A Highland Inheritance (Highlands Ever After Book 2)

by Aileen Adams

  He crawled backward, dragging Iona with him, arms clasped under hers, his hands interlaced over her waist to meet her bosom. He tugged her closer to the creek, praying that the embers didn’t set the nearby forest on fire. Whoever had done this was a fool. Anger replaced his shock and concern for Iona prompted him to move to a crouch beside her, to try to assess the severity of her injuries. Who had done this and why? Just because she was an Englishwoman? But she was a woman! She had no father, no brothers, no husband to protect her. He knew of no one in the village who would attack a defenseless woman, even if she was English.

  Dougal Craig. He had threatened to burn her house down, but did he have it in him to ruthlessly kill Iona as well? He didn’t want to think so. Aye, Dougal had a dubious reputation, but to be fair, Colin had never arrested him, never caught him stealing, harassing, or killing anyone.

  Colin knew the danger of rumors, of gossip, and the news of Iona’s arrival would’ve swept through the valley like… well, like wildfire. He didn’t like to think that any of the people in the region would stoop to the depths of burning an innocent woman alive, but that was exactly the situation he now found himself in.

  A low moan erupted from Iona, and he pulled his thoughts away from the house, and who might have done this, if just for a few moments. He gazed down at Iona’s still features. Her eyes were closed, her limbs loose, lying so still that he feared she was dead or close to it. He lowered his face toward hers and turned it so that his right ear was just above her lips, so close that he felt her soft lips against his hair.

  “Are ye breathing, Iona? Breathe!” he muttered. There! He felt warmth in his ear. He lifted his head, gently clasped her face between his hands, and patted her cheeks. “Iona. Wake up!”

  He extricated himself from her limp form without injuring her further, laying her flat on the ground, and then straightened her legs, not at all concerned by the fact that he was touching a woman’s limbs, and how it would be deemed unseemly in polite society. He didn’t give a damn about polite society at this moment. He needed Iona to be all right. He needed her eyes to open, to see anger flash in them, to see and hear that she was not seriously injured. Maybe she had seen something. Maybe she knew who had set her house on fire. Unfortunately, her eyes didn’t open, no matter how much he coaxed.

  He cursed when he realized she was injured, or at the very least, unconscious. After several moments, he carefully rolled onto his side, assessing his own body for potential injuries. Finally able to catch his breath but still inhaling the smoky, ashy air, he rolled onto his hands and knees and figured that he’d been lucky. Surely, he would have some bruises, some scratches, but nothing worse. Nothing broken. He couldn’t say the same for Iona.

  The stream gurgled an arm’s length away and he quickly moved toward it, dipping his face into the cold, crisp water, rinsing the dirt, the soot, and the smoke from his eyes. He drank two gulps of the cool, refreshing water to clear his throat and then moved back toward Iona, lying on her stomach, face turned to the side, one arm flung above her, the other out to the side. He laid his palm on her shoulder.

  “Iona?”

  No response. He quickly felt along her limbs but found no obvious indication of broken bones although he knew that a bone could be broken even if jagged edges didn’t protrude from the skin. He felt along her back, didn’t find anything that indicated she’d broken her neck or her back, nor ribs. Carefully, he rolled her over, cushioning her head as he did so. He hissed when he saw her face, illuminated in the reddish-orange glow of the fire that now fully engulfed her house.

  She had a nasty bump the size of a duck egg forming on her forehand, a scratch along her jaw, and the side of her head was smeared with blood, discoloring her beautiful corn silk hair. His heart skipped a beat as he gently placed his hand against the left side of her skull and felt the already-swelling gash