Drew: A Historical Scottish Romance Novel: Highlanders Warriors Clan McClair

by Bard, Barbara

  * * *

  “I wish ye could speak, lass. I could dae with someone tae take my mind from these thoughts. Ye see, lass, my father died recently and it has nae been the easiest time for the two of us. But when I saw my brother out on the battlefield I was filled with pride. It was like I was seeing him for the first time, seeing him truly alive. He was born for that life. Me? I cannae say I was. There's nothing I like better than cutting down the English, but I would nae like tae dae it all my life. I understand my father better now.

  * * *

  He did nae like the thought of war coming again. Sometimes I wonder if we've gone against his wishes by taking the war to the English, but their crimes cannot go unpunished. Do ye have any family nearby? If ye dae ye should make sure they're safe. If it's nae tae much trouble do ye think ye could take me back to yer cottage? I would nae be any bother, it's just that this ground is getting hard on my behind,” he said.

  * * *

  The girl blushed. She looked away, she seemed to do a lot of that, but Drew thought he saw a slight hint of a smile on her soft lips. She made no motion to move, so Drew assumed that she didn't have a family, or she was too afraid of him to consider taking him back to them. He supposed he couldn't blame her. He made quite a sight, a fearsome warrior covered in blood, more of it his than he would have liked, with a huge, gaping wound in his leg.

  * * *

  Occasionally Drew would test the wound, and every time it would bring pain to him. It seemed as though he was not going to be going anywhere soon, much to his dismay.

  * * *

  “It is strange tae think that out there the battle rages without me. The fight continues, people are dying with every breath I take, and yet I cannae dae anything about it. It is enough for a man to feel small,” he said, bowing his head. The girl placed her arm upon his shoulder. It was a kind gesture, and made Drew smile.

  * * *

  “I suppose I should nae be feeling sorry for myself. It hae always been a possibility in war. Others have already died, and I am still alive. I should be grateful for that. But I never thought my fate would lead me here. I thought I would either die in glory or see us tae victory. The thought of the battle ending without me getting back there fills me with dread.

  * * *

  I hae always hated feeling helpless, lass. It's the same feeling I had when I had tae watch my father die. He was always a great man. When he was younger he was so tall he looked as though he could pluck a cloud from the sky. Tae see him so weak and frail on the floor, gasping for breath was tae much tae bear. Well, I guess ye dinnae want tae hear about my woes. Ye must have some of your own, although if ye dae live nearby then I envy ye. This is a fine place tae live, peaceful. I can understand why Blair was tempted to leave.”

  * * *

  He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the painful sensations sweep through him. Tiredness was upon him, although he tried to fight it.

  * * *

  He heard movement and looked over. The girl had moved away from him to the edge of the riverbank. She tore off more of her fabric and leaned over. He admired the view. The curves of her body were pleasing to him, and although there was much about this situation that vexed him, there was plenty to provide him with relief as well. There were far worse fates than to be in a secluded, shaded glade with a beautiful girl.

  * * *

  She came back and wrung some moisture out of the fabric she had ripped away, then leaned over Drew and dabbed at his forehead and temples with the cloth. Cool water trickled down his skin. Drew closed his eyes again and murmured in contentment. He breathed in her sweet feminine scent, enjoying the feeling of her taking care of him.

  * * *

  What she was doing was incredibly refreshing, although he wasn't sure if it was the act she was performing or the fact that it was she who was carrying it out. The moment seemed to last forever. The world was perfectly still around him, and for all the lust for battle that burned within his heart he was quite content to stay there forever.

  * * *

  The girl's hair fell forward as she moved across his forehead. The ends of the strands brushed against his cheek, and made his entire body tremble. Never before had he been in the presence of one that made him feel as strongly as this, and the manly stirrings that surged within him were impossible to ignore.

  * * *

  Before he even knew what he was doing he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and pulled her over onto his lap, his yearning kisses searching for her lips, but she writhed and wriggled away, screaming.

  * * *

  Drew stopped. As did she. The girl raised a hand to her lips.

  * * *

  “I thought ye could nae speak, lass?” Drew asked; his voice had a concerned edge to it. Quickly, his eyes darted around, searching for any threat.

  * * *

  “If this is a trap it is a strange one,” he added.

  * * *

  The girl's eyes darted furtively around too. She looked scared.

  * * *

  “I did nae mean tae strike fear intae your heart,” he said, “I got ahead of myself there for a moment. I just, well, it is nae every day that a beautiful lass falls into my arms. But tell me, can ye speak? Truly? And why hae ye been silent all this time?”

