FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS (15 page)

"Brianna. I meant no offense.
If calling you beautiful has angered you......."

"Dunna fash yerself.  I was no' offended." Clutching her bow, Brianna took off in search of the
red deer that disappeared into the forest, at last dismounting and stealthfully following the trail on foot. The tracks led down a steep embankment.  Ian dismounted to walk down a narrow trail.  Once again, Ian felt the allurement of being in her company.  Leading the horses down the hill, being careful to duck their heads to avoid being struck in the face by the low-hanging branches, they were  nonetheless enticingly aware of each other. 

"What a beautiful world it is.  Your father should be proud of his land, Brianna.".

"He is."  She was all too aware that she was devastatingly drawn to him.  It was feeling that unnerved her.  She'd always had complete control over her emotions before, but now it seemed whenever he was near her heart fluttered like a bird's wing.  That knowledge prompted her to be curt with him, to avert her eyes whenever he looked her way.

"Whew, I'm tired.  It
was a long evening yesterday."  Pausing by the bank of a small pool, he sat down, nodding for her down to sit beside him on a large, smooth rock.  "Brianna, you act as if you were a doe and I a fox in pursuit.  Please, if we are going to be kin, we should get to know each other better."  His voice was low and husky, sending shivers dancing up her spine.  She sensed his presence with every fiber of he being.  How could she think or breathe when he was so close to her?  His very masculinity gave her cause for foreboding, particularly when she remembered the other times they'd been alone together.

"Know each other better?"  She was wary. What a fool she was to let the others ride on ahead
, knowing the kind of man he was.

"You are a woman to admire.  I want you to think well of me." In a gesture of gentleness
, Ian reached out to touch her face, to brush  away the red hair that tumbled into her eyes.  She mistook his gesture, however, remembering the touch of those warm soft fingers against her flesh.  Stiffening, she bolted to her feet in indignation.

"Dinna touch me!"

"I was merely....."

"I know well what ye were doin'....!"

“I'm a man of honor, Brianna I wasn't........"  As she turned away he sought to stop her.  He didn't want her to leave.  He meant to touch her arm but his fingers brushed against her breast instead. He felt her shudder. "Brianna."

"So much for honor." she spat, putting as much distance between them as she could.   Ignoring Ian's apology, his avowal that he had meant no offense,
she hurriedly mounted her horse.  She'd ride back to the castle and if this bold Campbell got lost it would be his folly. Clouds announced a storm, the one that had threatened this morning. The sky was quickly becoming overcast with ominous, gloomy clouds and held the stillness that precedes a serious storm.  Usually Brianna would have been cautious, but riding the path at a furious pace she ignored his cries. A low-hanging branch nearly unseated her, but she was oblivious to all else but the sound of the thundering hooves pursuing her, clattering loudly over the rocky terrain.   She didn't want him to catch her. 

The wind slapped her face as she guided her horse furiously up the mountain
.  Suddenly, a sliver of lightning sliced through the air, startling both horse and rider.  Her horse whinnied, rearing and snorting in fear. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder.  Gusts of wind sent leaves and dirt hurling around in the air, pummeling her horses' legs. To her dismay she knew her uncontrollable mount was headed towards a cliffs edge.  She strained desperately for the reins, but found they had been pulled just beyond her reach. The horse shied, then bucked and reared.

Ian shouted out Brianna's name as he urged his horse on.  He had offended her and not even meant to do so, yet he could understand how she could have gotten the wrong impression.   "Brianna, please wait!"  Though he tried
, he was unable to catch up.  In frustration he watched from afar as she was thrown violently from the saddle. 

"Brianna!" he screamed.  His voice echoed in her ear before she hit the ground and was engulfed in total darkness.

Chapter Fif
teen

Huge gray clouds hovered above the hillside pouring rain, drenching Ian Campbell as he ran frantically towards the crumpled figure lying on the ground.  "Brianna!"  Her eyes were closed. She looked frighteningly still.  Bend
ing over her unconscious form, he whispered a fervent prayer.  Please let her be alive!  Seemingly, his plea was answered for as he put his head to her breast he could hear her heartbeat.  "Brianna!" 

