The Highlander's Curse (6 page)

The
Highlander stood, and my hands slipped from his shoulders as he rose to his
full height. “It’s probably no’ as bad as it looks,” he said gently. “Ye’re no’
afraid o’ a wee bit o’ blood, are ye?”

“I don’t
like seeing blood, no.” The pain that was palpitating from my toes upward was
unbearable, and I’d barely been able to keep myself from crying.

“Elizabeth,
look at me.”

I
clenched my jaw and shook my head as I felt his breath fan lightly across my
face.

“Look
at me, woman.”

He was
even closer now. Closer than I thought he’d be, and my eyes flashed open,
meeting his piercing blue gaze.

“There’s
a good lass,” he soothed. “I will’nae hurt ye if I can help it. But I need ye
tae dae one thing for me.”

“Okay,”
I said quietly.

“Just
breathe.” Cailen reached into the pouch that hung from his waist.

“What’s
in the bag?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from the throbbing in my foot
and leg.

He
cocked an eyebrow. “Ma bag?
Oh
, this…it’s called a sporran.” He withdrew
a small bottle and bit off the cork. “Now, ye dinna hae tae watch what I’m
daein’, but ye dae need tae concentrate on yer breathing, aye?”

“Aye. I
mean yes…Okay.”

“Right.”
The Highlander dropped to his haunches and carefully gripped my foot. I didn’t focus
on what held his attention, fearing what I’d see—or rather, what I wouldn’t. I
sat there, wondering if I’d lost toes or filleted my foot wide open, and tried
to console myself. If there was anything missing, the Scot would have
undoubtedly reacted differently. I focused on the bushes and trees behind him,
keeping the expressions on his face in my direct view.

“This
may sting.” He poured liquid from the bottle, dousing my foot with alcohol as
my foot erupted once more in a new rush of pain. I screamed as the first drop
hit my skin, feeling my entire body shake. Cailen didn’t even look up as I
tried to wrench my foot from his grasp, and he muttered a quick, “Breathe.”

Air
seeped in through clenched teeth, and I dug my fingernails into the Highlander’s
shoulders as he patted my foot dry with his kilt.

“Och.
Ye’ve a splinter. I must ge’it out if ye want tae walk.” He pulled a dagger
from his sporran, the blade glinting in the sunlight.

I
scrambled backward at the sight of his knife, yanking my foot away from him and
tumbling off the boulder, falling flat on my back.

“Elizabeth.
Elizabeth!”
Cailen shot forward as well, keeping me from going far as I
crab-walked in the dirt. “Calm yerself. It’ll no’ be so bad once the splinter
is out.”

“It’s
not after I’m worried about,” I stammered.

“Nae,”
he grumbled, his voice gritty as he drew it out. “Dinna move. This is only tae
pry out the splinter.”

“Says
the guy with the deadly-looking knife!”

He
rolled his eyes and gave my shoulders a shake. “Sghian dubh.”

“
What
the hell does that mean?
” I yelled, trying to break free of his hold.

“Jesus,
woman. Ma wee knife is called a sghian dubh. Now, stop squirming. We must ge’it
out.” Still I continued to fight, and before I knew it, Cailen’s entire body
was covering mine as he pinned my wrists to the ground. I thought I ordered him
to get off of me, but at this point, I could hardly do anything but fight and
think about the agony pulsating from foot to knee.

“Dae ye
want tae lose yer foot?”

I felt a
tear slide down the side of my face. My lip trembled even though I’d tried to
keep it from doing so, and soon, my stomach muscles did the same as I attempted
to keep myself from a full-on wail. This was all too much. The pain. The knife.
The bruting Highlander keeping me practically tethered to him since he’d found
me in the forest. I laid there underneath him, breathing and shaking my head as
more tears fell and settled in my ears. “No.”

“Then
ye must let me get the splinter out.”

