The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes)

by Jessi Gage

  May he be well enough to ride for Chroina in the morn.

  She wasn’t sure to whom she prayed. The good Lord? Danu? Was anyone listening?

  Likely not, considering Riggs’s people had gotten to a state where their best chance at survival depended upon the barren womb of a crippled whore.

  She ought to tell Riggs she couldn’t be the one to save his people. But if she told him the truth, he’d never look at her again with fondness.

  She’d nearly lost him. She couldn’t bear to lose what affection he had for her, even if ’twas based upon lies. No sense spoiling their remaining time together by telling him things that would upset him. He’d bring her to Chroina, and when he returned to his cabin, he’d do it with hope in his heart. That hope would be her final gift to him.

  Sighing, she lifted the flap of the bedroll and lay down beside him. Weariness dragged her to sleep the second she tucked the flap snug around them.

  Chapter 16

  Hunger woke Riggs with vicious gnawing at his stomach. He opened his eyes to the blue light of early dawn. The scents of forest, river, charred wood, and Larnian brought back the memories of last night in a blinding rush.

  The trackers. The battle. The teapot. Anya on his lap. Anya kissing him, clinging to him. Anya.

  Her scent was there too, flowers and hyssop and woman. He turned onto his side to find her soundly sleeping, pressed up against him in a bedroll that must have belonged to the commander, considering how the fur reeked of the man.

  He ignored the unwanted scent and buried his nose in Anya’s shining hair. She smelled sweet, smoky from the fire, and a little salty from perspiration. He couldn’t keep from rubbing his cheek over her head, taking some of her scent, giving her some of his.

  This is how he should wake up every morning, with his lady by his side.

  No. Not his. He kept forgetting.

  He made himself stop marking her.

  His nuzzling hadn’t woken her, but when he stopped, she shifted in her sleep, scooting tighter against him. Her slender arm went around his waist, drawing his attention to the bandages wrapped uncomfortably but effectively tight around him there. He reached up a hand to stroke her hair and noticed bandages on his arm too. His wounds ached, but with healing. He’d be all right. They’d be all right.

  Thanks to Anya.

  She slid her knee between his legs and burrowed her nose against his neck. Her breath heated his already overly warm skin. The hunger gripping his stomach transformed to a darker, more ravenous hunger. He felt weak as a newborn pup, but that didn’t stop his body from rousing to the feel of this woman in his arms.

  She nipped at his throat with her lips.

  He closed his eyes against a wave of need. “Anya.” He whispered her name to wake her.

  “Riggs,” she sighed, but her tone was breathy. Her eyes were closed. She was still asleep. But her body was rousing as surely as his. Her feminine musk thickened with that spice that drove him wild.

  Shite.

  She kissed his neck and moaned softly.

  Another minute of this and he’d have her naked and joined with him no matter how weak and hungry he was, no matter how disloyal it would be to his king.

  “Anya.”

  She started. “Hm?” She opened her eyes, blinked twice while focusing on his face, then smiled. Her smile was like the sun rising after months of darkness. She laid a gentle hand on his beard. “My wolf-man,” she said, her voice as soft as he’d ever heard it.

  Hers. Yes. He was hers. But he could not let his heart believe she belonged to him, no matter how badly he longed for it to be true.

  “You came for me,” she said.

  He held her hand on his cheek then kissed her palm. That kiss would be the last he ever gave her. It had to be. Because it wasn’t his place to give this remarkable lady affection. It was King Magnus’s place. No other’s.

  Among all women she would be unique. She would belong to one man. He refused to sully that by insinuating himself where he didn’t belong.

  He memorized the way her eyes sparkled with trust, the way her pillowy lips curled up in an almost feline smile. Her beauty stole his breath.

  He was about to wipe away the tender affection on her face. It had to be done.

  He cleared his throat. “Of course I came for you. You’re my responsibility until I turn you over to King Magnus.”

  Her eyes dulled. She slipped her hand off his face and climbed out of the bedroll, slowly. Her legs always pained her in the morning. He didn’t help her even though his hands clenched to do so.

