Healing the Highlander

by Melissa Mayhue

  She pushed herself to stand, the muscles in her legs quivering with exhaustion as she did, and headed the few feet to the water. As she neared the bank, her foot slipped on the marshy ground and she grabbed wildly at the bush next to her. Sliding to one knee, she threw out her arms in front of her. Taking the brunt of fall on her right side, her hand plunged into the foliage covering the ground.

  “Crapola,” she hissed, pulling her hand up to examine her stinging fingers. She’d slid more than she’d fallen, and she wasn’t so much hurt as rattled.

  Once again she pushed up to her feet and carefully took the two remaining steps down to the river’s edge where the deep waters eddied and swirled.

  Well, wasn’t that just perfect.

  She shook her head as she squatted down and leaned awkwardly over a dead tree stump to scoop up a handful of water. Barely one day on the road and she was already a mud-splattered mess thanks to that klutzy little episode.

  “Could have been worse,” she murmured, looking back at the deep skid mark her foot had made in the soft mud. Another few inches and she could have gone into the river, a very nasty possibility considering how deep the water here appeared to be and her inability to swim. “A whole lot worse.”

  The sound of her voice ringing in her ears, she tossed the edge of her cape behind her to avoid letting it drape down into the water. The last thing she needed was a wet cape on a night when she’d have no fire.

  Another scoop of water and she rubbed her hands together, realizing as she did so that the stinging in her fingers had intensified. The tips were swelling and turning red, too.

  “Double crapola.” Obviously there were nettles growing here and, lucky her, she’d found them. After a while, she knew from experience, the stinging would stop and her fingers would be completely numb. No big deal. A minor irritation that would pass before she woke in the morning. Still, it was one more annoying distraction she didn’t need.

  Once more she leaned over the stump and dipped down into the water, scrubbing her hands together. That would have to do for washing up. At least her hands would be cleaner than they had been.

  Pushing to stand, Leah leaned her weight against the stump to support her tired, shaking legs. As she did so, she heard a strange sucking noise and the stump gave way under her hand, sliding forward into the waters at her feet.

  She windmilled her arms, pitching her body back, away from the water, but her foot tangled in the heavy cape she wore and the next thing she felt was the shock of the cold water as she tumbled in.

  Nothing beneath her feet to push against. Sheer and total panic tightened her chest even as she flailed her arms against the strong current below the surface of the water. Gasping in great mouthfuls of river, she struggled to catch her next breath.

  So heavy. She felt the water dragging her down like a great, dark hand pulling her surely toward the bottom no matter how hard she fought it.

  She might have screamed; she wasn’t sure. All she did know for sure was that no matter how hard she fought, the grasp of the river was stronger than she would ever be.

  Her chest burned with the need for oxygen and she gasped again, her mouth filling with as much water as air. Again the inexorable weight pulled her down as surely as if she were in the clutches of some creature from the muddy depths.

  This is it, her mind raged as the waters closed over her face. She was going to die and there was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent it.

  Or perhaps she was dead already, because what she glimpsed as she went under that last time surely could be nothing if not the face of an angel.

  It was around here somewhere.

  Drew pulled on the reins he’d held loosely in his hands, bringing his steed to pause as he gathered his bearings. He remembered a spot where he’d overnighted on his last travels through this area. A protected place back off the road a piece, where the forest followed the bend of the river and boulders appeared to have been tossed about as if the gods had used them in a giant game of chance.

  With a click of his tongue, his mount started forward, carefully picking his steps from the beaten track and into trees.

  There were of course places he could have found shelter along the way. The MacKiernans were not unknown is this part of the land. There were friends, allies, family, even a small monastery he passed up the day before.

  Wisely passed up, he thought to himself as he ducked his head to avoid a low-hanging branch. Out here, in the open, alone, he had no need for falsehoods to explain himself or his actions. No need to speak of where he was headed or why. No enduring the well-meaning advice and counsel his family and friends felt it their duty to inflict on him.

  When his family had learned he was headed out yet again, his brother’s wife, Ellie, had insisted on showing him some stretches she thought would help him to keep his leg from stiffening. In spite of how ridiculous they had looked to him, after all the time he had spent in the saddle, he just might give them a try this night.

  His horse’s ears pricked up and the animal tossed his head as they broke through the trees and into the clearing. Drew’s attention focused on his immediate surroundings and he brought the animal to a halt.

  What was that noise up ahead? Some animal thrashing in the water?

  A sharp, crystalline scream echoed through the clearing, coming to an abrupt end.

  Not some animal. A woman.

  Drew leapt from his horse, ignoring the stumble as his weak leg hit the ground, forcing himself to run in spite of the pain. His world stuttered, shifting into slow motion as he looked to the river.

  The woman struggled, her frantic efforts against the rushing current pushing her farther and farther away from the bank. As she sank under the surface, he jerked his sword from his back and tossed it to the ground, eliminating the extra weight in preparation for what he was about to do.

  No time to think how bizarre he felt in that instant, as if their eyes had connected somehow.

