The Highland Guardian

by Jarecki, Amy

  “First broth. If you can keep that down, then we’ll try a bit of bread. Then mayhap a bite of stew.”

  He groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  “Truly? I’d say it’s the other way around.” She reached for a spoon and dipped it in the cup. “See if you can sip this. ’Tis near impossible to ladle broth into a man’s mouth when he’s sleeping on his side.”

  He pushed up a little and opened his mouth. The broth spread across his tongue and made him ravenous. When Audrey pulled the spoon away for another scoop, he leaned forward, following her hand. “More.”

  She smiled and offered him another, and another. Reid wanted to swipe the cup from her hands and drink it down, but his supporting arm was already trembling, damn it all.

  “Your back is healing. Scabs have formed.”

  “It itches like the devil.”

  Chuckling, she set the spoon in the cup and sat back. “That’s another good sign.”

  He licked his lips, staring at the cup forlornly. “Is there more?”

  “I think you should rest for a bit before you have another cup.”

  Reid had enough. This invalid routine had to end. Now. He ground his teeth and shoved himself up. “God bless it!”

  Gasping, Audrey clutched her fists to her chest. “I do not think ’tis a good idea to push yourself overmuch.”

  “Aye? Most likely, if it were up to you, I’d stay abed for another sennight so you can play at your bloody healing.”

  Hurt flashed through her eyes. “Not true. I am thinking only of your welfare.”

  “And that means helping me rise from this bed.” He shook his head. “No, that means standing back whilst I rise under my own power.”

  “Very well.” She stood and shoved the chair toward him. “Use this as a crutch, you ungrateful oaf.”

  That’s right. He was an oaf, and it was about time she realized it. Grumbling, he pulled the damned chair in front of him and placed both hands on the back. With a hearty push, he took his weight onto his legs with ease. The only problem was his head spun like a top. He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. “Ballocks.”

  It took a deep inhale to steady the spinning. Then he shoved the chair aside and took a step. “You see? I am fit.”

  “Oh?” She crossed her arms. “Then why am I not impressed?”

  He took another step and wobbled a little. In the blink of an eye, Audrey slipped under his arm. “Allow me to help.”

  “Curses, woman, can you not see I need no help?” He pulled his arm away and strode for the door in as straight a line as he could manage. Without looking back, he stepped outside and stumbled for the wood heap. Practically panting like he’d run a footrace, he balanced himself by resting his hand on the pile while he caught his breath. Dammit, he’d never been this weak in his bloody life, and now he’d gone and barked at Audrey.

  Didn’t she know not to cosset a man? Didn’t she know he would need to rebuild his strength as soon as possible? And blast it all, she ought to know how much he hated weakness in himself.

  He put a stick of wood on the chopping block and ground his teeth against the tremors while he picked up the ax. It was all he could do to raise the bloody thing above his head and swing it down. The damned ax head must have been blunt because it bounced off the wood like a mallet. Christ, the last time he’d missed a chop, he’d been a lad of nine.

  But that didn’t stop him. If anything, his failure infused him with strength. He widened his stance and hefted the ax above his head. Bellowing with his downward strike, he split the wood in half.

  “That’ll show you, ye bloody stick of miserable oak.” Again he inhaled, the mountain air filling his lungs. He leaned on the ax handle and took in the surroundings. The cottage was whitewashed, encircled by a forest. The ground was soft with a carpet of moss underfoot, and beyond, a loch cut through steep mountainous slopes. On the windless day, the water looked like glass. Could he spend a season there? Aye, if he wasn’t the leader of the cause. Every Jacobite clan in the Highlands was relying on him to help stop the Occasional Conformity Act and see to it James Francis Edward Stuart was the next successor to the throne as was his birthright.

  Squaring his shoulders, Reid placed another stick of wood on the chopping block. This time, he split it on the first try, but the effort sapped him. He leaned the ax against the heap and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

  Then he looked to the cottage again. Audrey was still inside.

  Damn.

  He’d acted like an arse.

