The Highlander's Runaway Bride

Chapter Four

A war waged within her.

The forces of good and evil were surely battling over some prize—her soul mayhap?—leaving her battered and bruised. Every place on her body ached. She could not even lift her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and eyes. Waves of pain began in her foot and sent tremors through her whole body.

But, she had given birth already. She should not feel this much pain now. Had she not? Or was this all a terrible, dark dream, and she was yet labouring to push her child out?

Nay! Her child, her daughter, was alive. She’d birthed her weeks and weeks ago. Eva struggled to open her eyes. She needed to find her...

‘Hush now, lass.’

The voice came once more. Not a woman’s soft tones but the deep masculine tones of a man. Not her father, surely. She tried to force her eyes open, but they would not obey her.

‘Do not struggle,’ he said. ‘You’ve been ill and need to rest.’ A soft caress of her cheek was followed by something blessedly cool on her brow.

She wanted to offer her thanks, but no words would come out. Eva stopped fighting and let her body and thoughts drift, as he’d said. The next hours and days melded into a blurred time of pain and relief, heat and chill, dreams and emptiness.

When she was hot, cool touches eased it. When she shivered with cold, warmth surrounded her. When she called out in fear, a soothing voice urged her on. On and on, over and over, days blended into nights until suddenly Eva woke. She glanced around to discover she was no longer in the cave she remembered. Lifting her head caused so much dizziness that she did not try it again.

Across the small chamber, the door opened, letting in light and a man. A fresh wind blew through the room, bringing the smells of spring inside and banishing some of the staleness. Her dry throat tightened as she tried to speak. He was next to her in a moment.

‘Here. Try a sip of this before you try to speak. I doubt you have much of a voice left by now.’

He placed a cup at her mouth and lifted her head a tiny bit to help her drink. The watered ale tasted better than any fine wine or spirits she’d ever drunk. After one more sip, he took the cup and she tried to reach for it. When she settled back, Eva looked closely at the man as he moved back and sat on the floor next to the pallet on which she lay.

No kith or kin she remembered. But his face was familiar to her. Something flashed through her mind, a memory of someone or something, then darkness again. Had he been sent by her father to find and bring 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 could not remember even seeing him.

‘Nay, lady. Just when he came to our house a sennight ago.’

‘Last week? He has been here a week?’ Eva found it exhausting just to sit up, so trying to figure out his identity tired her even more.

‘Aye,’ Brita said. ‘He asked to rent this cottage. Said the laird set him to the task of finding you.’

She sat in silence as the girl tended to her hair. She desperately needed to wash it, but just having it brushed was a pleasure. Brita finished the tasks she’d been sent to carry out and curtsied when she was leaving. She stopped at the door, just before opening it.

‘My mam said you should know that your bleeding stopped two days ago. She was the first one to tend to you, lady.’ The girl’s face filled with a blush as she said such a thing. ‘She said she thought you would want to know.’

Eva smiled and nodded, feeling both relief and sorrow. The fever and bleeding had been happening together since she’d given birth. Fearing childbed fever and death, Eva knew it had continued too long. But her mother had refused to speak of the birth at all, so there had been no one she could seek advice from. Everyone at Castle Varrich had been forbidden to speak to her about those months she’d spent away, visiting kin in the west was the explanation.

Brita left, and Eva remained sitting up, leaning against the wall with several blankets behind her. Rob would return shortly, according to the girl, and it would do her good to move a bit. But, she feared the first time she would put her weight on her injured ankle. Even now, wrapped tightly, it throbbed from just moving it around as she washed and dressed.

A few minutes later, the door opened and he walked in.

The first thing she noticed was that his auburn hair was windblown and wild. She must be feeling better if she was taking in such details now. He seemed more alive than when he’d left. He pushed the door, and she heard the latch catch.

‘I found this in the cave,’ he said, tossing the small bag to her. He was angry. Again.

She opened it and found the few things she’d managed to take with her when she’d run off in the middle of the night. A small purse filled with coins. A small sgian dubh made to fit a woman’s hand. A comb. An extra shift. Her prayer beads. And the skin of water she carried.

‘You left the safety of your father’s keep with only this?’ he asked. ‘What was so terrible that you would risk your life to get away?’ His hands fisted and released, and she could feel waves of ire pouring off him. ‘Why did you run?’

