by Amy Jarecki
She looked to Coll. “Is that right?”
The chieftain waved a dismissive hand. “Bah, no one cares overmuch about the past.”
Akira stewed over Sir Coll’s words for a moment. Geordie had a questionable reputation? Aside from their fleeting kiss, he had behaved respectfully toward her. “I think once a reputation is earned, it is very difficult to change. Though I must admit my patient has proved to be as gentlemanly as any of the other people I’ve tended.”
The two men looked at her, Coll in mid-chew, Geordie lowering his tankard. Then he grinned. “See, MacDonell, I told you she was a rare blossom.”
“Indeed.”
Heat flooding to her cheeks, Akira studied her plate and swirled a bite of roast lamb in gravy. Roast lamb. She could count on her fingers the number of times she’d had such a lavish feast.
When she looked up again, Geordie’s face had grown ashen, with a damp sheen.
“Are you not feeling well, sir?” she asked, figuring if Sir Coll was referring to Geordie as “sir,” she should as well.
“Just overtired, I reckon.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”
Coll scooted his chair back and hopped to his feet. “I’ll send up a bath and some Speyside whisky. That’ll set you to rights.”
Akira stood as well. “I should dress your wound after your bath.”
Leaning on the chair, Geordie frowned and shook his head. “You need to sleep as well.”
“Aye, I will, right after I’ve tended you. After all, you’re paying me to heal you. I’d best do a good job of it.”
* * *
“Is there anything else you need, sir?” asked the valet, placing a glass of whisky and a drying cloth on the table beside the wooden tub filled with steaming water.
Geordie looked at the bath and licked his lips. His entire body ached along with the endless throbbing of his thigh. Why was it injuries had to worsen before they healed? “Please send the healer in with her satchel.”
The servant bowed. “Straightaway, sir. And I’ll have your doublet brushed and shirt washed and returned by morning.”
“Thank you.”
After the valet left, Geordie removed his borrowed robe and sank into the water. “Sssss.” Damnation, his thigh stung as it met the warm water. Clenching his teeth, he reclined and closed his eyes until the sting abated. Good Lord, it felt good to be back in civilization.
But still, the redcoats had come too damned close. On the morrow, he must head north and leave Akira in Coll’s capable hands. Unfortunately, the thought of leaving her didn’t sit well. He’d grown attached to the wee imp. But she’d be completely flummoxed once she discovered he was a duke. And that would spoil everything.
A soft rap sounded at the door as Geordie reached for his whisky. “Come.”
Akira peered inside with a wee gasp. “Apologies, sir. I was told you sent for me.”
He beckoned her. “I did. Close the door.”
Clutching the satchel over her shoulder, she stepped inside. “Perhaps I should come back after your bath.”
He watched her from behind the glass as he took a long drink of whisky. This very well could be the last evening he’d spend with the bonny lass. Aye, he’d respect her as he had this entire journey, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a wee bit of fun. “I hoped you might have a healing essence for my bath water.”
Taking in a sharp breath, she nodded and moved toward him. “Aye, I’ve a tincture of avens oil and mallow.” She dug inside her satchel and pulled out a vial. “Here it is.”
He beckoned her closer. “Would you add it to the basin?”
A worried look furrowed her brow. “All you need do is sprinkle a bit into the bath and then soak until the water cools.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “My guess is you’re nervous about doing it yourself.”
“Aye.” Her gaze dipped to the water. “’Tisn’t proper.”
“But I’m paying you to be my healer. I think it would be best if you tended me.”
Clearing her throat, she snapped her gaze back to his face and gave him a more self-assured nod. “Very well.”
Geordie almost forgot his fever as she neared. Aye, the ache in his head was replaced by a much more urgent ache in his loins.
Akira stood over him, poured in the tincture, and shoved the stopper back into the vial. “If you’d like, I’ll return after your soak and apply the salve.”
He took another sip of whisky and placed the glass on the table. “Would you sit with me?”
Her gaze strayed to the water, her lips parting with her sharp inhale.
His erection lurked beneath, and it was all he could do not to stroke himself and show her exactly what she did to him. Dear God, the game of abstinence was practically more erotic than any he’d ever played.
If only she weren’t an innocent…
He licked his lips. “Am I making you nervous?”
“Aye.” She picked up a cloth, dipped it in the water, and wrung it out. Her gaze met his with a crackle of energy. “I think you’re toying with me.”
“Perhaps.” He grasped her wrists. “But I like it when you’re near.” And he didn’t want young Coll of Keppoch making advances toward the lass, either.
After a moment’s hesitation—a moment where their unblinking stares held as if in a battle of wills—she pulled her hand away and wiped his brow. “I like you as well, sir, but you confuse me.”
“Oh? Why? And why have you all of the sudden started calling me sir?”
“Sir Coll refers to you as such, and as my employer, I figured I must pay you your due respect as well.”
Dear God, he should just have out with it and reveal his true identity.
She scrubbed the cloth down his chest—a bit heavy-handed about it, too. “Why does the chieftain call you sir?”
“His clan pays fealty to my clan.”
“So then, you are a chieftain as well?”
