Nature of the Beast

by Hannah Howell

  The moment Berawald finished bandaging Evie with a clean strip of linen he dressed her in one of his shirts. With David’s help he made her a bed near the fire. Next he scrubbed off the table, poured himself a tankard of wine, and served David one filled with cider. Setting the drinks on the table, he gathered what food he had on hand and set it on the table as well. There were not many foods he ate aside from meat, but he could see that David had no complaints about being served bread, cheese, and fruit.

  “Will Evie get better now?” asked David as he sat down at the table.

  Seating himself across from the boy, Berawald nodded. “Oh, aye, I believe she will. As soon as I am certain she is resting easily, I will go and gather your belongings.” Seeing the look of worry the boy tried valiantly to hide, he added, “Ye will be safe here, lad. The way into these caves and tunnels isnae easily found. We only got in here easily because I ken the way so weel.”

  David nodded and returned all his attention to his food. It was evident that the boy had gone a long time since his last meal, and his last meal had undoubtedly been a meager one. He was obviously finding it a struggle to recall his table manners.

  Turning his attention back to Evie, Berawald felt that surge of desire yet again and inwardly shook his head. There were many good reasons why he should have ignored young David’s plea for help. He had the sinking feeling that Evie might well be the biggest one of all.

  Two

  Evie woke to pain and had to clench her teeth against a moan. Her mind hazy, she struggled to understand why she felt such a compulsion to keep silent. Her memories of the past three days slipped back into her mind in little, scattered fragments, slowly stirring a fear inside her that briefly made her forget her pain. Then she realized that David was not at her side and that fear rapidly became panic until she heard his laughter. He was close at hand and he sounded content, safe. The need to see that for herself made her ache to look for him, but she continued to hold herself still. She forced herself to relax as much as her pain would allow and began to try and judge just how badly she had been injured.

  The worst of her pain was low on her right side. She suddenly remembered barely escaping being cut in two by Duncan Beaton’s sword. She had feared that the slow, continuous loss of blood from that wound would kill her. However, it appeared that someone had tended to the wound well enough to keep her alive. As far as she could tell she had no broken bones, but there were a lot of bruises that would keep her in pain for a while longer.

  One thing firmly grabbed her attention despite her concern over her injuries. She was not wearing her clothes. Moving as little as possible, Evie stared down at her body and had her worst suspicions confirmed. She was wearing a man’s shirt and nothing else. Evie sincerely hoped some plump, graying shepherd’s wife had cared for her, giving her the old shepherd’s only clean shirt. That calming hope was just taking root when a low male chuckle kicked it in the teeth. That was not the laugh of some old, gnarled shepherd.

  There was no longer any time left to ignore her surroundings. David sounded content and safe, but now that she knew a man was with her brother, Evie had to make certain of her brother’s safety herself. For weeks now, no man had been safe—for her or for David. After cautiously testing that she could move all her body parts, even though too many of them protested the movement, she began to turn her head toward the sound of David and the man talking softly.

  It took all of Evie’s willpower to smother a gasp when her gaze finally settled on David and his companion—his tall, dark, and incredibly handsome companion. They were seated across from each other at a table set only a few feet away from her, a chessboard set between them. The strange urge to warn the man that playing chess with David was a waste of time swept over her. Then she noticed that David seemed to be studying his pieces with a knowledge he had never revealed before.

  Pushing aside a pinch of jealousy that made no sense, she decided to ask for two things she desperately needed—a drink and a privy bucket. Evie was startled when all that emerged from her open mouth was a hoarse croak. It proved enough to catch the attention of David and his companion, however. Before she could more carefully study the man, David cried out in delight and rushed toward her. One soft-spoken but concise command from the man was all that kept David from hurling himself upon her bruised and aching body. David stumbled to a halt, knelt by her rough bed, and very cautiously leaned forward until he could give her the gentlest of embraces.

  “I feared ye were going to die and then I would be all alone,” David said, his voice uneven.

  Evie felt the damp of tears where her brother nestled his face against her neck. She winced as she moved her hand up to stroke his bright curls, but ignored the pain. David needed comfort. He had just lost his father. Evie swallowed her own grief over that loss, wondering when and if she would ever have the chance to face it, release it, and then put it aside. Silently scolding herself for being selfish, she forced her mind back to her grieving, frightened brother and, much more importantly, the man who now stood next to David and watched her with the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

  “Hush, David, I will heal,” she said, and then looked up at the man. “’Tis ye I owe my life to, is it?”

  “I think ye would have survived anyway,” he said. “The bleeding was easing and it was a shallow cut.”

  David sat up, keeping his hand on Evie’s arm as he shook his head. “He did a lot, Evie. He got me all dry and warm and then we went back to the burn where I had left ye and he stopped the bleeding, then carried ye back here and stitched ye all up and e’en cleaned ye up a wee bit and he has been taking care of ye for three days.”

  All thought of reminding David yet again that he should not string so many words together without at least taking a breath fled Evie’s mind as his last words finally sank into her mind. “Three days?” She looked at the man still watching her so closely. “Did I have a fever?” Even as she cursed herself for the sin of vanity, it took all of her willpower not to reach for her hair to make certain she still had it.

