Tess and the Highlander (6 page)

Tess could only remember bits and pieces of her lost
family, but what she could recall she had never revealed. She knew
Charlotte and Garth always assumed that most of her family had died
in the same shipwreck that had placed her on their island. But the
knowledge that there might be others who wanted her back had made
the couple hide her away any time a fishermen or sailors or
pilgrims appeared on the rocky shore.

She knew she had been a welcome addition in their
lives. To be sure, they had been a godsend for her. And she missed
them.

The Highlander made a noise in his sleep. Tess sat
up and watched him across the way. Restless. Tonight, the two of
them had argued more than they’d talked during their meal of smoked
fish and dried bannock bread. He was so full of questions about who
she was and who her parents were and what she was doing on this
island. Tess had taken great enjoyment out of continually changing
the topic and turning the questions back on himself. Naturally, he
wouldn’t answer anything unless she did. Alternately funny and
angry, Colin had been entirely attentive to every word she said and
every movement she made. So they had gone round and round, and
she’d enjoyed every minute.

Tess tucked her knees against her chest and admired
the glow of the fire reflecting off the handsome planes of his
face. He was not like any of the sailors or pilgrims from the
Highlands that she had spied on over the years. He was not loud or
rude. And he had not tried to handle her with any of the roughness
that Charlotte had warned her of.

As Tess considered him, Colin murmured something
aloud in his sleep. She scrambled from her bedding and stood
watching him move his head from side to side. He was struggling
against something in his dream.

“STOP!”

She moved quickly to his side. He was still asleep,
but his face was covered with sweat, and he continued to thrash
about. His arms and legs were moving, too, as he struggled. Tess
crouched down and placed a hand on his brow, wondering for a moment
if he had caught a fever.

His blue eyes opened instantly. She immediately drew
her hand back, but stayed where she was.

“I think…you were having a nightmare.”

He blinked a few times, trying to clear his
head.

“I
died
in my dream.” His voice was raspy and
hoarse. “I have never before died in my dreams.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at her
heart.

“Have no fear. You’ll live a long and full life. The
sea cast you up, so your life thread is that much stronger.” She
used the corner of the blanket and ran it gently over his brow and
wiped his face. She brushed back his hair. He still had the dazed
look of one who hovered halfway between sleep and waking. “That’s
what Charlotte used to tell me when I would have bad dreams.”

When she started to pull her hand away, he
reached up and caught it in his own. “Stay.”

Her hand seemed so small wrapped in his
large one. Tess stared at the contrast of their skins—at the
strength that was so pronounced in his sinewy arms and yet the
gentleness with which he held her.

“Tell me about the dream,” she managed to
say. “Sometimes it helps.”

His eyes were so blue that Tess thought she
could drown in them. “I had forgotten how to swim. My legs and arms
were not mine to command. And every time I thought I could catch
some air, another great wave would crash over me and take me
deeper.”

She edged closer to his side and sat on the
bedding. Their hips were touching through the blanket, and she was
very conscious of the contact.

“That is just a scare held over from your
struggles during the storm.” Her fingers moved of their own accord
and touched the roughness on his chin. She touched the cleft and
hesitantly traced his lips. The difference in texture was so
interesting. “You are safe here.”

Tess watched as his expression changed.
Shocked by her own behavior, she guiltily withdrew her fingers. His
eyes focused on her face in a way she could not identify.

“You said you had bad dreams,” he said
softly.

“Aye. Many times. Sometimes I still do.”

“Were you ever caught in waves like that,
too? Washed ashore?”

“I was.” Tess knew she had made a mistake
the moment the words left her mouth. She tried to pull away, but
his grip on her one hand held her where she was.

“Tell me about it, Tess.”

She shook her head and looked away. “There
is nothing to tell. I…I almost drowned swimming off the western
bluffs.”

“You blush when you lie.”

She turned sharply to him. “I blush when I
am considering murder, too.”

He had the nerve to laugh for a moment. She
shivered as his thumb moved slowly back and forth across her
palm.