Something was terribly wrong here. If she’d suspected it before, Eva knew it now. This man had no right to speak to her like this. Or to be in the same chamber as she. Or to demand help and supplies on behalf of her father. Who was he?

A sick feeling roiled through her stomach then. It had nothing to do with her illness and everything to do with the man standing before her.

If he’d been paid to do this by her father, he would have sent word for someone to come for her in her condition. A mercenary would not even worry over her illness, he would be paid for finding her.

A mercenary would not give a moment’s thought to why she’d run or what she’d taken. He would not have done most of the things this man had in caring for her.

A sinking feeling filled her, and she could feel the blood draining from her face and head. It took all of her courage to ask the question that now spun out in the space between them, but she must. The answer, which she suspected she already knew, would explain so much.

‘You are not my father’s man.’ She asked, her voice trembling with each word, ‘You are the Mackintosh’s counsellor and cousin, are you not?’

He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. If his face grew any darker with anger, it would explode.

‘Robert Mackintosh,’ he said as though introducing himself to her for the first time. ‘Your betrothed husband.’

She gasped at his declaration. ‘Betrothed?’ she asked, shaking her head wildly. ‘We were not betrothed.’

‘Aye, lady, we were. Your father and I signed the documents before he gave me his blessing and sent me off to look for his runaway daughter.’

‘Nay!’ she cried out, trying to get to her feet in spite of her injuries and continued weakness. ‘I cannot marry you. You cannot force this on me!’

He took her by her arms and pulled her up to him, their faces but inches apart. He stared at her, searching there for something.

‘In the eyes of the Church and by the laws of this land, we are married, lady. The vows can be spoken when we return to Castle Varrich. The rest can wait until we arrive in Glenlui.’

The rest? The rest! Eva would never share with any man what she’d given to Eirik.

She balled up her hands and pushed against his chest with them, trying to force herself free. He simply held her tighter, giving her no chance to get away. Because he was so much taller and stronger than she was, her feet did not even touch the ground.

‘You do not understand,’ she began to plead. ‘I cannot marry you. I...’

‘Are you pledged to someone else already?’ he demanded. ‘Tell me why you cannot marry me.’

She could not reveal the truth to him. Her father would be furious if she continued to fight this marriage. He was the only one who knew where her baby was and, if she did not do as told, the wee bairn would pay the price. Ramsey MacKay was a cold-hearted and ruthless man when it came to getting his own way. No one opposed him—not his wife, his daughter, his kith or kin—and not suffer for such defiance.

‘And tell me who Mairead is,’ he said, in a quiet but no less dangerous voice. ‘Who is she?’

He could have hit her and it would not have hurt as much as hearing her daughter’s name on his lips. The shock rippled through her and in the next moment, as he called out her own name, Eva fainted.

Chapter Five

‘Eva!’

Rob swore aloud, but she did not even react to the coarse words he’d said. The mention of that name had caused this. Her eyes had been glaring at him one moment and then they rolled up into her head the next. Cursing her, her father, her mother, his friend and anyone else he could bring to mind in that second, Rob carried her to the pallet and laid her there, being careful of her injured leg and foot.

She did not rouse. He tapped on her cheek, saying her name in as calm a tone as he could, but there was no sign of her coming around. Stalking as far away from her as he could get within the cottage, he watched her.

Bloody hell! Damn this woman to perdition!

She’d run from him. Refused to marry him. Worse, she placed herself in immeasurable danger because of her wilfulness. It was a miracle he’d found her in that cave before the storm blew in and flooded it. It was a miracle that she had not been attacked by ruffians or outlaws in the forests and on the roads between her father’s keep and this place. A miracle.

He let out a loud breath then, releasing some of the pent-up anger within him. Walking back to her side, he knelt down and touched her cheek. Thank the Almighty—no fever. When she did not move or wake, he sought out the cloth and water and touched the rag to her head and cheeks and then along her neck. Rob repeated it several times before her eyes began to flutter open.

Rob brought over the cup of ale and held it out when she looked at him. Without a word, she pushed up to lean on her elbows and took the cup. She averted her gaze and sipped several times before handing it back to him. As he watched, those blue eyes filled with tears that began to spill down her cheeks. The lady turned away, tucking her face into the pillow and sobbing silently.

He felt sick to his stomach. He’d wanted to force a reaction from her and he got one, just not the one he was hoping for. He wanted truth, but realised he’d lied to her from the first, too. Oh, his words about their betrothal were true, for he’d made certain she was his before setting out. Now he wondered over the wisdom of his course of action.

