The Bride Chooses a Highlander

by Adrienne Basso

  His handsome face was ruggedly sculpted and his impressive stature gave him an air of authority. Katherine wondered who he was and how he had come to find her.

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he realized that she was awake, and his dark blue eyes lightened with interest. Nervously, Katherine ran her tongue over her dry lips. She had been raised among powerful men, both in stature and temperament, and learned ’twas always wise to be cautious when dealing with them.

  “Good day to ye, sir.” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, low and husky.

  He nodded in greeting. “Fair maiden.”

  She raised her head, which oddly caused the aches in her body to intensify. A frisson of fear shot through her, as her weakened condition only emphasized how much she was truly at his mercy. Katherine’s mind suddenly danced with all manner of dire possibilities and she struggled to push these disturbing images away.

  “I believe that I owe ye my thanks fer caring fer me,” she rasped.

  “Alas, I lack the healing skills to do much to ease yer discomfort,” he replied apologetically. “I swear that ye have improved in spite of my care, not because of it.”

  He lowered his head as though uncomfortable with her gratitude and Katherine felt the sharper edges of her fear begin to soften.

  “I’m Katherine,” she said, deliberately omitting her clan name. “And ye are?”

  “Lachlan.”

  She waited expectantly, but he followed her lead, revealing no more than his given name. Though frustrating, Katherine knew she had no right to fault his lack of candor. “Where am I?”

  “An old crofter’s hut, long since abandoned. ’Twas the nearest shelter I could find.”

  “Ye found me?” she whispered.

  “I did. Buried under a pile of rotting leaves, dirt, and snow.” He walked to the kettle and dropped a handful of leaves into the boiling cauldron. “Tell me, lass, how did ye come to be out in the woods all alone in this foul weather?”

  Indecision plagued her. What do I say? Katherine fidgeted with the edge of the cloak that covered her, then forced her hands to still. Obviously, he did not recognize the McKenna plaid of the garment, which was a stroke of good luck. ’Twas dangerous and foolish to reveal anything about herself and her circumstances until she knew more about him.

  “I’m uncertain why I was alone in the woods,” she lied.

  His handsome face clouded with concern. “Ye dinnae remember? I knew a soldier once who suffered the same malaise after being struck in battle on the side of the head with a broadsword. Did I miss such a wound on ye?”

  Nervously, Katherine fingered a section of her hair. “Is that why ye unbraided my hair? To search fer injuries?”

  He shook his head. “’Twas wet. Loosening it was the fastest way to dry it and prevent yer illness from worsening.”

  Carefully, she moved her hand through her scalp, threading the hair through her fingers, hoping to appease his concern by making a show of checking for additional wounds. “I’m fairly certain I wasn’t struck by a sword. In any event, there are no bumps or cuts on my head.”

  “’Tis good to hear.”

  His worry seemed genuine, causing her anxiety to drop another notch. “How long have I been here?”

  “Two days.” He crouched by her side, locking his gaze upon her. “Do ye recall none of it?”

  “Only bits and pieces that make little sense.”

  He nodded. “Yer fever raged at times. That can cloud the mind and disorder yer memories. Dinnae push yerself too hard to remember. With luck it will all come back to ye once ye regain yer full strength.”

  A pang of guilt rushed through her. Her memories of fleeing from Drummond Castle, being taken and escaping from her kidnappers were all too vivid. Though he modestly denied it, this man had in all likelihood saved her life. It seemed so uncharitable to deny him the full truth of how she came to be in this predicament. Yet she needed to make certain that she would be safe before revealing her identity.

  “Was I too ill to travel any farther than this hut?” she asked, reaching up to brush the hair from her face.

  “The snow was falling fast and hard and became too deep in sections fer my horse to make his way,” Lachlan explained.

  “I dreamt of a horse,” she muttered. “Snorting and tossing his head, pawing at the ground. ’Twas strange and oddly vivid.”

