Highlander's Redemption: The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy, Book Two (15 page)

Garrick began to
argue with her, but Burke held up a hand, cocking his head to the side to
indicate that she should go on.

“Most importantly,
though, the Bruce’s camp is the place where my skills would be needed the
most,” she said firmly.

“But why would you
want to help the Scottish rebellion?” Garrick said sharply. He took a breath
and went on in a slightly gentler tone. “I know that your brother was cruel to
you and didn’t allow you to practice your healing art, so I understand why you
wouldn’t want to go back to living under his control. But you are English.”

She caught the
implication behind his words and lowered her eyes, hurt that he would question
her motives just because of her nationality.

“The country of
one’s birth doesn’t always align with one’s true home,” she said quietly. “As
I’ve told you before, ever since we moved to the Borderlands, I have felt
an…affinity with Scotland and its people. I understand the desire for freedom,
and I think everyone should have a chance to live as they choose without being
crushed under a more powerful force.”

She willed herself
to meet his eyes again. His gray eyes were stormy, but she didn’t drop her
gaze, trying to show him that she wouldn’t be deterred.

“I want to help
with the cause for independence, and the best way I know how to do that is by
healing those who are sick or injured. What better place to help the ill and
wounded than within an army?”

“She makes an
excellent point, Garrick,” Burke said cautiously. Garrick cursed quietly and
ran a hand through his hair, searching the sky for answers. But Jossalyn didn’t
want to give him a chance to formulate another objection. She had one more
arrow in her quiver.

“You said before
that I saved your life, Burke. Well, you both saved
my
life. I doubt I
could have survived much longer under my brother’s rule. Consider us even—a
life for a life. Now I am going to go find Robert the Bruce’s secret camp and
offer my healing skills to him and his army. You can either help me find him,
or at least take me farther north, or you can go on without me and I’ll travel northward
alone.”

Burke and Garrick
exchanged a laden look. They seemed to be communicating silently with each
other again, so she waited, folding her hands in her lap. She was proud of
herself for saying her piece and not backing down, even in the face of
Garrick’s fierce glare.

Finally, Garrick
spoke, though he sounded weary. “As I said before, we will head due east for a
day’s worth of travel before heading north.” He turned and began to walk toward
where he had hidden the horses, apparently ending the conversation.

“Does that mean I’m
going with you?” Jossalyn said, glancing back and forth between the two men.

“Aye, lass, it
does,” Burke said, a tired smile on his face.

“But we can’t
leave right now,” she said, suddenly alarmed.

“Why not?” Garrick
said irritably, turning on his heels back toward her.

“Burke needs more
time to rest and regain his strength,” she said firmly. “You can’t expect him
to simply jump on a horse again after two days of battling a fever and
infection.”

Though Burke began
to protest that he was fine, she crossed her arms over her chest resolutely.

Garrick sighed,
then surprised her by saying “The lass is right. We could all use a bit more
rest. Besides, we haven’t had more than dried meat and hardtack for days.” He
glanced up at the sky, gaging the position of the morning sun. “We can rest for
the day, then travel at night. I’d guess that Warren and his men are well to
the northwest of us now, but we stand a better chance of going unseen at night
anyway.”

Though he had just
said that they should rest, Jossalyn felt a surge of excitement and energy
course through her. “I’ll prepare you another bandage and some tea, Burke,” she
said, jumping to her feet.

Burke’s eyes
suddenly locked on her hair, and he stood up next to her, still keeping most of
his weight on his good leg. “Is that a leaf in your hair, lass?” he said,
drawing away a green leaf from her tresses, which had completely come undone
from her braid last night as she and Garrick had been—

She could feel
Burke’s eyes boring into her, though she kept her gaze on her feet, afraid that
her face would give something away. Nevertheless, she could feel the heat
rising to her cheeks under his scrutiny.

“Why were you both
down at the creek when I awoke?” he said carefully, shifting his gaze to
Garrick, who coughed but managed to answer. “We were fetching some water. For
tea. For you,” he said haltingly.

