Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (8 page)

Several days into the trip, Jillian woke and shared with the
others a breakfast of dry oatcakes, apples, and cheese.
Ugh. Again
.
Stephen passed around a skin of heather ale. Afterward, as Jillian packed the
saddlebags, Keita tugged on her skirt. She peered down at the little girl.
“What is it, sweet pea?”

The child stared bug-eyed as if astonished by the
endearment, and then smiled. “I want to ride with Duff.”

Jillian glanced at Stephen. He gave an abrupt nod then
returned to adjusting the horse’s tack. He’d been acting differently toward her
since they’d left the caves. He’d not shared the warmth of the bedroll at
night, preferring to sleep enwrapped by his plaid while keeping watch with
Duff. She’d offered to take a turn at guard duty, but repeatedly Stephen shooed
her away, telling her to take her rest with Keita.

Perhaps he found traveling with her and the children a
burden. She sighed and returned her attention to Keita. “Sure. You can ride
with Duff for a while.”

The delighted girl spun in a circle, skirt swirling around
her ankles, and skipped to Stephen.

He lifted the child onto the boy’s horse as if she weighed
less than a feather. Stephen seemed to be growing stronger daily. Thank
goodness he no longer needed the crutch and only showed a trace of a limp when
walking. The speed of his healing truly amazed Jillian. Made her a believer in
faerie magic.

As he passed, he leaned in close. “Keep an eye on her. When
she tires, one of us can take her on our horse.”

“Of course.” Did he think Jillian wouldn’t watch after the
children?
Cripes
. She was beginning to feel cranky.

He helped her mount, though not as familiarly as on previous
occasions, then mounted his stallion, and they reined the horses out of the
small clearing onto an overgrown game trail. With her skirt bunched up for
riding astride, brush and twigs tugged at and caught on her exposed woolen
stockings. Seemed like every dozen feet, or so, she needed to halt and detangle
the wool cloth from a bramble.

After an hour or so, they entered a broader trail. The
earthy smell of fallen leaves reminded Jillian of home, of the Blue Ridge
Mountains and the trails surrounding the garden center. Would she ever find her
way back to
Foxgloves
? She could only hope.

For the moment, her future was in Stephen’s hands.

Several hours passed before they broke free of the forest.
The noonday sun warmed her shoulders. They climbed a hillside with a scattering
of cheerful yellow blooms.

“Lovely, is it not?” Stephen said.

Jillian jerked a surprised gaze in his direction. They were the
first words he’d uttered since leaving camp this morning. Maybe he felt cranky,
too.

“Yes, I’m surprised to see gorse in bloom this late in the
year.”

“Always some in flower. My ma used to say, when the gorse is
in bloom, ’tis kissin’ season.” He laughed and his blue eyes twinkled. “You
should see the golden hillsides near Castle Lachlan in springtime.”

She stared at his lips, wanting to kiss that sexy mouth. But
then she glanced away. Hopefully, she’d be home in North Carolina way before
spring.

“I will miss you, lass,” he said as if reading her thoughts.

She twisted toward him. “You will?”

“Aye,” he said, gravely. The horses had slowed and Jillian
tried to read the emotion in his eyes, getting lost in their depths. She would
miss him, too. More than she wanted to admit. Perhaps, if only he—

The children rode up and shattered the moment. “We are
hungry.”

Jillian shook her head. She shouldn’t consider staying.

“Then we better feed you, aye?” Stephen said, as if he
hadn’t just sent her world off axis and into a wobble. Could Stephen possibly
want her to stay?

After dismounting, Jillian spread one of the plaids on the
hillside in the sunshine, craving warmth. Stephen dropped beside her. Keita
chased Duff over the hill, burning off excess energy.

“Meant what I said earlier,” Stephen said. “I will miss
you.”

Jillian lifted her face to the sun, feeling awkward. “I
don’t know what to say.”

“There is nae need to say anything.” He squeezed her upper
arm. “Just wanted you to ken it has been my greatest joy meeting you. I wish
you well in your future place.”

What was he saying? Or, what was he not saying? She bit her
bottom lip. Did he want her to stay here in the past with him, but feared
asking? She couldn’t stay. Could she?

“What if I can’t return to my own time?”

“Nae worries. You will.”

“What makes you so certain?”

He shrugged. Maybe he wasn’t convinced at all.