  “A wee one but mostly ye just slept.” Berawald clasped his hands behind his back to stop himself from giving in to the strong urge to touch that hair she was so obviously worried about. “I am Berawald MacNachton.” He noticed no sign of alarm over the name and so continued. “And e’en if ye had been taken severely ill, I wouldnae have cut off your hair. Ne’er understood the need for it and ne’er saw that it did much good.”

  “He didnae put leeches on ye, either, Evie,” David assured her, casting a brief look of awe at Berawald. “Didnae bleed ye at all. He said ye had already bled enough.”

  “Something I wholeheartedly agree with and nay just because I am the one in need of healing this time,” Evie murmured, and then tried to hold out her hand to the man. “I am Evanna Massey.”

  “I already told him that.”

  “I am sure ye have, David, but ’tis still a courtesy that should be followed.”

  Berawald took her faintly shaking hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Pleased to meet ye, Evanna Massey.”

  “I thank ye for helping me and my brother.”

  “’Twas my pleasure.” He noticed her surreptitiously glancing around his cave. “Is there anything ye need?”

  “Do ye need a pot, Evie?” asked David.

  Evie did not need the fleeting grin that passed over Berawald MacNachton’s too handsome face to tell her she was blushing over David’s question. She could feel the heat of it on her face. David was too young to understand how badly a woman needed to preserve some scrap of modesty before a grown man, especially when that man was such a handsome stranger. She doubted it was a lesson she would be able to teach him for quite a while, either. Before she could make any response, however, Berawald picked her up off the bed, blanket and all.

  “If ye would just show me where to go,” she began.

  “Ye would stagger there yourself?” Berawald asked. “Ye have been abed for three days, even lost a lot of blood
ere I stitched ye closed. Ye might make it to where ye need to go, but ye would use up your entire strength to do so. I might then have to come and get ye because ye are too weak to rise up from where ye are squatting.”

  That was blunt, Evie thought, feeling her face heat up with yet another blush. It was also true, but she wished he had spoken with a little more concern for her modesty. She also wished she had the strength to get down and walk, for being held in his strong arms, her cheek resting against his broad, hard chest, was making her feel decidedly twitchy.

  He set her down and Evie realized they had reached their destination. She looked around in amazement. The room resembled a garderobe, one that might be found in a very fine castle. A wooden boxlike bench with two holes in the top was against one of the stone walls. Stone slabs covered most of the floor and a thick sheepskin was laid out on the floor directly in front of the bench. Evie turned to say something to Berawald only to find him gone, and that made her frown. Surely she had not been so caught up in her thoughts that she had missed hearing him leave.

  Shrugging her shoulders and softly cursing the pain the movement caused, she moved toward the bench. She was already weak, her knees trembling with each step, but she felt sure she could manage to do what she needed to do without his help. As she settled herself on the bench she began to pray that she would not need to call for help to get off it. Noticing a bucket of lime next to where she sat as well as a bucket of water to clean herself with, Evie decided her savior was a very meticulous man. It was even more reason to avoid needing his help. A meticulous man would not be one who would allow her to keep her secrets.

  After she was done, had washed up, and then thrown some lime into the hole, Evie leaned against the cool stone wall of the small room to catch her breath. It annoyed her beyond words that doing so little could make her feel so weak. She finally looked at the room she was in more carefully and frowned. It resembled a cave, yet that made no sense. People did not usually make their homes in caves.

  “Do ye need help?”

  That deep voice echoing down the small passage leading to her pulled Evie out of her confusing thoughts. “Nay, I can come to you.” Keeping one hand on the wall and clutching the blanket around her shoulders, she started to walk down the passage, praying with every step she took that she was not mouthing an empty boast.

  Berawald picked her up as soon as she inched her way out into the main room. He ignored her muttered protests as he carried her back to bed. She was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat, her slender body trembling with the effort of walking only a few feet. He knew she did not need to be told that she would never have made it back to her bed on her own. Tempting though it was to say it, it would be a little like rubbing salt into her wounds.

  Once she was settled back in her bed, he helped her drink some cider that he had mixed a few herbs into. He ignored her grimaces and silently pressed her to drink it all down. Just carrying her that short distance had stirred him so much, and so fiercely, that he was very eager to put some distance between them.

  “Herbs to strengthen my blood?” she asked after she finished the cider and settled her aching body more comfortably on the bed.

  “Aye.” Berawald moved to stir the pot of broth he was brewing for her. “Are ye a healer, then?”

  “I have done some healing work.” She sighed as she saw what he was doing. “’Tis broth, aye?”

  He had to bite back a laugh over the heavy tone of disgust in her voice, and that surprised him, for he rarely laughed. “’Tis indeed broth for you. David and I shall dine on something much heartier later.”

  “Cruel mon. I shall try to be asleep by then, I think.”

  “Sleep is the best medicine.”

