The Talisman (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 2)

by Gafford, Deborah

  Gavin did not ask her to accompany him inside the small building so she gladly remained where she was, intent on recovering what dignity she could. Within minutes, he loaded a few things into the back of the wagon then climbed back beside her, still without speaking. He clicked his tongue at the horse, starting it into motion.

  They did not stop again in the village. Tense speechless minutes dragged by. Then an hour. Fie, 'twould seem the long ride was to continue with no end in sight. Ailis stared at the horizon before her. She chewed her bottom lip and anguished over her public response to Gavin's kiss. Even silently acknowledging her growing feelings toward him did naught to lessen her shame.

  The horse plodded along, pulling the wagon and its mute occupants until it reached a burn running alongside the dusty road. Gavin steered the wagon off the road and stopped, allowing the animal to drink.

  Gavin climbed down from the wagon and walked around to her side. He held his arms out to her. His voice sounded strained. "Ailis, you should get down and stretch your legs. We have a few hours ride yet to go."

  "Nay, I am fine. Walk if you wish. I will stay here."

  "No, you will not." Gavin reached up without warning and pulled her from the wagon. He stood her on the ground in front of him, his hands resting against the wagon on either side of her shoulders. The frown on his face proved he was in no mood to quibble.

  "You will walk with me and you will not argue about it. My back is tired of that wagon. I am sure yours is too. 'Twill do us both good to move around a bit."

  "My back is fine. I do not think it wise for me to be walking about out here."

  "You are safe with me. I will not let anything harm you."

  "'Tis not harm I am worried about. Walk if you wish, but I will stay in the wagon." Ailis turned her back to him and started to pull herself up to the wagon seat. She felt his strong hands around her immediately.

  He turned her to face him. "Enough! You have been treating me like a stranger with the pox ever since we left the village. 'Tis no reason to fash so. By the saints, 'twas only a kiss. I meant naught by it. I—"

  "So, you admit it! You think me no better than a wanton maid to take liberties with? That it doesna matter? Well, you are wrong, Gavin MacPherson! Aye, 'twas not proper of me to kiss you, but I have come to my senses. I will nay let you treat me like a common tavern wench no matter what you think. Go and take your walk if you wish it, but do not expect me to join you!"

  "What do you mean? I have not treated you badly. 'Twas just a kiss, nothing more." He stepped back and bent his head then rubbed the back of his neck as if to try to ease tense muscles. Then he looked back at her. "Och, fine. Keep to yourself. I do not need your company."

  Ailis spun around and climbed back up to her hard perch. She frowned down at him, daring him to say more.

  Gavin glared at her, stomped back to his side of the wagon and climbed to his seat. Without another word, he slapped the reins against the horse's rump, starting it into motion.

  #

  The long ride dragged on in tense silence. 'Twas just past gloaming when they reached the outskirts of Craigmuir. Ailis' anger and frustration had changed to weariness and hunger hours earlier. She cast a quick glance at Gavin. He looked as if he felt much the same.

  She shifted on the uncomfortable seat, anxious to get out of the wagon. Her breath caught in her throat when Gavin reached over and laid his hand on her shoulder. For the briefest of moments, she allowed his gentle touch to linger before she pulled away.

  He dropped his hand to his side and faced her. The early evening's fading light cast his handsome features in shadow and turned his light green eyes to the color of dark mountain thyme. "Lass, I offer my apologies. I will not say your kiss did not please me, for it would nay be true. But I meant no disrespect. Can we not begin again?"

  She looked at the obvious sincerity on his face. Guilt washed over her for her angry treatment toward him. After all, had she not also enjoyed the kiss, even wished for more? Aye, he had not forced her. She had been willing. Much too willing. And he had not asked for more than the kiss. Pasting on a smile to hide her heated thoughts, she nodded. "Aye, Gavin. I would like that."

  #

  The town inn, or what was left of it, lay in a charred ruin. Gavin clenched the reins in his hands and heaved a sigh. By the blessed saints, now what was he to do? Would Ailis think he had known of this and planned to take advantage of her with no other lodging in the small town? "You there," he called to a man passing by. "What happened here?"