What would happen to her if she were stuck here in the past?
Would Stephen marry her? He hadn’t declared his love. He said he’d miss her.
Like a friend?

There was so much she liked about him. He was sexy as all
get out, yet there was so much more to the man. He treated her and the children
with gentle consideration. He’d taken them under his wing even though they were
not his responsibility. She loved his honesty.

Did she love him? She was beginning to believe so. Or was
that just her being needy?

If she was stuck here and he didn’t want to marry her, what
would she do? She’d perish on her own without a way of earning a living. How
could she possibly take care of herself?

Keita ran toward them, jounced on the blanket, and handed
over a small bunch of golden flowers, drawing her attention away from Stephen
and her jumbled thoughts. Jillian inhaled the blooms’ coconut-like scent
careful of the prickly stems. “Thank you, sweet pea.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because I think you’re a sweet little girl.”

Keita beamed, leaned forward and kissed Jillian’s cheek, and
then dashed off after Duff again. The child was such a dear one. Jillian
glanced at Stephen. Major creases lined his forehead.

What was he doing? Stephen scrubbed a hand over his face.
Why hadn’t he kept his thoughts to himself? Kept his mouth shut? Kept a
distance? He shouldn’t encourage any sort of special accord betwixt him and
Jillian, as much as he wanted to do just that. ’Twould be unfair to lead her to
believe he could offer her more than…

More than what? He had naught to give.

A tumble in the heather? She deserved more than that.

He leapt from the blanket, strode to the horses, and made
busy loading their saddlebags. He needed to remember he was obligated to
another. And though he wasn’t happy with that circumstance, he couldn’t
dishonor his vow and lay with Jillian as he wanted. It would be wrong.

She sidled up beside him and grasped his hand, making
everything within him still. “As much as I don’t understand how or why I came
to be here. I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet you and the children. Thank
you for helping me.”

She’d lumped him in with the children. Did she not have
deeper feelings for him?

“I can do naught else.” And wasn’t that true?

“I wish I could stay and spend time getting to know you
better. But…I don’t belong here.”

He swallowed hard. It was only right she’d want to leave.
“Let us be on our way so we can get you back where you do belong.”

She nodded. They mounted and rode on in silence. The
children started to bicker and before long, Keita once again rode with Jillian.

When they came upon a small glen with a
burn
running
through it, they stopped for the night. After setting camp and eating, he put
Jillian through her paces, making her practice throwing the knife. She’d made
progress, hitting the target one out of every three throws. Not as good as she
might need to be, but a marked improvement, and better than he had hoped after
such a short time.

“Hope this is a waste of time,” she said. “I don’t want to
need to use the knives.”

“I ken. Slit the bottoms of the pockets in your skirt. Then
lift the skirt and strap a knife to each thigh.”

She raised her brows. “Why?”

“You need to have them within easy grasp.”

She did as instructed then eyed him suspiciously.

She read him well. “’Tis time to teach you how to protect
yourself if you are physically attacked.”

“I won’t need to face that. Will I?”

“Not if I am able to protect you. However, there are many
dangers in this time. Remember, if things turn ugly, if I cannot come to your
aid and you need to fight hand to hand, expect to get cut. Ignore the pain.
Keep fighting. Your objective is to make the bastard bleed. Slow him down.”

Her beautiful face scrunched up with a deep frown. He hated
that he’d caused her distress.

Stephen hugged her. He knew immediately ’twas a mistake.
Made him want so much more—a future with Jillian.

He stepped away. Cleared a suddenly parched throat. “I ken
you dinnae want to stab anyone, but your life may depend on it. May I attack
you?”

* * *

Bored beyond measure, Caitrina massaged aching shoulders.
She repositioned her weight on the limb and released a heavy, though silent
sigh. What were the
bairns
doing for so long in their hidey-hole?
Gloating over their treasure like a dragon with its horde? How long did Maclay
plan to wait?

Another hour passed. The sun crept over the horizon, shades
of vermillion painting the sky. Soon ’twould be dark. She could barely remain
still. Her knee jounced. Fingers tapped.

Maclay scratched the back of his neck, glanced around as if
he sensed her presence. She placed her thumbs in her ears and waved her fingers
at him. Stuck out her tongue and blew soundless raspberries in his direction.
Ha! He couldn’t hear or see her; she remained invisible.