  The shock of cold closed around him when he dove into the river, as near to where he’d seen her last as he dared. Down, down he pushed, to grab whatever he could reach in the murky depths below him where she’d disappeared.

  Something brushed against his fingertips and he kicked, propelling himself down until his hand closed around thick, water-bloated cloth. He lifted with all his might, fighting the energy-sapping pull of the cold river as he attempted to wrap his arms around the body.

  Not a body! A struggling, living woman who flailed her arms and kicked her feet, pushing in the wrong direction in her desperate attempt to reach air.

  He drew her to him, her back against his chest, fighting her and the currents in order to thrust them both up, up toward the surface.

  So close now.

  His face broke through and he gasped to fill his lungs even as he fought to pull her head up into the open air. He managed to get her face to the surface for only an instant before the churning waters tugged her down again, the weight of her clothing dragging her toward the bottom.

  Down they went together, Drew unwilling to let go his hold on her.

  Damn the woolen she wore! He clawed at the ties around her neck, succeeding at last in ripping the ribbon from the material and allowing the heavy cloak to fall away as he kicked his legs to propel them back up once more.

  She didn’t fight him any longer. Her movements had stilled by the time they broke the surface and a dreadful panic filled his chest along with the fresh sweet air he gulped down.

  Shifting his hold, he hooked his arm around her, tucking his hand under her armpit. With the heavy woolen gone, there didn’t seem to be much to her.

  Four strong strokes and he reached land. Treading water, he managed to shove her up onto the bank facefirst, her lower body still hanging into the river as he lifted himself out beside her.

  No time to rest yet. Forcing himself to keep moving, he rose to his knees and grasped the limp woman under her arms. He lifted her, scrambling backward to drag her up the bank unti
l her whole body was out of the water.

  After the days on horseback, exertion and the cold water pushed his muscles beyond their limit, sapping his strength. His thigh went rigid as a cramp shot through the damaged tissue and he collapsed with the pain, dropping the woman the last few inches to land next to him, her cheek resting on the ground next to his leg.

  She hit with a thud and water spewed from her mouth as her body convulsed, racked with coughing.

  Thank the Fates!

  Drew kept his gaze locked on the woman’s face as he kneaded his fingers into his knotted thigh muscle. Though she’d turned to lie on her back with her eyes still closed, she breathed, great gasps of air filling her lungs between fits of coughing.

  “You’ll breathe easier, lass, if you but move to yer side.”

  She didn’t resist when he rolled her over, but the instant he withdrew his touch, she pushed up to her hands and knees, backing away from him.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Alive,” she croaked, pressing both palms to her chest. “Barely.”

  Water clustered on her dark lashes as she blinked, knitting them together like a netting of delicately thin leaves found covering the deepest forest floor. And her eyes! Even red-rimmed from her traumatic experience, they glowed like strange, dark jewels, the rich brown of fertile soil in spring.

  “I must look awful,” she murmured, trying ineffectively to push back errant clumps of blond hair that plastered wetly to her face.

  She worried about how she looked? He stared at her fidgeting there, unable to think of any appropriate reply to give her. It was the impossibly ridiculous sort of thing he could easily imagine his sister, Sallie, might say in similar circumstances. What strange creatures women were that their minds could possibly dredge up such a thought so closely on the heels of having nearly drowned. All of them were beyond any man’s ability to comprehend.

  A breeze stirred through the clearing, biting into his water-soaked clothing and reminding him that nightfall was at hand. As he considered his own discomfort, he realized this strange woman in front of him hadn’t been fidgeting as he’d first thought. She was shivering, and quite hard, too.

  “We’ve a need to get out of these wet things or we’ll both catch a fever.” He pushed to stand and held out a hand to assist her to her feet. “I’ll start a fire and then you can tell me how you managed to—”

  “No!” She clutched his sleeve, her eyes looking for all the world like those of a frightened doe. “No fire!”

  “Dinna be daft, woman. Why would you no want a fire?” Though the day had been pleasant enough, the dark would bring the full chill of early spring with its arrival.

  “Because it can be seen by—” She stopped speaking abruptly, dropping her hold on his sleeve as she backed away again. “Who are you? What are you doing out here?”

  This was beyond what he might ordinarily tally up to typically confounding female behavior. This woman’s fear shone around her like a halo. And why wouldn’t she be afraid? Out here in the wilderness with a strange man and none of her own companions to be seen, she’d every right for concern.

  “Andrew MacAlister.” He bobbed his head respectfully, as if they stood in the great hall of his family home. “I’m traveling on business.” Which, no matter how frightened she might be, was all she needed to know about his journey. “We need to dry you off.”

  The time for niceties had long since passed.

  “Then you’re not English?” Her hand clutched at some bauble hanging from her neck, her eyes rounded in suspicion. “You’re not looking for me?”

  So that was it. A runaway. That would explain why there’d been no one around to save her.

  “Since I’ve no idea who you are, I can say with certainty I was no looking for you, nor anyone else for that matter, until I heard yer scream for help.” He turned his back to begin gathering bits of fuel for his fire. “And all I search for now is the makings of a good fire to warm us after our wee dunk in the water.”

