The Highlander's Runaway Bride. Terri Brisbin

her back?

      ‘Who are you?’ she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘What is this place?’

      ‘I wondered how much you would remember,’ he said. ‘You have been ill for days. I found you in the cave and brought you to this cottage.’ He stared at her, clearly expecting her to remember.

      She remembered shadows moving around the cave and something approaching her. A large beast-like creature. Then he’d spoken.

      ‘I thought you a bear from long-ago times,’ she admitted. ‘I do not remember much else.’

      ‘I have been called worse, lady,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘You mistook my plaid and furs for the beast.’ He nodded towards the corner where he’d draped several cloaks and then at her, or rather the pallet beneath her where his furs now were. ‘The dirt floor was damp, and I feared it would make you sicker.’

      Only then did she realise that she lay naked on those furs! Her garments, even her shift, were gone, and the woollen plaid was her only cover.

      ‘Your garments were soaked with water and sweat. They are dry now,’ he said, once more nodding to the corner.

      Eva had been here for days. She’d been sick and unconscious, and this man had been with her. Who was he?

      ‘Are you my father’s man?’ she whispered, still not certain of what had happened. She remembered seeking the cave and falling into it. Then...nothing more.

      ‘He sent me.’

      This man held his tongue well, never saying too much. Mayhap he would hold that tongue if she paid him? If he was a hired man and not kin, it was not an insult to offer him coins for his silence.

      ‘You took care of me and I am grateful. I would know your name,’ she said.

      He must have noticed her hoarseness again, for he came closer with the cup. Each sip was like a soothing balm as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. Why was she so hoarse?

      ‘Rob,’ he said, offering her another sip.

      ‘I would pay you for your time and service, Rob,’ she said. ‘I have coin.’

      He seemed to choke on whatever he wanted to say. Instead, he reached inside his tunic and took out a small flask. After drinking a few mouthfuls of what she thought must be strong spirits, he returned it and looked at her.

      ‘And to return to your father without you, lady?’

      His words were spoken evenly, but there was so much anger within his tone. Nothing in his gaze or manner gave her any clue of the reason for it, so she thought she must have insulted him in some way. When she would have offered words of apology, her body began to fail her. A yawn escaped when she would have spoken instead.

      ‘You are still weak and need to rest,’ he said, standing now. ‘Sleep. We can speak later.’

      In spite of her efforts to prove him wrong, her eyes closed and she lost herself in a deep sleep.

      * * *

      The lady’s eyes had barely closed before he stormed out of the cottage. He needed some air and some space, or he would have said things he knew he would regret later. He’d learned early in life that words could damage as deeply as the sharpest blade, and he’d sworn not to make the same mistake that his father had.

      Rob walked around the cottage, saying all the things he wanted to say to her to himself and adding a few choice words he would never say to a woman. She thought him a mercenary, ready and willing to take whatever coin offered him!

      She so wanted to avoid marriage to him that she offered him money to walk away. Even not knowing who he truly was, she’d suggested that money could buy her way out of this.

      He turned his face into the winds and closed his eyes. Margaret had warned him about his temper, and he’d fought to keep it under control. But this, this insult burned. Was he again not good enough, not high enough, not close enough to noble blood, for this lady to consider him worthy? Was that why she’d run, with no consideration for her own safety or life? Would marriage to him be such a terrible thing to risk so much?

      The storm had blown itself out, its power seeping away as it crossed from the sea onto the land. Now, the sun shone as though it had not been dark and squalling for the last three days. In a way, the rainstorm had served a purpose, for the lady would never have been able to travel in her condition. As it was, she would not be strong enough for at least another two days.

      It was one matter to be with her so intimately when she was sick and unconscious. But to be in such small quarters with her awake and staring at him with those sky-blue eyes and that lush mouth would be torture. And knowing what curves lay hidden beneath either her garments or the plaid blanket that covered her made him restless.

      And so he walked.

      As he passed the door of the cottage, he noticed the young woman approaching along the road. The miller’s daughter had been a godsend to him, seeing to Eva’s more personal needs and care each day.

      ‘Good morrow, Brita,’ he said. ‘I thank you again for your help.’

      ‘Good morn, sir,’ she replied with a slight curtsy. ‘I am glad to help the lady. And my father thanks you for your coins.’

      ‘She was awake for a short while just now. I gave her some ale.’ He walked along with the woman.

      ‘A good sign, then. The fever has broken. My mam said she will be calling for food very soon now.’ Brita lifted the basket she carried so he could see in it. ‘She said to begin with the broth and then the stew if she keeps it down. There is bread, as well.’

      Rob reached out to take the basket for her. She smiled at his offer but shook her head.

      ‘I can carry it, sir.’

      ‘I will leave you to your ministrations then, lass,’ he said, stepping out of her way. ‘Call if you have need of help.’

      Brita reached the doorway and turned to face him.

      ‘My mam also sent something more filling along for you, sir. She said a man cannot survive on broth and bread.’

      The miller and his wife had been most helpful. Aye, he had paid them well, but they seemed to genuinely want to. With a few exceptions that he needed to send to the village for, they’d provided the food and ale and blankets for the lady. Once they knew she was the MacKay’s daughter, they did whatever he’d asked them to do. Even if they did look askew at a man seeing to her care.

      Deciding that a ride might do them both good, Rob told Brita he would return shortly and went to get the horse. He wanted to see the cave in the light of day and see if she’d left anything behind. When she woke next, he had questions for her.

      Such as who was the Mairead that she called out for in her fevered state.

      * * *

      The young woman’s arrival both answered a question that loomed in her mind and allowed her to see to her personal needs without having to ask...him. Brita, as she was called, was the miller’s daughter and had apparently been helping her each day during her illness. The girl had a pleasant way about her and her quiet chatter made things much less embarrassing than they might have been.

      Within a short time of waking, Eva found herself washed and in a clean shift. The miller’s wife had sent some broth for her when she felt ready to try it. And a loaf of bread. But Eva had more questions than hunger at this point, so she asked about the man who’d rescued her from the cave and stood as her guard and caretaker these last days.

      ‘Do you know Rob?’ she asked as Brita helped her to sit. The girl wanted to see to her hair.

      ‘Nay, lady,’ Brita said as she took the braid and loosened the ties holding it. ‘He is from the MacKay, your father, and brought you here.’

      ‘So, you’ve not seen him before? Not when my father visits here?’ Eva