The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes)

by Jessi Gage

The enormous pack obscured most of his back, but she had a lovely view of other parts of him. His dark hair shining with health and curling over his ears and collar. His powerful thighs as they flexed beneath his trews. His arms. She loved the way his muscles appeared as if they’d been chiseled from stone and then dusted with dark hairs. Her fingers would have been eager to stroke those hairs if she weren’t too broken to ever again entertain such fantasies.

  And just like that, her pleasure at appreciating this specimen of brawn and wild grace evaporated into the cool autumn air. “Where’s the nearest village?” she asked to give herself somat to think about other than how loathsome he must find her now that he kent she was beneath even whoring. “Where do you buy your grain, get news from Chroina?” Where did he go for his tupping? Surely he had one or more women he visited on occasion. Probably not whores. A fine looking man like him probably had plenty of women willing to give him what he required for free.

  Unbidden images assaulted her: Riggs atop a sturdy wolfkind woman with broad shoulders and bulky teeth to match his, moving over her, lifting her thigh to move inside her. Riggs poised behind a lass of his own kind, taking her like an animal, like they were both animals.

  Pain in her palms made her look down. Her hands had curled into fists until the nails bit into her skin.

  “Used to be Figcroft,” he said, and it took her a moment to remember she’d asked about the nearest village. “Half a day’s walk from my cabin. Now...” He shrugged and muttered somat she couldn’t make out.

  “What’s that?”

  “It changes all the time.” Was that resignation she heard in his voice?

  “What does that mean?” Were wolfkind a travelling people, like the Rom? Riggs did not strike her as a nomad. His cabin was most definitely a home that had been lived in for many years. And once he brought her to Chroina, he would likely return to it. Without her.

  “It means, I’m not sure. If Baileyrock still has the Farworth brothers running the inn, then that’s likely the nearest village. A day’s journey due east.”

  “When did you go there last?” How often did these villages “change”?

  “Early summer I went over to trade skins for supplies.”

  So it had been months. Did that mean he hadn’t had a lover in months? Why should that make her glad?

  Silly lass. Get your head out of the clouds. He’s taking you away from his home, and it doesna sound as though he intends to bring you back. What more proof did she need that he didn’t view her as a potential bedmate? Why did she even care, when she’d made up her mind never to tup again?

  They walked in silence a while. Her legs began to ache. Her lower back burned. She hadn’t walked this far in one go since before her fall. Chi-Yuen had gradually increased the length of their walks, but none had lasted more than two hours. It had been at least four since they’d left Riggs’s cabin, and he showed no signs of needing rest.

  After another agonizing hour, the sun was well past its zenith and her stomach began to growl. She needed rest and food, but she said nothing, pushing her body through the pain. If she complained, Riggs would insist on carrying her. If he put his brawny arms around her, she’d start contemplating tupping again.

  After another hour, she spotted a patch of mushrooms that looked like an edible variety she’d picked countless times. They grew near the base of a fir tree, fat and happy in the dark, shaded soil. She broke from the trail Riggs made and stopped before them. Her mouth watered.

  With her knees swollen, there was no graceful way to kneel, so she bent at the waist to pick them. Losing her balance in her overlarge boots, she toppled forward. Her knees bent, and shards of agony stabbed her like swords all up and down her legs. She cried out and instantly despised herself for it. She would despise Riggs too, if he showed her pity.

  She fell to her side, her shoulder hitting the soft earth. Tears sprang to her eyes as much from mortification as from pain. She refused to let them fall.

  Riggs appeared over her, eyes wide. His pack hit the ground with a thud. Then he was on his knees lifting her into his arms. The sudden change in the position of her knees made her gasp with renewed pain.

  “What happened? Did you trip?” He held her with one arm while his other hand roamed down her hip and paused over her left knee. The tightness of the skin there and the coolness of his hand through the canvas meant the joint was even more swollen than she’d assumed. Chi-Yuen would have scolded her for letting herself come to such a state. Then she would have thrust one of her hempen rolls into Anya’s mouth and kneaded and stretched her legs, heedless of her screams and threats of violence.