  “Wait.”

  Drew straightened, a pile of broken twigs in one hand, and turned back to face the confounding woman.

  “My name is Leah MacQuarrie. Listen, I know my request seems odd. It’s just that . . .” She paused, pushing wet bits of hair behind her ear as if stalling for time while she made up her mind whether or not to say more. “There’s a chance my uncle may have men out looking for me. If you start a fire, it’ll be like setting a beacon out for them. I can’t risk having them find me.”

  More confirmation of his runaway theory. Likely some family dispute he had no intention of entangling himself in. After all, he remembered all too well how dramatic his own sister had been growing up. Though, in truth, he’d be the first to admit that the female in front of him now was a woman grown, not a girl.

  Drew nodded, hoping to convey that he might actually be considering her request. They were having a fire this night whether she liked or not, there was no question in his mind to that. Still, for now, distraction might be a better tactic than honesty.

  “Have you brought with you dry things you could change into?”

  Her forehead wrinkled in her confusion and she blinked several times before answering, as if his change to the discussion was formed of words she didn’t quite understand.

  “No,” she answered at last. “Just some food and a blanket.”

  “Very well.” He strode to his horse and dug into his bags, pulling out a tightly rolled shirt and handing it over to her. “I’ve only one spare set myself, so we’ll share. You take the shirt and I’ll have the plaid, aye?”

  She took the garment he offered and disappeared behind the boulders, stopping to pick up a small bundle he hadn’t noticed earlier.

  Good. Untying all those wet laces should keep her busy for a good while. By the time she got out of those wet things and returned, their fire would be well under way.

  Six

  Not even the most determined silent treatment in the world could hold out long against a growling stomach and the smell of fresh-roasted fish.

  Whatever.

  Now that Leah was over being angry about the fire, maybe it was time to focus a little more thought on how lucky she was this guy had showed up. This guy and not one of Dick’s men.

  “That was so good. Thank you. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.”

  Leah licked the remains of dinner from her fingers and studied Andrew MacAlister across the fire. Discreetly, of course. Wouldn’t do to have him catch her ogling, even if he was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  Maybe especially because of that.

  “I’m pleased you liked it.”

  He shifted his attention from the food in his hand to smile at her and she darted her eyes away.

  That was too close! He’d almost caught her staring.

  “Does this mean we’re speaking again, then?” His grin widened as he asked the question. “That yer over yer temper about the fire?”

  She didn’t answer right away, instead taking her time to consider an appropriate response.

  When she’d returned from slipping into his dry shirt and found he’d started a fire, she’d tried to argue him into putting it out. He’d turned his back on her, completely ignoring her request, telling her to stop being a silly female and to let him worry about anyone whose attention the fire might draw.

  It was the “silly female” crack that had really gotten to her. Even after more than a decade in this century, she still hadn’t reconciled herself to accept the pervasive male superiority garbage.

  “A fire didn’t seem like a smart thing to me. Not when I can’t risk being caught before I reach my destination.”

  Andrew nodded thoughtfully, shifting the woolen blanket he wore draped around his shoulders. “I accept that. Though I dinna suspect dying from exposure would be a much better choice, now would it?”

  She looked down at the ground, feeling his soft brown eyes bore into her when he paused, as if he expected
an answer she had no intention of giving. If he planned to wait for her to admit that he was right and she was wrong, he was in for a mighty long wait.

  Even if he was right.

  “I’d say the time has come, lass, for you to be telling me what this destination of yers is and why you’d be willing to risk yer life to reach it. Perhaps I can help.”

  Perhaps he could, but getting his help meant she’d have to trust him enough to tell him everything, and how could she trust someone she’d only known for a couple of hours? Of course, he had saved her life and that had to count for something in his favor. Other than starting the fire and calling her a silly female, he’d been considerate and respectful, more big check marks in the trustworthy category.

  Tick, tock, Leah. She needed to make up her mind. And, really, what did she have to lose at this point? They sat out here alone, in the dark, in the middle of freaking nowhere. If he were a bad guy, his knowing where she was headed and why could hardly make her situation any worse than it already was.

  Looking up, she met his unflinching gaze. Goodness, but he had great eyes.

  And that, as stupid a reason as she recognized it to be, was what ultimately aided her decision. She refused to believe that a man with eyes like those could possibly be all bad.

  “My grandfather is being held captive in MacQuarrie Keep. I’m trying to reach the only people I know to turn to for help.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “The MacKiernans of Dun Ard.”

  Andrew froze in the act of stirring the fire, the stick in his hand flipping up a poof of embers as it came to rest against the surrounding stones.

  “And what makes you think these MacKiernans will be willing to help you?”

  “They’re honor-bound to help because they’re family.” She paused, weighing her words. “Family of a sort. They’re related to the man my sister married.”

  She wouldn’t even try to explain that none of the MacKiernans would ever have heard of her sister’s husband since he wouldn’t be born for another seven hundred years. That was the whole reason for the letter.