  Lachlan’s expression turned sheepish. “’Twas not a dream. The weather was too foul to abandon my mount to the elements. He stayed in the hut with us the first night.”

  Katherine’s eyes widened. ’Twas common practice for peasants to sleep with their livestock during the coldest nights, a resourceful way to keep both man and beast warm. As a wealthy laird’s daughter, she had never experienced the like. Wondering at his background, she studied Lachlan beneath lowered eyelids.

  He spoke well, without the thick accent of the lower classes. His clothes were well-worn and simple, but the broadsword he carried was an expensive, finely crafted weapon.

  Was he a mercenary? A sword for hire? That could explain why he was traveling alone and had not immediately recognized the McKenna plaid of her cloak.

  “Where is yer horse now?” she asked.

  “Outside, where he belongs.” Lachlan tilted his head. “The snow has ceased falling and the sun shines. He is content and will be well rested when we start our journey. Will we have far to travel to bring ye home?”

  Nerves of warning fluttered in her chest. Katherine turned her eyes away, willing herself to remain calm. The question was posed casually, but she refused to be so easily fooled into revealing her identity. She was not especially adept at lying and in her weakened condition it was a true struggle to keep her answers from divulging too much.

  Distraction always worked well with her young niece, Lileas. It seemed a logical course to try now.

  “May I please have a drink? My throat is parched and aching.”

  She held her breath and waited, sighing with relief when she heard him rise to comply with her request. To show her gratitude, Katherine attempted a timid smile when he returned.

  She reached for the metal cup he held out to her, noticing it was dented on one side. Their hands touched—his was large and cold, with long, callused fingers, yet the contact sent a spark of heat through her. Startled, she eased herself back.

  His brows rose. “Are ye afraid of me, Katherine?”

  “Should I be, Lachlan?”

  “Depends on what ye fear, lass.”

  Katherine took a big gulp of the hot water, then rolled her back against the wall to get a wider view of him. Dinnae panic. He had the right to question her, she told herself. Just as she had the right to refuse to answer.

  She drained the rest of the minty liquid to give herself more time to compose a diplomatic response. “I fear being at the mercy of a stranger,” she said, staring at his broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms.

  Lachlan hunched forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “Why would I go through the bother of saving ye if I meant ye harm, lass?”

  “Why indeed?”

  His nearness caused her breath to catch. He was too close. His male strength surrounded her, consumed her. Though she was seated, her knees felt weak, her hands unsteady.

  “Ye’ve no cause to be suspicious of a simple act of kindness and hospitality,” he countered.

  “Och, so this is yer home? Ye live a very simple life, Lachlan,” she replied, glancing pointedly around the empty hut.

  He grinned and they shared a quiet laugh, then his expression turned thoughtful. “Ye were buried under leaves and snow when I found ye. Who were ye hiding from, Katherine? An angry husband? A thwarted lover? A tyrannical father?”

  “I have no husband or lover.” She nearly smiled. “My father is a tyrant, though he can be reasonable—at times. What were ye doing riding out in such brutal weather?”

  “Hunting.”

  “Fer me?”

  “Fer fresh meat. Winters a
re harsh this far north and hunger more sharply felt.”

  Both his expression and tone seemed sincere. Tiring of the cat and mouse game, Katherine reasoned ’twas safe to reveal a small part of the truth.

  “I ran from men who thought to profit from my capture,” she said, keeping her voice firm and calm.

  “And ye fear that I shall do the same?”

  “Ye might.” Yet even as she spoke the words, Katherine admitted she did not entirely believe them. Lachlan had cared for her, nursing her through her illness, relinquishing his cloak and enduring the cold so that she would stay warm. Her wariness lessened as she reminded herself of all he had done, gaining him another small measure of her trust. “The men who took me were from the MacTavish clan. Do ye know them?”

  “Aye. Their holdings are north of here.”

  “Do ye count them as friend or foe?”

  His head lifted and he met her eyes steadily. “If they are yer enemy, then so shall they be mine.”

