Branded by a Warrior

by Andrea Thorne

  Across the room she saw a large fire roaring in the hearth, a welcoming large leather chair placed direct before it. It looked heavenly, feeling frozen to the bone; she scooted to the side of the tall bed.

  Clenching her jaw she tossed the warm covers from her legs, ignoring the pain she swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to focus on the room. Her balance seemed off, she was as weak as a babe. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She was nauseous and wobbly, her stomach growled in hunger as she attempted to stand up.

  As soon as her feet touched the floor, she realized her error. So weak, she couldn’t support herself; she crumpled to the ground in an agonizing groan as her body screamed in pain. Hearing a shuffling, she looked up to see two large wolfhounds appear from the foot of the bed, trotting over to her with wagging tails.

  Silently crying, she managed to push herself off the floor and lean against the bed. Beside her the wolfhounds walked up and sat on each side of her, cradling her against the bed for support. Sitting on the cold floor, she looked beside her to see wolfhounds as big as she was nestled in close to her bare legs. Cradling her left shoulder with her right hand, tears fell down her face as the pain seared through her upper body. Finding it hard to breathe, she closed her eyes and concentrated on regaining control as she sat upon the floor.

  She sat there for a very long time, thankful for the dogs; they kept her warm as she tried to ride the wave of pain out. With her head bowed, she heard the door to her room quietly open. Beside her, each of the wolfhounds lifted their large heads and started to wag their tails. Looking up she brushed her hair out of her face, wiping a few tears with it. She looked across the room to see a large figure looming in the doorway.

  Squinting, “Laird MacMillan?” her voice quiet and weak, still unsure she was seeing the notorious warrior before her, it was too dark.

  Both wolfhounds got up at the same time and trotted over to the tall man standing in the door. Sitting on the ground, she sat helpless as another wave of pain washed over her. Willing herself to not shed another tear, she clenched her jaw in agony.

  The moment he stepped inside the room, she could see his face, locking eyes with him she watched him shut the door behind him. He wasted no time walking over to where she so gloriously sat in a heap on the floor.

  Kneeling before her, “Aye, but ye may call me Broderick,” he smiled down at her, his wolfhounds at his side, “Welcome to Castle Macmillan Elisabeth, I’m glad to see ye come back to the land of the living,” giving her another irresistible smile as knelt before her, “why are ye on the floor lass?”

  As he approached, her jaw almost dropped, she remembered he was handsome all those years ago, but now, he was bloody irresistible. He was the finest man she had ever laid eyes on, his dark hair begged to be touched, his green eyes seemed to look directly to her soul. He was intimidating, yet he did not scare her. His voice was like velvet, he was charming and kind, he put her at ease with his calm demeanor.

  Realizing how she must look, she quickly pulled down her chemise to cover more of her legs, no man had ever seen above her knees before. It was quite embarrassing to feel so helpless before a man who vibrated dominance. Rubbing the lingering tears off her face, “I woke up in a panic, I wanted to sit by the fire and collect my thoughts,” she admitted, watching him look her over, she could feel her face bloom with a flush. Annoyed with her own reaction she grew flustered, since when did she care what a man thought of her? Since when did she feel embarrassment?

  Before she even had the final words out of her mouth, he had scooped her gracefully off the cold floor and had her tucked close against his broad chest. Taking a deep breath, she realized the bed she slept in smelled just like him, heaven. Was this his room? He was so quick, yet gentle; he had not bothered her injury picking her up at all. Jesu, he was strong.

  “Ye have been asleep for over a week lass, we almost lost you,” his voice vibrated through his chest in a low calming tone as he carried her over to the fire.

  “A week?” nervously tugging her chemise down, she had never felt this weak and helpless before, the feeling was frustrating. Being in Broderick’s strong arms made her feel things she had only felt a few times in her life. At three and twenty it was rare for a woman of her standing to still be unwed, let alone a virgin. Nestled against his chest as he walked her over to the roaring fireplace it made her realize she was still felt something for Broderick.