  * * *

  The girl didn't respond. Drew wondered what was wrong with her. He'd heard about people like this before, those who didn't fit into society and were cast away into the woods, destined to make their own way in life. Most of them didn't ever make it. Maybe she had only recently been outcast.

  * * *

  “If ye are an outcast ye dinnae hae tae be ashamed. Ye have my thanks, truly. How long hae ye been out here? How long hae ye been alone? Talk to me, lass, please. Maybe I can help ye?” Drew said.

  * * *

  He wasn't sure why, but there was a firm feeling in his heart that he had to help this girl. After all, she had helped him, saved his life in fact, and if there was anything he could do for her then he wanted to do as much as he could. He implored her with his eyes, and for a moment he thought that she was going to reveal her truth to him, but instead she turned away and broke down in fretful sobs.

  * * *

  Drew's heart went out to her. He could not imagine what she had been through, but he wanted to make it right. She'd done so much for him, and he couldn't let her suffer alone. Whatever her reasons for not speaking to him he had to make the effort to take care of her, just as she had taken care of him.

  * * *

  “I cannae imagine what hardships ye have endured tae be sent out here alone, but whatever they may be they have nae diminished your kindness or compassion. Ye saved my life, me, a stranger, and I owe ye. I will dae anything in my power tae see that nae harm comes to ye. That is a promise, an oath. Ye have my word on that. Please lass, ye dinnae need tae cry. Ye can speak freely. There is nothing ye can say that would hurt me.”

  * * *

  A few moments passed. Drew endured the pain to push himself over to her, then placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to face him. Redness rimmed her eyes, and tears streamed down her cheeks. It marred the beauty she had when she was at peace, but it did not make her unattractive.

  * * *

  Breaking away from him again, she walked off a few steps. It took Drew only a moment to realize that she was going towards the sword, and fear, mixed with confusion, filled his heart. She sniffed back the tears and stopped crying, although her body still trembled slightly.

  * * *

  “What are ye doing, lass?” he asked in disbelief as she reached down for the sword, picking it up with both hands, the weight taking its strain on her arms.

  * * *

  “It's not what I say that would anger you, but the way I say it,” she said in a trembling, scared voice.

  * * *

  She had every right to tremble as well, for she was English. Drew's eyes widened. He pushed himself back. His hands curled into fists, dirt mo
ved through his fingernails and grass was ripped from the ground. Anger beat within him and he almost wanted to spit out the desire he'd felt for her.

  * * *

  “Ye are English?!” he cried. “Then ye are a prisoner of war!”

  15

  The fury on Drew's face was more than Sarah could bear. The sword was heavy in her arms, seeming to get heavier by the second, but she did not want to let go. Being so close to him had already made her realize that she had stayed in this place for too long. She should never have helped the enemy, and yet in her heart she was still sure it was the right thing to do. Her mistake had been sticking around.

  * * *

  His hands grabbed at the ground around him, clawing like a wild animal to push himself forward. But with every inch of ground he made, Sarah stepped back, keeping the distance between them. She had already been too close to him, already felt the heat of his body next to hers, his strong arms around her, and the thought of it filled her with revulsion.

  * * *

  At least, it should have.

  * * *

  To her surprise and horror she felt the tingling sensation, as though a thousand fairies were dancing upon her skin, and it scared her. Drew was a handsome man, and that moment when she had been in his arms had filled her with a sweeping sensation of arousal, but she fought it with every fiber of her being. He was a Highlander, and she could not accept that she would ever have such feelings for him.

  * * *

  It was obviously just that she was confused. It had been a long day, and she was disoriented and exhausted. Her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no way she could ever be attracted to a brutish Highlander.

  * * *

  “I say again, lass, ye are a prisoner of war. If ye dinnae intend tae use that weapon ye should put it down,” he said in a rolling Scottish burr. Sarah clamped her eyes shut, trying not to find it pleasing to her ears.

  * * *

  “You are not in much of a position to make demands of me,” she said, mustering all the courage she could. She wasn't sure how much of it managed to make it through though.

  * * *

  “Let go of the sword and we can talk about this like adults,” he said.

  * * *

  Sarah kept hold of the sword, the tip pointing towards Drew. She had no idea if she could actually use it or not, and even though she didn't have much to fear from him because of his leg she wasn't about to let go of her only defense.

  * * *

  “There is nothing to talk about,” she said.

  * * *

  “Why did ye save my life if ye hate me so much? What are ye doing out here? Did ye know about the battle, or hae ye been outcast?”

  * * *

  Sarah didn't know which question to answer first.