  Katherine allowed herself a brief smile. His voice was proud and powerful, his words rang true. “Can I rely upon yer honor to aid me and bring me, unharmed, back to my clan?”

  “Ye can, good lady. As soon as ye are well enough to sit upon my horse we shall depart.” There was a slight pause. “Though ye’ll need to tell me the name of yer kin.”

  The bands of tightness around her chest eased and Katherine felt a sense of calm. She believed him. There was goodness and benevolence in mankind, just as their family priest, Father John, had told her. All would be well.

  Lachlan, her savior, a man who had exhibited such kindness and caring, would return her to her family as soon as she was strong enough to make the journey. The surge of relief was so great she almost felt giddy.

  “My father will be most generous in his thanks to ye,” she promised.

  Lachlan frowned. “I dinnae do this fer a reward.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “That is precisely why ye shall receive one.”

  * * *

  Lachlan hastily checked the traps he had laid earlier, pleased to discover that he had snared three hares. Slowly boiled, they would make a rich broth and aid in Katherine’s recovery.

  When the weather had finally cleared the previous morning, he had debated riding home to MacTavish Keep and informing them that he had found her. He could have replenished his provisions and asked the clan healer for advice and medicines to hasten Katherine’s recovery. But that journey would have taken him away from her for nearly the entire day and he did not wish to leave Katherine so long on her own.

  The Convent of the Sacred Heart was a shorter distance away, but would still have kept him from her side for a dangerously long time. What if she had weakened? Called out in need for him? Nay, the risk was far greater than the reward, thus he had elected to provide for her as best he could on his own. Thankfully, that had proven to be the best course.

  If one of the other search party had discovered them, he would have ordered his men to bring the needed supplies. Unfortunately, none had appeared. He assumed some of his men had sensibly abandoned the search during the worst of the storm and would now be combing the woods again.

  Perhaps they would find him and Katherine. Perhaps not. Life had taught Lachlan that self-sufficiency was the only way to survive. Thus, he was set on taking action instead of waiting for help.

  The croft hut was barely intact. A second fierce storm could see it splintered into pieces. Katherine’s illness had abated, but Lachlan knew a relapse could quickly occur if she were exposed too long to the elements.

  The Convent of the Sacred Heart was the answer. Katherine would soon be well enough to reach the sanctuary, even if they traveled at a slow pace. He would leave her in the care of the good sisters and return when she was strong enough to journey all the way to McKenna Castle.

  The other possibility that could disrupt that plan was if one of her family’s search parties found them first. If that occurred, his best chance of making amends for Aiden’s reckless action would be gone, leaving him vulnerable to the McKenna’s wrath and judgment. That unsavory thought had caused Lachlan an endless amount of worry these past few days—and nights.

  Lachlan dismounted and slung the brace of hares over his shoulder, this time remembering to stomp the snow from his boots before entering the hut. Katherine was sitting up, her back pressed against the wall. Thankfully, she was slight of weight or else the fragile structure might collapse, enforcing again the need for them to depart soon. Her face was pale, her cheeks hollow, yet she was still a comely sight.

  “Yer breathing is better,” Lachlan observed. “How do ye feel?”

  She turned her head and a lock of hair fell over her face. “The tightness in my chest has eased and I grow tired of sleeping.” She wrinkled her brow, as though suddenly realizing how strange that sounded.

  “Will ye eat some broth once it’s ready?”

  She sighed. “I’ll try, though my throat still hurts when I swallow.”

  “Ye need nourishment to get well.”

  “I am hungry,” she admitted.

  “I believe I have the perfect remedy fer yer aching throat.” Lachlan grabbed the metal cup and left the hut, returning quickly. “I was going to bring ye some earlier, but feared you’d be offended at such a poor offering.”

  Katherine looked at him suspiciously, then smiled when she saw what he had brought her.