“How old are you, Tess?”

“Seventy-one this month! Far too old for you
to be looking at me like
that
.” She pulled her hand free and
practically ran across the room.

His laughter followed her as she crawled
beneath the blankets. She tried to close her eyes and ears to his
charm.

If the filthy dogs find a young and bonny
thing like ye on this deserted island, they’ll all be thinking the
same thing, lassie…
Charlotte’s warnings were losing their
bite. The fact that he was a Highlander wasn’t even enough to worry
her.

Tess pulled the blanket over her blushing
face and tried to cool her blood. The problem lay not with the man
who was watching her from across the room. The problem was with
her
. How had she become so stupid so quickly?

She knew she was in trouble if Colin
Macpherson didn’t leave soon.

Buffeted by the gusting wind, Colin stood at the
very edge of the rock bluff and scanned the turbulent sea all
around him. Not a ship or a boat for as far as he could see. He’d
taken advantage of a break in the rain at dawn, leaving Tess to the
sleep of the innocent. He wasn’t surprised at the lack of any
sails, though perhaps the easing of the rain was a sign that the
storm was blowing itself out. Once the skies began to clear, he
knew he would see at least one ship on the horizon.

More than looking for his brother’s ship, though,
Colin needed to get away from Tess. He’d desperately needed some
fresh air to clear his head.

There was something about her. She was bewitching
him. Young women had always been easy to come by. The Lord
above…and his parents…had blessed him with a fair share of good
looks. He had a good family name. He’d never needed to pursue any
lass. And he’d never seen any need in settling down, either. The
ones who’d come looking for marriage, he sent on their way. Colin’s
plans included no wife—that was certain! He had plans to sail the
seas. Adventure, fame, fortune…those were the things he was after.
And he’d never considered letting his plans be spoiled by one
woman…in one port…in one bed.

Colin walked toward the chasm that cut diagonally
across the island. Descending, he followed a freshwater spring and
dropped down to a stony beach. The brown eyes of a half-dozen seals
were watching him from the water. Spotting some driftwood that had
washed in with the storm tide, he began collecting some to carry
back.

He was the youngest son of Alec Macpherson, a
Highland laird, and Fiona Drummond Macpherson. Through his mother,
he was grandson to the great King James the Fourth and cousin by
blood to the infant Queen Mary. Naturally, with lineage like that,
there were certain expectations. Though he’d tried to fight it, his
parents had insisted that he follow in his two older brother’s
footsteps and finish his education at St. Andrews. But now, by the
devil, that was behind him. Now Colin was ready to follow his
dreams.

From Ireland to Antwerp, Macpherson ships had been
raiding merchant vessels from the continent and from England for at
least five generations. As his grandfather used to say, the blood
of piracy ran in Macpherson blood. Colin’s youngest uncle, John
Macpherson, had been the Lord of the King’s Navy. His other uncle,
Ambrose, a fierce warrior, had also sailed these waters and raided
many ships before settling down to a life of service to the
Crown.

Colin’s older brother Alexander was master of the
Macpherson ships now. James, the second son, had chosen to
pursue—like their Uncle Ambrose—the life of a diplomat. This left a
world of opportunity open for Colin, for he knew Alexander could
only keep at this for so many years before his time came to assume
the mantle of the next Macpherson laird. When that happened, Colin
wanted to be sure he was ready to take charge of the clan’s fleet
of ships and continue the family tradition. Hell, the Spanish ships
coming back from the New World were just bulging with silver and
gold. They were plums waiting to be picked.

He simply couldn’t allow any woman to interfere with
plans like those. Even if she were beautiful and mysterious.

By the time Colin returned to the priory carrying a
stack of driftwood, his mind was clear and his resolve set. No
attachment. No attraction. No worrying about her, or even going
after her again should she choose to hide. She had obviously been
surviving perfectly well before his arrival. She would continue on
just as well after he left.

Colin’s resolve, though, only lasted until he came
up the stairs and found her missing. Her bed was neatened. The fire
was burning nicely. Some of her blankets were missing, though.