“Yes, I am.” That was no lie. His line had been the chieftains of Clan Gordon for centuries.
“Then that explains it.” The swirls of her cloth grew softer, though her hand trembled a bit. “And I’ll reckon you’re afraid you’ll lose your lands if the Government troops discover you rode against them at Hoord Moor.”
“Right you are.” He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “’Tis time I sent you home.”
She nodded with a gulp.
“I wish it didn’t have to be thus.”
“Me, too,” she whispered, the firelight picking up a tear in the corner of her eye. “I-I’d like to see you recovered afore I take my leave.”
“I’ll come good, thanks to you and your ma’s salve.”
“But I’m worried about fever. You need rest. Will you stay on here for a time?”
“I cannot. If I ride hard, I’ll be home in two or three days.”
“Oh.” She drew her hand away and busied herself by hanging the cloth on the side of the tub. “Is there someone near your home to tend you?”
He chuckled. “Too many people, to be honest.”
“And I suppose the chieftain has his pick of any lass he wants.”
Hot blood thrummed beneath his skin. The way she looked at him, combined with the soft allure of her voice, gave rise to a deep-seated desire. She liked him. He could swear she wanted him to kiss her, and that made him even harder. Geordie again caught her hand and lightly rubbed his fingers around her palm. “Nay.” Blast it all, he couldn’t make her empty promises—not Akira—not this lass who had all but sacrificed her life for him.
A tear dribbled from her eye as her lips neared and caressed his forehead. “I am but a poor maid. I ken my place, sir.”
When she pulled away, Geordie kept a firm grasp on her hand. Before he could think, he was on his feet, embracing her against his wet, naked body. Aye, with Akira in his arms he could ignore the pain in his leg—he could ignore the whole goddamn world.
; She opened her mouth to protest, but he didn’t give her reproach a chance to meet the air. He slid a hand to her slender jaw and claimed her mouth for himself. The time had passed for teaching the woman about kissing a man, the time had come to show her the power she had over him—the power she could have over any man of her choosing. And, by God, Geordie wanted the object of her desire to be him and only him.
Her hand pushed between them, but her mouth opened, welcoming the deep plunging of his tongue.
He swirled his fingers into her back, hoping, praying she could feel his hardness pressed against her. Hoping, praying she wanted him as much as he craved her—with his very life. He’d wanted her since he’d first gazed into those indigo eyes. God, regardless of the gaping hole in his thigh, his cock had been hard for four long days.
Gradually, he moved his hands downward until he cupped her buttocks. Oh God, yes. He held her hips flush against his body and ground his erection into her. Akira matched the fervent demands of his tongue, dancing with him in a maelstrom of sensual fervor.
The devil be damned, how erotic to be making love to a woman when completely naked while she remained clothed. And by her mewls, he knew he was wearing down Akira’s resistance, chipping away at that stoic shroud she hid behind. The anticipation of touching her damp core drove him to the brink of madness.
What was he doing standing in the middle of the floor when the bed was only paces away? Hell, he mightn’t make it to the bed.
With one deep moan, he forced himself to pull away far enough to pick her up and gather her into his arms. “I want you, lass,” he growled, ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg.
“I…want…” She watched him with half-lidded eyes, looking more wanton than anything he’d ever seen. When he set her on the bed, her gaze dropped to his cock. He could come just having her eyes on him.
But she drew her fists beneath her chin and scooted her back against the headboard. “Geordie, I can’t.”
“What? Why?”
Springing to her feet, she held up her palms. “You are a wealthy landowner. And if Clan MacDonell pays you fealty, I can only imagine that your house must be even grander than this manse.” She began inching toward the door, her mouth drawn as if in a panic. “I-I am but a poor healer born of Gypsy parents, with a father to whom my mother was not married. That makes me a bastard.” She uttered the word as if it were the vilest thing on earth. “And the only thing I have of value in this world is my virtue. I cannot throw it away on one night of passion.”
He reached out a hand, his tongue twisting as he searched for the right words. “But—”
Turning, she picked up her satchel and fled for the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Akira awoke in a complete daze. She had no idea when she’d finally fallen asleep—she’d been awake half the night replaying the events in Geordie’s chamber over and over again. It had taken every ounce of will she could muster to spring to her feet and make haste for the door. And now she knew exactly how weak her own flesh could be. If she’d remained on that bed for a moment longer, she never would have been able to resist him.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him naked and oh, so very virile. Ma had never told her how beautiful a man could be, stripped bare. Akira clutched her hands over her heart. She doubted there were many men who would look as strapping as Geordie—a highborn clan chieftain from the region of Aberdeen. Goodness, he possessed muscles everywhere.
She’d been shamelessly breathless when he was submerged in the bath—bare naked of all things, inviting her into his chamber. Oh, how easy it would be to surrender to his temptation.
Thank the stars she would be heading back to Dunkeld this day. She missed her family, and she missed the safety of the shieling, no matter how shabby. At home with her sisters there was no one to tempt her like Sir Geordie—or George, chieftain of Clan Mysterious.
Sir Coll had said Geordie was a rake, and the man didn’t deny it—just said he was irresponsible when he was younger. But could men change their nature? Was she merely a target, another of the great man’s conquests? Had she been playing into his hands all along?