We were
there for a while, just staring at each other. I hoped he would change his mind
and let me go about my business. He was probably waiting for me to do the same.
I had a hard time breathing, and not only from the throbbing the splinter
caused, but also because of Cailen’s weight. I had to force my breathing to
slow, and as I did, I focused on his face. It was no longer strained from
fighting me, or with the worry I’d seen as he’d peered at my foot. As I was
calming, so was he. And his eyes were trained on mine. That radiant blue of his
eyes had caught my attention from the very beginning, and so had the rest of
his face. I’d thought before that he was nothing more than a real-life barbarian,
catching glimpses here and there of something more. But now, seeing the way he
looked at me, I couldn’t see even a sliver of the savageness I’d come to know
of the Highlander. He shifted suddenly, and held a lot of his weight on his
hands as they continued to grip my wrists.

I felt
so small against him; his body engulfing mine so much that I doubted anyone
would know I existed if they stumbled upon us now. And yet, his weight was
welcoming, somehow soothing. My eyes roamed away from his as I glanced at the
rest of his features: his strong, square jaw was still stubbled with dark hair.
It had grown out a little more since yesterday. His arms and shoulders were
heavily muscled, flowing down to his tight chest and the ridges of his stomach
that disappeared against the fabric of my skirt as his hips crushed mine. I
drew my gaze back up to his as a very noticeable hardness pressed against my
thighs.

Now
there was only silence between us. Silence, and a surprising comfort I hadn’t
expected to glean from the rugged Highlander.

Cailen
cleared his throat and looked away briefly before returning his gaze to mine. “Will
ye remain still if I work on gettin’ that splinter out?”

“I—I’ll
try.”

“Verra
well. Dinna move.” He pushed himself off of me and settled next to my feet. I
stared up at the towering trees, trying to focus on anything other than the
fact that his warm fingers were wrapped around my foot and drawing it onto his
lap.

“Are ye
well, Elizabeth?”

I
blinked hard, wishing for the first time that I’d given him my real name.
Hearing my middle name come from the Scot’s lips just didn’t feel right,
especially not since he was trying to help me. “Mmm hmm.”

“Good.
I’m goin’ tae be as gentle as may be.”

I
pursed my lips and let out one long, slow breath as I felt the tip of his blade
press against my skin. I flinched and Cailen’s hand tightened, bracing my hand
more firmly. “Sorry,” I whispered.

My
breath caught as immense pain radiated from my foot, and I cried out again. The
knife pressed into my skin even more. I told myself to focus on anything else,
to distract myself from what he was doing.
Gah, what had he called it? Skeen
doo? Why couldn’t he just call it a freakin’ knife?
Breath hissed through
my teeth and I squeaked, unable to keep myself from moving as he poked at my
toe.

“There.”
He released my foot and then gripped it again. “Oh, hold on.” More liquid
doused my foot, the pungent smell of alcohol hitting me almost as fast as the
sting. “Dinna ge’it dirty. I think I hae somethin’ tae wrap it in.” Cailen
reached into his sporran and produced a swath of fabric. After ripping it into
strips, he started wrapping my foot.

Once I
felt the first wrap cover my toes, I dared to peek at what he was doing. His
long fingers worked deftly, bandaging my foot with the thin shreds of cloth and
creating a knot on top of my foot.

“Ye’ll
hae tae be careful, and I dinna think it’s wise tae walk on it yet.”

I sat
up. “I can’t walk on it?”

The
Scot squinted doubtfully and rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his chin. “Ye
can try. It might hurt, mind.”

I drew
my feet in and stood, putting the tiniest bit of pressure on my bad foot. I regretted
it immediately as agony shot straight up my leg. “Dammit. What am I going to do
now, hobble around the forest?”

“I’m no’
sure ye’re goin’ tae like what I hae tae say.” He shrugged. “I think we should
go back tae camp until yer foot heals.”

“What?
No!
I have to get back to my friend,” I insisted. “How much farther do we have to
go?” We had to be getting close to some sort of civilization. I refused to
believe we were that far from other people. Reaching into my purse, I pulled
out my cell phone and powered it on.

“What
is that?” Cailen shuffled closer to me and peered at it as the welcome music
and images flashed across the screen.

I
looked up at him at the sound of the awe in his voice. “It’s my cell phone.”

He
snatched it from me and weighed it in his palm, inspecting it at every angle. “I’ve
ne’er seen anythin’ like this before. Is it bewitched?”

