A Rebel's Desire (Highland Heartbeats Book 2)

by Aileen Adams

  Confused at first, he saw only shadows, and slight movement, but then realized he was lying on his back beneath a pine tree.

  And then the pain hit him with a force that took his breath away. Much like the pain he had experienced with the battle wound in his thigh.

  This time though, the pain seemed to come from everywhere, wrapping around him, surging through every muscle in his body.

  He felt movement and focused his gaze, separating the shapes.

  That was the tree trunk.

  That figure, moving over him—

  Heather!

  She was all right.

  Relief swept through him. He blinked once, then again.

  She stared down at him, her frightened expression crossing alarm.

  “Ceana?” he managed.

  “She's gone. She ran away.”

  He tried to sit up, but she pressed a hand on his chest.

  Remarkably, it was enough to keep him down. He must be wounded badly for that little slip of a woman to hold him down without much effort.

  “Please, Jake, don't move around. I just managed to stop the bleeding.”

  He stared up at her, remembering that he had not only been shot with an arrow, but stabbed in the back by that bastard’s sword. He turned and noted that Heather had made a makeshift shelter under the same tree they had taken refuge under the night before.

  Though daylight had come, the morning was heavy with fog and an icy mist. He shivered, the movement prompting a grimace of pain.

  “We must go,” he said simply.

  Yet he couldn't move. Indeed, he felt weak as a baby, much like he had during the days recovering from his wound and Ceana’s first attempt to kill him with poison.

  Wicked woman!

  He still didn't understand what had elicited such hatred within her.

  Growing more alert with every passing second, he quickly passed his gaze over Heather. When he saw her bloodstained sleeve, his eyes widened in alarm.

  “Your arm—”

  She blinked at him, frowning with confusion until she glanced down at it.

  “I… I almost forgot about that.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “I dragged you,” she shrugged. She shrugged and then winced herself. She offered a lame smile. “I didn't remember that cut until you mentioned it.”

  He said nothing, trying to hide his growing alarm by yet another precarious position they found themselves in.

  “Heather, help me up. We can't stay here.”

  “Jake, don't move, please!” She stared down at him and then looked away. “I’m thinking!”

  He resisted the hand on his chest and struggled to sit up as best he could. He saw what she had done to try and keep him warm, impressed by her ingenuity. Despite the pain thrumming through every nerve and muscle in his body, he gave her a nod of approval.

  “You're resourceful, Heather, I'll give you that.” After his head stopped spinning and he was able to sit a little straighter, gritting his teeth and doing his best to ignore the pain throbbing in his shoulder, his approval turned to anger.

  “And you're also very foolish. What were you thinking, charging Ceana like that? Don't you know you could have been killed—”

  “I had to do something!” she interrupted, eyes wide. “It wasn't a fair fight, Jake. You were outnumbered, wounded—”

  “Aye, and not for the first time,” he snapped.

  He tried to rein in his anger, but the memory of Heather rushing headlong, flinging herself at Ceana nearly took his breath away. “She could've killed you; you know that? So could Clyde, if he hadn't chosen to ride away like the coward he is.”

  She sat upright, hands balled into fists against her hips. “And just what did you expect me to do, Jake Duncan? Leave you to fend for yourself against that… that wicked woman? She was going to shoot you again. You do realize that, don't you?”

  That was just the problem. He did. “Still…”

  “Still nothing,” she grumbled. “A simple thank you would suffice.”

  He stared at her in surprise and then, in spite of his efforts to maintain a disapproving expression, he couldn't help the soft chuckle that resulted.

  “You have the heart of a warrior, do you know that, Heather?”

  She appeared stunned by his comment.

  “Me?” She shook her head, scoffing. “I'm the one that's been protected all my life. First by Sarah, and now by you. If it wasn't for you, I'd probably be half frozen and starving to death on that ledge right now.”

  “And if it wasn't for you, I'd probably be dead now,” he said softly. “We’re even.”

  She nodded.

  “Now help me to my feet. I don't want to spend another night in these mountains.”

  She tried, really she did, but she didn't have the strength, and nor did he. Between the both of them, he did manage to scramble out from underneath the pine boughs.

  While he rested and caught his breath, she brought one of the horses over. He even managed to stand long enough to grab hold of the horse's mane, but that's as far as he got. His legs trembled, threatening to give way any second.

  She couldn't lift him onto the horse, and he didn't have enough strength to lift himself up.

  Panting with exertion, sweat breaking out on his skin, he finally admitted the truth to himself.

  He wasn't going anywhere. His muttered curses and his determination were no match for his weakened state. With a sigh, he slowly sank to the ground, Heather hanging onto his arm as she too, crumbled to the ground beside him.

  “What are we going to do?”

  He turned toward her, his vision swimming, darkness threatening to close around the edges of his vision. He barely had enough strength to speak. He felt the warm trickle of blood oozing from the wound in his shoulder and knew that he had reopened it. Pain thrummed through his body with every thud of his heart.

  He cursed his weakness, this inability to move more than a few inches at a time before having to stop to rest. He eventually managed to half-crawl, half-stagger, with Heather's help, back to the shelter she had fashioned under the tree.