But he’d been in sore need of a healer.
Clapping her hands to her head, she squeezed her eyes shut.
I am only a simple lass. I must tread carefully around him. He’s so much wiser in the ways of the world—and older.
But none of her worries mattered. They would say their good-byes this morn, their paths never to cross again.
“Miss Akira?” said a deep voice from the passageway, followed by a knock.
She sat bolt upright, clutching the bedclothes beneath her chin. “Aye?”
“Sir Geordie is fevered. Are you up?” It was Sir Coll for certain. “Ah—I could summon the MacDonell healer if you’re still abed.”
She hopped up, stepping into her kirtle and hastily tying the laces. “No, I’ll tend him.” Shoving her feet into her shoes, she opened the door. “Did I oversleep?”
“Aye, you both did. ’Tis almost ten. And when I decided to check on the d—I mean his lor—I mean Sir Geordie, he didn’t rouse. His forehead is afire.”
“Oh dear, that’s what I was afraid of when he turned pale at the table last eve.” She grabbed her satchel and headed across the passageway.
Sir Coll followed. “Sir Geordie is fortunate to have you.”
“’Twas a good thing I found him afore the dragoons did.”
The big chieftain opened the door and ushered her inside.
Akira hastened to the bed. Lying flat on his back, Geordie seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but his dark hair was thick with sweat. She gave his shoulder a shake. “Sir Geordie, ’tis time to break your fast.”
A deep moan rumbled from his throat. Moving her hand to his forehead, she checked for a fever. “’Tisn’t good.” This was what happened to the soldier she’d nursed with the musket shot to the knee—though that man had been in a sorry state from the outset.
A furrow formed between Sir Coll’s brows. “Can you help him?”
She clenched her fists tight. Just as she had vowed at the cave, she would not lose him. Not now. Not ever. She would prove her worth for all to see, and Geordie would ride north to join his clan just as he’d planned.
Akira dashed for the bowl and ewer. “We must try to cool him down. Can you lower the bedclothes to his waist while I moisten a cloth?”
“Of course.”
She heaved a sigh. It was far more proper for Sir Coll to manage the bedclothes.
Returning with a damp cloth, she patted it over Geordie’s forehead and then up and down his chest. He gave a shiver, and his teeth chattered.
Sir Coll leaned over the patient with a frown. “I think he’s overcold.” He grasped the edge of the bedcover. “Let me cover him up again.”
“No.” Akira grasped the chieftain’s wrist. “The chills are expected. They help him heal.”
“But he’s freezing.”
“Ma says a fevered patient feels cold because their skin is overwarm. Covering him up will only serve to make his fever worse.”
“How do you ken this?”
“I’ve been healing folk since the age of twelve.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Three and twenty.” Turning her back to him, she dipped the cloth in the bowl. “And you, sir?”
“One and twenty.”
“’Tis young for a laird.”
“Aye, my father only recently passed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It couldn’t be helped.” Sir Coll crossed his arms and regarded her. “I’m afraid we cannot escort you home this day. My men and I are in the midst of a feud with the MacIntosh clan, and I’ve had a report they’re mounting a raid.”
“How awful. D-do you think they’ll attack here?”
“I rather doubt it. We aim to head them off long before they reach Glen Spean. Will you be all right remaining here for a while longer?”
“Aye.” She
faced him, putting on a determined expression. “I cannot possibly leave Sir Geordie’s side until I ken he’s well enough to start his journey home.”
“You’re a good lass.” The big man grinned. “I’ll send up a tray for you. Is there anything else you need, miss?”
She drummed her fingers against her lips. “Could the cook prepare a tankard of willow bark tea?”
“I’ll have a pot of it sent up and then I’ll take my leave.”
Akira grasped his elbow. “Be careful. I do not need any more Highlanders to look after.”
He bowed. “Not to worry, miss. Just help His Lordship come back to rights.”
Before Akira could ask him to repeat those words, Sir Coll slipped out the door. She wrung the cloth and placed it on Geordie’s forehead. “Your Lordship?”
Unbelievable. She’d kissed a lord? Geordie must be a nobleman, a peer, a titled baron…or only heaven knew what else.
Her hands shook. What if he perishes in my care? I would be blamed. I could end up thrown in the stocks, or worse, hanged from the gallows.
She doused a second cloth and spread it across his chest. “Geordie, can you hear me?”
Should I continue to refer to him as “Geordie”? That’s what he asked of her. And knowing him, he’d be upset if he discovered she knew he was a lord.
Akira plucked the cloth from his forehead and dunked it in the bowl. Nonetheless, there was so much more she did not know about him—like his family name.
She smoothed the cool cloth over his forehead and face. Why was she fretting about what to call him? He needed her to help him now as much as ever. It tore her up on the inside to watch him shiver, but the only way to bring the fever down was by way of cool compresses and willow bark tea.
When the kettle arrived, she quickly poured a cup and began spooning small drops into his mouth. “Drink.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Can you hear me?”
It didn’t dissuade her when he gave no reply. She continued to spoon the tincture into his mouth. “This will set you to rights.”
