Fraser 02 - Highland Quest Read online

  Donald raked his fingers through his hair and began to pace. “The English defile our women all too often these days and need to be stopped. However—”

  “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth sooner, Uncle, but I felt it was my duty to keep Bryce’s secret. At least until he had a chance to explain how he came to be at Loch Ryan.” She dropped her head, cradling it in her hands. Had she said too much?

  Donald coughed to clear his throat. “Dinna fash over this, lass. I’ll not give his secret away. Simon Fraser’s bravery and that of his cousins has been heralded throughout Scotland. They are considered heroes and honored by Robert the Bruce as such. The lad is welcome to stay as long as necessary.”

  When Donald gently slid his fingers over her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze, Fallon leaned into his touch, then clutched his palm and curled her head to the side to press her lips against the back of his hand. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  Redirecting her attention to Bryce, she dipped a linen rag into a bowl of cold water, willow bark, and comfrey. After ringing the cloth out, she laid it across his fevered brow. “What about Angus and Ian? Can they be trusted not to say anything?”

  “Like your friends, they are both sympathetic to the cause. I’d trust them with my life. Neither is the sort to betray me or mine. But you can rest assured, I will speak to them and emphasize the need for silence.” Donald paused. “Will you be needin’ anything more?”

  She shook her head. “Nay.”

  “Then I’ll be off to find Angus and Ian.” Donald turned and left the croft.

  Fallon waited for her uncle to close the door before lifting Bryce’s hand and clutching it to her breast. While he had never opened his eyes, he’d called her name several times in his delirium. Mayhap he harbored feelings for her after all.

  Nay, she refused to let him into her heart again.

  You’re a fool, Fallon MacCrery. He doesna even know you’re here. Besides, he has no use for a wife. He longs for adventure and plans to remain focused on Scotland’s fight for independence or to die trying.

  Afraid of having her hopes dashed again, she chastised herself for being vulnerable to the ranting of a sick man.

  The fact that she found herself attracted to Bryce was of no importance. Until now, she had managed to live without him and would continue to do so. She didn’t need a man to complete her life. She’d tend to his injuries, but the rest of the time would keep her distance.

  Hovering on the edge of the abyss between life and death, Bryce struggled to open his eyes. He was so hot, his body a blazing inferno, yet he shivered uncontrollably when a sudden burst of cool air, followed by something wet and cool, caressed his skin.

  Where am I?

  Panic twisted his gut and squeezed his chest. The last thing he remembered, aside from the excruciating pain, was lying in a pool of blood near the bank of the loch, waiting for death to take him. The ambush, the battle, his confrontation with Dungal MacDougall, came flooding back.

  He couldn’t stay here. He had to get away before the blackguards returned.

  Fallon’s face flashed before his mind’s eye. She was in danger and he had to warn her. “Dear, Lord, this canna be happening again. Fallon,” he managed to mumble amidst a strangled breath.

  He tried to move, but the effort drained what little strength he could muster. He tried to speak once more, but to no avail. Fingers gently pressed to his lips muffled the attempt.

  “Shhh. It’s all right, Bryce. You’re safe.” She lightly stroked his cheek.

  The familiar lilt of her voice struck a cord in his heart. Since the day she’d left Fraser Castle, it had haunted his dreams. He inhaled the memorable scent of heather and a hint of lavender then released a soft sigh.

  Fallon.

  But how could this be? She’s miles away at Buccleuch, the Scott’s castle in the Borderlands. He groaned when his head was lifted, then he sputtered when a cup was brought to his lips. Blade-sharp pain sliced through his chest, and he fought to catch a breath.

  “You must try to take some of this brew, Bryce. The herbs will ease your discomfort and the fluids will help to replenish your body. Please try.”

  He heard the frustration and concern in her voice. He wished he could do as she asked. His tongue felt thick and tasted like dry wood. His throat was parched, but he could not manage the simple task of taking a drink. He wanted to reach out and tell her everything would be fine, but he could not raise his arms from the pallet.

  Another attempt to open his eyes caused the room to spin and nausea tugged at his belly. He struggled to focus on the face of the woman sitting at his bedside, but felt himself losing the battle as darkness closed in around the edges of his vision.

  He had no idea how much time had passed when he finally awoke, but the sound of a woman humming a Celtic tune caused him to stir. “Have I died and gone to Heaven?” Bryce forced his eyes open, thankful the dreadful spinning had stopped. His vision blurred, then cleared and he found himself gazing at Fallon in disbelief. “What are you doing here, lass? I must be dreaming. If not, the Almighty is playing a cruel jest.”

  She put aside her needlework and leaned over the pallet. “Nay, you’re not dreaming. You gave me quite a scare, but you’re very much alive.”

  “Where am I?”

  “This croft belongs to my uncle. He bid me care for my sick aunt when she came down with the pox. Sadly, she passed. Uncle Donald was lost without her, so I decided to stay on for a while.”

  “How long have I been here?” Bryce ran his tongue over his dry, cracked lips.

  “Three days have passed since you were found on the bank of Loch Ryan following a battle with the Clan MacDougall. My uncle and two of his friends brought you here and placed you in my care.”

