“I shouldnae have stepped out on ye like that.”
“Yer leaving?”
“Aye.” His voice was solemn. “I was going to search ye out to thank ye for yer hospitality first.”
Ceana pressed her lips together. She couldn’t let him go so easily but begging for help went against everything she knew. With limited vision, it was too dangerous to depend on another. How easily she could be misled. But her people and her family were at stake here so her pride would have to suffer.
“Ye could stay a few more days?” she suggested. “Rest properly? Ye have travelled far.”
“I cannae.” He released her arm and she felt the distance between them increase.
“Surely a few days willnae hurt? There will always be more battles.” It seemed as though the fight with the English would never end sometimes. Mayhap it would, but only when all their men and boys were dead and the land was stripped bare.
“I cannae stay, Ceana.”
“I need ye to,” she blurted. “Pray stay.”
“If this is about what happened—”
“Nay!” She took a breath. “Nay, ‘tis not about that. We are alone here, Blane, and Englishmen have been spotted roaming the lands last time our men took a patrol. I fear greatly for our safety and I cannae ensure it on my own.”
He released a depreciative laugh. “Ye cannae think I can protect ye?”
Ceana put out a hand and found his arm not too far away. She rested her palm upon it, aware of the warm strength beneath his linen shirt. Even if she had seen nothing of him, this would have been proof enough of his strength and capability. These arms were warrior’s arms.
“I do. I think yer the answer to our prayers, Blane.”
“Forgive me, Ceana.” He eased away from her touch and moved past her.
She heard the rattle of metal and squeak of leather then the movement of his horse. When she turned to the doorway, she saw him silhouetted and followed after him.
“Ye cannae leave us!”
Blane turned to her and the splash of faint colour that was his lips stretched into what she suspected was a grim smile. “Ye’ve strong walls and strong women inside that keep. Ye’ll be safe enough.”
“Three days, ‘tis all I ask. We’ve a cousin coming to aid us soon but he willnae be here for another three days. What if the English come before then? We are but women and children. We cannae defend ourselves.”
“And ye think I’m capable of seeing off an army of Englishmen?”
“Aye. I think ye are.”
Silence echoed between them. She swung a glance sideways and noted their exchange had caused several of the women to pause in their daily chores and watch. None of them knew that a small band of Englishmen had been spotted several miles away. There was no sense in frightening them but she had told them to be on their guard.
“Ceana,” he finally said, his voice filled with regret, “I must go.”
“So ye can be killed with the rest of them?”
An audible breath emanated from him. “I’ve a battle to fight and I cannae delay. I’ve no doubt ye and yer sister will continue to do a fine job of protecting yer people.”
“Blane!” She fumbled to grab his arm when he turned away. “I cannae protect them. I cannae.” Tears of frustration began to burn in her eyes, making seeing him harder.
“Ceana...”
“Ye dinnae understand.” She gripped his arm tight this time and lowered her voice. “I cannae protect them because I cannae see.”
“What?”
“I cannae see.” The words came out in a rush, like a wave racing toward the sand. Relief washed through her and her shoulders felt lighter.
“I dinnae understand.”
“I was born almost blind. ‘Tis like looking through murky water. I can see ye but ‘tis blurry and in the dark, I am almost completely blind.” He turned to face her and she imagined he was studying her eyes as if to make out the truth. “’Tis why I stumbled so many times.”
“How is it ye moved about at all then?”
“I have it all up here—” she tapped the side of her head “—in my memory. As long as naught is moved or changed, I can find my way about the castle with ease.”
“Damnation,” he muttered.
“So ye see, I cannae protect these people.”
A hand came to rest upon hers where she gripped him. He eased her fingers off one by one and her heart nearly dropped into her stomach.
“I have to do this, Ceana. I dinnae expect ye to understand but I’m sure ye’ll be safe. Stay behind yer castle walls for the next three days and no harm shall come to ye.”
How could he say that? How could he leave them even after she’d admitted her weakness to him? The one outsider she’d shared it with and he had no more to say on it apart from to tell her to hide.
The heat of a tear trickled down her face. She swiped it away angrily. “Go to yer death then, Blane Ross.” She backed away. “I’ll no’ think on ye again.”
Swivelling on her heel, she stalked past the well and made her way down to the edge of the loch. Whether he watched her go, she knew not, but she cared not either. Ceana stared out at the blue expanse that dominated her vision and folded her arms across her chest. Damn him. She wouldn’t think on him again. Never.
***
The castle remained in sight as Blane made his way around the loch—taunting him.
Blind. How could he not have realised? She was adept at hiding it, for certain.
He’d travelled up the way he’d come and checked the tracks to be certain he was heading in the right direction. The English had continued on past the loch, mayhap not realising there was a keep over the hill but he’d backtracked, realising he could cut time off his journey if he simply circled the expanse of water.
Unfortunately, that meant he could imagine Ceana’s gaze following him, even though he was far from the keep and certainly not visible to her considering her lack of sight. He recalled how she had seemed to stare straight into his soul at times and released a wry laugh. She hadn’t been staring at him or even longing for him. Nay, she simply hadn’t been able to see him properly.
