Healing the Highlander (15 page)

But he'd never intended this. Never intended to cause her such pain. In his haste to find the answers he sought, he'd completely ignored all she'd gone through in recent days. He'd completely disregarded her emotional state at his own peril and now he was paying the price for that lapse of good sense.

What did you even do with a woman so distraught? It was beyond his experience.

So he let her cry. Let her wash it all from deep inside. He held her, for how long he had no idea. Murmured to her as if to a child. Stroked her head, letting her silken hair slide through his fingers. Held her until her body stilled and her sobs subsided into nothing more than shaky, watery little sighs.

Sliding one arm under her legs, the other behind her back, he rose to his feet, lifting her as he stood. Her head lay pillowed against his shoulder, one slender arm hooked loosely around his neck as if she'd exhausted herself.

Across the room he carried her, depositing her gently on the big bed before lying down next to her, her back snug up against his chest.

She fit the curve of him like the wooden carving he'd seen in the markets of Inverness. It had appeared at first glance to be a smoothly honed statue carved from a single piece of wood, until the seller had shown him how the whole split apart into two perfectly fitted halves.

Within minutes her breathing deepened and slowed as sleep took her.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, marveling at the delicate curve of her cheek. Physical desire coursed through him, but stronger still was his overwhelming need to protect her.

She held the answer he'd sought for so long. The means to the healing he needed. He would know her secrets and they would make him a whole man. First thing tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, he would do everything in his power to spare her another breakdown like tonight's. From devising whatever story would satisfy Sallie and her nattering mother-in-law to preventing Moreland from discovering her true identity, he would do it all.

In short, he'd do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

He tightened his arm around her and she snuggled against him, her silken hair catching against his roughened cheek.

Of course he felt protective. She was the means to his salvation. It only made sense when he thought on it. The Fae had stolen his future from him, so it was only right that it should be a Fae who gave that future back

The Fae in his arms.

THIRTEEN

As if she would never experience a peaceful sleep again, Leah awoke with a start, disoriented and frightened. She lay in a strange room, in a strange bed, enfolded in the arms of a strange man.

No, not a strange man. Drew held her, his slow, steady breaths puffing over her cheek as he held her close. Relief drove out the panic that had at first threatened to crush her.

Relief that was, in and of itself, strange beyond her ability to comprehend. Never, never in a million years, would she have expected to react to any man like this.

After the trauma she'd endured at the hands of the Nuadian Fae twelve years ago, she'd decided celibacy was her only option. First, the very thought of a man touching her had made her physically ill. Second, even if she could have stomached their touch, the ones she'd met in this century viewed women as little more than brood cows, vessels to bear their children.

Considering that had been the Nuadian Fae's plan for her, to use her to provide them with a stable of gifted half-Fae children, she'd long since determined that celibacy would work especially well for her because she never wanted to have children. She wouldn't be used by Fae or Mortal as nothing more than a baby-maker. Not ever.

In spite of all her determination, all her big talk about avoiding men, here she was, somewhere after sunrise, cuddled up against a strong male chest as if she belonged here.

And that was perhaps the strangest piece of all. She felt exactly as if she did belong here. Right here, with Drew's warm body curved around hers, one large arm covering her protectively as if he needed her close by.

Oh, Lord. Pretending to be this man's wife had apparently gone straight to her head. Her imagination really was getting the best of her.

And so what if it was? It felt wonderful, no matter that it was all a fantasy. After everything she'd been through the past few days, who deserved a few moments of unfettered fantasy more than she did?

No one.

Drew was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous man she'd ever met in either century. He was kind, considerate, and brave. Almost perfect, in fact.

She turned her nose into the arm he wrapped around her and breathed in deeply. A faint scent of lemon and mint clung to his skin and his clothing. Just as she'd imagined. He even smelled good.

With a sigh of contentment, she relaxed back against him, luxuriating in his embrace as she let her imagination run free.

It took a moment for her to realize the finger stroking down the side of her cheek, gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear, was actually real and not part of the fantasy she'd allowed herself to drift into.

"Are you feeling more yerself this morning?"

His voice rumbled against her back, sending a shiver down to her toes.

That his first waking thought was concern for her set her heart beating faster until she realized she still lay in his arms, that he was gently tracing her hairline with one finger.

What he must think of her! The heat of embarrassment flowed out from her chest, flooding up to her neck and face. Should she move away or simply answer as if awakening in a man's arms was completely normal?

"I'm fine. I guess I just needed a good rest."

And maybe a brain adjustment. Something that would prevent her from getting herself into such an inappropriate situation again.

"Good." His breath feathered over her ear before he pulled away to sit on the far edge of the bed. "Then you'll have no problem now telling me what you did to heal my arm."

Heal his arm? Her mind floundered to play catchup. What happened to the Drew who'd held her only moments before? That Drew was worried about her, not about what had happened between them back at the loch.

She pushed herself up, kicking her feet free from the shift that had tangled around her feet while she slept. "There's nothing to tell." Rising from the bed, she brushed at the impossible wrinkles in her clothing, keeping her back to Drew.

"I already ken what you are. I just want to understand how you did it." His voice, so low and quiet, rumbled around her as if she still touched him.