Burke glanced
around their small camp, then said pointedly back to Garrick, “Funny. I don’t
see any water.”

“We forgot the
waterskin. I’ll go get it now,” Garrick answered quickly, turning away so that
he wouldn’t have to answer any more of Burke’s suspicious questions. Jossalyn,
unfortunately, didn’t have any such errand to escape Burke’s gaze. He turned
back to her, one eyebrow raised.

“Be careful,
lass,” he said quietly. “Garrick is dangerous, and I don’t just mean with a
bow. He cares about his work above all else, and he fancies himself a villain
because of it. He may need more healing than even you could manage.”

She opened her
mouth, fumbling for words to deny Burke’s implied assumption about Garrick and
her relationship, or to argue against Garrick’s self-imposed label as a bad man,
but she couldn’t manage to formulate anything that didn’t smack of
defensiveness or outright blindness. Finally, she closed her mouth and only
nodded.

The three of them
passed the day in near-silence. Garrick returned with water, and as he built a
fire, Jossalyn went about preparing fresh bandages and tea for Burke. Though
insistent that he was fine, Burke stayed seated as much as possible, and looked
more tired than usual. At one point, Garrick disappeared for about an hour, but
when he returned he had a rabbit and several wild carrots and onions in his
hands, his bow and quiver slung over one shoulder. They made a simple stew over
the fire, and the food seemed to revitalize Burke somewhat. Eventually, though,
he crawled back into his shelter and slept a few more hours in the afternoon.

“You should do the
same,” Garrick said, indicating toward Burke’s prone form inside his shelter.

This was the first
time they had been alone and able to talk since earlier that morning when they
had woken in each other’s arms. The memory caused Jossalyn to blush, but she
didn’t want to launch into a discussion of all that had passed between them
right now. She had said the most important part of her goal already—to join the
Scottish rebellion. She felt weary at the prospect of another battle with
Garrick, especially if it would be a battle in which they were on opposite
sides of the issue of their feelings for each other.

So instead of
talking more, she only nodded and headed toward her shelter. She still had one
of Garrick’s plaids, which she had been using as a pillow. Once she had laid
her head down on it and closed her eyes, though, his masculine scent, faint but
lingering, invaded her senses. Strangely, she found it comforting. She let the
scent envelope her as she drifted off to sleep for a few short hours before
their journey would continue.

Garrick knew that
he needed sleep too. They were going to travel through the night, and he had
been restless the night before. But he had even more to chew on now than he had
last night.

On top of the
impossible bind he found himself in, both wanting Jossalyn more than anything
and knowing that he couldn’t have her, now he was going to take her with him to
the Bruce’s camp.

This was exactly
what he had been trying to avoid. It put her in too much danger to be so close
to the wars and battles in the middle of which he always found himself. She had
made a compelling case, but it didn’t stop him from doubting the sanity of
bringing an English lady—and Raef Warren’s sister, no less—right into the
middle of the Bruce’s resistance operation.

For one thing, he
still had lingering doubts about her allegiance. He hated himself for being so
suspicious and untrusting, but thinking the worst of people—nay, thinking
realistically—had saved his life more than once. He believed that she
identified with Scotland’s struggle for freedom, and that she wanted to be in a
place where her healing gift would help the most number of people. But the
memory of her grabbing his arrow just as he was about to shoot Warren still
chaffed. If push came to shove, would she side with her brother, or with the
Scots?

Even assuming that
she would be loyal to them, there was the problem of the Bruce’s men
themselves. Garrick doubted that they would trust her, especially if they knew
who she was related to. If they didn’t accept her into the camp, she would be
in more danger that she was now. They could turn on her, or simply let it be
known that an English healer lass was in their presence. Word would get back to
Warren eventually, Garrick was sure of it.

The one glimmer of
hope he allowed himself to indulge in was the thought of her being in the
Bruce’s camp with him. It meant that instead of days, they might have weeks
together—until the Bruce sent him on another secret mission.