Brave, foolish lass. She should have sent him away considering her state. If their positions had been reversed, that’s what he would have done. Claws of regret scratched at his insides. He tightened his grip on the reins and focused on the mountain ahead.
She thought him capable of protecting them, but how could he when he hadn’t even been able to do the same for his village? Those people had relied on him but he had foolishly abandoned them all to join the fight against the English. Little did he know the fight would come closer to home.
And now he was abandoning Ceana.
But she would be safe, would she not?
What harm could come to her behind those strong stone walls? She lived in a fortress designed to withstand battle.
I couldnae hide behind the strong castle walls while the villagers are at the mercy of strangers.
God’s blood, would she try to put up a fight if anyone else approached? Would she stand with the villagers again instead of taking shelter?
He brought Dalma to a stop and eyed the stone castle, so small in the distance. “Hell’s teeth.” Blane shook his head. “Damn her.”
Ceana had been willing to risk her life for that child. Blane had no doubt she’d do it again. The damn lass would get herself killed without someone to look after her and, although Kate was a fierce sort of lass, she was a wee thing. What could she possibly do?
“Come on, Dalma. Three days willnae hurt.”
He hoped.
The mercenaries would be stopping overnight, taking their time and likely plundering any settlements they’d come across, whereas he had ridden hard and barely slept to catch up with them. He’d be able to track them down again.
His revenge would have to wait. A certain pair of blue eyes drew him back to the castle.
By the time he’d made it to the village, most of t
he women and children were hard at work, seeing to the animals and sweeping out their huts. The young child she’d protected the previous day scurried across his path as he chased after a chicken. A heavy thud in his chest reminded him of his lack of family. He’d given up that chance when he’d chosen to dedicate his time to fighting for freedom.
A few of the women regarded him warily but he cared little what they thought of him. Only one woman mattered.
“Where is Ceana?” he asked one of them.
“Down by the loch doing some washing.” She thrust a finger toward where rocks jutted out into the water.
Blane urged the horse in the direction of the rocks, circled the castle and moved away from the huts. He spotted her crouched on the rocky outcrop, beating some garments against the stone. Should she even be there alone? What if she misstepped and slipped into the loch? Damn woman was too headstrong for her own good. Did her family not care about her welfare? If he was her father, he’d never let her be alone.
If she were his...
He shook his head. Three days, that was all he was offering. He slowed the horse and came to a stop quite some distance away. Certain she hadn’t spotted him, he wanted to ensure he didn’t frighten her as he had upon his arrival.
Ceana continued to beat and scrub the clothes, slopping water over her skirts and rubbing them furiously until lather spilled into the water. Her ferocious attempt at getting the gown clean brought a smile to his face. Was she taking out her anger at him on the poor item?
“Ceana,” he said softly.
The slap of the fabric upon stone and the splash of water covered his voice so he stepped closer and said her name again. Wary of making her jolt and mayhap spill into the water, he gave up when she ignored him and came close enough to touch her shoulder.
She whirled, dropped the clothes and clenched her fists. He held up both hands in surrender, unable to prevent his grin expanding at the sight of those tiny balled hands and skinny arms. Her blue gaze ran over him and they shimmered with unshed tears.
“Blane!”
Blane had been a warrior most of his life. He’d fought the English and even other clans. At a moment’s notice, he could be counted upon to be at the ready to defend his life.
But nothing prepared him for those fragile arms wrapped around his neck and her soft face buried against his skin. He stiffened and let her hold him, aware of every part of her sweet body against his. Gradually, he eased his arms about her and held her close. Hell fire, he really could snap her in two. How could he leave her to fend for herself? A breath of wind could blow her over.
Ceana sniffed and drew back, her gaze searching his face. How much of him she saw, he knew not, and it unnerved him. Because while she did that, he took in every part of her. Long, dark lashes, the scar across her forehead, the narrow pout of her lips. The way her damp gown clung to her frame and emphasised tight nipples. Desire coursed along his veins, hot and pounding. But while he’d been lusting after her, she hadn’t even been able to see him. Had he misread every scant moment they’d had together so far?
“Yer staying?”
“Aye,” he said gruffly. “For three days, no more.”
She nodded and swiped her nose. “Aye, I understand.” Her fingers curled around his forearm. “I thank ye, Blane. Ye cannae know—”
He withdrew his arm. If she didn’t want him laying her down on these rocks and taking her here and now—and he suspected she had no idea what she was doing to him—he needed to put some distance between them.
In truth, he needed miles to cool this increasing lust but he’d settle for a nice stone wall between them while he checked over the defences of the keep.
“’Tis well enough.”
Her gentle smile wavered. “If I can ever repay ye...”
Blane clenched his jaw and forced away thoughts of how she could repay him. “I’ll take Dalma to the stables. She’ll be glad of the extra rest.”
“Of course. Ye can sleep in the guest chamber again. Ye might as well make use of it. I’ll finish up my chores then ensure there’s enough food for this eve.”
“Ye need not go to any trouble.”
Ceana tilted her head, sending dark curls spilling about her shoulders. He itched to thrust his fingers into them and ease her head back so he could taste her skin again.
