“Good God woman! Are ye trying to kill me?” he asked, forcing the cup back into her hands.
Fallon rolled her eyes.
“Oh Lord, tis nothing more than tea.”
“It tastes like piss!” he replied, wiping his mouth.
“Did anyone tell ye that ye complain like a lass? Even my wee lad does no’ give me this hard of a time. The tea will help bring down yer fever. If ye wish to no’ be sick, ye will drink it, and all of it,” she said, handing the cup back to him.
With a look of disgust, he crinkled his nose as he forced down the medicinal tea. Once finished, he handed the cup back to her and leaned back against the pallet.
His muscles ached above the fractured ribs. Taking shallow breaths, he let them out slowly. Admitting his pain would only further delay his travels as the stubborn lass seemed to keep a keen eye on him. He was surprised to find that he hadn’t been tied down to the pallet just to make sure he wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night. Rylan admired a lass with spirit and a sharp tongue, but his patience with this one was wearing thin.
“See! That was no’ that bad,” she cheerfully said.
Rylan grunted in response to her mockery. Her smile struck him when he glanced up at her. For a woman with such a sharp tongue, she had a most tender smile. In fact, he hadn’t really noticed until now that she had all the features of a bonny lass. Her chestnut-colored braid crossed over her shoulder and gently rested on top of her bosom, which Rylan couldn’t help noticing, even when he was burning with fever. Getting involved with the woman, though, was about as dangerous as sparring with a poisonous snake. It wasn’t that he didn’t fancy the lass, but his choice of lifestyle would never allow it.
She was a vixen, if one ever existed, and he was a man in need. After all, a man who spent most of his life traveling alone, his only source of companionship and entertainment were the few buxom wenches at the taverns and inns he passed along the way, but none of them could ever satisfied his need. Not in the way he imagined a woman like Fallon would.
Her radiance and independence was as alluring as the brightest star in the night sky. And her dominant manner was much more in line with a woman of higher stature, one who not only took orders, but gave them. She also had passion, fire, assertiveness; all the characteristics of a leader – or at least one bred to become one.
Fallon leaned toward him, and placed her hand on his arm. Her tender touch could not have been more soothing. As she leaned in, he could smell the sweet smell of primrose and lilac. Her touch on his cheek was as soft as sheep’s wool as she grazed her hand along his arm.
Their eyes locked. He didn’t know if it was the fever or if she had somehow bewitched him, but his desire to touch her started to build. He couldn’t believe he was burning with fever and still he had to touch her. He felt rather proud. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends about this. Virility, thy name is Rylan. Rylan leaned toward her. As he went in for a kiss, Fallon straightened her back and scooted away from him. The atmosphere between them suddenly changed.
“I should let ye sleep,” she mumbled under her breath.
He knew she felt it too. A moment. Fallon stood and scurried to the door like a mouse. Closing his eyes, he laid back on the pallet. He should not have tried to kiss her. Then he smiled. She wanted me.
Chapter 5
He should not have tried to kiss me. Fallon repeated to herself as she paced the kitchen floor. She had stayed up the rest of the night keeping her mind busy by cleaning every speck of dirt and dust she could find. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, Fallon could not fight the reoccurring images burning in the back of her mind.
Though his body was riddled with scars, even his imperfections were perfect. Every muscle was toned and sculpted like a statue she had once seen in a picture book of the old Norse Gods. It was a pity his personality matched that of a boar. He may be strong and powerful, but his confidence made him arrogant and pig-headed. She supposed most men were like that; arrogant, selfish and stubborn to a fault. The only difference was, Fallon was far worse. She, herself, was a force to be reckoned with. Fallon smiled. He had met his match.
As morning came, Fallon went to check on Braeden. She hoped the distraction would help rid her mind of the naked Highlander who slept in her barn. She found her son in his room, dressing. His shirt buttons in the wrong holes and hair tangled around his face made her smile. Fallon had never been more proud of anything than of being a mother. And though raising the lad on her own was quite the challenge, she would not trade it for the world.