  Her voice was soft, a little husky, and Berawald felt as though it caressed him each time she spoke. He had long ago accepted that he was not a passionate man, not like so many others in his clan. He was no virgin, doubted any man who had lived as long as he had could be, but he had never felt any true craving for a woman. He felt one for this woman and it worried him. His kinsmen would undoubtedly urge him to seduce her, to satisfy the need knotting his insides, but his every instinct told him that would only make the craving worse. He needed to get her healed and strong as quickly as possible and send her far, far away.

  That thought had barely finished passing through his mind when he cursed himself for a heartless bastard. She and David were in danger. He had not pressed the boy too hard for information about that danger, but he was certain that some dire threat was dogging the heels of the pair. It was the only explanation for why they were in his woods; in the midst of MacNachton lands—lands most other people avoided—and for why she had been so badly wounded. As soon as she had the strength for a long interrogation, he intended to get some answers. Only then could he make any real decision about her and her brother. And he would not let those big green eyes of hers make him falter in getting the information he needed. For now, however, he would simply work hard to help her regain her strength.

  Evie looked around the large chamber. The man’s home definitely looked like a cave. That made no sense to her, for he was clean, well spoken, and handsome enough to make a woman’s heart skip. He was the sort of man one expected to find living in a fine manor house or even a castle.

  Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Are we in a cave?” She knew it was probably rude to ask such a question and felt herself blush, but she did not apologize.

  Berawald looked at her and smiled faintly. “Aye, we are.”

  Since she had already crossed the line into rudeness, she decided she would keep right on walking. “Ye live in a cave?”

  He heard only curiosity and a touch of surprise in her voice. “Aye. ’Tis spacious. As I told young David, ’tis also never too warm or too cold.”

  “It can be damp.”

  “I dinnae think there are verra many abodes in this land that arenae a wee bit damp.”

  She smiled faintly. “True, but I have ne’er heard of any but hermits or outlaws who lived in such places.”

  “None live in ones as comfortable as this. Hermits prefer ones that are nay more than niches in a hillside. This place wouldnae allow them to enjoy the suffering they often crave. And, I am nay an outlaw. Nay, I found this place several years ago and decided to make it my home. My clan owns the land and the keep was getting rather crowded. So I worked to make this cave more comfortable and moved into it this past spring. ’Tis safe here,” he added quietly. “The entrance is nay easy to find, I can hear if anyone approaches, and since the path into this place is long and narrow, ’tis easy to defend.”

  “Is it easy to flee from if ye are attacked?” she asked, unable to bury her fear of being trapped by her enemies.

  “Aye, and the ways out are even harder to find than the way we came in.”

  Evie tried to hide her relief, but the sharp look in his dark eyes told her that he had noticed it. He asked her no questions, however, and that pleased her. She was not sure yet if she could trust him with the answers. If only her life was at stake, Evie had the lowering feeling she would need only one long, soulful look from his beautiful dark eyes to tell him all he wished to know. The fact that David’s life was also at risk was all that gave her the strength to keep silent.

  “Good. ’Tis always best to have a way out.”

  “Time for your broth.”

  “How delightful,” she muttered.

  “Tis good broth, Evie,” said David as he knelt by her bedside.

  She smiled at her brother and then dutifully consumed the broth Berawald fed her. It was good and, in truth, it was probably a great deal heartier than many another meal she had had in her life. By the time she was done she felt pleasantly full, warm, and very tired.

  “Are ye going to sleep again, Evie?” asked David.

  “Aye, I believe I am,” she replied even as she closed her eyes and had to smile when David proceeded to tell her a bedtime story.

  Beneath the
shelter of her lashes, however, she watched Berawald MacNachton, her savior, her mysterious healer, and a man who lived in a cave. He was—without question—an astonishingly handsome man. Tall, leanly muscular, and graceful as only a skilled warrior could be. His features were cut in clear precise lines, barely escaping a look of frightening harshness. A well-shaped, slightly full mouth helped soften those sharply cut lines as well. His nose was straight, neither too long nor too wide, his chin was strong, his ears well shaped. Even his eyebrows were perfect, nicely arched and not too thick. Worse, he had long thick lashes she envied and admired so much that she might need to go to confession. He had long black hair that hung down to the middle of his broad back and was tied back with a strip of leather.

  Much too fine a man for her, she thought sadly as she let the need for sleep start to conquer her. She would regain her strength and leave as soon as possible. Not only could she bring danger to his door, but she could all too easily bring it to her own heart. A man like Berawald MacNachton was one who could sorely tempt a woman, and she had no time to deal with temptation. She and David were being hunted and they had to keep moving. Her last thought was to wonder why the thought of leaving should cause her heart to twist painfully in her chest.

  Three

  Seated by her bed, Berawald waited patiently for Evanna Massey to finish waking up. It had been a week since he had found her and her brother. It was past time for him to get some answers to all the questions he had. During his hunt last night he had come across signs that indicated men were tracking along the border to the MacNachton lands. He strongly suspected they were the men David and Evanna were running from. It was time to tell his clan about his guests and that they could well be bringing a threat their way, one that was approaching all too swiftly. When he did speak to his kinsmen he wanted to be able to tell them why the threat was drawing so close, why it sought out two apparent innocents, or even that his guests were not so innocent and that he had sent them on their way.