  “Did anyone else survive the slaughter?” Bryce brought a shaky hand to his forehead, shading his eyes from the light streaming through the window.

  “I fear there were no others. At least none that were still alive.” She bowed her head and started to pray.

  Bryce eased two fingers under her chin and lifted. “Are you sure no one else got away? What of Robert’s brothers, Alexander and Thomas? Where they killed?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve heard tell the Bruce’s brothers were taken to Carlisle Castle to stand trial. There may have been a few who escaped, but my uncle fears most were slain as they left the ship.”

  Bryce dragged his arm over his eyes and moaned. “Their deaths are on my head. I hoped to warn them, but arrived too late.” An unsavory mix of guilt and remorse washed over him. Why hadn’t moved more swiftly?

  “You did your best. From what I was told, they never stood a chance. You are lucky to be alive.” She lifted his head and brought the tea to his lips again. “Take a drink.”

  As the warm liquid splashed across his tongue, he grasped the cup with both hands, holding it steady while he drained the contents.

  “Enough for now.” She placed the cup on a small wooden table beside the pallet and lowered his head. “You need to get some sleep. I’ll close the shutters and see that you are not disturbed.”

  “I’ve been asleep for three days.”

  “And you need more.” She prepared to leave, but he grasped her wrist, holding her in place. “Dinna go. Let me look at you. I’d forgotten just how breathtaking you are.”

  Fallon shifted in her chair and smiled. “I’ll not be falling for your sweet talk, Bryce Fraser. You need your rest if you want to regain your strength.” She stood, quickly moving out of his reach. “Sleep now. I’ll make some broth. Mayhap after a nap, you will feel up to eating something.” She turned and walked toward the hearth.

  “Wait. If the English or the MacDougalls find me, you and your uncle will be punished for offering aid to a fugitive. I won’t have that on my head as well. Where are my clothes?” He swung his legs off the side of the pallet and tried to sit, but a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. He gasped, the pain hitting him like a horse kick to his chest.
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  “Foolish man. You’re not going anywhere.” She eased him back down and covered him with a pelt. “My uncle knows who you are and he told me you are welcome to stay until your wounds have healed. I’ve spent the last three days tending you, and you’ll not be getting off that pallet until I say so.”

  “But, Fallon, you don’t understand. I’m a fugitive and am—”

  “I understand you are a thrawn, head-strong man. You are as weak as a newly born colt and would not make it to the door without collapsing. Since I dinna fancy hauling you back to bed, I’d suggest you stay put and do as you are told.” She planted her hands on her hips and tapped her toe on the floor.

  He could not help smiling at her candor and the air of authority with which she spoke. Her spirit and temerity were two of the things he found appealing. He’d seen it in the way she challenged him the day they met, and he could see it now. The fire in her eyes, her furrowed brow, and expression of determination on her face were all indications she’d not back down.

  He’d been intrigued by Fallon from the moment she walked into Cailin’s chamber at the Scott stronghold and took charge of her care. A man would have to be blind or a eunuch not to notice her attractive features and slender figure. But there was more to Fallon than met the eye. She possessed an inner radiance and spirit that far exceeded her external beauty. Were he looking for a wife, which he wasn't, Fallon would be his choice.

  “If you move about too soon, you’ll reopen those wounds. You need to rest. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Aye, perfectly clear.” He bit his lower lip to hide a smirk. “Could you do one thing for me?” He coughed, his voice becoming raspy and quiet.

  “What is it you need?” Fallon took a step in his direction.

  “Come closer, I’m suddenly feeling very—” He sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Fallon hurried to his side and leaned over him. “Has the pain gotten worse? What can I do to help?” Concern returned to her voice as she examined the dressing, then ran her hand over his brow.

  “I . . . I need . . .” His voice trailed off to barely a whisper. He grasped her shoulders and jerked her toward him. “A kiss.” He pressed his lips to hers, despite the hands she’d planted on his chest in an effort to break free.

  She tasted sweet, like the ripe red berries she’d had to break her fast, and even better than he remembered. It had been several months since he’d felt the tug of desire in his stomach, the tightness in his loins. Her velvet soft lips quivered, then parted, allowing him to sample the mysteries of her mouth. Yet when she finally wiggled free of his grasp, the glower on her face spoke volumes.

  “Bryce Fraser, you are an incorrigible man.” She brought her hand to her lips and backed away.

  “Aye. But now if I perish in my sleep, I’ll die happy.” He smiled and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 3

  Fallon fought the temptation to run her fingers through the coarse, black hair dusting Bryce’s chest. Her desire to caress the broad span of muscles beneath sun-bronzed skin was almost too much to bear. While they had never completed the deed, they’d come very close to joining on at least one occasion in the past. She could not help wondering what it would be like to have him take her naked body in his arms, flesh to flesh, hearts beating in unison as he made her his own. She nibbled on her lower lip.