As Fallon stepped into the room, Braeden yawned as he greeted her good morning.
“Good morning sleepy-head,” she said as she knelt before him and fixed the buttons on his shirt. “Braeden, ye must promise me that ye will no’ disturb the man in the barn.”
“He stayed? Who is he, mama?”
“Just a stranger passing through. I do no’ plan on him being here long. But I need ye to promise me that ye will no’ enter the barn. Ye ken?”
“Aye, Mama.”
“I want ye to help Leoric out in the fields today. We need to start harvesting the grain.”
“But what of the animals? I always tend to the animals first,” he pouted.
“I will feed them today. Now run along.”
“Aye, Mama,” he replied, skipping out the door.
Fallon changed her gown and put on a clean apron. Braiding her hair, she tied it up so that it no longer fell upon her shoulders. She could already tell by the heat of the morning sun that the day was going to be another hot and arid day. If only it would rain. She would even settle for a cool breeze.
Heading outside to the supply shed, Fallon filled one of the buckets with grain and the other with corn and left to get started on the day’s duties. She scattered small handfuls of corn upon the ground for the chickens and filled the horse trough with a few scoopfuls of grain.
Taking the two empty buckets, she headed down to the stream to fetch some fresh cool water. It felt just like an ordinary day, except for her hesitance to enter the barn. After what had almost happened, she didn’t know what to say. What would he say? Fallon’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Though he hadn’t kissed her, the fact was, he almost had, and she almost let him.
Returning to the barn, she reluctantly pushed the door open and stepped in. Rylan lay asleep peacefully wrapped in the blanket she had lent him. She was happy to find that he was no longer lying in a puddle of his own sweat. His fever was breaking. Fallon had seen many men die from wounds and fevers. Rylan was one of the lucky ones, and Fallon was glad that they caught it early.
Though his body was healing, she still did not think he was ready to jump on the horse just yet. He still needed to rest at least another day or two to ensure the infection did not spread elsewhere, though she seriously doubted he would agree.
Fallon tiptoed toward him. Asleep, he looked like a gentle beast, leaving her to wonder what he looked like underneath the mass of hair that covered his face. Kneeling next to him, Fallon lightly brushed his hair out of his eyes. Even with the long, unkempt beard, he was a handsome man. Something near his hand caught her eye. She leaned nearer and picked it up, careful not to wake Rylan. It was a stick, but it was being transformed into a tiny animal. She couldn’t tell what kind of animal it was, but there were the rough shapes of four legs, a body, a head, and a tail. He’d apparently fallen asleep soon after he’d started. This man gave her much to think about. She put the carving back where she’d found it.
Standing quietly, she returned to her duties and would check on him again later. Fallon finished caring for the animals and started taking inventory of the vegetables from the garden. She deliberately turned her thoughts from the mysterious man in the barn to more practical matters. In a couple of days, she would send Leoric and Braeden off to the market again to sell their goods. Time to make a list for them to take.
Day quickly turned into evening, and Rylan still had not awakened since the
wee hours of the morning. Fallon worried the remedy she had given him was stronger than she had anticipated. It was meant to help him rest, not put the man into a never-ending sleep.
“Rylan,” she whispered, holding onto a small bowl of broth.
Rylan moaned and rolled to his side.
“Rylan, wake up. Ye must eat.”
Rylan’s eyes cracked open.
“How long have I been sleeping?” he mumbled.
“Most of the day. Yer fever has broken. I brought ye some broth to drink. It will help restore some strength.”
Rylan pushed himself up into a seated position and reached out for the bowl.
“Ye dinna put anything funny in it, did ye?”
“Nay,” she said with a smile.
Rylan took a glance down at the bowl before drinking from it. Fallon felt satisfied when he finished the entire thing.
“How are ye feeling?” she asked.