Her breathing was even
, though her face looked ashen.  Apparently she'd struck her head when she was thrown from the horse. The  cut on her forehead attested to that. Ian gently wiped the blood away with his fingertips. Cautiously he examined her, probing her arms and legs to determine if there were any broken bones.  There did not seem to be, but still he was careful.  He'd seen men unhorsed in battle, knew it could be dangerous to move someone if they were hurt internally or had injured their spine.  Even so, he could not leave her unsheltered out in the storm.  Already her tunic and breacan were soaked from the torrent pouring from the sky.             

Where could he take her?
Looking hastily about him, Ian tried to get his bearings.  He seemed to recall passing a small cottage a few yards back? At the time  he'd only glanced at it, his thoughts intent on Brianna and her coldness towards him. He did remember now approximatley where it was located.  It would be a haven from the sudden storm that had engulfed them.

By all the saints, how he wanted her to awaken, he thought as he stripped off his breacan  and used it to shield her from the rain. Carefully
, he picked Brianna up in his arms, cradling her head against his chest. For a long moment, he stared down, mesmerized by how vulnerable she appeared.  An all-consuming sense of protectiveness surged through him, an emotion he'd never felt for a woman before.  Now the urge to safeguard her, to shield her, consumed him.  Holding her close, he slushed through the wet foliage, hoping he could find his way to the cottage.  Somehow he did.

It was a tiny dwelling of thatched wattle and daub, probably going back a hundred years or so.  An interesting leg
acy of stone, thatch and slate. A lookout point perhaps? The question flitted through Ian's mind as he kicked open the partially closed door.  Whatever it's purpose before, it was a blessing now.  It would keep them dry.

The walls of the cottage were cracked in several places.  It had been left in a ruinous state.  Broken pottery, pieces of wood and straw littered the earthen floor.  The interior was covered with a thick coating of dust which caused Ian to cough as he pushed his way inside.  As he scanned the small one-roomed dwelling
,  he caught sight of a straw-mattress in the corner.  Gently he placed Brianna upon it.

Oh, how he longed for her to open her eyes, to speak to him, even if  her tone was scolding.  Turning away for just a moment
, he hurriedly gathered the discarded, broken wood  and bavins scattered upon the floor.  Using a primitive method of rubbing two of the twigs together he  was at last able to build a fire in the fire pit in the middle of the floor. The thing of utmost  importantance was to keep  Brianna warm.  The flickering yellow and orange flames soon radiated a welcoming glow, the smoke rising through a hole cut for that purpose high on the south wall away from the wind.

Returning to her side
, he noticed her shivering.  Doing his best to make her comfortable,  he stripped off her soaked garments, then  hung the clothess  on a pole by the fire to dry.  Standing over her, he studied her quietly in the glow of the  hearthffire. His breath was trapped somewhere in the area of his heart as he stared at the loveliness presented to him. She looked so fragile, so young, so desireable. She did look like a kelpie, as beautiful as some unearthly being.  Bundling her up in a faded quilt he found in a corner of the room, he tried to ignore the desire that stirred within him at the sight of her tiny waist, firm breasts and long perfectly shaped legs.   She was even more beautiful than he had supposed.  Och, how fortunate was Robbie! 

Ian brushed her fiery hair aside to examine her head.  "A knot the size of a goose egg!"  No wonder she was still deeply asleep, he thought. He'd had e
xperience tending the wounded, knew a cold damp cloth would bring some relief.  Tearing off a strip of his breacan, he dipped it in a rainbarrel outside the door,  laid it on Brianna's forehead and sat back to wait, all the while ignoring his own discomfort.   His clothes were soaked but  the  warm fire  would soon make him dry.  For the moment, only she was important. The small pole might break if any more weight was added to it.             

"Brianna! Bending down beside her, he called her name over and over again, his pulse quickening as he saw her eyelids flutter.  "Brianna." 