But would having
more time in each other’s presence only make things harder on both of them? A
small part of him had hoped that by sating their lust for each other last
night, the razor-sharp passion between them would be dulled. He would have
scratched an itch that was long overdue, given the fact that he hadn’t been in
the company of a lass in a long while. And she would have gotten to explore her
newfound sexual desires with someone who wouldn’t take her virginity. That
could have been it.

But he knew such a
possibility was a long-shot to begin with. He hadn’t been terribly surprised
when his desire for her hadn’t been blunted at all by their encounter.

What he hadn’t
anticipated was that his longing for her, body and mind, would redouble in
force. He wanted her more than ever before, the memory of her body writhing in
pleasure, his name on her lips, her hand touching his—Christ, he had to keep
his mind on track.

That was precisely
the problem. With Jossalyn around the Bruce’s camp, Garrick didn’t fully trust
himself to be able to think clearly, let alone act as one of the Bruce’s top
advisors and warriors. And what would happen once he was sent off on another
mission? He would be forced to leave Jossalyn, the most beautiful, tantalizing,
enthralling woman he had ever met, in the middle of a camp filled with randy
and virile Scottish warriors. He forced himself to release his jaw, which had
clenched at the mere thought.

He should just be
grateful that he had gotten to spend any time with her at all, he reminded
himself. He was a lucky and undeserving bastard. Perhaps instead of worrying
about the future, he should just enjoy what he had while he had it.

With that thought,
he hunkered down on the ground in front of the dying fire. The sun was already
sloping toward afternoon. He had a few hours left to sleep before they would
start the next leg of their journey northward. He might as well enjoy the
dreams of Jossalyn that were sure to lace his sleep.

Jossalyn woke to a
little shake of her shoulder. She tried to ignore it and reenter her dream,
which had involved Garrick’s hands, lips, and tongue, but the soft shake came
again. She muttered and turned away from the hand on her shoulder, only to hear
a faint chuckle behind her. Garrick’s husky laugh sent a thrill through her,
blending her sensual dream with an image of his smiling face in her foggy,
half-awake brain.

“You are fussier
than an old cat, lass.”

She jerked
upright, fully awake now.

“I’ve let you
sleep as long as I can, but the sun has set and Burke and the horses are ready.
It’s time to head out.”

The teasing
lingered in his voice at first, but then he turned into the serious warrior she
was becoming familiar with. He was leaning into her shelter, the warmth of his
body invading the small space.

Despite her
excitement to be headed toward Robert the Bruce’s secret camp, she felt
obligated to say, “I still think it is too soon for Burke to travel.”

“I think he and I
will both go stir-crazy if we are pinned down like a fox in its den with your
brother and his men sweeping the area,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded and
picked up his plaid, which she had been sleeping on, and extended it toward
him.

“Nay, keep it,
lass,” he said quietly. “You can use it tonight as we ride if you need to. The
nights have been cool.”

She averted her
eyes, remembering how warm the previous night had been when she was pressed
against him and tucked snuggly under his plaid. He retreated out of the shelter
and she followed, hoping her cheeks weren’t as bright red as the Sinclair
colors in her hand.

Just as Garrick
had said, everything was ready for their departure. The air was the pale blue
of early twilight, but she could make out Burke standing next to his horse,
leaning his weight on one leg. Garrick helped boost him into the saddle, and
Burke managed to swing his leg over his horse, grunting slightly. Then Garrick
mounted his own horse and guided the animal over to where she stood.

He extended a hand
to her, which she took, and was immediately lifted into the air. Garrick pulled
her in front of him so that she was straddling his horse, her back and bottom
plastered to his front. The position was familiar to her now, but it
nevertheless sent a shiver of heat through her.

As he nudged his
horse forward, reining it eastward, she took a quick look back over her
shoulder at their temporary camp. No trace of their presence remained. It was
odd, she thought, because she would never forget this spot for as long as she
lived.

It was where she
had decided to join the Scottish rebellion.

It was where she
had shared her body with Garrick, their pleasure intertwining next to that
slow-moving creek.

It was where she
had come alive.

She turned her
head forward again, ready to meet her future.