“Bloody hell!” he muttered to himself. “Don’t tell
me you’ve run off again?”

Colin dropped the load and went out, his resolve
obliterated in an instant.

All he knew was that he had to find her.

Protected from the worst of the wind in the yard
between the crumbling stone walls of the ruined church and the
ancient cemetery, Tess moved quickly among the sheep. Beyond the
low cemetery wall, a nanny goat stood watching the proceedings
suspiciously.

From the first moment Tess had noticed the lameness
in a few of the sheep and had discovered the cracks and abrasions
between their toes, she had used the direct method that Garth
always used to treat the flock. Move them to higher ground and
spread the salve that he had taught her to make on the feet of any
sheep that might be developing the condition. And after three weeks
of it, she was happy to see that they were finally responding to
the treatment.

The cutting drafts of wind that snaked into the yard
were still cold, but the sky was brightening. Glancing up, she
thought that the sun might even break through before long.

Kneeling among the sheep, Tess finished rubbing the
salve on another of the animals’ feet. As soon as the ewe was
turned loose, she butted and pushed her way into a safe place
amidst the rest of the flock.

Tess looked about her in search of her last patient.
She found the pregnant ewe standing alone and watching her warily
from the cemetery wall. “Come here, Makyn.”

The ewe pawed the ground gently.

“You’ve been talking to the nanny goat, haven’t
you?”

Makyn looked away.

“Come here, good mother. This is the last time we’ll
be doing this.” Tess spoke softly and took a small handful of oats
from a pocket in her dress. When she held it out, the ewe still
refused to look at her.

“Getting a wee bit of your own treatment, I
see.”

Tess felt her pulse quicken at the sound of the
Highlander’s voice, and she cursed her own treacherous heart. He
was leaning over the cemetery wall and looking with interest at the
potions at her feet.

“Well,” he said with a glint in his eye. “From
personal experience I can say that if she doesn’t want anything to
do with that poisonous brew, I don’t blame her.”

“She is just not feeling well today. Otherwise she
would come.” A breeze, riffling through his long hair, tugged at
the ends of his tartan. The blue of his eyes this morning were a
sure match for any summer sky. She tore her gaze away from his
handsome face and stared at the ewe. “Come, Makyn.”

The sheep edged a little down the wall toward Colin.
Tess pushed herself to her feet.

“Stay where you are,” Colin said. “I’ll bring her to
you.”

“Do you know about tending sheep?”

“I’ve never had any interest in the silly creatures,
to be honest. The women tend them where I come from.” He jumped
nimbly over the wall. “Never looked very difficult, though.”

Tess bit her tongue and sat back on her heels. Just
as she’d expected, as soon as he approached, Makyn scurried
away.

“Hold there, ewe,” he ordered. “I’m not the one with
the poison potion.”

Makyn bleated loudly and ran frantically toward the
rest of the flock. Colin rushed the animal, but his abrupt
movements only served to rile the entire flock. In an instant,
Makyn had blended in with the rest of the bleating, scurrying
bundles of wool.

“Where the devil did she…? Ah, there you are, you
bloody....”

Stifling a smile, Tess stood up and walked toward
Colin. She put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Not to be critical
of your shepherding, but I shouldn’t think Makyn is in any
condition for this. The creature is probably only a day or two away
from lambing. I think she’s had enough excitement, don’t you?”

His gaze fell on her hand resting on his bare arm.
He had rolled up his shirt to the elbows. His skin was so warm, and
Tess withdrew her fingers as if she’d been burned.

“Very well. I am your attentive pupil,
mistress.”

Tess didn’t dare look up to meet his gaze. Instead,
she focused her attention on the terrified ewe in the far end of
the yard.

“Sheep must always be handled firmly, but calmly and
gently, too” she said softly. “Running and exciting them will only
invite trouble.”

“I always thought the same could be said about
handling people,” he whispered in her ear. “I was firm, calm, and
gentle when I met you, but
you
still ran away.”