

and knowledge. He almost grinned. If he kept her, Alana would join with his father’s wife Mab and

Fiona, giving Scarglas three skilled healers. They would be the healthiest clan outside of the

Murrays themselves.

“Nay,” he said when she started to get beneath the blankets on his right side. “The other side would

be better.”

“Wheesht, of course.” She quickly got into the rough bed on his left side and tried to settle herself comfortably on the hard ground with her back toward him. “I could hurt your wound.”

“Aye, I suppose ye could, but I was thinking on how I wouldnae be able to do this.”

She smiled faintly when he curled his arm around her waist and tugged her up close to him. Her

smile widened slightly when she felt him harden against her backside. No matter how vigorously

she scolded herself or tried to tell herself that it was just a man’s blind lust for anything female, she found that sign of Gregor’s desire flattering and very exciting.

It was far past time to decide what she was going to do about him. She had had a sharp reminder

today that no matter how handsome he was, how big and strong and skilled with a sword, he was

just a man. He could bleed and he could die. All her lessons in healing had told her that it was just a surface wound, but knowledge and good sense had done little to ease the cold fear she had felt when

that sword had cut him. Alana knew she was in love with Gregor. She needed to decide just how far

she was willing to go to try to gain a return of her love.

First, she would stop fighting against his seduction. Alana suspected some of that decision was

aided by the sight of Gregor naked that was now emblazoned upon her mind. Despite his rather

imposing size, just thinking about Gregor naked made her feel uncomfortably warm. Her palms

itched to touch all that dark, smooth skin stretched over taut, fit muscle. One look at his body in all its natural glory was enough to make her feel the greatest of wantons. Alana could not even imagine

how wonderful it would feel to hold him close, skin to skin, and be free to run her hands all over

him.

She suffered a brief flicker of fear as she recalled how large one particular part of him was, but

easily pushed it aside. Although she was bereft of experience, she had knowledge enough to know

that they would fit together. The first time would probably hurt, but passion always carried a price

for a woman. It was the time after the breaching that she looked forward to, and all the times after

that.

Alana knew she did not have to become Gregor’s lover to win his love, but she suspected it would

help a little. She also knew it might not gain her any more than a lot of pleasure followed by a

kindly farewell, but she had to try. If she ended up alone, so be it, but at least she could comfort

herself with the knowledge that she had done all she could to win his heart. There would also be

some very pleasant memories to cling to when she was alone.

With her plans made, Alana felt sleep gently drag her into its folds. She smiled when Gregor slowly

moved his hand up her midriff to cup her breast. He always did that when he thought she was asleep.

Her last clear thought was that Gregor plainly found her wee bumps to his liking.

Her body was on fire. Alana thought it odd that her mind would tell her that was pleasurable when it

ought to be telling her to run for her life. Then she woke up enough to understand what was

happening. Gregor’s hands were stroking her breasts and she could feel the heat of his mouth