  Once she was on her feet, she said, “How do you feel?” All softness was gone from her voice. She wouldn’t look at him as she dug a water skin out of a saddlebag and limped to the river.

  It was better this way. They were traveling companions, nothing more.

  He climbed out after her and found a full water skin, a flask, and a meal of cooked boar and bread beside the bedroll. She must have prepared all this for him last night. Of course she wouldn’t have been able to hunt fresh meat for him, but she’d saved some of her own meat for him instead. Had she gone hungry to make sure he had something to eat for breakfast? His heart squeezed.

  He washed down the lump in his throat with the contents of the water skin. So good, water, after being so thirsty. “Good enough to ride,” he answered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He unwrapped the meat. She’d peeled away the charred skin, leaving him meat that was cooked, but still smelled of blood, deep in the center. He ripped into it, too ravenous to mind the dryness and changed flavor.

  While he ate, he noticed Anya glancing sidelong at him as she knelt at the bank to fill her water skin upriver from where she’d tossed the teapot. He devoured every last morsel. It pleased him to show her his appreciation by consuming her gift. Also, he would have made a pitiful hunter this morning with his side zinging him at the slightest movement. Once again, Anya had helped him.

  Now that he’d fed, it was time for him to make himself useful. He stood up and surveyed the camp. The body of the commander lay on one side of the charred spot where the fire had been. There was another body near the fire and two more near the horses.

  “What do we do about the trackers?” Anya’s voice brought his attention to her. She stood hands on hips, surveying the camp with a frown. She looked ready to work. He’d let her. Today, he needed the help. But he’d not let either one of them waste energy on burying Larnians.

  “I’ll drag them into the forest. Beyond that, the wild animals can have them.”

  She nodded and began searching the bodies. “No sense wasting anything of use. Will we take all four horses?”

  “No. We’ll travel light and ride hard to Chroina. Neil and King Magnus have to hear about those women. This could start a new war.”

  Anya stilled. She blew out a breath. “We need to help them. I doona ken how many there might be, but more than one, I’m cert.”

  He feared the same, judging by what he’d overheard.

  While they saddled two horses, they traded information. They knew precious little about Ari and what his role might be, but they agreed he must have betrayed King Magnus.

  “How do you suppose they’re getting the women? I came through because of a meddling box. Mayhap they were brought over by magic as well.”

  He shrugged. “Who’s to say? Jilken used magic eons ago to breed with wolves. You’ve got a magic gemstone that makes you speak our tongue. I imagine magic could be harnessed to bring people across realms.”

  He picked up the two rounds of bread Anya had left by their bedroll and put them in her hands. “Go on up to the cave,” he told her. “Eat. Rest. We ride in half an hour.” It was time to move the bodies. He didn’t want her to see, or offer to help.

  She looked like she wanted to say something, but she took the bread and limped away. She paused at the base of the hill where the cave sat and looked at him over her shoulder. Her mouth was a hard line. “Try no’ to hurt yourself. There are no mo
re bandages to hold you together.” She started up the incline, proud as the queen she would no doubt become in a few days’ time.

  * * * *

  Anya clucked to her black gelding and dug her heels into its ribs. The horse conceded to adopt a rolling canter but flicked his ears back in annoyance. Rounding a bend in the forest trail, Riggs came into view. He rode the dappled gray gelding that had been Lance’s mount. Anytime she came within a few paces, he would urge his horse faster while hers would lose interest in making haste and slow to a bone-rattling trot. The same occurred now. Her mount slowed, and Riggs disappeared down a hill in the distance.

  She growled in frustration, kicking the indolent lump of horseflesh beneath her. “Bloody infuriating beast!” That went for her horse as well as the man who seemed determined to avoid her.

  Two days they had together before reaching Chroina. Two days! And apparently, he wished to spend it putting as much distance between them as possible. Even after he’d fought nearly to the death for her, kissed her with more passion than any man before him, and woken beside her with unfathomable tenderness in his gaze.