  Riggs’s alert demeanor softened as his fingers explored her leg. His shoulders rounded, and his eyebrows pinched. “Lady,” he said, and he drew her tighter to his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Pity. She shoved at his immovable chest. “Doona call me lady.”

  “I’ll call you what I damn well please.” Gold flecks in his eyes crackled against the brown in his eyes. She’d never been close enough to notice them before. Or mayhap they only came out when he was angry. “You let yourself become lame,” he practically bellowed. “It’ll be days before you’ll walk again.” He jabbed a thick finger in the direction they’d come. “If we’re being followed, we may not even have a full day’s advantage. I could have carried you and gone twice as far. We’ve wasted half a moon-cursed day!”

  “Cease yelling at me!” Was fury better than pity? She couldn’t decide. She only kent she wanted to get away from this growling, furrow-browed beast. She struggled to break free of his hold, with no success. “Bloody ungrateful cur! I walked today to spare you having to carry me. And what do I get? No’ thanks. Noooo. I get an earful of grumbling.” Her fists hitting his shoulders might as well have been feathers hurled at a stone wall.

  Her aching body could take no more. She collapsed against him, hating her crippled form, hating him, hating everything. The tears she’d been holding back slid over her cheeks. Damn them to bloody hell. She swatted at them, and at least they had the grace to react to her touch.

  “By Danu, forgive me.” He bowed his head over her and pressed his cheek to her forehead. He rubbed his face on her there, once, twice, his coarse beard lightly scratching. “Forgive me, lady.” He spoke against her skin, his breath fogging her brow.

  Her tears fell faster. When had her arm wrapped around his neck? When had the fingers of her other hand curled into the rough fabric of his shirt? When had her body curved around him as though seeking comfort from the worst of her pain?

  “Nay. You’re a cocksure, thick-skulled, overbearing brute, and you doona deserve forgiveness. And doona call me lady.” She spoke into his shoulder, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

  A soft huff from his nose might have been a chuckle. “You’re a proud, stubborn female. I’ve driven mules more amenable than you.”

  She gasped. How dare he insult her further?

  “And you’re fair as the winter’s first snowfall,” he went on, “delicate as a rose, and braver than the fiercest soldiers I’ve fought beside.”

  Her tears stopped.

  “Do you have any idea what will happen if trackers are after us, if they find us?”

  She shook her head, unable to look away from the grim set of his mouth.

  “Let’s not find out, yeah?” He stood with a powerful thrust of his legs and not so much as a flinch due to his healing wound. Cradling her first in one arm then the other, he hoisted his pack into place and secured the straps. He picked up his axe and hooked it through the strap that fitted low across his hips, all the while treating her like a sack of grain.

  “So, I’m to lie here like a useless slug and let you carry me until nightfall?” How would she bear the indignity? Curse her legs.

  “You could tell me stories while I walk,” he said. “Or sing me songs. Or keep playing with my hair like you’re doing.”

  Och, she was twisting his curls around and around her fingers like
a bloody child with her mother’s apron strings. She made herself stop, but not before giving those silky strands a sharp tug.

  A chuckle rumbled from his chest. His lips tilted in a grin that suggested he had more than protecting her on his mind.

  Mayhap the decision never to tup again had been made in haste.

  * * * *

  Anya had avoided Riggs’s gaze all afternoon. She also seemed disinclined to touch him any more than necessary. She’d crossed her arms over her breasts, barring their generous swell from his view, and kept them like that until she’d fallen asleep. Now, with her eyes closed and her face soft and peaceful, she’d nuzzled into his shoulder and threaded one arm around his neck, where her fingers dipped into his collar to cool his heated skin. Every time they twitched, tingles raced up and down his spine.

  “I walked today to spare you having to carry me.”

