Chapter Five

 

Colin had savored Lady Kristina's smile and wished to see it again. Talk about enchanted… he was. And transfixed. The scar she was so worried about did not disfigure her. Not in the way she thought. He had grown used to facial scars since being around Neacal. Besides, Colin had plenty on his own body, though not on his face. All warriors possessed scars, and wore them like medals of honor. That's how he saw her… as a wee female warrior. It wasn't simply her scar, but her strength of spirit. Her courage came through in the words she spoke and her confident bearing. She was a tough lady.

"Do you sing?" he asked her.

"I used to."

He'd hoped she would smile again, but instead, she appeared melancholy. "I hope to hear you sing, too, then."

The corners of her exquisite lips turned down, and she lowered her chin. "It has been a long time. I'm out of practice."

"Once we get back to the castle and you are reunited with your sister, hopefully she can convince you to join her in a song."

Another small smile brightened Kristina's face. That was it. The thought of being with Anna made her smile. He could easily see how much she loved her sister. "Aye, 'haps," she said.

"Would you like to sit? I didn't bring an extra plaid, so you'll have to sit on the dirt floor until I find one for you."

"I'm certain my clothing is already dirty, so it won't matter. I'm tired."

"I hope to get you back to the castle soon. You need rest." He took her hands, which were surprisingly cold, and helped her sit on one of the cleaner spots.

"Your hands are chilled." He crouched, cupping her small hands between his larger ones, trying to warm them.

She shivered. "Well… this cave is cold. And the wind outside has picked up. Do you hear how it roars?"

"Aye. I think we'll have an early winter." Since they'd traveled from the castle by rowboat and had planned to return straightaway, they had brought no supplies. Releasing her, he stood and searched the cave, finding nothing except rocks and dirt in this chamber. He doubted the two chambers farther back contained anything more. "I'll see if one of the men has a spare plaid." He strode outside into the wind where the trees tossed violently and the sky was as dark as gloaming. Several of his men trotted up the hill toward the cave.

"I found some water." Ethan held the wineskin aloft.

"Can you give some to the lady?"

His boyish face lit up. "Aye. With pleasure."

Colin frowned after Ethan as he hastened into the cave. Clearly Colin was not the only one who had noticed her beauty.

"The strong gale is close," Rusty said, his long russet hair blowing in the wind.

Colin nodded. "Do any of you have a spare plaid? Lady Kristina is cold."

They shook their heads, exchanging glances as if they feared he'd order one of them to hand over his plaid. "Nay."

"'Haps you could give her yours." Warton's craggy face split into a rascally grin.

Colin ignored the teasing. Though he didn't want to disrespect the lady by being half naked around her, the truth was she couldn't see him. Unfortunately. And his long linen shirt did reach almost to his knees.

"'Tis the only solution." Colin removed his belt and his plaid fell from its pleats.

Warton chuckled. "Should've known you would get naked any time a bonny lass is around."

Colin raised a brow. Yet another man who thought Kristina was attractive. He could understand her insecurities about the scar, but he wished he could convince her of how gorgeous she was in spite of it. He had a feeling all his men thought so, too.

He buckled his belt back into place at his waist and glanced down at the tail of his shirt, just above his knees. "I'm covered well enough."

He took the loose plaid into the cave, knelt, and wrapped it around Kristina where she sat on the floor.

She shivered, hissing a breath between her teeth as she pulled his plaid tight about her. "I thank you. This is so warm." She closed her eyes, seeming to revel in the heat. "Wait." Her eyes popped open. "You were wearing this!"

"How could you know that?"

She hesitated. Even in the dimness he could see her blush as she averted her face. "You will need it in this weather." She started pulling off the plaid.

"Nay, keep it. I'm not cold." He wrapped it tight about her again. How had she known he'd been wearing it? Had she heard them talking outside the cave, even with the strong winds?

The lass was perceptive, even more so than those who could see. He would have to be more careful about what he said.

He would also have to guard his heart, lest she steal it away.