Fallon’s eyes fell to his lips as he wiped his mouth. His thick mustache covered his upper lip, but his lower lip was soft pink like semi-ripe raspberry.
“Tired, but I feel much better. The last thing I remember was eating my supper, and passing out like a drunken fool.”
“Well ye are looking better now,” she replied.
“Aye. I hope to leave soon. I have imposed long enough.”
“Ye have no’ imposed.”
“Aye, well, I must be going soon. I wish to thank ye fer yer help and pay ye fer yer services.”
“It would do me a great dishonor to pay me, Rylan.”
“Then perhaps, there is another way I can pay ye. Ye have put yerself at great risk allowing me to stay. I could at least do something fer ye in return.”
She studied his solemn face, wondering why he always seemed so solemn, almost angry, yet carved tiny, beautiful objects in secret. “Perhaps I can come up with a list,” she said with a soft smile.
The look on his face was like Braeden’s when she told him he’d have to take a tonic. “A list?”
Fallon chuckled. It felt like such a long time since she’d laughed out loud. Apparently, she’d surprised him. Regaining her composure, she continued, “I was wondering…and ye dinna have to answer if ye dinna want to but, the Englishmen that were here yesterday…why are they looking fer ye?”
“I killed one of their men. Why did ye help me?” he asked.
“No mon deserves such a fate. They will no’ stop searching fer ye. Nathanial is a determined mon and is no’ a mon to cross.”
“He be nothing but a pompous English swine. And I fear no mon.”
“Then ye are as foolish as they are. Why do they call ye the Wolf?”
“I inherited the nickname because I hunt to kill.”
“Like a mercenary?”
“Of sorts. Does that scare ye?” he asked.
Rylan’s heavy gaze captured her words, leaving her speechless. At first, he had appeared as threatening as a wild beast, but there was something about him that made her feel unusually safe and calm. She could not explain why she did not fear him, though the intensity of his stare was like that of a predator focused on his next meal.
“A little,” she answered honestly.
“Ye have no’ reason to fear me.”
“I know.”
He shifted, put something in his pocket, then stood. “Good. So…about this list.”
Fallon gave Rylan a list of duties that needed to be attended that she believed he could handle with his injuries. She was not exaggerating when she mentioned the work that needed to be done. The fence around the pen was broken, there were leaks in the roof of the barn, and several of the trusses needed replacing.
As Rylan worked, Fallon noticed his frequent glances in her direction, for neither could she contain herself from intentionally seeking him out now and again.
He seemed different today than he was yesterday. Instead of holding himself in check and constantly scanning for raiders, he worked as though he was a neighbor come to help for the day. Conversation was friendly and there was a mutual understanding and respect between them. But it was more the way he looked at her that indicated a change of heart. There was something about his eyes that felt nearly invasive.
Fallon felt as if he was trying to penetrate her walls and learn all her secrets, but she was trying to resist him with all her might. Rylan had become a distraction. A distraction Fallon could not afford. Life was a series of memories and moments, but this was one moment that needed to pass. In just a few days, he would be gone and everything would go back to the way it always had been, regardless of the void he would leave behind.
Gathering sheaves of straw, Rylan layered them over the planks to provide better insulation on the roof. Just one more bundle and he would be finished.
Climbing down the ladder, he stopped as Fallon came into view. She bent over seductively, pulling clothes out of a hamper. He didn’t know whether she meant to be alluring or not. The sight of her firm backside caused his pulse to pound and his groin twitched. Heavens’ saints, she was beautiful. Rylan allowed his head to tilt as his eyes trailed down the curve of her backside and below. As the back of her skirt lifted slightly, Rylan couldn’t help but notice her cream-colored legs. His groin ached, a natural male instinct, and one he could not control, like hunger.
He continued down the ladder, forcing his eyes away. Grabbing the lone stack of hay, he made his way back to the roof. He finished his task and ignored the vexing young woman whose body teased and taunted him.
She had consumed his thoughts since he had arrived, though he tried to fight it. He was completely intrigued by her.