  “Are you feeling well, lass? You suddenly look flushed.” Bryce lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

  “I’m fine,” she answered abruptly. She peeled back the linen-wrapped poultice, exposing Bryce’s wound. “You’re healing nicely. I’m pleased to see that the area around the burn has not festered.” She applied a thin layer of salve over the puckered skin, then covered it with a clean dressing. She repeated the procedure with the wound on his back.

  “You did a fine job of sealing the wounds. Most women would not have known what to do, nor had the courage to do what was necessary. I’ve seen hardened warriors shy away from the task.” Bryce sat, slid to the edge of the raised pallet, and dropped his feet to the floor. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”

  “I had no other options. You would have bled to death otherwise.” Her eyes trailed the floor as she wiped her hands on her apron. “You grow stronger every day. How long before you leave?” Her stomach plummeted at the thought of his imminent departure.

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Other than bringing me meals and caring for my injuries, I have seen very little of you during my convalescence. If I dinna know better, I’d say you were afraid to be alone with me.”

  She glanced up to find him grinning, his head cocked to one side. “You flatter yourself, Bryce. I have other things to do besides sitting by your side all day. Now if there is nothing more you need, I will get back to my chores in the garden.”

  Fallon turned, unable to look him in the eye, for fear he’d know she was lying. His stolen kiss the day he’d first regained consciousness had left her longing for things that could never be and she needed to remain focused. The less time they spent together, the easier it would be when he left.

  “I’ll be leaving soon. I’ve already tarried longer than I should.”

  “You are welcome to stay as long as you want.” She spun around to face him. “But I know you, Bryce, and foolish man that you are, I’m sure you are anxious to be up and on your way . . . even if you are not yet ready to travel. There must be a dragon to slay, a village to save, or a damsel to rescue.” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

  “Each day, every hour I stay, puts you and your uncle in peril.” After securing a length of plaid around his waist, Bryce braced his hands on the edge of the pallet, and slowly raised himself to a wobbly stance.

  Fighting the urge to offer support, she stood her ground. “That was a risk we were willing to accept and our decision to make. I would not hesitate to do it again, but hope the need never arises.”

  “And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But you’re right. There is something of importance that I must do. I’ve been laid up for over a sennight and fear I may already be too late.” His brow furrowed.

  She turned her back to him again, hiding her disappointment. “You’ll always have something pressing to do, something that involves a dangerous task,” she replied sharply, then released a shuddering breath. When he didn’t comment, she continued. “You are not well enough to travel.”

  Bryce slid his muscular arms around her waist and drew her close, her back resting against his chest. “I’m a lot stronger than you think,” he whispered in her ear. “If only you’d let me show you.”

  She stiffened her spine at first, but melted against his muscular form when he nuzzled the side of her neck.

  “You smell so good. Like a field of heather on a spring morning after a rain. The scent of you makes me dizzy.”

  She wanted him to stay, but refused to share her thoughts. From the time she was able to talk, her mother had instilled in her a fierce independence, and for that she’d be eternally grateful.

  Unlike most women of the day, she did not cater to a man’s every whim or wait to be told what to do. She’d always chosen her own path and made her own decisions. She’d not plead for any man’s affection. If he chose to stay, it had to be of his own accord. If he wished to leave, then so be it. But she’d not waste her time or her breath on something that could never be.

  She held no claim on him, and had no right to expect him to choose between her and his duty to the Scottish cause. But she could not understand why he had to repeatedly risk his life?

  He nipped at her ear lobe, and waves of want spread throughout her body like a wildfire out of control. Determined to resist, she struggled to twist free of his grasp, but he tightened his hold and turned her around to face him.

  “If I could stay with you, I would.” He dipped his head and feathered light kisses across her cheek and the tip of her nose. “But I am a wanted man, and have
pledged my sword to the Bruce. I canna rest until the English are driven from Scottish soil and Robert sits on the throne where he belongs. Too many have already perished at the hands of those Saxon blackguards.” He slid two fingers beneath her chin, brushed his lips across her mouth, then gazed into her eyes. “Will you give me a memory to carry into battle?”

  She placed her hands against his shoulders and tried to push him away. “Release me at once,” she demanded, but instead, he lowered his head and captured her lips with a kiss that under normal circumstances would curl her toes and leave her begging for more.

  But she was not about to give in, would not allow herself to be manipulated. “I said let me go. I wish my uncle had never brought you here.” She shoved him again, but he held her even tighter.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Donald cleared his throat and slammed the door behind him. “The offer to fetch a priest still stands,” he said in a tone that reflected his disapproval.

  Bryce immediately released Fallon and sat hard on the edge of the pallet.

  “That won’t be necessary, Uncle. Bryce will be leaving soon. He has pressing things to attend to.” Fallon smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt, but did not look at either of the two men.

  “Is he well enough to make this journey?” Donald asked sternly.

  “Nay. But that dinna seem to matter,” Fallon snapped. “He is determined to be on his way.”

  “I appreciate your concern and your kindness, Donald, but what Fallon says is true. I have a matter of grave importance that must be taken care of. I am—”

  “Mayhap it is for the best.” Donald cut in before Bryce could finish.

  “Uncle, what are you saying?” Fallon placed her hand on Donald’s forearm. “You told me he could stay until his wounds were healed.”