 

***

 

Kristina listened to the fearsome wind blowing outside the mouth of the cave, the pine limbs thrashing together, and the rain pouring down for a long while.

She wondered where Ralston was. Had he survived the battle? She hoped her sister was still safe inside the castle.

She snuggled down into Colin's plaid, his enticing masculine scent surrounding her. 'Twas both comforting and exciting.

The men's voices rumbled quietly in conversation within the cave. They were discussing who would head toward the castle after the storm, scouting to see if the enemies were gone. If 'twas still unsafe, a couple of them would take first watch. Ethan would go in search of more food once the wind and rain ceased.

A chilly mist blew into the cave and she once again felt cold, despite the plaid. 'Twas much cooler now than before the gale. Though it was October, it felt like winter.

After the winds quieted, some of the men exited the cave and all grew quiet. Footsteps moved toward her, leather boots against the packed earth, grit crunching.

"Are you still cold?" Colin's voice murmured right beside her. He must be crouching close.

Good heavens, she could drown in his deep voice. "Not terribly." But she couldn't stop the shiver that coursed through her at that moment.

"Aye, you are. Lie down."

His words surprised her, confused her, and she frowned. "Where?"

"Right where you are."

"Why?"

"I'll show you, if you but trust me."

Strangely, she did trust him, though she'd only known him for a few hours. He had saved her life and seemed an honest, forthright man. When she lay back on the hard floor, he stretched out beside her and spread the plaid over them both, shocking her. She gasped. "What are you—?"

"I don't mean any disrespect, but I have to get you warm now, lest you catch an ague. Turn toward me," he murmured.

Good heavens. His words were both commanding and caring, which gave her a warm tingle. When she faced him, he drew her against the hard wall of his chest and tucked her head beneath his chin. Though she was stunned speechless for a moment, his body was deliciously warm. She couldn't help but press herself tighter against him.

"Feels good," she whispered, basking in his heat. "You're like an oven."

"Aye." His deep voice now sounded gruffer. With his large hand on her back, he pulled her closer. "And you feel chilled to the bone."

"I get cold easily."

"I wish you had told me sooner."

Their murmured conversation seemed profoundly intimate and comforting to her. "I didn't want to bother you."

"You're not bothering me," he chided. "In addition to the cold, the past few days have been very demanding for you. Being taken hostage. Not enough food. Being attacked by a madman."

No man had ever held her like this and expressed concern for her well-being. His sentiments made the warm tenderness she felt toward him expand. He near overwhelmed her, both mentally and physically. She was amazed at how hard his body was. Her own was a mere soft feather in comparison. He felt like stone beneath her fingertips.

Colin blew out a breath. "What are you doing?"

Pausing, she realized she'd been stroking her fingers over the muscles of his back and exploring. "I was but…" She couldn't say feeling of you. "'Tis simply that you feel so hard, like a rock. I've never felt anything like it."

He gave a brief, rough chuckle.

Her head lay on his muscular upper arm, and her nose was pressed against his chest. He smelled so manly in a very appealing way. 'Twas all she could do to keep herself from humming out her enjoyment.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose for another whiff.

"What's wrong? Your breathing sounds odd," he said.

She grinned, wondering what would happen if she told him the truth. "You smell good."

He inhaled against the top of her head. "And so do you."

Was he lying, or only saying that because she'd commented on his scent? Either way, she was thankful now that, the previous day, the mistress of the inn in Glenfinnan had taken pity on her and assigned one of the chambermaids to help Kristina take a bath. She had not dared ask for either woman's help in escaping, lest Blackburn kill them. She had simply pretended to be Blackburn's sister-in-law and ward, as he'd claimed.

Don't think of the beast, she told herself. Just enjoy this moment… one of the most blissful she could remember. She felt so safe, warm and protected, lying here in Colin's arms. He had a caring and comforting feeling emanating from him. Was she only imagining it? Fantasizing and hoping? 'Twas ridiculous. He could not care for her already. They'd only just met. Some innate part of her told her she was not dreaming it up, that her impression was real. She relaxed into it and let go of her fears.