  * * *

  Audrey shoved her hands against her face to keep herself from crumbling into a blubbering heap. She didn’t want to cry. No, she wouldn’t let that dastard yell at her, storm out of the cottage, and turn her into a weeping dotard.

  Though she might scream.

  For pity’s sake, ever since the earl’s incarceration she’d thought of nothing but Reid MacKenzie. She’d stayed up all hours sewing dragoon uniforms for his rescue. And all the while, she’d endured audacious remarks from Mr. MacRae. She’d dressed like a man, put her own life in peril, broken the law, and had run from government troops, all to help that bombastic Scot outside now attempting to prove his masculinity to the blasted beasts of the forest.

  Worse, there she stood in a rustic cottage in the midst of the wild Highlands of all places. Could she be any farther removed from her home? She was an English-bred lady, and rumors had abounded at Talcotts about the distrust Highlanders harbored for Sassenachs. What overbearing, arrogant Scot would want to marry an English woman anyway?

  Though the Earl of Seaforth had no qualms when it came to fondling them.

  Regardless of the opposing and confusing feelings he managed to stir up inside her, Audrey had applied herself to the task of tending to Reid’s needs. It was overwhelming to be in the midst of nowhere with a fevered guardian, food galore, and no one but her to prepare it. Audrey had done her best to follow the few recipes the cook at Blair Castle had barked at her faster than she could write. Talcotts hadn’t offered a course on cooking for well-to-do ladies. They fully expected their students to be catered for, to marry into wealthy families. After all, a Talcotts graduate was supposed to be a good catch for any man.

  Except for me.

  Feeling completely inadequate and worthless, she sat in the uncomfortable chair and looked at the hearth—far cruder than anything she’d experienced—with a rack of stag antlers hanging above it rather than the porcelain rose-painted plates in the drawing room at Coxhoe House. At no time in her life had Audrey been faced with such primitive conditions. Because she was so worried about Reid, she’d gone against every argument to stay at Blair Castle, where she’d be cosseted.

  She didn’t want to be cosseted. She wanted to be helpful. And she’d made do for an entire day, had thought the cottage quaint, if not rustic.

  A little recognition for her efforts would be agreeable. Was that too much to ask?

  Blast it all, there she sat in the middle of godforsaken Scotland trying to be caring, and she’d been barked at like she was a worthless dog. An unbidden tear dribbled down her cheek. She swiped it away and sniffed. Heavens, she was tired. If only she had her harpsichord or her paints, she could cast aside her misery and focus on something productive—something at which she was proficient.

  Clearly, she was a complete failure at caring for an injured man and preparing food.

  The door swung open. Startled, Audrey nearly fell off her chair. Reid loomed in the doorway, his face dark and hard. He stared at her with fiery intensity in those deep green eyes. His beard had grown in again since she’d shaved him, and his dark stubble contrasted with the tawny tresses hanging over one eye, making him look wildly dangerous.

  Gulping, Audrey hopped to her feet. Cool mountain air wafted into the cottage, sending a chill across her skin. She wrung her hands, meeting his predatory stare. She would apologize for nothing.

  “I-I acted like a bloody lout.” Rei
d dipped his chin, suddenly looking more like a scruffy puppy than a fierce warrior. “Please forgive me.”

  The Earl of Seaforth was apologizing…to her? Certainly he should apologize, but Audrey hadn’t expected such an atonement to come from the likes of him.

  Her mouth dropped open. “But you…and then…” Dear Lord, she should let it pass. Perhaps her emotions had run the gamut. “’Tis understandable. You’re not well, and you’re in pain.”

  “Nonetheless, I should not have groused at you.”

  The look on his face alone made her want to rush to his side and proclaim her undying love. But such an outburst would be unforgivable. She must first make him realize that he cared for her. She knew he harbored affection for her, she just needed to do everything in her power to help him realize it.

  She gestured to the bench at the table. “If you’ll sit, I will serve you the plate of stew you wanted. I’d like to offer you more, but given the circumstances, stew, broth, and oats are the only things the Atholl cook taught me how to prepare.” She cringed. Not a good way to start making him realize his affection, Audrey.