  Like carrying her was a chore. She fit in his arms like she was meant to be there. In fact, having her slight weight in front pleasantly stretched the muscles in his shoulders beginning to ache from his pack. With her snug to his chest, he felt balanced. And since he didn’t have to worry about her comfort, he’d managed a much quicker pace than they’d averaged that morning.

  He hoped it was enough.

  Soon it would be too dark to walk so briskly. He could keep going at a slower pace or he could stop and rest. Care for Anya’s painful legs. When he’d felt her left knee earlier, he’d found it swollen to twice its natural size. She had to be in agony.

  If he stopped, they risked leaving a stronger scent trail for any trackers. If he kept walking, he could reach the lake—and the logboat he kept moored at the southern tip—by dawn. Their trail would be lost once they pushed off into the lake, thus buying time for Anya’s legs to heal before they continued to Chroina.

  He could go without sleep until they reached the cave, but one thing he could not go without was food. He needed to hunt to keep himself strong for her, even if he just found a fox or two. It was unavoidable. They’d have to stop. Just for a short rest. And he knew the perfect spot.

  By the time dark had fallen, the pounding rush of Aine’s Falls filled his ears, and the fresh scent of mist in the air tickled his nose. He followed his senses to the edge of the pool where the falls splashed down into the great river that fed the forest. The black-blue of a moonless night shaded the tall conifers surrounding the pool. Above, the clouds made a gray canopy.

  “Wake up, lady.” He lowered Anya to the ground near the bank.

  She stirred and stretched then winced.

  “Easy. Here.” He put his water skin in her hands and helped her sit up so she could drink. Feeling down the line of her left leg, he found the knee nearly as swollen and hot as it had been earlier. “We’ll rest here. I’m going to hunt. While I’m gone, take off your trousers and soak yourself in the pool. The cold water will ease the swelling.”

  She nodded and handed the water skin back. It was nearly empty. “You’re hunting meat?” She had a hopeful lift to her tone.

  He hated to disappoint her, but... “It’s too dangerous to have a fire.” If trackers were anywhere nearby, the scent of burning wood and meat would draw them like a beacon.

  “No fire?” she said in a small voice.

  “I’ll cook meat for you when we reach my cave. For now, this will have to do.” He held out a half-loaf of bread to her.

  She didn’t look at it.

  “Take it,” he said, dropping it in her lap.

  She touched it and said, “More bread.”

  “You like my bread.” He would never forget her throaty moan when she’d taken that first bite.

  “Aye, but it’s all I’ve had to eat for two days. A lass likes some variety.” She turned her face in his direction as she spoke but didn’t look higher than his chin. Would she ever look him in the eye again?

  “I’ll cook meat for you as soon as I can.” Had she not heard him the first time?

  Sighing, she lifted the half loaf to her mouth. Her blunt teeth tore through it, unlocking the aromas of tangy grains, flour, and the honey butter he liked to spread on top just before sliding the bread stone into the oven. After swallowing, she muttered, “Should have picked those mushrooms while I had the chance.” Then she tore off another chunk.

  “Mushrooms?” She ate vegetation? He wished he’d known. They’d passed a field of autumn-ripe pitberries while she’d been sleeping. He could have picked some for her.

  She looked up, startled, as though she’d forgotten he was there.

  He leaned forward, crowding her body with his so she wouldn’t forget again.

  “Aye, mushrooms,” she snapped, pushing herself backward with her free hand and her right leg.

  Amidst the scents of bread and saliva, he smelled something spicier and headier, something he’d smelled on her before, something that called to instincts he struggled to deny. Instincts he must deny or betray his king.

  “The ones growing beneath that fir tree,” she continued. “That’s why I fell down. I was going to pick them, but my legs had other ideas.” She rubbed her left knee with one hand while she brought the bread to her mouth for another bite.

  By the moon, his lady had wanted something to eat hours ago but hadn’t been able to have it. She blamed her legs, but the mushrooms had been growing all around where she’d landed. It was because he’d scolded her and then insisted they keep moving that she hadn’t gotten to pick them. He was an ass for not realizing she’d been hungry then.