  Her horse cantered again, slowing the moment she got Riggs in sight. Again.

  Argh!

  Riggs had chosen the horses for the journey. Had he known this one possessed the spirit of a sluggard? If so, he must be congratulating himself on his selection.

  Bloody cur.

  The only things stopping her from giving him a tongue-lashing were the healing wounds he’d sustained for her sake. Och, not hers, King Magnus’s. His words to her this morning made it clear as spring water. He’d fought for her out of duty. Nothing more.

  Fine. He wanted to pretend a fire didn’t burn between them? She could pretend just as well as he could. He wanted distance between them? She’d give him distance.

  She’d grapple with her bloody lazy horse the whole way to Chroina and not say a bloody word about it to Riggs. She’d not say a bloody word to him at all. The time for conversing with him as a friend had passed. He’d forcibly closed the door on them being aught more than riders sharing the same road.

  The road to Chroina. To her new home and her new position as broodmare to a king.

  Defective broodmare.

  According to Riggs, King Magnus would welcome her with open arms. But how welcoming would he be when month after month, year after year, she failed to give him what he most desired? Riggs would go about his life out near Larna’s border. He’d continually hope for news of a royal birth. How many years would it take him to lose hope?

  Her horse slowed again. She had to clench her teeth else they’d crash into each other with the jarring trot. Riggs disappeared around a hill. She didn’t bother kicking her horse. She had no wish to lay eyes on Riggs just now. Instead, she let the beast lapse into an ambling walk.

  Loneliness stole over her. She welcomed it. This would be her life from now on. A human alone in a world of wolf-people. A disappointment to a world that needed hope.

  The forest thinned. Narrow trees with sparse late-autumn foliage surrounded her with dreary grays and browns. The overcast sky blocked out the sun, but the deepening gray light suggested it would be low in the sky. ’Twas mayhap half an hour from dusk. Far ahead, Riggs came into view then disappeared again as his horse descended a hill.

  Several minutes later, she rode down the same hill. The forest came to an end as a vast hilly plain opened up before her. Long grass rippling like waves stretched as far as the eye could see. Riggs was little more than a speck as he rounded the nearest hill. While she watched, he reined his horse to a stop and looked back. Lifting his chin to acknowledge her, he rode on, not waiting for her to catch up.

  His indifference was a bruise on her heart.

  Whatever sadness tugged at her spirit, her horse seemed to feel the opposite. His ears pricked forward, and his gait sped to a lively walk.

  “Och, like wide open spaces, do you?” Mayhap ’twasn’t laziness the gelding suffered from but an aversion to forests. She gave him his head and touched his side with the barest hint of heel. He launched into a gallop and raced along the trail Riggs’s horse had carved into the grass.

  The wind ripped her hood free and tangled her hair behind her. She bent over her mount’s neck and laughed, fingers curling in mane, feeling lighter than she had in a very long time. Never before had she ridden a horse as large and powerful as this one, let alone at a gallop. ’Twas exhilarating.

  Grass-scented air heavy with the promise of rain filled her lungs. She whooped and reveled in the speed, the freedom, the land, so like her native Scotia yet a world away. All her fashing felt as if she’d left it behind with the trees.

  She gained on Riggs.

  He looked back, eyes wide with alarm.

  As she barreled past, he shouted, “What in the low realm are you doing?” He urged his horse into a gallop and held pace with her, their legs nearly brushing. He grabbed for her reins.

  “Hi’ya!” Her mount put on a burst of speed that left Riggs cursing.

  He called after her, but his shouts grew distant as she and her mount cut their own path over the hilly plain. She cackled like a maniac to discover her horse was faster than Riggs’s. Good. Let him see what it felt like to be left behind.

  They flew, rider and beast as one, keeping to the low areas, gliding gracefully around the bases of gentle slopes and leaping narrow creeks. She watched for uneven ground and obstacles, but the horse proved to be as surefooted as he was fast. A warhorse, she realized. Her mount would be at home amidst a crowded, cannon-rutted battlefield. “You’re an ornery lad, but I like you!” she shouted.

