He knew it was dawn, and he knew he was awake, but Lucas kept his eyes closed wishing for just a moment longer of sleep. He didn’t want to leave the blond haired, grey-eyed beauty of his dreams. In his dreams she smelled of roses and speaks like a fine English lady. In his dream there is no battle of Dunkeld. All of his other dreams had been nightmares until she came. Wretched things filled with blood and the stench of battle. He’d cried out for his brother and father knowing he couldn’t save them. Then the English rose appeared and all was well. He had nothing left to fear, no man could hurt him as long as she was by his side. But he knew she was a dream. An angel conjured by his imagination to make the reality of his current situation more bearable.

His throat was dry, and he tried to remember the last time the old man brought him water. He slowly opened his eyes. There was something in his hand. Opening his eyes, he looked down surprised to see a slender, angelic looking woman fast asleep beside him, holding his hand. Her skin was fair like porcelain, her hair as light as spun gold, and was he imagining it, or did he catch the distinct smell of roses wafting from her as she slept.

Cannae be, he thought. But he knew without a doubt that the sprite laying on the pallet beside his was real, but also from his dreams. She stirred, and in order not to frighten her he closed his eyes again, briefly pretending to be restless and then pausing as if he’d settled back down into slumber on his own.

She placed a cool hand on his forehead and she pulled it back quickly. “Oh my,” she said, “Your fever broke, thank God. You will live.” Her voice was light and airy. Lucas thought, it was like summer breeze floating across the loch. Then she did something surprising, she placed her head on his chest and wept. She wept as if God himself had answered her prayers. He wanted to comfort her somehow, wrap his arms around her and whisper assurances in her ear. Of course he lived. As long as she was with him, he would live forever.

Lucas enjoyed the morning routine his angel had created. She made the most horrible tea known to man, and as an English woman she should probably be ashamed of herself, but he enjoyed when she tipped his head back and with her delicate fingers massaged his throat, urging him to swallow the foul liquid. Lucas had never been sick a day in his life, so he was unfamiliar with the taste of medicine, but he knew tea wasn’t the only ingredient in the drink because not long after drinking it, he began to feel less pain.

“I’m so glad your fever has calmed.” He could hear her moving about the barn, unaware that he was conscious and could hear every word. “I thought for sure you wouldn’t make it until morning. Now I wonder why that filled me sadness. Anyway, when we were girls, Amelia, that’s my sister, and I would hate when mother would make us drink willow bark tea. But mother always said nothing worked better on a fever.” Her mother must hae been a healer, he thought, wishing he could take the sadness out of her voice when she mentioned her mother and her sister.

Throughout the day, thinking him asleep, she had confided a great many details of her life before to him. He knew she hated her father, and after the man betrothed her to a brutish English commander, Lucas couldn’t say he blamed her. She ran away, very cleverly escaping capture. He was glad she did. For a reason he couldn’t name, he did not like the thought of her in another man’s arms. He also knew she lied to the kindly old couple who were keeping them. Fergus and Sarah, she said their names were. Good Scottish names. She told them her name was Emily, but it wasn’t. Her true name was Ella. It was for their own protection, she said, but it still made her feel horrible. Once she had earned enough money to establish herself and her father could no longer harm her, she would make it right with them. He felt himself dozing off to the sound of her voice. He would just rest for a little while, he thought. Just a little while.

He woke from a dreamless sleep, the first he can remember since the battle. He opened his eyes slowly, he was alone in the barn. Ella was nowhere to be seen. She must have left to help Sarah with some of the household chores, feeling comfortable to do so, now that the danger of his fever had passed. He could tell the hour was late, but sunset was not yet upon them. The light coming through the slatted walls of the barn was different than in the morning hours. He tried, successfully to sit up, it felt good being in a different position.

A memory hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was Magnus, speaking to him in a field. “An' allow my laird tae suffer a worse fate than his poor father? I dinnae think sae. Now hush laird.” His laird? His father’s death came swimming back to his mind. Da, why? he thought in anguish. He had watched the life leave his father, unable to reach him in time. He would never as long as he drew breath forget the look of the man who took his Da’s life. Once he was well, and established as laird, he would mount his revenge.

However, revenge would be the end of a long road. He was needed as the laird of Cadney Castle, and with no way to get home fast enough and tell his mother of Angus’s fate. He wanted nothing more than to hold her as she cried for her lost husband. He wondered how long he had been in the barn. He understood why Magnus had to leave him behind. They were running for their very lives and having a mortally wounded man with them would have been a dangerous burden. Had they even tried, chances were against Lucas surviving the journey. If Magnus had saved him and brought him here, he had to believe his friend had made it home with the men, and told his mother and Milly of his father’s death. And what of Gavin? His headstrong, battle-ready brother? He had not seen him since the fight, did the lad make it out alive? So many questions needed answering.

He ran his fingers through his red hair, it stood straight up with dirt and grime, oh how he would love a proper warm bath. He heard the door of the barn creak open and slid back down to pretend he was asleep. There was no real reason why he chose not to reveal himself to Ella. If he were forced to admit anything it would be that he was still in a great deal of pain and her sweet voice and stories distracted him. He was afraid if she knew he was awake she would stop talking to him. That was something he wasn’t ready to bear.