“Ye’ve gone to trouble for us. A decent meal is but a small repayment.”
“As ye will.” He turned and paused to look back at her. “Do ye need aid? I dinnae think ye should be—”
“I may not be able to defend my people, Blane, but I can clean a few rags. Be gone with ye.”
No annoyance tinged her tone. Instead she beamed at him—the first genuine smile he’d seen from her. It was his return that had produced that look and he didn’t know whether to be thrilled or to pay attention to the sinking feeling in his gut. He didn’t want her beaming at him, not when he knew the sort of man he was.
A man with blood on his hands—and innocent blood at that.
Chapter Five
Blane scraped a hand across his hairy jaw. Time spent travelling had meant no chance to shave and the foolish notion that he should do so struck. Ceana couldn’t even see him properly, so what did it matter?
He did a circle of the room and paused by the open shutters. The room looked out over the side of the keep and he saw the loch on one side and the village on the other. Candlelight flowed from the windows of the small huts and he heard a woman singing a mournful tune. Uneasiness ate into his gut. What had he been thinking, offering his protection to these people? It was only another chance for him to fail them.
Like his own village, they would look to him for protection. Here he was, this strong, bold warrior. What more did they need? But that reliance had made his people weak. He should have encouraged them to defend themselves, to learn the skills they needed. The survivors had learned the hard way that their fighting skills were sorely lacking.
But what could he teach a blind woman, a crazy old lady, a rebellious sister and a bunch of women?
Blane snorted to himself. Nothing. He had nothing to give but three days of his time. He only hoped it was enough.
“Is all well?”
He swivelled to see Ceana in the doorway. Her gaze was upon him so he didn’t know if the candles were enough to help her see where he was or if she’d heard him. Observing her, he’d seen how she cocked her head and appeared to be listening intently most of the time. Though she did indeed move with caution, he’d marvelled at how she behaved as though it was no hindrance. Would he be the same without his sight? He could hardly fathom her courage.
“Aye, very well.”
She stepped into his room but paused when he released a curse and came around the bed to pick up his boots. He shoved them under the bed.
“My boots,” he explained. “Didnae want ye taking a fall.”
“I’m not usually so careless.”
Guilt scythed at his insides. It had been his fault she’d taken tumbles. A wee fragile thing like her could surely do serious damage to herself if she wasn’t careful.
Or he could. He’d have to tread carefully around her.
“Ye’ll forgive my carelessness. I will be more cautious.”
“Ye’ll no’ get my forgiveness for ye dinnae need it,” she replied firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ye will have my gratitude though.”
To see her with her chin raised, her skinny arms crossed and her brazen blue eyes burning into him, he’d be forgiven for thinking he’d met a warrior woman.
“I dinnae need yer gratitude,” he countered.
He didn’t want it either. Not yet. Once she was safely under the protection of her kin, then he’d take it. Until then, he’d do his best to protect her.
“Is there anything ye do need?”
Revenge.
“Nay.”
“The servants brought ye up fresh water? And that clean plaid and shirt?”
“Aye.” He didn’t want to as
k where the clothing had come from. One of the men taken by fever mayhap or even her father. Or someone important... “Ye shall have to pass on my thanks to whoever they belong to.”
“I cannae do that, I fear. My husband has been long dead.”
Husband. She’d made no mention of one being away at war but the word incited two reactions inside him. Jealousy—raw and painful. After that, rolling desire—hot and heavy. If he took her, there’d be no barrier, no stealing of innocence.
“I am sorry.”
“’Twas a long time ago.” She lifted her face to stare at him head on. “What of ye? Do ye have a wife? Children?”
“Nay. I never had the chance. Too busy fighting the English.”
“That seems to be the way of it these days,” she mused. “We’re all too busy fighting to actually live.”
“And ye, what are ye fighting?”
She lifted one shoulder. “To survive, I suppose. There are those who fear my eyes.”
“Why should someone fear ye?”
“There are those who talk of me being able to see other things—other worlds mayhap or ungodly creatures. I’ve even heard tell of people claiming these creatures help me see. That is how I find my way around, it seems.” Her lips quirked.
“Yer villagers say these things?”
“Nay. They are good people and they know me. They would never wish me ill. Few people outside of our village know and I dinnae share my troubles with strangers if I can help it, but these words have been spoken to me before.”
“Whoever has said these things is a fool.”
“Aye, but the words of a fool hold weight with other fools. It puts me in a dangerous position if I dinnae act with care.”
He inched closer, not even sure why, only that she seemed to draw him in. “Why did ye risk telling me?”
“Desperation and...and I know ye are no fool.”
“I dinnae know.” Blane reached out and skimmed a finger across one smooth cheek. The cool softness of it twisted his gut. He shifted closer still. The need to kiss her burned through his body. One kiss. What harm could come from that? “Mayhap I am a fool.”
Ceana lifted her chin. Did she know what he wanted? Regardless, he took the movement as his invitation. He moved a finger to under her chin and held it lifted so he could stare into those alluring eyes. Somehow he felt as though he could reach through to her if he just looked long enough.
I Left My Heart in Scotland Page 21
