Highlander's Challenge (14 page)

Highlander's Challenge

by Jo Barrett

How could she sound so angelic as she read when he knew she was anything but? This woman fought him at every turn with her sharp tongue and strange words, and yet this voice, this one he'd not heard her use with its soft and gentle tones, soothed him greatly. Passage after passage, the taut muscles in his body relaxed and his weary lids closed. As she ended the verse, he could not find the wherewithal to move, as he was nearly asleep. The soft pop and crackle of the fire echoed off the stone walls. Comforting though it was, he missed the sound of her voice. He attempted to rally his strength to ask her to read more, when she softly broke the silence.

"I think your nephew's asleep."

"Aye, the poor dear," Elspeth said with a weighty sigh.

"'Tis a difficult time for him. For us all." She sniffled and gently cleared her throat. "Tell me of your family, Amelia." There was that name again. The sound of it achingly sweet. He yearned to roll the word across his tongue and taste its honeyed tone, but didn't dare.

"No," she said. "No family. My father died some time ago."

"'Tis sorry, I am."

"Don't be," she said quickly. "He wasn't much of a father."

"And your mother?"

"She died when I was born."

"Then who took care of you, child?" Elspeth asked, her face pinched with sympathy.

"My grandmother, but she died when I was very little. After that it was mostly just me and my father." 130

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He stored that piece of information in his mind carefully. It was all he knew of her history and was a glimpse into how the woman came to be as she was. She'd no doubt had to learn to take care of herself and at a very young age.

"Colin's mother died when he was a lad as well," Elspeth said softly. "I dinnae think he ever quite recovered from the loss."

He managed not to flinch at the truth in his aunt's words. His mother had been loving and warm, and he missed her sorely, but he could not allow his feelings for her or his loss to show.

"So, this thing with the MacKenzies. What's the story there?" the woman asked, her voice hard once more. He wondered how much of it was intentional, now that he'd heard her speak in what he surmised to be her natural tone. What had happened in her life to make her this way?

"They've been reiving along the border. 'Tis a dreadful business," his aunt said. "I'm afraid 'tis war we'll be having. Such a waste of life. I shall ne'er understand why."

"Reiving?"

"Stealing our cattle. Douglas, Colin's father, took some men and tried tae stop them. They were outnumbered. Not all of them survived. Douglas—" Her words were choked off.

"I'm sorry, Elspeth."

"Ach, dinnae mind me. I've become such a watering pot of late," she said with a forced chuckle. His guest let out a long breath. "As much as MacLean ticks me off, I have to admit, I admire him. Taking over any command is rough enough without all the family stuff added 131

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into the mix. I guess I can't blame him for not trusting me. I know I wouldn't, if the roles were reversed." One of his brows rose sharply, but he quickly calmed his features. He may learn more of her by pretending to sleep than with his direct questions. But how did this woman know so much about his plight? She spoke as if from experience, not observation.

Her reasoning where the two captives were concerned was amazingly logical, proving her to be intelligent, but he couldn't understand how she was so keenly knowledgeable of his situation.

He restrained his growl. More cursed puzzles to add to the growing list.

"Come, lass. We'll leave Colin tae rest. Tomorrow will be another busy day, I warrant," Elspeth said. He listened to their steps, the soft shuffle of his aunt's slippers, the heavy clomp of his guest's boots. A sardonic grin stole over his lips. The woman was a paradox. But she admired him.

He found that intensely satisfying.

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"You do not look well, my friend," Ian said quietly from the bed, rousing Colin from his light rest.

He lifted his head and caught sight of the day dawning through the window. He'd stalked the keep for some time, thoughts of the woman sleeping in his mother's chamber and the other matters weighing heavily on his shoulders making him restless. Finding himself in Ian's room, he'd promptly fell into a chair by the fire.