It had been a long day of hard labor. With the setting sun, Rylan called it quits for the day. Famished, he stepped inside the house and found Fallon slaving over the stove.
“Have ye finished already?” she asked.
“Already? I’ve been bustin’ my arse fer hours!”
“Well ye have finished just in time. I warmed up some stew.”
Rylan looked at the table and noticed only two place settings had been set.
“Will the others no’ be joining us?”
“Nay. Tis late. They have already supped and gone to bed. I am afraid tis only my company ye will have to endure.”
Fallon scooped the stew into a bowl and carried it to the table. Rylan took a seat and greedily began to devour the delicious meal. She joined him, placing a bottle of whiskey on the table between them.
Fallon opened up and spoke as freely as the whiskey was flowing. She spoke of her son, how she met Leoric, and several of her favorite childhood memories. But with each story, she left out certain details that would pertain to who she was and where she had come from. That, she preferred to keep to herself.
As she reminisced, Fallon’s mind drifted to how different her life would have been had she not made the choices she had. There was no doubt in her mind she would have been married to the man of her father’s choosing. It was only after her father tried forcing an arranged marriage on her that Fallon left home. She’d found refuge in a small convent for a while, then left the sisters and wandered until she came upon this farm. Had her father considered her strong personality, he would have understood that she would not marry the man he wanted because she was deeply in love with another. Unable to reason with her father, Fallon chose to leave her family and past behind.
Fallon glanced awkwardly down at her plate. Her sight was blurred. On the table sat two empty bottles of whiskey. Had she drunk that much without realizing it? Slouching back in her chair, the effects of the devil’s spit started to take its toll. Rylan rested his head on his hand, and gazed at her deeply.
“Ye dinna drink verra often, do ye?” he asked.
Fallon could hear the amusement in his voice.
“Are ye implying that I cannae hold my liquor?”
“I am no’ implying anything lass, tis only that o’er the past half hour, ye be slurring every one of yer words and brayin’ like a drunken mule. Though tis been
quite entertaining,” he chuckled.
He actually chuckled. “Excuse me, but I will no’ sit here while ye make a mockery of me,” she spat.
Standing from her chair, she wobbled in her spot as the world gave a light spin. Rylan quickly stood and placed his hand under her elbow to help steady her.
God, he smells good.
When she glanced up at him, their eyes locked. Rylan stepped another inch closer. Even without Rylan touching her, she trembled at his nearness. His breath on her skin made her feel weak.
Looking into his eyes, Fallon could see his desire. His gaze felt as powerful as the blinding sun. Fallon felt as if she’d lost the feeling in her legs, but stood still like a stone. Her heart started to pound. She searched his eyes for meaning.
Fallon stood, helpless against her emotions as placing one hand along the fireplace mantle, he pinned her against the wall. His body pressed against hers, and his groin stiffened under the loose fabric of his kilt. She felt it against her stomach and bit her lower lip. She so desperately wanted to be swept away by this man. The sudden need to feel his lips upon hers and her hands upon him swept over her.
God Almighty!
Rylan captured her mouth, his lips demanding, insistent, and hard against hers. As his hands slid down the curve of her hips, his lips trailed to her neck. Fallon moaned. She could feel herself completely surrendering to him. The way he made her feel was freeing.
His kiss was possessive and unyielding, as if he were in the midst of battle. Sliding his hand around the arch of her back, he held her firmly to deepen his kiss. He was not gentle, but Fallon would not have wanted it any other way. Rylan lit a fire within her, made her burn at her core, and she wanted the flames. Melting against him, driven by the searing passion, Fallon wrapped her arms around him and parted her lips. Accepting the invitation, Rylan swept his tongue along hers as his hands cupped her small breasts. No man had ever made her feel the way Rylan was doing at this very moment. His touch, his kiss was addicting.
Heart of the Highlands: The Wolf (Protectors of the Crown Book 2) Page 4