  When his sleek coat began shining with sweat, she reined him in. It wouldn’t do to be careless with him. After all, there would be no horse changes for them.

  Her gelding bobbed his head as he prance-walked. He wouldn’t mind running some more, but she was feeling a wee bit guilty for leaving Riggs so far behind. Even if he bloody well deserved it.

  It took him a handful of minutes to catch up to her.

  He passed her and angled his mount in front of hers, trying to force her to stop. Behind his bruises, his face was red and his eyes brewed with murderous rage.

  Despite how spectacular he looked cloaked in anger, she tipped her chin in the air and steered around him.

  He jumped from the saddle and grabbed her horse’s reins, yanking them to a stop. “Are you mad?” He spoke low and growly. His voice made her shiver. Och, she’d missed hearing it today.

  She ignored the thrill and looked down on him. “Haud your wheesht. You said we’d ride hard today. I was merely doing as I was told.”

  “That wasn’t riding hard. That was riding reckless. You might have been killed.” He raked a hand through his wind-tossed hair, reminding her of when he’d been so concerned for her safety in Valeworth’s inn. Where was this concern all day when he’d ridden so far ahead of her she’d assumed he’d forgotten she existed?

  “I beg your pardon. I was merely in a rush to get to Chroina. I’ve got a king eager to plant a bairn in me. I doona wish to keep him waiting.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her down so quickly she yelped in surprise. Pinning her against his chest so not even her toes touched the ground, he said, “I don’t care how fast we get to Chroina. I won’t let you break your neck falling from a horse. You ride with me from now on.”

  She shoved at his chest. “Let me go, you great oaf! You canna ignore me all day and then yell at me for a few minutes of fun. I ken how to ride a bloody horse.”

  He wouldn’t let her go. “You think this is easy for me?” he growled. “You think this is what I want? To give you to another man when all I can think about is—” He broke off and shoved a hand through his curls again, keeping her pinned with one arm. His nostrils flared. He quieted. “It’s going to kill me to give you to him. Don’t you know that by now? Imagining you in his bed drives me mad.” A vein throbbed in his forehead, but his eyes went soft on her.

&nb
sp; His confession was a blow to her gut. After all the distance he imposed between them today, he’d all but admitted he wanted her still. “It’s going to kill me to give you to him.” Didn’t he ken it would kill her too?

  A part of her she’d never been aware of before had risen to the surface in Riggs’s presence. A hopeful part. A vulnerable part. A part that made her feel beautiful despite her scars and womanly despite her barren womb. That fragile, new part of her would wither and die when she watched Riggs walk away from her forever.

  And he would walk away. There was no way around it.

  If she kept her secret from him, he’d walk away believing in error she would save his people. He’d also walk away if she told him the truth, that her womb was as useless as a cart without a mule. Even if the king didn’t want her, she’d have no choice but to remain in Chroina, the only safe place for women, and if Riggs wanted her, he’d have to stay in Chroina too. But what man in his right mind would abandon his land and livelihood for a woman who couldn’t have bairns, especially when bairns were so desperately needed. Och, if she told him the truth, he’d be embarrassed by her. Or he’d pity her.

  If she kept the truth to herself, she’d be showered with riches and honor, for a time, until her closed womb told on her. But Riggs would be long gone by then.

  She had nothing to lose by keeping her secrets, and a few years of luxurious living to gain.

  So why did her stomach contract when she imagined this night passing without telling Riggs everything?

  “Put me down,” she said. “Please.” She needed stable ground under her feet to calm the shaking in her soul.

  He rubbed his cheek over her head. “What if I don’t?” The arm at her back flexed. He grabbed a handful of her bottom and used that to hold her tight to him.

  It made her stomach flutter, being held like this. The strength it required, the possessiveness. It was too grand. She didn’t deserve to feel this cherished.

  She pushed at his chest again, and this time he let her go. The loss of his warmth and solidness left her feeling bereft.