She was so lovely, he mused, from the tip of her toes to the top of her red-haired head.  He let his eyes move tenderly over her in a caress, lingering on the rise and fall of her breasts.  For just a moment he gave in to temptation and kissed her soft warm mouth.  A parting kiss, he thought.  A sad tribute to what might have been. With a regretful sigh he moved away from her,, keeping an armslength away, to return to his vigil.   She was the kind of woman he had been searching for, but a woman he could never hope to obtain.  The longing that he felt would forever remain unfulfilled.  And yet if she would only awaken perhaps he could accept that.  He would try.

Ian sat unflinchingly by Brianna's bedside leaving only to light the sma
ll torch he had made of straw  or change the cold cloth on her head.  He stared at her, entranced by the way the golden torchlight played across the curves of her body beneath the coverlet, creating tantalizing shadows and reminding him of her beautiful body. The thoughts rambling through his head were dangerous and he shook his head furiously to clear such musings. No doubt Lachlan MacQuarie was scouring the whole countryside for his daughter, he thought with a grimace.  He would have been accused of all sorts of villainy by now if they were seen riding together. Feuds had been started for less than this.  It was a worrisome thought, one he must contemplate.  How ironic that for once he was innocent.

"Ohhhhh!" 

"Brianna?" 

She was moaning, moving her head from side to side.  It was the first  hopeful sign she'd given of returning to consciousness. Reaching out
, he touched her face, relishing the softness of her skin, but grimaced as he remembered that it was just such a gesture that caused her mishap in the first place.  For a moment his mouth tightened. She'd thought he was going to try to seduce her, that's why she'd run away.   And why wouldn't she have thought that?  Certainly he had given her reason to think the worst of him. But this time he'd only wanted to offer friendship. Ironic wasn't it.

" Oh, Brianna."  Seeing her eyelashes flutter again
, he took her hand, willing her to open her eyes. "Brianna.  Wake up, lassie." 

She stirred,
putting her hand to her temple. "Mmmmm. My head," she moaned. Instinctively, she reached out feeling dioriented, clinging to him, needing stability in a turbulent, whirling  world. The closeness of her softly curving flesh  was nearly his undoing.  The brush of their bodies wove a cocoon of warm intimacy that he relished. He was flesh and blood and not a saint,  yet his passion was tempered with a more tender feeling. He swallowed with difficulty, longing to clasp her in his arms in a closer  embrace. 

Light flickered before Brianna's eyelids as she
struggled to open her eyes. Where was she?  She was confused."What happened?" she asked  softly.

"Your horse threw you, lass." Pushing her fiery-hued hair aside
, he examined her injury yet again. His fingers were strokes of softness, making her feel warm and tingly inside. She nestled closer, her face buried against his chest.

"Ohhhhh.""

"You hit your head on a rock."

Suddenly recognizing
his
voice, Brianna's  eyes flew open to find him sitting on the edge of the mattress, his fingers entwined in her hair.  His dark, unsmiling visage illuminated by firelight was the first thing her eyes focused on. She'd know that profile anywhere.  "Ian Campbell!" She remembered now that she had dreamed that he had kissed her. Had he? Her thoughts were hazy, her head throbbed painfully as she sat up. 

"Aye, I brought you here," he murmured huskily, remembering  their brief embrace.
             

They stared at each other, two silent, shadowy figures in the dimly lit cottage, each  achingly aware of the other.  The very air pulsated with expectancy.  Brianna could not help but wonder what he was going to
say, what he was going to do. Sitting like a stone figure, her eyes never once left him as he moved forward.

"Ah, Lassie.
When I saw you  fall, my  heart  stopped beating. I thought.....I feared!  By the Saints I  never realized until that moment  how very special  you are to me."  The tone of sincerity in his voice deeply touched her. 

"Am I?" 

"Aye, that you are."    He knelt on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress  to sag under his muscular weight.  This time when he reached out to touch her face she didn't  pull away as she had when they were alone in the forest. "Very special."