They were both distracted when the lads popped out of the
thicket and darted away through the trees. With a frustrated growl, Maclay
dropped to a lower branch then jumped to the ground, springing into a full-out
run as he dashed after the children.

Caitrina laughed. The
bairns
were good at evading
grownups. He didn’t stand a chance at catching them.

She lowered to the leaf covered ground and stole to the
thicket. Oonagh’s strong magic skittered over her skin. There was no need to
fear Maclay would find what was hidden.

Jillian’s stuff from the future would remain safe.

Caitrina vanished into the evening breeze and traveled to
Strathlachlan and the
Sithichean Sluaigh
to await Stephen and Jillian’s
arrival.

They traveled for several days and set camp late each
afternoon. Exhaustion taking its toll, Jillian fell into a deep sleep along
with the children after a meal of freshly caught trout. Loud voices roused her
to semi-consciousness. She tried to shake off the cobwebs of slumber, sensing a
strong need to wake up. Something pinged her cheek. Then again. She brushed a
hand over her face and over the blanket. Pebbles? There were tiny round stones
on the bedding.

Was she dreaming? Disoriented, she jerked her eyes open.
Early morning light filtered through the mist. Panic set in when she realized
the children were gone from the bedroll and the fervent voices belonged to
angry men.

She rolled to the side and froze in place. Eyes wide, she
focused on the four men near the cold fire ring. A man with a badly scarred
face brandished a claymore, pointing the darn sword at Stephen while two other
men held him by the arms. Stephen’s desperate thrashing did little to throw off
the men. He stilled, glare leveled at the man with the blade.

“Ach, now, MacEwen, how does it feel to be a member of the
high and mighty Clan MacLachlan? My prisoner?” The scarred man’s bark carried
on the moist air to where Jillian pretended to sleep.

“What are you after, Maclay?” Stephen’s voice held a
chilling calm.

Maclay
? Shit! This was the ruthless man they sought
to avoid.

“I plan to take your lass to replace the one Patrick stole
from me.”

Jillian’s gasp blended with the noise the men made and went
unheard. Thank God.

“Lady Laurie never belonged to you. You kidnapped her,”
Stephen retorted.

“I was supposed to wed Lady Laurie. Patrick was to wed Lady
Isobell. You cursed MacLachlans got them both.”

“You ken verra well Patrick never agreed to that
arrangement. Be off with you. Leave us in peace.”

The scarred man’s howling laugh made the hairs on Jillian’s
arms rise. She needed to do something to help Stephen. But what? She was
powerless against three armed men. Fortunately, they seemed to believe she
remained sleeping. Or perhaps didn’t consider her a threat.

“Your time is at an end, MacEwen. The lady from faerieland
is mine.”

“Faerieland? You make nae sense.”

“Oh, aye, I do. My men followed Isobell to the
Sithichean
Sluaigh
and watched her disappear. I saw Archibald vanish from the same
spot with my own eyes. I ken the knoll is a passageway to faerieland.”

“Then use it and go there,” Stephen spat.

“I cannot.” Maclay precariously waved the sword as he spoke.
“The magic will not work for me. I need the lass to show me the way.”

“What makes you think she can take you?”

“She is like Lady Laurie. I ken Patrick traveled to the
other side with his wife.”

“You are a fool. They live in France.”

“You lie. All MacLachlans lie. They went to faerieland and
so shall I with the help of that lass.” The four men stared in her direction.

Jillian snapped her eyes shut, feigning sleep, sneaking a
peek from beneath her lashes.

“Mighty comely lass. Methinks to have my way with her first.
Perhaps I will let you watch.”

“Ye promised to share,” blurted one of the men holding
Stephen.”

“Aye. I will.” The scarred man leered, upper lip curled.

A shiver of fear shot through Jillian and she swallowed
uneasily. How would they get out of this mess? Adrenaline surged in her veins.
She needed to do something. But what?

Stephen struggled against the arms holding him. They held
firm. “Why would she help you after you abused her?”

“To keep you alive.” The man’s spittle spattered Stephen’s
shirt.

Stephen didn’t flinch. He locked gazes with Jillian, sending
her strength. She knew he’d protect her with his last breath. Jillian must do
the same for him.