  He chuckled. “You didn’t learn to cook at that fancy school of yours?”

  “Did you learn at university?” Can I not stop myself?

  “Nay.”

  Again she gestured, this time pinching her lips closed so she wouldn’t blurt out yet another flip remark. Reid’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he shut the door and staggered to the bench. As much as Audrey wanted to help, he’d been clear about not needing assistance. He made it, though he moved like a man who’d been flayed with a cat-o’-nine-tails—which he had been.

  After dishing up two bowls of stew, Audrey sat opposite the big Highland earl. He looked oddly at home in this rustic cottage. Big, rugged, and rough around the edges after his ordeal.

  “My thanks for the meal.” Reid picked up his spoon and stirred the stew like he mightn’t be as ravenous as he’d let on. “You said the redcoats had been asking questions in Dunkeld. Do you reckon they ken we stopped at Blair Castle?”

  “The marquis said he doubted it since we traveled up through Perth.”

  “But anyone who might have seen us…”

  “That’s why the marquis brought us here. He said we’d be safe tucked away in the Highlands and it would allow you time to heal. He’s used this place to hide himself, said we can stay as long as we need.”

  Reid took a bite. “Did he, now?”

  “Yes, and he’ll also let us know if there is any danger coming our way.”

  “Tullibardine is a good man. Makes the best whisky this side of the Highlands as well.”

  “I must agree—with the good man part anyway.” Audrey sighed and picked up her spoon. “’Tis comfortable enough here. As long as you can put up with my cooking.”

  “Och, if this stew is any indication, your cooking is fine, but that is not what worries me, lass. Who kens we’re here aside from His Lordship?”

  Audrey chewed and swallowed. “Let’s see…Lady Magdalen, of course, and two guards the marquis said he trusted with his life.”

  “That’s good, but still I’m concerned about your reputation. You shouldn’t be holed up in a hunting cottage with the likes of me, or any man.”

  Audrey looked down and stirred her stew. Of course the same concerns had crossed her mind, but she’d pushed them away. Besides, her father had entrusted Reid with her care. It was expected that she would remain by his side. And she wasn’t about to let some stranger tend to Reid’s healing while she hid in a grand castle and ate sugared dates. “Likes of you?” She shrugged her shoulder as if the topic were a trifle. “You’re my guardian and an earl.”

  “An earl wanted for treason—until I clear my name.”

  She reached across and patted his hand. His fingers were warm to the touch, and their gazes met and held. “You mustn’t worry, my lord. There isn’t a soul within a hundred miles who knows who I am.”

  Chapter Thirty

  There were two things wrong with hiding in the Highlands with a bonny English maid. The first was that Reid’s responsibility to the cause didn’t diminish. He needed to clear his name and unite every Jacobite peer and chieftain to repeal the Occasional Conformity Act and prepare to defend James’s ascension to the throne. Secondly, now that he’d regained his senses, living, breathing, eating in a one-room cottage with his beautiful ward was about to kill him. The sooner they set out for Brahan, the better, lest he’d dig himself a hole from which no man could climb.

  A ray of morning light streamed in through the window. Reid opened his eyes and groaned. Every morn for the past two days he’d awakened with a painful erection, and today was no different.

  After gaining his senses, he’d insisted Audrey take the bed, and he lay on a pallet made snug by layers of sheep pelts. He glanced to where Audrey slept on her side. With her back to him, he admired the deep arc in her waist, curving up to a feminine hip. His cock throbbed and he ached to climb into the bed beside her and trace his hand along her curves. Hell, he wanted to do a great deal more than touch her, though brushing his fingers over silken skin would be a start.

  Casting the bed furs aside, he snatched his plaid from the foot of his pallet, found a cake of soap, and tiptoed out the door. Once he reached the shore of the loch, he waded up to his thighs to where a rock protruded from the water, and set the soap atop.