  “I’ll find you some mushrooms.” He stood and checked the hunting knife at his hip. A fox or a rabbit for himself would be welcome if he could find one quickly, but he would not return without a bounty of mushrooms for his lady.

  “Ye doona have to do that,” she said too quickly, her voice pitched too high. Did she fear being alone?

  “I won’t be gone long.” He’d skip hunting for himself so he could hurry back to her. He’d make do with bread tonight. “Do you need help getting to the pool?”

  “Nay. I can hear it.”

  “You can’t see it?”

  “It’s bloody night time. Of course I canna see it.”

  She couldn’t see in the dark? Even enough to make out the falls and the pool? His delicate creature was night blind. He could not leave her to find her own way into the pool. She might drown herself.

  Caring for the king’s lady was more involved than he’d been prepared for. Hopefully, King Magnus would know better than him what Anya needed. Until then, she’d have to put up with a bumbling trapper.

  He crouched by her side. “I will help you get in.” He reached for her belt.

  She swatted his hands away. “I can undress myself. Stop crowding me.”

  That quick temper of hers never failed to bring a smile to his lips. “I thought you couldn’t see.”

  “I doona have to see to know where you’re looming. You blot out what meager light there is like a bloody mountain. And you smell like...you.”

  The spicy scent coming from her intensified. Mystifying. Tempting. It sent his body a completely different message than her brisk tone.

  Best not dwell on what that message might be. She belonged to the king. Once he saw her safe to the palace, he would return to his cabin and resume his life. He couldn’t do that if he was locked away in Chroina’s prison for mating with a lady outside a breeding contract.

  Anya lay back and raised her hips off the ground to push her trousers down. The instant she did, her scent rolled over him stronger than before. Despite his best intentions, every drop of blood in his body surged between his legs. How easy it would be to lie atop her, to wrap her in his arms and revel in that fragrance all night long.

  He stood and stalked away from her, which didn’t do him any favors since the distance between them now offered him a view he couldn’t look away from no matter how hard he tried. From beneath the hem of her shirt, her bare legs stretched across the rocky earth like two graceful, shapely columns. In the dark, he c
ouldn’t see the swelling or the way her left leg bent differently than the right. In the dark she didn’t look crippled. She looked beautiful as she flexed her tiny toes in the pebbles.

  Distracted by those wiggling toes, he almost missed it when her lithe fingers pulled at the laces of her collar. He held his breath as she lifted the shirt over her head and laid it on the ground beside her trousers. There was nothing between her skin and his hands except a few pitiful shreds of restraint.

  Her breasts were as hairless as he’d imagined, but the reality of them was a thousand times more potent than even his most illicit fantasy. He’d seen the trading cards men collected, showing painted images of ladies in various states of undress. There wasn’t a man alive who hadn’t fantasized about stroking his hands over the luxurious coats covering the breasts of Marann’s esteemed ladies. But these breasts were far superior to any image he’d ever seen. Lacking hair, they seemed so much more accessible to a man’s hands, so much more inviting. Needing to heed that invitation, he took one step toward her, then two. He started a third before he managed to stop himself.

  Her head whipped in his direction. She hugged herself, covering her breasts. She wrapped her arms around her shins, spreading her fingers over the unnatural curve of her lower left leg.

  She spoke, but he didn’t understand her.

  “Your gemstone,” he told her.

  She likely didn’t understand the words, but her eyes widened with comprehension. She fumbled in her trouser pockets and came away with her fist clenched tightly, protecting her treasure.

  “How well can you see me?” she said.

  “I can make out your shape,” he said, though truthfully he could do much more than that. He could see the whites of her eyes as she searched the darkness for him. He could see the play of tendons beneath the skin of her neck as her shoulders relaxed.

  She rubbed her arms once against the cold then dropped them, accepting his vague answer.

  Guilt made him shift on his feet.

  With the hand not clutching her gemstone, she reached out blindly in his direction. “Are you helping me or do I have to crawl to the water?”