  "Och, that burned down last Michaelmas when the chimney caught fire. Blazed like ary burnin' haystack, it did. 'Twas lucky were few folk there and all got out afore it collapsed." The man looked at Ailis then back at him. "If ye and yer woman are needin' a place to sleep, ye can try the alehouse. It has a wee extra room ye might rent fer the night. If Chloe isna usin' it that is." Chuckling, the man walked on.

  Gavin nodded at the man's retreating figure. Aye, he knew the alehouse. He had partaken a few pints there from time to time in his travels. Though this Chloe the man mentioned was not familiar to him, with enough silver, surely she would let Ailis share her room for the night. He could take a bench in the corner of the public room and try to get a few hours' sleep. Perhaps it would not be too noisy as the evening waned.

  He turned to Ailis. Her face had grown pale and her hand gripped the neck of her dress so tightly that her small knuckles appeared white in the dim light. "Lass, what is it?"

  She stared at the burned out heap for another moment and then turned a watery-eyed gaze on him. "It looks much as did our wagon after…" Her voice caught and she took a quick breath. "Seeing it brings back too many horrible memories. Please let us leave here."

  By God, he should have thought of that. The burned out shell of the former inn was a grim site to look upon even though no lives had been lost. How much worse must it make Ailis feel, seeing it there before her like a grim visage of the death and destruction of her family that she had witnessed? Frustrated with his inability to shield her from the terrible memories, he snapped the reins smartly against the horse's rump. "Aye, lass. Hold on."

  Urging the horse to a brisk trot, he kept the swift pace until the charred specter was lost to the night shadows. Then he pulled the wagon to a stop beside the town's market cross, leaned over and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Ailis. I would have spared you that had I known."

  Her fingers trembled in his. Whether more from fear or cold, he was not sure. But he would do all he could to see that she was warm and comfortable for the night, and later, somehow, he would find and punish the ones responsible for torturing her so.

  "Lass, I know of the alehouse. I have had a drink or two there in the past. 'Tis not grand, but 'twould seem we have no other choice. I promised you shelter and a bed so it will have to do for the night." He gently squeezed her hands and then let them go.

  The haunted look in her eyes had eased a wee bit. How he wished to bring a smile to her bonny face. "Unless," he said with a shrug, "you would rather sleep in the wagon under the stars. 'Tis tolerable enough until the cold or rain come or the midges find you." He pretended to swat at a swarm of the flying pests, then smacked the side of his neck. "Ah, lass, I fear they have found us already. We are done for."

  The sadness in her eyes seemed to dim and she smiled slightly. His heart turned over. Would that he could always please her so. "Well, lass?"

  She shook her head, the faint smile still lingering on her lips. "Nay, I will not ask you to risk such peril. The alehouse will do."

  "Aye, m'lady. Let us be gone then before the wee beasties o'ertake us and I must defend you with my life." He winked at her, then glanced about and swatted the air again before he clicked the reins setting the wagon in motion.

  #

  After a few minutes ride to the end of a neglected street, they pulled to a stop in front of a rough looking two-story building with a sign that read alehouse hanging from a broken hinge. "I fear time has not improved th
e place," Gavin said. He glanced upward. "No light shows through the shutter from the upstairs window. With luck 'tis still vacant."

  Clicking to the horse once more, he maneuvered the wagon to the side of the building and then brought it to a stop. He handed the reins to her saying, "Here, lass, take these for a moment whilst I unharness the horse and tie it to yon tree to feed on the grass."

  Ailis grasped the reins and held them taut even though her shoulders drooped with weariness. She chewed her bottom lip and gripped the straps of leather tightly as she glanced at the rundown building before them. Then she blinked her eyes, forcing back the tears of weariness that threatened to spill. A small sigh eased its way past her lips though she tried to hold it in.

  Gavin reached over and patted her arm. "Do not worry, lass. I will secure you a bed. Are you hungry?"

  The obvious concern in his voice touched her. "Aye, a wee bit."

  He nodded in the direction of the alehouse. "The food here is not as good as Nelli's but 'twill fill you and then you can seek your bed and sleep. Do not fear, you will be safe. I will not be far if you should need me."