His friend's snoring told him he would recover, despite Maighread's dire warnings, but Fergus would not. The old fool should've known better than to go after the MacKenzies. Although older by far than his father, Fergus never saw himself as anything but fit. In his last years, he continued to challenge the young men, to train them as best he could to fight, but he would never accept that he was getting old. The man thought he would live forever.

If only Colin had been there when his father needed him, when Fergus needed him. He would've made sure the old man stayed behind, and that his father had not ridden into the fray, which he was certain, he did. He, too, thought he would live forever.

Climbing to his feet, his body weary from lack of a good night's sleep and the pressing matters weighing on him, Colin said, "Fergus is dead."

A long hiss of air slipped past Ian's lips as he propped himself up in bed. "I am sorry. I shall miss him, as I know you will."

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Crossing his arms, Colin moved to the window and watched the sun gently kiss the tops of the trees. "He was an auld mon, and is no longer my concern."

"Ah, yes. Just a bit of old baggage," Ian said snidely. Colin glared back at Ian, his arms tightening over his chest. The man would goad a raging boar to make a point. Determined as always to prove Colin did indeed have a heart, contrary to what he resolutely showed the world. But he was overtired and did not wish to spar with his friend. He would grieve silently for the loss of his mentor, as he did all things of that nature. To show his true feelings would make him weak and vulnerable. He could not take such a risk. The clan needed him to be strong. But he wished, more often of late, that he could face the world as Ian did, with a smile and a laugh ... or a tear.

Dropping his hands to his sides with a sigh, he said, "The MacKenzies killed Fergus, and my father, or so it would seem. He lies on his deathbed as we speak. His mind fading as is his body."

"Good God," Ian rasped. Reaching to throw back the covers, he winced. "Have someone saddle my horse. We shall find them. They shall regret their actions."

"You're in no condition tae fight." Although he appreciated his friend's determination to do so, he wouldn't allow him to endanger himself further for his cause. The MacKenzies were his problem, and it was his duty to handle the matter.

"The hell, I'm not." Ian managed to teeter to his feet as the door flew open.

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"Have you lost your mind?" his unwanted guest said, as she stormed across the room.

Shoving at Ian's shoulders, she easily put him back into the bed, although Colin suspected she wouldn't fail to use whatever force necessary in order to have her way.

"Amelia, I am not—a—babe," Ian said, his voice broken with pain. "Although I do appreciate your attentions, welcome them in fact, I—must get out of this bed."

"You'll get out of bed when I say you can and not a second sooner. Now lie down." With a final shove, he was back against the pillows and being tucked beneath the covers. Colin covered his grin, struggling to resist the urge to chuckle.

She shot him a look over her shoulder. "This has your name written all over it."

His humor vanished. "As usual, you make little sense, woman. But tae make certain you're clear on the matter, the mon has a right tae do as he pleases. I am not his keeper." She spun around, her eyes snapping furiously. "He's got enough problems in this germ farm without you coming in here and blowing reveille. Now beat it before I toss you out on your ear." Pivoting back to Ian, she surveyed his shoulder.

"Colin, you shall not leave without me," Ian said.

"Tell that tae the harpy."

Tuck flinched slightly and her back stiffened, but she remained silent. He cursed himself for wanting to retract the insult. He had no time for female sensibilities. Ian took her busy hands from his shoulder and held them firmly against his chest. "Amelia, my sweet. I am sorry for 135

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being irritable, but I must get out of bed." He grinned with the familiar devilish gleam in his eyes that made women swoon. "Unless you wish to aid me in donning my clothes, a sight to surely bring a blush to your beautiful face, I suggest you leave."

Colin ground his teeth together. A day did not pass that the man failed to do his best to seduce some unwitting female. And yet the woman before him was far too intelligent to fall under his charms, or was she?

He growled softly. What did he care what the woman did?

She was an exasperating female who refused to keep to her place!

"I'm not going anywhere, buster," she said. "Now, give me back my hands before I have to hurt you." Ian chuckled. "Amelia, you are a treasure."