Slowly  Ian bent his head,
cherishing her lips in a kiss. Gentle.A much different kind of kiss than he had given he before.  Her lips parted  in  an invitation for him to drink more deeply of her mouth.  He did, igniting a warmth  that engulfed her from head to toe.  Breathlessly she returned his kisses, tingling with pleasure when he began to hungrily probe the inner warmth.  Following his lead she returned his caress, tentatively at first then passionately, tangling her fingers in  the thick dark bristle of his hair.

"Brianna!"  Their kiss was his undoing.  All he could think about was the pounding of his heart as he relished the warmth of her body.  She'd haunted his dreams no matter how fiercely he'd tried to put her from his mind.  And now she was here.  How could he let her go?  Even though a voice inside his head shouted out that he was playing with fire, that it wa
s sheer insanity to tease himself so, he couldn't pull away. He wanted her too badly, was tempted at last beyond his endurance.

Capturing  her slender shoulders he pulled her up against him as his mouth  moved hungrily  against hers. Her head was thrown back, the  masses of her fiery hair tumbling in a thick cascade
over his arm.  "Ah, lassie. Lassie!" With hands and mouth he sought to bring her pleasure.

A hot ache of desire coiled within Brianna.  Fear warred  with excitement in her veins.  Fighting against her own desire was more difficult than she could ever have anticipated.
  How could she push  him away? How could she ignore the heated insistance in her blood. There was a weakening readiness at his kiss, a longing she couldn't explain but which prompted her to push closer to him, relishing the warmth of his  hands as he outlined the swell of her breasts beneath the blanket.  When he drew his mouth away she tugged his head down, seeking his lips eagerly.

Brianna didn't understand
this all-consuming  need to be near him, she only knew that Ian alone aroused an urgent need within her, a longing to embrace him.  She craved his kisses, his touch and wanted to be in his arms forever. 

"Ian."  She moaned his name into his ha
ir as his lips left her mouth. Soft sobs of pleasure echoed through the cottage's silence, and she was surprised to find that they came from her own throat. Her senses were filled with a languid heat that made her head spin.  She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the dream of his nearness.             

Agonizingly
, he  gently traced a path from  her  jaw, to her ear to the slim line of her throat  until his lips  found her breasts, tracing the rosy  peak.  Dear God, she tasted so sweet.  He was mesmerized by her, by how right it felt to hold her in his arms, his hip touching her stomach, his chest cradling the softness of her breasts.  The longing to make furious love to her overpowered him.  Kissing was not enough to satisfy the blazing hunger that raged through him.  She was too tempting, and the delicious fact that she was responding to him made him cast all caution aside.  Compulsively, his fingers  savored the softness of her breasts as he bent his mouth to kiss her again, gently lowering her onto her back. 

She stared up at him, watching as he studied her
, and the look of desire she saw branded on his face alarmed her.  Her woman's body craved the maleness of him, but her logical mind screamed at her to make him stop.

She arched up against him. Through the haze of her pleasure she felt his hands roaming more intimately and struggled to push him away.  What was she doing?  The question replayed itself over and over. Her body warred with her mind.  She could not surrender her body to him.  No! Biting down  on herlower lip she fought to come back to her senses.

He shifted his position, reaching out to smooth the tangled strands of hair away from her face.  It was the chance that she needed. She jerked violently away, forcing herself to say, "leave me be! Take yer hands away," even though she didn't mean it.

"What?" He frowned, looking down at her.

"I said get yer hands off me, Ian Campbell!"

He rolled away from her, coming to his feet, standing with his legs sprawled apart, his arms crossed over his chest.  His breathing was deep as he struggled to get control of himself, his emoti
ons.  He swore a violent oath. "You took a long time to tell me no." Clenching and unclenching his hands, he sought to put his thoughts in order.  By all the blessed saints, why was she glaring at him as if he and he alone was responsible for what happened between them?  He had meant to pull away but she had clung to him.