She had not slept well in days, not since Holme had tried to attack her in the middle of the night, and the exhaustion combined with Colin's delicious heat and comfort lulled her to sleep and into dreams.

 

***

 

Colin could not believe he lay in a cave with a fairy sleeping in his arms. Kristina felt so small, soft and slight, like a feathery bird with a broken wing. How could such profound strength of spirit lie within her?

He could not help but compare her to his former betrothed. Lady Emma had not been so delicate feeling. Not that he had held her like this, lying down, but he had held her close enough to kiss her a few times. But 'twas not Lady Emma's lips he was thinking of kissing now.

Nay, indeed.

When arousal coiled slowly through him, stronger and tighter with each moment that passed, he felt like a depraved rogue. He drew in a slow, deep breath, trying to calm himself, but this only filled his awareness with her luscious female scent. She lured him like a fresh brambleberry pie… near irresistible.

Was Kristina an innocent? She had to be, given how she'd been sliding her fingers along his back earlier, almost as if she'd never felt a man before. He hoped she hadn't. He wanted to be the first to hold her, to kiss her… damnation! Why was he thinking of that? He had to cease such imaginings. He did not want to get entangled with another lady.

He hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. That was it. Hell, his body was letting him know loud and clear who and what it was interested in.

Once the idea of kissing her had sprung into his head, it wouldn't leave. The image turned into a full-blown fantasy. He could almost feel the smooth, hot wetness of her mouth against his own. He hungered to taste her lips, but he could not. He gritted his teeth against the heightened need.

She moved restlessly in his arms, brushing against him, making matters far worse. He stifled a groan, hoping she wouldn't feel what she'd done to him.

She had been asleep no more than a half hour when she started awake. "Oh." She froze and tried to draw away from him. "Where am I?"

"'Tis me. Colin. We're in a cave."

She let out a relieved breath, relaxing again. "I remember now." She was silent for a moment. "Do you have anything to drink? I'm thirsty."

"Aye." He reached above his head and took the wineskin Ethan had filled from the stream. "Here's some water."

Sitting up slightly, she swallowed two long gulps. "I thank you."

After taking a few sips himself, he recorked the wineskin and set it aside.

She snuggled closer and released a sigh against the upper part of his chest. "I feel better now," she whispered.

"I'm glad." Good lord, how was he supposed to tolerate her sighing against him with her warm breath while pressing her slim, curvy body against him? The soft mounds of her breasts flattening against his chest were driving him mad.

Unable to help himself, he sniffed her hair again. 'Twas not a soap scent but pure sweet female. His arousal grew and it took great effort for him to suppress a groan.

"I was going to wait and ask my sister, but… I'm too curious." Kristina sounded bright and merry of a sudden but kept her voice quiet as if 'twas a secret. "What of Anna and Chief MacDonald? Is he smitten with her?"

Colin grinned, remembering how clear Neacal had made his feelings for Anna. "Aye, he is. Very much so."

"And is she smitten with him?"

"I think so. You'll have to ask her. Neacal wants to marry her."

"Good heavens. In truth?" Her voice heightened with joy. "That's wonderful."

Absorbing her good cheer, he smiled. "Aye. I pray she will agree to the match. He deserves happiness more than anyone I know."

"As does Anna."

"They've both been through hellish times."

She nodded, then grew quiet. "If only they can survive Blackburn's attack."

 

***

 

Red Holme slipped through the pine thicket and gradually up the steep slope, which was more like a cliff in places. Four men quietly followed—loyal, trusted friends who had been in Blackburn's army, and before that, they'd traveled with him from the MacKillican clan more than ten years earlier.

During the fearsome gale storm, they had sheltered beneath a thick rock ledge, protecting themselves from any of the falling pine limbs or trees. Still, their clothes had been drenched by the cold, blowing rain.