  A pleasing warmth rushed through Ailis. His reassurance left her with a mixed sense of wonder. Wonder that he should be so concerned over her and wonder where he planned to sleep. There had been no evidence of lust behind his words so surely he did not mean to suggest sharing a bed. In truth, the thought of spending the night with him in an inn had worried her since the trip began. After their moments of lust earlier, would he ask to share her bed? Nay, he would not. After what she had said, he knew she was not that kind of woman.

  A bittersweet emptiness replaced the warmth she felt. She did not want to be tempted into a night of sin with him. Truly. But her pride might have liked to hear the asking. Just once.

  Ailis shook her head. Nay, she meant naught more to him than a friend to his sister and an added responsibility. She must not fool herself by hoping otherwise. She was not the kind of lass he would e'er truly be interested in. Neither was she a lass to act wantonly. No, she would remain alone as she had been these last weeks. Perhaps for the rest of her days.

  Yet even though she knew it was unwise to become attracted to him, she could not help it. She was drawn to him like iron to lodestone. Thinking of him warmed her thoughts and filled her with longing.

  Her gaze darted to his face, from his striking green eyes to his full lips. Then down his neck to the linen shirt stretched across his wide chest and thickly muscled arms. Sweet Saint Brighid, how his embrace and kisses had enflamed her, made her yearn for more.

  Ailis looked away lest he see the longing in her face. She glanced down at her hands and arms. They were too thin. Not plump and soft like pictures of court beauties she had seen once in a painting. With one hand she fingered the end of her braid where the dark hair began to untwine. Nay, her hair did not shine with the pale gold of sunlight as had those in the portrait.

  Never before had she wished to be someone other than herself. She had been fond of her simple traveling life with her family. But now… now she wished she were a great beauty, with land and a wealthy dowry fit to entice a man. She would give much to stir Gavin's interest in her beyond a few stolen kisses.

  Aye, she admitted it. She desired him. But 'twas more than passion. She longed to be with him. Working beside him, talking, laughing, sharing moments together. Could her feelings for Gavin be turning to love? Her heart thudded in her chest.

  Sweet heaven, she had well and truly lost her mind and 'twould be nay recovering it this time.

  Chapter Eight

  Gavin frowned as he led Ailis into the smoky, noise-filled interior of the alehouse. The air smelled of unwashed bodies, stale food and strong spirits. Aye, a man could feel the benefit of a pint just by breathing the foul air. Damn, he did not want to expose Ailis to this but the weather was turning colder and there was nay other place where he might find a warm bed for her.

  The loud voices and raucous sounds of the alehouse customers quieted as he and Ailis passed through the throng to a far corner of the room. He eyed the crowd warily and pulled her closer to his left side. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword where it hung against his hip. Not that he truly expected trouble, but he would nay take any chances where she was concerned. She was his sister's dearest friend and his… his responsibility. Aye, responsibility.

  Reaching the opposite side of the room, Gavin found a small table with a single bench against the wall as far away from the crowd as possible. A wooden trencher with stale remains of a meal sat in the middle of the table next to several empty tankards. Gavin pushed them to the other side of the table and nodded to Ailis. "'Tis not the dais in the great hall of Kirkholm, but it seems 'tis the best there is to offer. Sit, lass. Soon we will have a hot meal and something to quench our thirst. Then we can seek our rest."

  Ailis sank onto the wooden bench silently and he sat beside her, still eyeing the boisterous men around them, ready to send them on their way if they dared approach. When none did, he relaxed slightly and leaned back against the wall.

  The bench was not large and his thigh rubbed against hers as he moved. Hunger burned through him like a firestorm. One that had naught to do with food. He had best control his thoughts before his urges took things further than his honor could defend.

  He glanced at the woman sitting beside him who had been a constant part of his thoughts during too many days of late and often through the nights.

  She sat stiff and quiet and did not meet his gaze. Their closeness seemed to make her uneasy.

  Gavin slid to the end of the small bench and perched with one hip on the chipped and cracked wooden edge. If the saints were with him and his kilt stayed in place, he would nay get a splinter in his arse. If he did, twould be no worse than sitting so close to Ailis and not acting on his feelings.