And still she cried. The sound of it was filled with despair and grief, and it shook him in a way he did not wish to acknowledge. At least not the part he played in it. Standing, he sought out the basket of food and took out the broth and bread from Brita’s mother. He poured some in a cup and placed it to warm near the flames. A glance over his shoulder told him that her weeping eased a bit.

He carried on preparing the food, not ignoring her, God, there was no way to do that, but just trying to allow her some time. Finding the meat pie wrapped in cloth, he placed it in a bowl and broke it apart with a spoon. It took its place next to her broth, warming slowly there. Soon, the enticing aroma of the food wafted through the cottage. His own stomach growled in anticipation of the taste, for Brita’s mother, Helga, was a superb cook.

Testing the heat of both the cup and bowl, Rob removed them and placed them on the small stool he’d been using as a table next to her. He tore two chunks of bread from the loaf and put them there, too. After watering some ale for her, he filled his cup with the stronger spirits from his flask. And then he sat down, cross-legged, waiting for her own hunger and thirst to bring her there.

It did not take long.

He tried to focus on his food, but he could not help but watch her. First she leaned up and found the damp rag and used it on her eyes and face. Using the edge of the plaid to dry herself, she pushed up to sit, her breathing yet ragged and loud. Rob sensed that helping her now would cause her to crumble again, so he waited for her to move or to ask for help.

She would not meet his gaze. Even when she managed to sit up and lean against the wall, she would not look at him. He did not force her to, he only slid the table closer so she could reach the cup, if she wanted it. And, after a few minutes of laboured breathing, she did. Rob tore the chunks of bread into smaller pieces and moved them closer.

They ate in an awkward and yet somehow companionable silence. It took her some time to finish just the cup of broth, but she did, dipping some of the bread in it to sop up the liquid. He did the same with the meat pasty—a hearty mix of chunks of beef and root vegetables and broth. Helga was unsurpassed in her dishes, no matter that he’d eaten at palaces and castles of the noble and the royal kind over the last few months.

The lady placed her empty cup on the stool and leaned back, tugging the plaid higher and holding it against her. As he watched, her eyes closed and he knew she was almost asleep. A shiver brought her to wakefulness.

‘Your tunic is dry now, if you are chilled,’ he offered.

‘The furs keep me warm enough,’ she whispered back.

He jutted his chin. ‘Then go to sleep. My sister says it’s the best thing for most illnesses.’

‘You have a sister?’ she asked, leaning away from the wall and sliding herself down under the blankets.

‘You do not have to say it with such disbelief in your voice. Aye, I have a sister. Margaret. She serves the clan as a healer at Glenlui.’

‘I meant no disrespect, sir,’ she offered. ‘I know nothing about you or the Mackintoshes.’ She spoke with closed eyes and each word came out slower than the one before it. She was falling asleep in the middle of a conversation.

‘Then none is taken. Sleep, lady. We will have time to talk.’

And she was gone, deeply asleep in moments.

Rob stood and cleaned up from their meal, going out to wash the cups, bowl and spoons with water from the bucket outside. The sun had set and the air grew chilled. He closed the door tightly and dropped the latch and then did the same thing with the wooden shutters to keep out the winds.

Soon, the cottage was prepared for the night...but he was not. After adding some more peat to the fire, he lit a few candles and picked up her sack. Surely, there must be more inside than just the few items he’d seen when he opened it at the cave.

Sitting on the floor near her, he turned the sack inside out and watched as the few things fell before him.

A small sgian dubh, more suited for eating or mending tasks than for defence or attack. And she did not wear it in her boot where she could reach it quickly.

A leather purse holding some gold and silver coins. Not enough to live on for long, but enough to present a temptation to any thief along the road.

Another shift.

A set of prayer beads, carved out of some black stones. Well, she might appreciate the book he’d brought for her if she was a godly woman. But a godly woman knew her place and obeyed her father and then her husband. Eva MacKay did not know the first thing about obedience or her proper place if what she’d done so far was the measure used.

Rob laid the things aside and shook his head, watching her sleep there. What kind of woman would run away when given the news of an impending marriage? Especially a marriage that would hold benefits for both families involved.

She shifted on the furs and mumbled some words in her sleep. Though he could blame some of her restlessness in sleep on her illness and fever, she never seemed to be at peace when she slept. She called out names, mostly the one, throughout the time when sleep claimed her.