Holme peered down at the plaid-clothed dead soldiers lying about everywhere between the wood and the castle in the distance. He was canny enough to know a lost cause when he saw one.

"Where the hell is Blackburn?" Holme whispered so as not to draw the attention of any MacDonalds below.

"Looked like him rowing across the loch earlier," Dobson, the man closest to him, said.

Had Blackburn escaped, then? Did he still live?

The battle was over and they'd lost, even with the help of MacDonald of Sleat. In fact, that man was dead, along with most of his soldiers.

As Holme and his comrades watched from a distance, the few remaining MacCromars were disarmed. One of the victors talked to them, too far away to hear, and pointed out toward an island.

Mayhap Blackburn had rowed out there alone. Even if he had, Holme doubted the MacDonalds would let him live.

Holme didn't care about Blackburn. Aye, he'd been under Blackburn's command for over five years, but the bastard had always incensed him. Guarding Blackburn and serving as his war leader had been a good paying position, but by all appearances, that was over now.

Something else leapt to the forefront of his mind, something that ate away at him—Holme had recognized the whoreson who had grabbed Kristina from him. Holme had not seen him since the knave had been a lad of around fifteen or sixteen summers, and it had taken Holme a few minutes, with his mind working furiously, to figure out why that face looked so familiar.

'Twas Chief Cameron's eldest son, Colin. Thieving bastards, the lot of them! Fury raced over Holme anew, burning a trail from his face downward, making him clench his fists. Hate and battle lust threatened to burst from his chest.

"I ken the man who snatched Kristina from me and so do you," Holme growled low.

"What's his name?" Dobson asked.

"Colin Cameron." Holme gritted his teeth so tightly they ached.

"Damnation, man. His sire stole your birthright and your clan's castle."

"Aye, and killed Da. He's the son of my father's worst enemy. I can't allow this opportunity to pass me by." Finally, he had a purpose and a goal beyond surviving, beyond earning money.

"Which direction did he go?" Dobson narrowed his black eyes. "We'll hunt him down and put a dirk in his heart."

"'Tis what I plan to do." Holme gave a bitter half smile. "And then I can have the lass."

"Aye."

He didn't ken which obsessed him more, the need for revenge or for lust. During the past week while they'd traveled from Stirling, that blind witch had cast a spell on him. Well, if he were honest, she'd started casting that spell the first time he'd laid eyes on her over two years ago, back when she could see as well as everyone else. She had given him withering looks, but that hadn't dampened his interest in her.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. Now all he had to do was find them. He knew Cameron hadn't taken her back to the castle yet. Holme had been watching the trail, even during the downpour. Where had they gone for shelter? Was there a cottage in the wood? He would find them, slay Colin and his men, then nab Kristina.

"He only has about a half-dozen men with him." After they had attacked him, he had glimpsed the Camerons running into the wood.

"We'll surprise them and take them down one at a time," Dobson said.

"Aye." Holme motioned the other men toward him, then addressed the one with short dark hair and a bushy beard. "Scroggie, slip back down there and find five horses, preferably MacCromar horses. If not, then you may find some of Sleat's. Don't let anyone see you. Take them around the back side of this hill, from the other direction, then hide and wait for us."

Scroggie nodded. He was the best with horses and most suited for the job.

"Dobson, Fordyce, and Mungo, I need you to help me go after Colin Cameron and his men."

"Colin Cameron?" Fordyce glowered, black brows lowered. "That's who the bastard was what stole the lady?"

"Aye. I want to make him suffer an agonizing death like my father's."

Holme moved from the deeper part of the wood onto the trail the Camerons had taken. He knew how to track, and though the rain had destroyed most of the clues, their tracks through the black mud were obvious.

Holme heard a thudding noise and stopped abruptly. "Shh, listen."

The men behind him halted, dropping silent.

A rock clattered. He jumped behind a large boulder and bushes, his friends following. Sword drawn, Holme crouched and peered out. Two Cameron men walked by. He recognized them from the earlier attack.

"We can take them," Holme whispered.