  Shaking his head at the thought, he scanned the room watching the men drink and laugh and ogle the barmaid as she walked by. After a few moments, he breathed a little easier. Aye, that was better. As long as he did not fall off the bench, aught was well.

  If sitting this way kept a wee bit of space between them then it was worth the discomfort. Ailis' nearness was enough to cloud his thinking. But to have the lass pressed against him was more than he dared.

  Her response to his kiss and the way her velvet lips had melted under his touch was still fresh in his mind. When her fingers had stroked his neck and she had pressed closer, molding her body to his, he had thought he would turn to flame for want of her. The bonny experience of her pressed against him had felt so good. So right.

  Damn. Where was that barmaid? She had best bring them food soon or he would have appetite for naught but another taste of Ailis' sweet lips. And that he must not take.

  He glanced down at the silent woman beside him. She chewed her bottom lip in that worried way he had come to recognize. Was she, too, remembering their embrace in the village? From the sight of her expression, it did not bode well. Her angry words still echoed in his head.

  Sighing, he stretched his legs out away from the table as best he could from his precarious seat and scanned the room. The stairs to the second floor were tucked in a corner at the opposite end of the room. In between, there were half a dozen tables and assorted benches, filled with men of all ages and sizes. The one thing they had in common was their zeal for drink and vying for the attention of the winsome barmaid who seemed to have disappeared from sight again.

  Ailis shifted beside him. He glanced at her as she leaned back against the wall as if too tired to sit upright. Her bottom lip was wet and slightly puffy from her worrying. It glistened and beckoned to him like the song of a silkie.

  Gavin swallowed. By thunder, he had best hurry the barmaid in her duties before he lost his restraint and carried Ailis upstairs and be damned with honor. There, food would be the last thing on his mind. Forcing his gaze from her bonny lips and his thoughts from a night of pleasure, he said, "Lass, will you be all right here for a time? 'Twould
seem I may have to fetch someone to bring our meal. I will not be gone long."

  She looked at him and nodded. Her smile seemed over-weary. "Aye, Gavin, I will be fine. In truth, I do not desire food right now as much as I do a warm bed."

  Ah, lass, my thoughts exactly. Gavin curled his fingers at his sides to keep from reaching out for her. "I will return shortly."

  Crossing the crowded room, he looked for the overworked barmaid but she was nowhere in sight. Ahead of him, a short hallway presumably led to the kitchen. Throwing a hurried glance at the crowded room and over to Ailis sitting alone, Gavin started down the hallway.

  It did not take long to find the kitchen. The smoke of the cook fire and smell of food wafted down the short passage and he hurried through the open doorway. A cluttered table stood before the fire, one end heaped with tankards, pitchers and jugs. The rest of the table was littered with food. Some in bowls, some spilled across its surface. A thin dog, its ribs showing from beneath its dirty fur, perched its front paws on the corner and lapped at something on the nearest plate.

  An older woman stood before the fire, stirring the contents of a large pot. Beside her, a skinny lad squatted at the fire's edge, turning a spit of meat, the glow of the flames shining on his sweat-lined face. Across the small room, the barmaid was pouring ale from a jug into several tankards placed on a large wooden tray.

  They all looked up as he entered. The boy stopped turning the meat, wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his shoulder. Glancing toward Gavin, the cook spied the dog at the table and shouted, "Get away from there, ye bloody cur!" She hurried over and smacked it with her spoon. Yelping, it dashed past Gavin and down the hallway. Then she walked back to the fire and started stirring the contents of her pot once more with a sharp word to the lad to turn the meat before it burned.

  The barmaid wiped her hands on her apron, smoothed her low cut chemise and sauntered over. A smile of promise spread across her lips. "Is there aught ye were wantin', m'lord? If 'tis food, ye can see we have plenty." After pointing toward the table, she ran her fingers across her chest, drawing his gaze to her ample breasts. Lowering her voice, she added, "An', if 'tis a bit o' sport ye be seekin', 'tis a room to be had at the top o' the stairs fer a bit o' coin. I could show ye it personal like."