  To this day, she still hadn’t told anyone about him kissing her senseless at the border festival all those years ago, even Broderick didn’t know. In the dark of night, he had thought she was someone else. Pushing that memory aside, she tried to contain her embarrassment as the giant handled her like a wee child.

  Carrying her across the room, Broderick looked deep into her eyes. Green eyes, she had green eyes. How did he forget that? He had seen the flush creep across her face as he scooped her up. He had seen the play of emotions across her face as he walked in, she recognized him. The thought made him happy, he knew she wasn’t scared of him; the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

  Sitting her gently in his favorite chair, he reached over and pulled a warm tartan plaid off the back of the chair and laid it across her legs, “My wolfhounds found you face down in the snow over a week ago, we brought you back here immediately, we weren’t sure if you’d make it.” Pulling up another chair beside the fire he sat down beside her and warmed his hands, staring into the fire as he thought over the past week.

  He had many questions to ask her, but did not want to assault her with unpleasant memories so quickly. He wasn’t really sure how to approach the subject, he knew she had to be in immense pain and suffering a tremendous broken heart. He really had no idea where to even begin, nor did he know the right words to say. Dealing with women wasn’t his specialty, especially emotional ones.

  Elisabeth pulled the long plaid up to her chest; she tried scanning her memories for what happened after she had left her castle, she could remember very little. Running her hand over her shoulder and down over the bandage, she looked into the fire and remembered, “Duncan made me promise to escape, our parents had been murdered and the village and castle were burning. He refused to allow me to stay and fight, he threw me on his horse and told me to ride to you,” turning her head to look at Broderick, her eyes brimmed with tears as she continued, “he begged me to survive, he was killed as I fled to the tunnel. I was blindsided by a Douglas warrior who gave me this,” motioning to her bandaged wound, “I traveled for what seemed like days, my body must have gave out.” Memories and smells flooded her senses as she sat beside Broderick and watched the fire dance; the heat felt comforting as she tried to regain control of the emotional turmoil inside of her.

  “You made it to my lands Elisabeth, they will pay with their lives, winter has us locked in until thaw, at that time my men and I will ride south to deliver Kincaid his fate,” he swore as he looked into the fire, his voice as cold as winter.

  “I will ride with you.”

  He turned his head to see the redhead staring into the fireplace, her mind replaying the horrific scene as she toyed with her family heirloom necklace. She hadn’t asked permission, she merely stated fact. She would ride with him when they attacked the Douglas clan.

  With the fire as the only source of light in his massive castle room, the two sat before the fireplace, he thought over his response before finally stating, “We shall see Elisabeth, you may never be able to hold a broadsword again lass. Heal first.”

  Tilting her head to sky she closed her eyes, at least he hadn’t said no. She knew he was the ultimate authority; silently reminding herself to not argue she took a deep breath in and exhaled.

  He was right; her injury may very well prevent her from ever pulling back a bow or wielding a broadsword again. She could hardly use her left arm, and she had no clue if she would ever regain her strength enough to be confident enough to fight. Remembering what her beloved mother had tau
ght her years ago, she nodded in agreement with the brooding giant, she had time to convince him. She would heal, and she would fight, and she would prove it to him.

  “You recognized me, I am surprised, we’ve only met once,” his deep voice rumbled in a velvet tone.

  “I lost my broadsword for a year because of you Broderick; a lady doesn’t forget such things.” Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the rush of pain coursing through her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she could feel his eyes on her; slowly looking over at him she saw confusion and interest in his eyes.

  “Forgive me if I dinnae understand lass, how did I do that?” Broderick asked with humor in his voice.

  “At the waterfall, years ago, I promised to give up my sword for a year if Duncan walked away from you that day. Neither of you idiots would hear reason or believe me, I offered my sword to my brother in exchange for him to walk away.”

  Broderick sat back and let it reverberate through him what she had just said, her brother had walked away simply to get her to lay down her weapon. He understood, to the lass it was a sacrifice of epic portions, especially to a warrior. Losing her sword for a year of her life meant she couldn’t face battles beside her brother. To Duncan, it must have meant enough to him to walk away.