  Highland bred to his bones, Reid dived out into the depths and swam. The icy water stung his back, but after fighting through with powerful strokes, he found his pain soon ebbed. There was nothing better than a brisk swim in a loch to clear his mind and help him focus on more important things than his confounding lust. His wounds had healed a great deal in the past few days, and he’d soon be ready to head home. God knew he missed it, and so many things needed to be done.

  He hadn’t made it far when his strength was sapped. Damnation, he hated weakness. On one hand he needed to meet the Highland chiefs, but it would be folly to face Ewen Cameron or the Duke of Gordon when he felt weaker than a bairn. In the coming days he must apply himself to the task of regaining his strength, and that didn’t mean swinging an ax a couple of times and calling it good. He needed to run, to spar, to swim, and to lift.

  Audrey said they had time, but would a fortnight be enough? After treading water for a moment, he pushed himself to swim a bit farther.

  The water soothed him, took the sting from his wounds away, and made him feel weightless. Before swimming back, he floated for a while and watched the puffs of clouds sail overhead. Midsummer was his favorite time of year. The harshness of winter was completely gone and the rains of spring were behind. True, in Scotland one could experience all four seasons in one day, even in summer, but the blue sky peppered by fluffy clouds promised sunshine.

  After inhaling deeply, Reid started back to the shore. The return swim proved to be more enlivening, and he stopped by the rock to retrieve his soap. Again standing with the water lapping his thighs, he rubbed the bar across his chest and under his arms. The scent of lavender wove its tendrils through his nose, reminding him of Audrey, of the fragrance of her hair and how much he’d like to go inside and bury his face in those blonde tresses.

  With a growl, he clenched his molars and worked the soap faster. A wee breeze made gooseflesh pebble on his skin as he slid the bar down and lathered his loins. Christ, his knees went weak at the slippery friction along his cock. Though he’d been without a woman for far too long, must his every other thought be consumed with lust?

  He closed his eyes and saw a vision of Audrey, melting in his arms while his hand slid up between her thighs. Yearning made his fingers wrap around his shaft and stroke. If only she weren’t his ward, he could bed the lass and have it be done with. Everyone knew forbidden fruit was the most enticing. And once tasted, it was finished. Forgotten. Once tasted, the insatiable appetite vanished.

  With a growl he forced himself to release his grip. Then, cupping his hands, he scooped water over his head. Again
and again, he splashed the soap away, reveling in the cold and the way it infused him with strength. He shook his head and a splay of droplets showered from his hair just as the sun peeked over the trees.

  Invigorated, he took a step toward the shore and his plaid.

  Movement near the cottage caught his eye. Reid’s hand immediately moved to his hip, grasping at air rather than his sword’s hilt.

  But he needed no sword.

  Audrey stood with her hand on the door, her lips forming an O. She looked as if she’d dashed outside, and stopped short when she’d seen him naked. Rather than hiding her eyes and slipping back into the cottage, she froze in place and stared. Aye, she stared like a starved woman gazing upon a feast.

  Reid couldn’t help his grin, fully aware his cock was hard and pointing directly at her. He liked to have her eyes on him. He liked the predatory glint in her gaze.

  Before he realized what he was doing, his legs strode forward as he stooped to retrieve his plaid. But rather than wrap it around his waist, he kept walking while he swiped it across his face and over his chest.

  Audrey’s gaze languidly swept from his eyes, down his chest, and stopped at his cock.

  Och aye, he grew harder. He gasped, too.

  When he reached her, he stood very still as those stormy-blue eyes meandered back up until she met his gaze. Her breaths came with heavy gasps, her eyes nearly black. She wore only a shift with an arisaid clutched around her shoulders, her face flushed with desire and her lips parted. There could be no question as to what was on his mind, and by the way she raked her gaze over him, she felt the same.

  “I want you, lass.”

  Giving a single nod, Audrey dropped the arisaid in silent permission.

  Tossing the plaid over his shoulder, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the cottage, consequences be damned.

  * * *

  Audrey hadn’t been able to make her voice work, but when Reid swept her into his arms like she weighed a trifle, she forced herself not to swoon into him and think of his care. Worried that she might be hurting him, she touched her fingers to his cheek. “But your injuries.”