“Lucas, I have a special treat for you,” she sang as she entered the back of the barn where their pallets were kept. “Sarah made the most delicious soup from chicken stock and some of the loose fall vegetables. I convinced her to hold some of the broth so that I could warm it for you. After all, now that your fever is lessened I want you to build up your strength.”

The broth she carried smelled delicious, and Lucas couldn’t prevent his stomach from grumbling. He was very hungry. When was the last time I hae eaten anything? he thought.

“Oh,” she said in response to the gurgling in his stomach. “I guess you are in need of something other than willow bark tea.”

She drew close and still smelled of roses, but of something else as well, hearth fire, autumn, and something decidedly feminine. She smelled as if she had been running through fallen leaves. She gently tipped his head back and he allowed it. Slowly she poured the broth into his mouth, and once again her fingers rubbed his throat with a feather light touch as he swallowed the rich soup. He felt a warmth spread in his center that was part broth and part need for her. He hadn’t wanted to touch a woman in so long, he was afraid if Ella didn’t hurry up and finish feeding him he would not be able to control himself.

She poured more of the broth into his mouth, gently. He swallowed every last drop. She moved away to place the empty bowl by the hearth and came back to him. Suddenly he felt a smooth cloth wiping at his chin.

“You’ve only gotten some of it on your face this time,” she whispered. He wondered if she too was having trouble keeping dangerous thoughts at bay. Without thinking he let out a soft moan. She jumped back, letting out a small yelp of surprise as he opened his eyes.

“You’re… you’re awake?” she asked, even though the answer to her question was obvious. Lucas was struck again by her beauty, and for the first time since she’d arrived to save him, he was able to see the depth and density of her grey eyes. They looked like fog curling into the wood on a crisp morn. He had never seen eyes so beautiful, even in that moment as they turned from shock to anger at finding him awake.

“Aye.” He could hear the rasp of his unused voice as he responded to her shocked question.

“And for how long have ye been awake?” she asked, slipping into a slightly refined Scottish accent she must have picked up from being around Fergus and Sarah.

“Long enough tae ken ye’ur a bonnie sassenach lass wi' a strong heart an' a knack for healin',” he said, coughing, but meaning every word. “An' I want tae thank ye for keepin' me alive.” He tried to sit up again so as to face her better.

“No wait, you shouldn’t move so suddenly.” She rushed toward him to help, putting her arms around his center she lifted with him as he moved up on the pallet. She was so close to him he could feel her warm breath on his collar bone. Causing pin pricks of pleasure to rise along his spine.

Before he knew why he was doing it, he grabbed her and crushed her mouth to his. She tasted so sweet like honey and rose, he pushed and teased her lips begging her to open her mouth for him. He yearned to explore more of her. He could tell she had not been properly kissed and it made his heart sing. He wanted to show her pleasure like she’d never dreamed of.

At first, she pushed against his arms, fighting him, the shock of his kiss most likely startled the lass, he thought. But then as quickly as she fought, she relaxed and leaned into his kiss. Her pushing became exploring as she carefully ran her fingers up and down his bare chest. A soft moan escaped her as she opened her mouth further, allowing his tongue to explore, lick, and taste. She touched her delicate fingers to the scratchy red growth of his beard. His manhood began to twitch to life under his plaid. She was more alluring than any strong drink. He deepened their kiss taking more and more of her, and she allowed it. He brought his hands up and clasped the back of her neck, bringing her closer to him. He’d kissed a good many lasses at home in Cadney, but never had he kissed a lass like this. He thought there would be no end to his desire. He pulled from her mouth and trailed kisses down her neck, stopping briefly where her throat met her collar bone. He flecked the sweet hollow with his tongue. God, she tasted like honey everywhere. She moaned again and pressed her body tight against his. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

“Ahh me bonnie lass, I’m afraid I cannae tak' much more of ye,” he moaned into her ear. And as quickly as they had begun, reality sunk in and she pulled away. Staring at him with an unfamiliar look in her eyes, she shocked him for a second time that night when she pulled her arm back and slapped him hard across the face.

“How dare you,” she uttered, climbing down from his pallet. He couldn’t help but laugh at the wee lass. She was filled with so much piss and vinegar, he thought it might be rude of him to point out that less than a minute before hand she had been eagerly enjoying herself.

“Nae, Ella, ye ur right. An' I’m sorry. I should nae hae taken advantage. Ye ur just so sweet. It willnae happen again. I promise,” he said. Rubbing his face from her slap he crossed himself to put a fine tip on his point. “But ye did kiss me back, ye ken,” he added with a wink.

“I most certainly did not, you… you… brut!” He could sense she was angry, but he couldn’t help but smile as she pouted at him with her kiss swollen lips. It was a good thing she pulled away when she did, because even though he was quite certain he didn’t have the strength for it, if their kiss had gone on much longer he would’ve taken her maidenhead right in that barn. What’s come over me, he thought. I’m as randy as a lad.

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asked, with her chin in the air. Lucas knew no matter the answer he gave her she would seethe, so he decided to go with the truth.

“I’m smilin' coz even angrier than a bull ye ur th' most attractive thing I've ever seen, an' all I can think about is kissin' ye again.”

His laughter followed her as she stormed out of the barn. He had no doubt in his mind that he would kiss her again, he just needed to earn her trust. There was nothing he wanted more.