  He understood now, Duncan never truly wanted his sister to take up arms. He probably would have given anything to see her lay down her weapon. Duncan had always been protective of her; it had always confused him why he would let Elisabeth fight.

  Pushing away her statement, he asked, “Are ye hungry lass, something to drink?”

  “Aye, that sounds lovely.”

  Standing up he took off his tartan plaid that crossed his chest and unraveled it, gently covering her shoulders, “I’ll go to the kitchen and fetch ye something to eat, I’ll return shortly,” he explained. Snapping his fingers, his dogs remained at her feet as he started to walk across the room towards the door.

  Turning to watch him, she snuggled into his warm tartan and asked, “Are these your wolfhounds Broderick?”

  Stopping in his tracks, he turned around and nodded, “Aye.”

  “Their names?” She questioned as she looked down at the large shaggy hounds at her feet, smiling at the shaggy hounds.

  “Conn and Isla, they found you Elisabeth. They refuse to leave your side most days while you lay asleep; they’ve taken a liking to you lass. They have been your protection during the day while I was busy. Rhona, my old housekeeper has spent the days with you until I return in the evenings,” he explained as he watched her pet his dogs, “I’ll be right back lass, I’ll go get some food.”

  Elisabeth looked up and watched the handsome laird disappear out of the room, closing the large wooden door behind him, leaving her alone in his room with his dogs before the warm fire.

  In her dreams she had heard his voice; she had felt his warmth and strength during her most terrifying nightmares. His words confirmed his presence beside her this past week, when he returned she had many questions for him. Her mind raced as she waited for him to return. Sitting before the fireplace she pet the large hounds and watched he fire dance, familiarizing herself with the room. Growing quite aware she probably looked like a tangled mess; she ran her good hand through her tresses and tried to make herself look presentable. The fine linen chemise she wore concealed very little, thankful for the warm plaids, they kept her warm and covered her body.

  Looking back at the fire she thought about the man who had just left, the years had been far too good to him. If she was infatuated with him years ago, seeing him now only made those feelings come back full force. Far taller than her brother, Broderick was all muscle and strength. His dark hair added to his mysteriousness, as did his brilliant green eyes. Over the years, even Elisabeth’s heart skipped a beat at a few men to whom she was attracted to, but none as enticing as Broderick. It had been five years since she had last seen him; he had only grown more devilishly handsome.

  Thinking back to the stolen moments in time, she saw the hounds perk their ears up as the door opened, turning to watch him carry a tray, kicking the door closed behind him. Elisabeth’s belly grumbled with hunger as she smelled the fresh bread and saw the cheese and pastry on the tray. For a fierce warrior he was graceful and polite, charming and caring. Everything she thought he wasn’t, it appeared the years had turned him into a gentleman.

  He sat the tray down before her, “Please, eat Elisabeth, I know you are starving,” he offered as he poured her a cup of cold water. Setting it down beside the food, he walked over to the mantel.

  Elisabeth tore a large piece of the warm bread off as she watched him unsheathe his broadsword and place it above the mantel on the fireplace. Shoving the food into her mouth she moaned with pleasure. Elisabeth saw him turn around at the sound of her moan. Seeing her content, he bestowed a dazzling smile upon her that made her heart flutter. Happily eating, she observed him sit back down, leaning his head back, he closed his green eyes. God his smile was jaw dropping.

  She had no clue what had transpired in the years after he and Duncan almost started a war, had he married? How old was he now? Did he have children? She had so many questions, never one to skirt issues; she began to ask the slew of questions jumbling about in her head.

  “Is this your room?” she asked admiring his weapon above the roaring fire.

  “Aye,” he answered, not even bothering to open his eyes. He sat relaxed beside her, his head leaned back and his hands resting on the large wooden arms of the chair. He looked every bit the part of laird, dressed in his kilt, glorious unruly dark hair that reached his neck, and muscles that rippled with his every move.