The man with the sword lunged forward, blade pointed at
Stephen. Jillian reacted without thought as Stephen had taught her. She grasped
one of the knives from its sheath on her thigh and threw, grabbed the second
and threw. The first blade embedded in the scarred man’s forearm. He howled and
pulled out the blade, tossing it on the ground. Blood flowed down his wrist,
covering the sword hilt gripped in his hand. The second knife hit one of
Stephen’s captors in the belly. He doubled over then fell to the ground. His
body convulsed then stilled.

Stephen took advantage of the disruption and threw off the
remaining man holding him, rolled over the ground, and secured his claymore.

The scarred man and the uninjured man melted into the trees
and disappeared.

“
Life or death!
” Stephen bellowed and ran into the
woods after them. The oath sounded very much like a war cry.

Jillian scrambled to her knees. The man on the ground
clutched his stomach, eyes wide with shock. Blood oozed from his mouth and he
made funny gurgling sounds. Ohmigod! She’d done that. Probably killed the man.

She crawled to the edge of the clearing and vomited. Once
the nausea passed, she brushed hair away from a sweaty face with trembling
fingers and scanned the camp. Where the hell were the children?

Stephen returned, tossed aside his sword, and lifted her to
her feet. He wrapped her in a bear hug of an embrace. She could feel the rapid
beat of his heart keeping time with hers.

“I am so verra sorry. Sorry you needed to do that.” His palm
cradled the back of her head.

“What about the man on the ground? Is there something we can
do for him?”

“Aye.” Stephen released her and slashed the man’s throat.
“May his soul rot in hell.”

A rush of nausea hit Jillian and she retched again.

“My poor lass.” Stephen wet a small cloth from a flask and
wiped her face and her neck, his touch gentle. He offered the flask. “Here.
Take a small sip and rinse the foul taste from your mouth.”

She did as told and attempted a weak smile.

He held her close. “There, there. We only did what needed to
be done.”

Jillian sobbed into his chest. He hugged her shaking body.
Rubbed her back. Kissed the top of her head. She took comfort in his strength.

On a hiccup, she murmured her fear into his chest.

“What? I did not hear you.”

“The children are missing,” she repeated.

“I ken.”

She leaned back and searched his gaze.

“They snuck away into the wood as soon as the men showed
themselves. Maclay did not care about the
bairns
. He let them go.”

“I don’t think they left right away. I think they threw
pebbles at me first to rouse me from sleep.”

Stephen smiled. “They are resourceful.”

She sniffled. Glad the children woke her. Glad they hadn’t
stuck around. Glad they hadn’t witnessed what she’d done.

“Why did the men run off?” she asked.

“They ken I am the better fighter.”

“Even with your bad leg?”

“They dinnae ken I was injured.” He released her from his
secure embrace. “We better break camp and go into hiding for a wee while.”

Jillian felt lost without the comfort of his arms. Taking
the flask of water, she gargled and thoroughly washed the awful taste from her
mouth. Ugh. Toothpaste or a mint would be great right about now. She started to
pack, but the dead man still lay there on the ground, watching her through
sightless eyes. She burst into tears.

“Turn away, lass. I will drag the body into the brush so you
will not need to look at it.”

“Shouldn’t we bury him?”

“Nae. Let the scavengers have him. He deserves nae better.”

She swallowed hard and continued to pack. Stephen returned
with a pronounced limp.

“Are you okay?”

“A minor setback. Stiff is all.” He stepped close. “I will
be fine. Here, let me help.”

Jillian handed him the bedroll to tie onto one of the
horses. “Why did they attack us?”

“Maclay wants you. And wants me dead.”

“But why?”

“Revenge against Patrick. Maclay also seems to believe you
are from faerieland. Mayhap, he thinks you are a faerie.” He smiled, trying to
make light of the situation.

“I heard him. He wanted to rape me.”

“Dinnae think of it.”

She knew Stephen was trying to ease her mind, but it wasn’t
working. “What are we going to do? How will we find the children?”

“Each night, Duff and I agree on a nearby place of safety.
He took Keita to some caves not far from here. We will head there and regroup.
Perhaps remain a day or two. Hopefully, Maclay will think we moved on and
search for us farther abroad. Though I doubt we have seen the last of him. We
will need to be more vigilant.” He embraced her again. “You saved my life.”

“I was so frightened.” She hugged him back. “I thought they
were going to kill you.”

“They would have.” Stephan ran a palm over the curve of her
face, and she melted into the caress. “Your throws were well done. I am proud
of you.”