  He wanted to rail against his body, against Ceana, and her apparent desire for revenge against him.

  For what? Not returning her affections? It didn't make sense, not even after all these months since she had tried to kill him with poison.

  In the recesses of his mind, he also had to admit some degree of annoyance with Heather. If she hadn't been so quick to assume that he had betrayed her and allowed her emotions to gain control of her, neither of them would have gotten trapped up here.

  It wasn't just the matter of her getting lost and nearly losing her life falling down a steep embankment. It wasn't just the fact that she apparently had forgotten everything he taught her. It wasn't even the very recent memory of her throwing herself at Ceana to help defend him. Or maybe it was.

  Maybe that was the crux of the matter.

  He, Jake Duncan, the brother of the laird… having to rely on a woman…

  As he made his way under the pine branches and collapsed, barely managing to roll onto his back without groaning out loud, he sighed. He shouldn't be feeling that way about Heather.

  She had the spirit of a fighter, whether she realized it or not. Yes, Sarah had always protected her, but he had no doubt that Heather was also a brave lass; one who would defend and protect her sister with her very life if need be. She had done the same for him.

  Heather appeared beside him. Though her brows furrowed with worry, he also noted her alert gaze, and the resolute set of her jaw.

  She was determined to help.

  He reached for her and grabbed her hand.

  At her startled expression, he spoke.

  “You've been strong, Heather. I'm proud of you. Now you have to be strong and brave for a little while longer.”

  She gazed at him, frowning. “What do you mean? What can I do?” Her voice cracked with emotion.

  “You're going to hav
e to ride back to the manor yourself—”

  “I'm not going to leave you—”

  “You must, or we’re both going to freeze to death up here. It's going to snow. I can feel it, smell it in the air. We have no food, no water—”

  For a few seconds, her face crumpled. He sensed her indecision and hesitance. “It's not that far back to the manor. You can make it back in a few hours—”

  “But I don't know the way! That's why you had to come looking for me, remember? I got lost! I wasn't paying attention! I don't know my way back. What if I get lost again? What if—”

  “Heather… you can do it,” he said, squeezing her hand and placing it against his chest, his hand covering hers. “I have faith in you. I've taught you well. All you have to do is remain calm. Remember what I've told you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  He was pleased when she blinked them back.

  “Follow the ridge down to the bottom,” he continued. “There, follow the stream for about a mile, maybe two. To the south, you'll find a cluster of stones. A hillside filled with them.” He paused to make sure she understood.

  She nodded.

  “The heavy cloud cover will block the sun, so you won't be able to use it to give you a sense of direction. Look to the trees. Look for the moss growing on the tree trunks.”

  “What? Moss?”

  He nodded, fighting against the blackness threatening once again to overtake him. He felt so weak.

  “Moss will actually grow on all sides of the tree, but it is thickest on the north side.”

  “All right,” she said, voice soft as a whisper.

  “At the hillside filled with rocks and boulders, turn your face to the east. The moss should grow heaviest on the trees to the right of your path. Soon, you will come to another stream. Cross it and continue traveling east. Eventually, you'll see the crags of Ben Neves—the southern slopes. We’re on the north slope now. Soon you'll reach a ridge of hills. From there, you will be able to see the village and beyond that, the manor house.”

  He still couldn't believe she had managed to wander so far away from the manor house on foot, but she had. She wouldn't be able to take the same route by horse that she had by foot.

  He told her that. “You won’t be able to travel as the crow flies. Take the mare and let her pick the way along the hillsides. Horses are often able to choose the best route. Maintain the general directions I have given you, but give the mare her head. She will take you home…”

  “Jake, Jake, no, you can't go to sleep! I'm not sure…”

  He wanted to tell Heather to be brave, that he believed in her, that he trusted her, that he… yes, that he loved her.

  He tried to force the words from his mouth, but wasn't sure if he succeeded before exhaustion overcame him, and he felt himself floating into darkness.

  19

  Heather stared down at Jake as if through sheer power of will she could encourage him to open his eyes, to look at her again, to talk to her.

  He seemed so confident in her ability to find help, but she was not nearly so confident. At the same time, she knew that she couldn't delay. She tried to remember everything he had told her about the directions and repeated them to herself over and over again as she quickly looked at his wounds one more time. Still oozing blood, but not as bad as before.

  She knew she had to leave, but would he be alive when she returned? What if she got lost again? What if she fell off the horse? So many ifs… so few assurances. She thought of her sister, how brave she was. She always did what needed to be done, and now she had to do the same. With great reluctance, she crawled out from beneath the makeshift shelter.

  The temperature had dropped. Dark, heavy gray clouds enveloped the mountain tops like feather stuffed pillows. Fog floated around and through the trees. Jake was right. Snow would fall soon.

  She made her way toward the horses. Should she take them both? No. She would just take the mare. If by some chance Jake regained consciousness he would need his horse, just in case he managed to crawl over to it and climb up.

  She doubted that such would happen, but she couldn't leave him stranded out here on foot.

  The horses stomped nervously as she neared. She rounded Jake's horse, touching its rump as she passed the gelding and moved toward the mare.