  Reaching down she lifted a pewter cup and drank the cool water, sighing with pleasure she quenched her ravenous thirst when she asked, “Where have you been sleeping Broderick?” part of her already knowing the answer, yet she wanted to see what he said.

  In her dreams she had visions of a dark haired man with vibrant green eyes. She could remember his voice through the fog; even his smell had become familiar to her. His presence had beckoned her out of the murky distance and into the light. Now, with him sitting beside her, tucked under his personal tartan plaid, she knew it was Broderick who had been her savior these past days. The smell of his plaid was familiar to her; the smooth velvety tone of his voice was of the man who saved her from her demons.

  Watching his every move, she saw him lazily roll his head to look at her, locking eyes with her; it made something inside her churn with desire.

  “By your side every night lass, I dinnae take my vows to protect you lightly.”

  His unapologetic response made her smirk, with any other man she would have ran him through for taking such liberties with her. No man made decisions for her, yet she understood his mind.

  “You comforted me when the darkness came, I can remember your voice, your smell.” Her voice was soft and tender.

  “Nightmares have gripped you nightly Elisabeth, I could not bear to see you tortured night after night. I apologize if having me beside you offends your sensibilities, but it was the only way I could get you to stop screaming.”

  Biting her lip she closed her eyes as she said the last words, “I can never repay you for saving my life, I am forever in your debt Broderick.”

  “Consider us even Elisabeth, I have always felt indebted to you for stopping the escalating tensions between your brother and I that day at the waterfall. I owe you my life.”

  Slowly opening her eyes she looked across the small table that sat between them and saw him rake a hand through his dark hair. Sitting in his linen shirt and kilt, he looked tormented by the past, just as Duncan had been. She could tell from his voice he held onto to guilt for far too long.

  Reaching across the table she tentatively touched his forearm, resting her hand upon his muscular arm, “Let the past be Broderick, Duncan forgave you. Why you two never fully recovered your friendship is beside me, but he truly missed you. He sent me to you, you were his last hope for me. He lo
ved you like the brother he never had.”

  “I’ll not fail you Elisabeth or him again, vengeance and justice will be yours. I will protect you with my life Elisabeth Drummond.”

  Feeling overwhelming emotions brewing yet again she changed the subject, looking down at her beautiful chemise and bandaged shoulder, “Who changed me?” She asked, growing embarrassed at the very thought of him seeing her naked, a blush crept across her ivory face as she watched him.

  “Rhona and I, you were covered in blood and soaked.”

  Rolling her eyes with embarrassment, she figured why not go ahead and ask him all the other questions that were rolling around in her head, “Are ye married Broderick?”

  “Nae Elisabeth, marriage is not for me.”

  “How old are ye Broderick?” nonchalantly she swept her unruly hair over to the side of her shoulder and attempted to plait her coppery locks, pretending she was having a normal conversation with the handsome laird.

  “Nine and twenty” he answered with a smirk, obviously entertained by her straight forward questioning.

  Nodding she, looked at the fire, “I am sorry you’ve had to take care of me for so long, to share your space must not be easy.” Refusing to take her eyes off the blaze before her, so much had changed so quickly. Her family was gone; she was sharing a room with the most eligible man around, not to mention the most attractive. She was weak and helpless, her emotions were uncontrollable, and she was completely out of her element.

  “Ye are easy to get used to lass, never apologize for being here Elisabeth. As you’ve made your vows, I have made mine.” He watched her for a moment before asking, “Are ye married Elisabeth?”

  “Nae Broderick, marriage is also not for me.”

  “Your age?” he asked again, curious as she, her answer delighted him. They were very similar.

  “Three and twenty,” she replied softly, looking back at the fire.

  Letting the conversation die, she tucked her feet underneath her and wrapped his tartan closer around her. His smell was comforting. Sitting before the fire she watched the flames dance as Broderick sat with his head resting back in the chair with his eyes closed.