Acid burned Jillian’s stomach, anxiety replacing the false
moment of calm. She didn’t want to think about what she’d been forced to do.
Being in the past was no longer fun. She wanted to go home. Now.

They broke apart. Stephen had cleaned her blades and he held
them out. Her hands shook, and she closed her eyes.

“Take them,” he said, softly.

Jillian bit her lip. She didn’t want to touch the knives,
but finally took the pair and returned them to the sheaths strapped to her
thighs. They finished loading the horses and mounted. Before they left the
clearing, Jillian reined her roan mare next to Stephen’s stallion. “Do we truly
need to go into hiding? Couldn’t we make a run for it? Hurry to the place where
you think I can travel home from? I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

“Trust me.” He patted her thigh. “I vow to keep you safe.”

And he would, by the Saints. Stephen wouldn’t let Maclay get
hold of Jillian. The bastard would destroy the goodness within her. Hurt her
for his pleasure. She meant more to Stephen than did his handfasted wife. His
honor felt tarnished by the admission, but the truth was the truth. He wouldn’t
lie to himself.

He tensed his jaw. When they reached the caves, he planned
to commit a sin of the flesh. Being near to death a couple of times, add the
risk of nearly losing the one he loved, well, ach, the fear was enough to make
a man rethink his convictions.

He stole glances at Jillian as they rode. They got twisted
around a few times, searching for the caves Duff had described. Not a bad thing.
The crossed tracks would confuse anyone following them.

A light snow began to fall. That, too, would help hide their
tracks.

Although the caves were well hidden, the mouth easily
handled the horses’ height. He and Jillian dismounted and led the animals
through the opening. A large hollow carved into a side wall proved perfect for
securing the beasts out of the bad weather.

After making a torch and lighting it, he and Jillian
explored the few inner chambers, holding hands. Felt right to guide her in such
a personal manner. Especially considering the decision he’d made.

“The children aren’t here. Do you think Maclay caught them?”
Jillian scraped pearly white teeth over her bottom lip.

His body hardened in reaction. He wanted to plant a kiss on
those sweet lips. “What?”

“The children?”

“The
bairns
ken the woods better than most. They are
used to running free. Mayhap they have grown tired of traveling with us.”

Her eyes misted.

He squeezed her fingers. “I am sure they will come to us
again.”

Upon returning to the horses, they unloaded the saddlebags,
brushing against each other in the process. His body awakened, stiffened with
each touch. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms. Make slow, passionate
love to her. Sleep with her at his side. He hoped the children stayed away, at
least through the afternoon.

He slung the bag with the food over a shoulder. “Bring the
bedroll, we will find a dry spot to rest and eat. You must be famished. I am.”

He was hungry. Just not for food.

Stephen led Jillian deeper into the caves with only one
thought in mind. He needed the feel of her body against his. Proof they both
still lived.

They selected a chamber where a previous cave visitor had
constructed a stone fire ring and left behind a pile of dry wood. While Jillian
rolled out the bedding, he lit a wee blaze, the smoke escaping through a narrow
fissure in the ceiling. He removed his
plaide
, and after they sat,
spread the wool cloth over their laps.

He offered a cold oatcake, but she shook her head. “Not
hungry.”

What happened at camp this morning must still have her
upset. “Perhaps some ale?”

She gifted him a tentative smile and accepted the skin. A
long pull made her choke.

“Easy, lass.” He slapped her back. “Not so fast.”

“I’m fine. The ale went down my Sunday throat, is all.”

She took a slower sip then handed him the skin. His brow
tightened in confusion. “Dinnae understand.”

“That was sort of a saying my father used to repeat when I
drank too fast and inhaled the liquid instead of swallowing. As if it went down
another throat and made me choke, a throat only used on the Sabbath. He could
say it on any day but Sunday.” She smiled for real this time.

His chest tightened. He couldn’t wait any longer. Stephen
leaned forward and, with the lightest of touches, pressed a kiss to her mouth.
Soft brown eyes flared, gold specks sparkling, then closed as his lips
continued to caress. He sucked on her bottom lip and caught a sensual moan.
Wrapping her in a gentle embrace, he slid her onto his lap.

“Jillian, I wish to do more than kiss you, if you will
permit.” Her eyes fluttered open. The tenderest of moments. He kenned the
answer without her speaking.