  She eyed the mare warily. She seemed gentle enough, but was quite large and she had to ride bareback. She'd never done that before. Jake had replaced the bridles on both of the horses. She untied one of the bridal straps from the tree bough and then, grabbing hold of a chunk of the horse’s mane, tried to pull herself upward.

  That wasn't going to work.

  She tried again, this time stepping back and trying to scramble onto the mare’s back by leaping forward, but only managed to get her foot on the horse’s back. No further.

  She hung awkwardly for several moments before giving up.

  Groaning with frustration, she regained her footing and glanced back over her shoulder at the tree. No, Jake wouldn't be standing there, hands on his hips, laughing at her efforts.

  Looking around, she sought a fallen log or large rock, something that she could step onto that would help her mount.

  A short distance away she saw the half-rotted tree trunk, not completely fallen, but leaning at an angle close to the ground. Pulling on the mare’s reins, she headed for the tree. She didn't want to move away from the meager shelter of the trees, but Heather made soft cooing noises and urged the horse forward.

  She took a step or two and then stopped.

  Maybe it's sensed her fear.

  Maybe she didn't like the smell of blood on her sleeve.

  Heather wasn't sure, but she didn't have time for this. She had to get help! She stepped back toward the mare and rubbed its muzzle, soft and warm and fuzzy against her hand.

  “I know you don't want to be out in this kind of weather any more than I do, but we have to. We have to go back to the manor and get help for Jake. Do you understand?”

  Of course the horse didn't understand. She was talking mainly to buttress her own sense of confidence.

  The mare stared at her with large brown eyes; ears cocked forward as if listening.

  “That's a good girl,” she encouraged. “Now let's go over here so I can climb on and then we'll go home.”

  She didn't think it was going to work, but when she turned around and again stepped toward the tree, the horse followed.

  She grinned at the mare. “Good girl,” she praised.

  Finally, she managed to climb onto her back. Grasping the reins tightly in one hand and a handful of no mane with the other, she turned the mare around, leading her at a walk past the other horse, then the tree that sheltered Jake. Staring at that tree with more than a little uncertainty, she then resolutely turned her face forward, not really having to guide the horse down the slope.

  As Jake said, the mare knew the best way down.

  Who was she to argue?

  Her knees pressed tightly against the horse’s barrel, shoulders hunched forward, her grip on the horse’s mane so tight her knuckles turned white, she tried to remember everything Jake had told her. A couple of times the horse broke into a trot, but it was so hard to maintain her seat that she pulled back on the reins and encouraged the mare to slow down.

  If she fell off, she'd be in trouble.

  So would Jake.

  She tried not to pay attention to how cold it was nor how the frigid air raised goosebumps on her flesh, numbing her hands, her cheeks, and making her eyes water. She tried not to focus on the pain in her leg, or wonder about the knife wound that had opened a gash in her arm.

  Jake was in a lot worse condition than she.

  Then she thought of something that sent an even colder chill coursing through her body.

  Ceana and that McGregor were still out there.

  She slowed the horse to a halt, indecisive. What if one or both of them followed her?

  She looked carefully around, trying to pee
r into the shadows of the tree copses, sweeping her gaze over the rocky and hilly terrain. At any moment now she could feel the strike of an arrow in her back. Her thoughts grew even darker. Ceana was bent on revenge, determined to kill Jake and anyone who protected him or tried to interfere. She'd even killed one of her own companions!

  What if Ceana had watched and waited for Heather to leave and was now circling back to finish what she had started. To kill Jake? Heather glanced uncertainly behind her, searching the hillsides that rose steeply above.

  She marveled that she had walked so far from the manor, but she hadn’t taken this route. She would have remembered it.

  Jake had told her that he had taken a different path to get where she had been found. Higher ground so he could look below for a better chance of finding her.

  Still, how could she possibly have been so distracted that she hadn't noticed the increasing ruggedness of her surroundings? She turned forward, shaking her head, telling herself that she needed to pay attention, not to let her thoughts wander. She was doing it again.

  Her thoughts returned to Ceana.

  Heather couldn't be two places at once. If she stayed behind with Jake, he would likely die from lack of care, food, and water. By venturing back to the manor on her own, she had left Jake unprotected. He had his sword and her dirk, but as severely wounded as he was, would he be able to defend himself? Even an experienced warrior like Jake was not invincible.

  She shook her head against such thoughts. Jake was a man dedicated to protecting those he cared for, fighting for what was right and just. What if—

  The horse stumbled.

  She nearly lost her grip as her body lunged forward. A startled gasp escaped her lips, and her fists tightened on the reins as the horse missed a step as she descended a steep slope. Heather clutched desperately at the horse’s tangled mane. Her thighs pressed the sides of the horse as the mare continued downward and onto a barely discernible deer trail at the bottom of the slope.

  She had just begun to relax, to straighten when the mare suddenly reared, her front hooves pawing the air.

  Heather bit back a scream and tightened her grip on the reins and wrapped her arms around the horse's neck as it came down, hard, then skittered to the side, blowing, head dropping low. It was all she could do to hang on.