"Whatever. Look, I don't know where Sasquatch is going, but you aren't going with him. You've been lucky so far. No fever or infection, but I'm not taking any chances. Got it?" Ian's smile faded as his gaze met Colin's. "Will you wait? I wish to be at your back, my friend. As always."

"Aye. There is still much planning tae be done. I will not make the same mistake as my father and have my head bashed in."

The woman's head snapped around, her brow pinched. They exchanged a long unsettling look before he turned and left Ian to her care, but he couldn't remove her puzzled frown from his mind. Was she curious or concerned?

The answer shouldn't matter, but then he shouldn't have asked himself the question in the first place. She was a 136

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dangerous distraction. One he feared would grow and fester with time. Whoever she was, she had to leave, yet he couldn't bring it upon himself to cast her out.

He had no proof of her working with the two men in the dungeon, more proof to the contrary in fact, and yet he was afraid. But was he afraid of her or for her?

* * * *

"What was that all about?" Tuck shook her head and busied herself with changing Ian's bandages. "No, never mind. I don't want to know." She didn't want to get any more involved with these people than she already had. Ian took a laborious breath, but she could see he was much better, despite his attempts to get out of bed. Another few days on his back and some good food, he'd be back to his usual roguish self. If she could keep the locals from screwing up her work.

Pulling his gaze from the closed door, his worried frown turned up devilishly. "You're sweet to worry over me, dear heart. I shall treasure these moments immensely." She smirked. "Would you cut the sweet talk? You're wasting it on me. Why don't you aim it at Maighread? I'm sure she'd be happy to oblige you, batting her lashes, sighing, and all that stuff." She kept from biting her lip. Why had she said that?

"Amelia, my love, there is no other to compare to you. And Maighread has set her heart on Colin. The girl won't so much as look at another man."

She chuckled. "Struck out, huh?" 137

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He frowned. "If you mean, did I fail to win her affection, you are correct." He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "I remember the sting of her hand quite distinctly." With a snort, Tuck tied off his new bandages then adjusted the covers.

"'Tis not a laughing matter." He grabbed her hands and pressed them to his chest. "But you, Amelia, would never be so cruel."

She sighed softly. "Ian, you're a nice guy. I like you, but I'm just not interested."

He eyed her suspiciously for several moments. "Ah, I see," he said with a weighty sigh, releasing her hands. "You have already chosen between us. Pity. I was so looking forward to courting you."

Ignoring his comment, she concentrated on straightening every wrinkle in the covers. "You can't keep trying to get out of bed. You'll pull the stitches and you'll never heal. Not to mention it might bring on infection. And would you please stop calling me Amelia. It's Tuck, remember?" He clasped her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers.

"Fear not, my sweet. I shall not utter a word about your feelings for Colin, but you should know that he will not be an easy triumph."

She met his steady gaze, successfully burying any silly notions that had seeped into her demented brain about Colin MacLean. "I don't know what you're talking about." He smiled, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "You are a very skilled liar, my sweet. But never fear, I shall keep my vow." 138

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Tuck blew a frustrated breath at a lock of curls determined to tease her brow. "I've got to get out of here," she muttered.

"And where would you go? Home? Back to, what was it, the U.S.?"

She placed her good hand on his to lift it off her sore wrist.

"Close enough."

"Wait. What have you done, dear heart?" He gently lifted her bound wrist and examined it closely. "Who has done this to you?" His bright blue eyes flared as he sat up abruptly in bed. "Did one of the men—did Colin—"

"Whoa there, hotshot," she said, pressing against him.

"Nobody did this to me. I did it myself. Now lie down."

"You are certain? There is no one I must kill?" She chuckled. "No. No one needs to die today." Amazing. Such a show of indignation on her part and even against his best friend. She couldn't remember anyone ever bestowing such an honor on her before. This chivalry stuff was pretty good for what ailed a girl.

"Then I shall lie here and bask in your beauty," he said, and pressed his lips to her injured hand with the gentlest of kisses. His touch was almost as gentle as Colin's when he bound it.