“No.” I
laughed, taking it back from him. “You really haven’t seen one before?”
Flicking a quick peek at my phone, I deflated a little as the “No Signal” icon
appeared in the top-right corner. I should have known.

“Nae,
what is its purpose?”

“To
call people.”

“Tae
call’em what?” His eyebrows lowered.

“No,
you use it to dial people you know so you can talk to them. You’ve
got
to know what a phone is.” Those have been around for-like-ever.

“Nae.”
He still looked amazed as I flipped through the screens. “Surely this is magic.”

“‘Fraid
not.” I powered it off to save the battery and handed it to Cailen again.

He
gratefully took it and studied the phone again, carefully tracing the design of
my phone’s cover and running his thumb over the smooth surface. “Truly
remarkable,” he mused. “This is the technology they hae in the Colonies?”

“Yeah.
Well, I mean, it’s everywhere. When I landed in Scotland I saw just as many
people on cell phones as I did back home.” My stomach tightened at his obvious
awe. How had he gone so long without seeing one? He was either yanking my
chain, or he really lived in a part of Scotland that was lacking. Did Scotland
have Amish communities? Whatever it was, something was seriously off here.

Cailen
offered my phone back to me with a strange expression on his face. A boom of
thunder sounded not far away, but he acted as though he hadn’t heard it. “Landed?
Ye mean when yer ship came tae port?”

“Uh no,
I don’t do boats. I hate huge bodies of water. I flew here on a plane.” That
niggling feeling I’d had in my gut intensified.

“Ye
flew then? Oh aye,” he scoffed. “Up in the sky wi’the wee birdies.”

“Exactly.”

Now he
shook his head as he laughed. “Lass, are ye sure ye didnae bump yer head when
ye fell? That’s the daftest thing I’ve e’er heard.” Cailen looked to the left,
searching the bit of sky that could be seen from the heavy forest. “We should
get back tae camp. I’ve got a bit o’ whiskey that should make ye feel better.”

The
Highlander bent and picked me up, looping one arm behind my knees while the
other cradled my back.

“Oh!
You, uh…you really don’t have to do that.” How did he look like carrying me
around was something he did all the time? He didn’t even look strained. Our
eyes met and held, and my face felt flushed.

“I dae.
We’ll ne’er make it back wi’ye ‘hobblin’ around the forest’.” He gave a teasing
smirk and set off in the direction we’d come from, as I held him tightly around
his neck.

****

“Ye’re
eighteen
?”

“Yeah.
Well, I mean, my birthday is in less than two weeks, so I’m basically nineteen.
Why, how old did you think I was?”

“I
thought ye may be younger. Ye seem verra…” His voice died away and he grinned. “Ye
just seem young.”

I
blinked hard, focusing on the Highlander as I tried to glean what he’d really
been about to say. “How about you? You haven’t told me how old you are yet.”

“Me? I’m
two and twenty.”

“Two
and twenty?” I snorted. “You are
so
not twenty-two.”

“I am,
I assure ye.”

I
narrowed one eye on him before peering down at the bottle of amber liquid in my
hand. He looked like he could be in his twenties, but no way did he act like
it. I took a drink. “Mmm. Have I told you how good this is?”

Cailen
smiled and took the whiskey bottle from me as the sounds of rain
pitter-pattered
on the leaves all around us. When we had finally reached his camp hours before,
he’d built a fire and made sure I was comfortably near it without me having to
put any weight on my foot. Of course, he’d rejected the idea of me going to see
a doctor today, saying that I’d get soaked to the bone and would probably
freeze to death on the way. Out of the two options, I would have chosen life
and warm fire—if I’d even been given the choice.

I was a
bit more grateful for his shirt when he handed it to me this time. It had
somehow stayed dry despite the rain—probably because he’d hidden it safely
under a tree—while my clothes had been soaked through on the walk back to camp.
The Highlander had dutifully excused himself, disappearing behind the trees so
I could dress. I’d quickly hopped to my feet, careful to put the least amount
of pressure on my bad one as possible, yanked off my wet shirt, bra, and skirt,
and drew on his shirt. As damp as my thong was, I just couldn’t make myself
take that off. It was my last barrier between me and the forest.