  “Och, I wish I had thought to ask ye fer some of this sooner,” she said, reaching for the cup. She daintily extended her tongue, catching some of the white flakes on the tip. “I always liked eating snow when I was a lass, though my mother lamented that I was most likely chewing on dirt and pebbles and the good Lord only knew what else.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “Ye cannae stop a headstrong lass when she is hell-bent on doing something.”

  “Even as it was falling from the sky, my brothers and I would pile a bowl with fresh snow and then drizzle honey over it that we had snuck out of the storeroom. I remember it always tasted like heaven.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile of remembrance. “Did ye ever do such a thing as a child?”

  “Nay. There was never any honey to pinch when I was a lad,” he replied offhandedly. “Though we, too, enjoyed eating snow. Sometimes there was rocks and dirt in it, yet we were wise enough to avoid any that was yellow in color.”

  Katherine’s laughter pealed through the dreariness of the dank hut and Lachlan found himself joining her. Despite the fact that she was no young maiden, there was a fresh innocence about her demeanor that managed to melt something inside him as quickly as the snow in her cup.

  His gaze moved to her lips and his body tensed. More than anything, he wanted to steal a kiss. The feeling surprised and alarmed him. She was a bonny lass, but he had no right to have any feelings toward this woman. She had been wronged by his clan and he needed to tread carefully so he could fix the situation before it escalated into something far more serious.

  There would be no kisses. Feeling the muscles in his shoulders tighten, Lachlan abruptly turned away.

  Chapter Seven

  “Yellow snow?” she repeated.

  Katherine’s second round of laughter brought on a coughing fit that abruptly ended her mirth. She rose to her feet, hunched her shoulders, and braced her hand against the wall. Lachlan came closer, rubbing her back vigorously, speaking in a gentle, reassuring tone. His touch was calm, soothing. The fit soon ended, leaving Katherine with the ridiculous impulse to press her head against the solid expanse of his chest.

  Her stomach filled with fluttering butterflies. She was alone with a strong, virile man, but it was not fear churning in her stomach, nor the remnant of her illness. It was an attraction that seemed to hold a power over her usual common sense.

  He was near enough that his strength and warmth surrounded her. The exhilaration of being so close made her feel every inch a woman. An engaging, desirable woman. The pain and betrayal she had felt when discovering Hamish’s love for another du
lled.

  She noticed the vein in Lachlan’s neck was beating with a rapid pulse, matching the thumping of her heart. He inched ever so much closer and she shut her eyes in delight as the warmth of his breath grazed her cheek. The sound of her own breathing seemed overly loud in the quiet room. Hearing it sent a shiver through her body.

  Katherine’s eyelids flew open and she stared up at Lachlan. A deep, powerful yearning filled her and the temptation to kiss him grew with each passing moment.

  ’Twas impossible to ignore.

  He was enthralling. Being this close did strange things to her. A spark of recklessness kindled inside her and Katherine felt her body lean forward. Boldly, she tilted her chin upward, encouraging him to do what they both wanted.

  He understood her invitation. She trembled as he framed her face with his hands. Then his head dipped and his mouth found hers, locking it in a tender kiss.

  In spite of his strength, his lips were soft. Katherine’s breath caught and her body shivered as his lips moved over hers. She answered the kiss with hesitant pressure and he responded enthusiastically, nibbling on her lower lip.

  He moved his hand and pressed it against the small of her back, bringing her against him. A fiery trembling shook her. She felt his tongue slide between her teeth and she moved, arching herself closer, molding her softness to his hardness.

  Mimicking his movements, Katherine tangled her tongue with Lachlan’s, heightening the desire that coursed through her limbs. His mouth, warm, moist, and insistent, stirred her as no other kisses had. He spread his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head.

  Breaking the kiss, Lachlan trailed his lips down the side of her throat, moving his teeth and tongue over the most sensitive places on her neck.

  Her mind went hazy with longing and all thoughts of propriety fled. Katherine heard her breath now coming in short gasps as the pleasure churned deep inside her. Clutching her arms around his broad shoulders, she nuzzled her face down toward his, whimpering with the need to feel his lips again.