It was the second time he'd said that to her in as many days. The last time she'd thought he was talking about her being the woman Moreland hunted, but she'd been wrong.

With a sinking stomach, she turned to meet his gaze head-on. "And just what is it you think you know about me?"

"Yer Faerie," he said, rising to his feet. "And you've the gift of healing. A gift I fully intend to have you make use of to heal my injuries."

"Faerie?" She felt as if she'd been slapped in the face. "I'm no such thing. And you're crazy if you think for one minute there's anything I can do to heal you or anyone else."

She wasn't one of those horrible creatures. Her father might have been Fae, but she refused to be one. She'd renounced all that too long ago to pick up that burden again.

His expression changed then, his eyes going distant and hard. Without another word, he rose to his feet and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" How stupid had she been to yell at him? There was nothing stopping him from marching directly down the hall to Moreland's room and telling him the woman he hunted was right here.

"If yer no even going to make at attempt at honesty we've nothing further to discuss." He spoke with his back to her. "I'll send one of the maids up with fresh clothing and a bath."

Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

Damn him! Who did he think he was? How dare he be angry with her? It was him doing the accusing, trying to make her admit to being some disgusting, vile creature. She was the one who deserved to make an angry exit from the room.

One little kiss and she'd ruined years of careful living. She'd been so wrong about him. So foolish in letting herself get carried away with what a wonder he was. He wasn't kind or considerate or any of those things. He only wanted to use her, just like everyone else.

"Well, that's not happening, bud!" she fumed. "No body's using this girl."

If he thought she was going to admit to being some thing she hated as much as she hated Faeries, he had another think coming. Just because her father had been a Faerie didn't mean for one second that made her one She refused to let it be so.

And Drew MacAlister was an arrogant fool for trying to force her to admit otherwise.

What a fool he was.

Drew stormed down the hallway, doing his best to bring his anger and disappointment under control. His leg hurt like hell and the woman who had the power to change that couldn't tell the truth for lying to him.

What had he expected? That simply because he'd saved her life, kept her from the men who hunted her, brought her into the home of his family, somehow those actions would convince her to share with him the power she held?

Well, if he had, he'd been seriously mistaken. She chose to repay his actions with lies.

But lies or no, he would be healed. He'd simply have to come up with a way to convince her to help him as he'd helped her. For that reason—and that reason alone!—he determined to stay with her as long as it took.

It certainly wasn't as if he had any interest in the woman other than her ability to heal his body. He didn't. Not the slightest bit of interest.

A laugh of derision bubbled up from deep inside, all but choking him.

It was all good and well for him to rationalize his need to keep her close, telling himself that his attraction to her meant nothing. All good and well, indeed.

Even though he had lain there half the night, sick with wanting her, trying to convince himself he felt nothing for her.

"No a Faerie, my arse," he grumbled, making his way down the narrow stairs.

Maybe it was those Fae powers that drew him to her. That made him want to possess her. That made him feel so helpless when she stared at him with those big brown eyes, so unable to stand there and demand the answers he needed.

"Fool!" he muttered.

Stepping off the bottom stair, he came close to running right into his sister.

"Now there's a face to frighten small children. Good thing mine aren't about at the moment." Sallie laughed, fixing her hands on her hips in that bossy way of hers. "What could possibly have you in such a foul mood on a lovely day like this? You slept the morning away as if you were a fine gentleman. And you with yer beautiful new bride upstairs at that."

"Leah isn't. . ." He was so close to confiding in his sister he could taste it, but he stopped himself, recognizing as he did that Moreland stood just inside the doorway to the great hall.

Sneaky bastard was listening in on them, no doubt. He might be angry with Leah, but he wouldn't let his anger endanger his family. Or Leah.

With a deep breath, he tried again. "Leah is exhausted from our days on the road. Could you have a bath sent up to our room for her?" Reaching out, he captured his sister's arm, pulling her close as he lowered his voice. "And a change of clothing. She looks to be about yer size."

Sallie nodded slowly, her eyes panning over to the doorway where Moreland had stood only moments before.

Not for the first time he congratulated himself on having such an intelligent sibling.

"I'll see to it. And you? Where will you be?"

"The lists," he growled, turning and heading for the door.

He needed the workout more than ever. A morning spent crossing swords with a skilled opponent, driving his mind and body to the point of exhaustion, that perhaps would serve to drive back the demons which threatened to overwhelm him.

The physical pain left by days on horseback, the anger that threatened to loosen his tongue, the unreasonable need he had for the woman in his bed—they were demons all.

And they were growing.

FOURTEEN

Surely it only felt as if every eye in the room were on her as she entered.

Leah made her way down the aisle between the tables in the great hall, eyes fixed on her feet, her hand on Drew's arm. Silly how that physical contact made her feel as if she could handle this. Especially silly since he was barely speaking to her.

Which was fine. Absolutely fine. She didn't care one little bit. After all, she wasn't speaking to him either. Him and his stupid Faerie accusations.

Drew shifted his hand to her shoulder as he held out the seat for her. She had just begun to relax when she made the mistake of glancing up at him.

His eyes were a soft, serious brown that never failed to make her think of a cup of hot chocolate. At this moment, they beckoned to her in a way she couldn't understand, as if inviting her to lose her very soul in their swirling depths.