  * * *

  “Do you think an outcast would wear a dress like this?” she said, looking down at the dress that had been intended for her wedding. It was in tatters now, torn apart and covered in blood and dirt. It was a sorry sight indeed, and yet she found herself glad that she was with this Highlander rather than standing with Lord Flynn at their wedding.

  * * *

  “That dinnae mean anything tae me, lass. Ye think I care what ye English wear? Perhaps I should hae seen it, but it was hard with my vision blurred and the pain dulling my instincts,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Answer my questions. What are ye doing out here?”

  * * *

  Sarah was caught in a bind. The last thing she wanted was to be beholden to another cruel man. She had taken a risk to get away from one, and she wasn't going to be held by another. The thought of being a prisoner was abhorrent to her and she wasn't going to let that fate come to pass.

  * * *

  Yet she wasn't going to kill the man either. Even by holding the sword she knew that she did not have it in her to drive it through his heart. He looked well enough now. He'd had some water and berries, and he was able to push himself around. It was time for her to move on, to disappear into the woods again and put this sorry affair behind her. The war, the English nobility, and the Highlanders would all be a distant memory, and she would find happiness with someone she loved.

  * * *

  Breathing deeply, Sarah threw down the sword and turned away without saying another word. She didn't owe anything to this man. She had done him a kindness, and now it was time for her to leave.

  * * *

  However, she only got a few steps before she heard Drew rise up to his feet, and immediately crumple under the weight. A cry of agony burst from his lips and the ground shook as he fell onto it. Despite herself, Sarah could not let it happen without taking action. She ran to his side and helped him back to his resting place, propping him up against a rock.

  * * *

  Drew was breathing heavily, and looked panicked. Sarah went to get him water, but his arms and legs were jerking wildly. He bashed them against the ground in frustration, and roared so loudly that it scattered birds overhead.

  * * *

  “You are angry. You must calm down,” Sarah said, handing him some water. Drew angrily gulped it down and threw the waterskin to the ground. Some water spilled out. It was fortunate they were by a river and had an endless supply, otherwise it would have been a wasteful gesture. Sarah hitched up her dress, picked up the waterskin, and re-filled it.

  * * *

  “Calm down? I cannae do that, lass. Nae when I hae been speared through the leg, then tended tae by a beautiful lass only tae find out that English blood runs through her veins! How would ye feel? More than that, I cannae even stand on my own two feet. How am I supposed to help my brother in war when I cannae even get back tae it!”

  * * *

  “War, that is all you Highlanders think of, isn't it? There is more to life than violence. It offends me to think that there are people out there like you who are so consumed with war that you would attack innocent people. There was no need for you to march south. Why not just stay in your own territories and tend to your fields. Be productive people. Did you hear all the screams on the battlefield? Did you see all the young men being slain? It is such a waste of life, but that is all you know. It fills my heart with dread to know that there are such barbaric neighbors so close to us.”

  * * *

  Sarah folded her arms across her chest. Her cheeks reddened with the force of the outburst. She surprised herself with her vehemence, but she felt no desire to coat her words with politeness to this Highlander. Drew listened to her words, and she expected him to fight back with roars and bellows, but to her utmost surprise he threw his head back and let out a deep, throaty laugh.

  * * *

  This only served to anger Sarah even more. She stamped her foot on the ground and glared at him.

  * * *

  “Ye seem tae think ye know a lot about me and my people. Before we go any further, tell me your name,” he said.

  * * *

  Sarah rolled her tongue over her lips. She had become so used to living under Rosemary's name that she almost said it again here, before realizing that she no longer had to live that lie. She was free. She could use her own name again, and when she said it, it was with a great relief.

  * * *

  “Well then, Sarah,” Drew continued, “it seems I hae to give ye a lesson. I am willing tae admit that we hae earned a warrior's reputation, but tae claim that the English are innocent is a jest. The only reason we are here is to seek justice for one of ours, one who was cruelly executed.”

  * * *

  The expression on Sarah's face changed to one of puzzlement. Drew saw this, and seemed to enjoy her changing moods.

  * * *

  “Aye, I see ye did nae know that. I wonder how many of the soldiers know that either. His name was Gall. He was out ranging and hunting. He got a little tae close tae the border when he was captured by your leader, Lord Flynn. Flynn executed him when he had nae reason tae. Gall was just a wee lad with his whole life ahead of him, then he was hanged. What have
ye tae say about that? Do ye think we can just let the English hang our people without reply, as though they are hunting for animals?”

  * * *

  Sarah staggered back. Her hand came to her breast and her mouth fell open with shock. She'd always thought of the Highlanders as the monsters, and although she had seen Lord Flynn's cruelty first-hand, she hadn't thought of it in terms of the war before.