Tournament of Hearts (19 page)

The MacFarland was
very close to death.  Elizabeth feared that her rudimentary healing techniques
would do little to stave off the inevitability of his impending death. 
Tendrils of fear spread like fire through her veins. 

Elizabeth had been
punished by her step-father before.  She closed her eyes momentarily and pushed
the sickening memories from her mind.

 Her mother had
taught her well how to avoid John Campbell’s spiteful wrath.

Do as he bids
you.

Keep your head
down and do as he bids.

Swallowing hard, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and prepared for battle.  She would not let this man die. 
She could not let this man die, for her future and his were now intertwined in
a most precarious manner.

..oo      Chapter Two     oo..

Death yielded a
pleasant surprise for Lachlan MacFarland.  He had expected the fiery throes of
Hell but never in his wildest dreams had he expected to end up in Heaven.

And Heaven was
even better than he had hoped that it would be.

Lachlan’s gray
eyes fluttered open and focused upon the pert breasts that bobbed alluringly
before his face.  Music filled his ears, sweet and melodic.  The young woman
was humming as she attended to him.  Lachlan’s eyes strained to focus.  He
watched her breasts swelling above the neckline of her gown, rising and falling
above the homespun fabric with each breath that she took.

Lachlan felt warm
all over, too warm.  His eyes drifted up to her face. 

How in the Hell
had he made it to Heaven?

She had alabaster
skin and long, flowing auburn hair.  Her eyes were the same shade of green that
colored the fields in spring-time.  That distinct shade of new life coupled
with the promise of sunshine. 

She was an
angel for sure
.

Unable to resist
further temptation, Lachlan reached up and cupped her full breast through the
fabric of her gown.  His thumb brushed across the bead of her nipple, eliciting
a surprised gasp from the young woman.

Elizabeth Campbell
saw red when the MacFarland’s hand touched her.  Suffering the indignity of
nursing the enemy warrior back from the brink of death had been torture enough,
but his unexpected trespass pushed her over the edge.

Enough was enough.

“How dare you
touch me!” she exclaimed as she swatted his hand away.

Lachlan’s eyebrow
arched in surprise and he jerked his arm up experimentally, having just
discovered that his wrist was tethered to the base of a large oak tree.  His
mind was spinning, fighting the magnetic pull of unconsciousness, trying to
grasp where he was and what was happening.

He reached out
towards his angel, fumbling at her with muscles that were clumsy and refused to
cooperate.

“Try that again
and I’ll kick you in the stones you son-of-a bitch!” Elizabeth warned as she
dodged the warrior’s grasp.

Lachlan fought the
urge to smile.

 He had not
expected God to have such a sense of humor.  Never would he have imagined that
the angels in Heaven would curse like sailors. 

He might learn to
like this place after all.

Elizabeth
straightened her spine and moved just beyond the massive warrior’s reach in
case he had a second fit of impulsive behavior.  His steely gray eyes struggled
to focus on her face and she watched him now intently.  Her hand went
protectively to the neckline of her gown, recoiling from his unexpected, overly
warm touch.  She studied his face, admitting to herself that if Lachlan
MacFarland had not been born a MacFarland she might have found him quite
attractive. 

His jaw line was
angular and dusted with several days’ growth of stubble, lending him a rugged
appeal.  His gray eyes were expressive despite his current state of delusion
and set on either side of a straight nose.  Beneath the layer of battle grime,
his bare chest was sinewy and rippled with muscle from hours spent practicing
the art of sword fighting.

Lachlan MacFarland
was indeed a handsome man.

His gray eyes
rolled back and fluttered closed as he succumbed to the pull of
unconsciousness.  His head lolled forward and his chin came to rest on his
chest.  Beneath his mop of unbound hair, Elizabeth noticed that the corner of
his full mouth twisted up into the hint of a smile, lending him a boyish
quality despite the fact that he was a ferocious warrior.

Elizabeth sighed
in relief and allowed her spine to relax.  Her hand fell from its protective
stance above her breasts and came to rest on the pillows of her skirts. Her
heart beat was erratic and put up a moments resistance as it slowed to a more
normal rhythm.  The tell-tale thudding in Elizabeth’s ear was the only
remainder of what had just happened.

Never had a man
touched her so intimately.

Never had any man
dared to touch her under John Campbell’s careful watch.

Lachlan
MacFarland, Clan Campbell’s most fearsome enemy and recently acquired prisoner
of war had just touched her in a most inappropriate manner.  Despite the
initial shock of the encounter, Elizabeth realized that she was not as off put
by his advances as she should be.

Elizabeth had a
sudden, startling realization which cast a new light upon her patient. The
MacFarland might be her one and only chance at salvation.  Her mother had divulged
that her true father was a MacFarland.  Elizabeth would do anything to be free
of John Campbell, even if it meant fleeing into the care of the barbaric
MacFarland clan.

Her mother had
revealed that she had loved a MacFarland once, long ago.

Lady Olivia
Campbell’s revelation garnered hope in Elizabeth’s heart.

Perhaps not all
MacFarlands were savage monsters.  If her mother had loved one of them, all of
the tales of MacFarland savagery could not be true.

Elizabeth’s green
eyes studied the wounded warrior.

Lachlan MacFarland
could be her only chance to escape.