His Captive (8 page)
Authors: Diana J. Cosby
He groaned. Careful to not injure himself in his aroused state, he crouched at the water’s edge. He should have searched around and stolen another, more modest, change of clothes for her as well. Until he acquired a replacement, this garment would have to do.
Alexander focused on rinsing out her gown. Unbidden, images of her skin lathered with a slick layer of soap formed in his mind. Of the warm scent of her skin. Of how his fingers would skim across her slippery flesh, and her moan of pleasure as she begged him to make love to her.
He shook his head.
Get a hold on yourself, lad.
But with the randy thoughts pouring through his mind, he may as well have been wishing to find a fairy hill.
Get a hold on yourself, lad.
But with the randy thoughts pouring through his mind, he may as well have been wishing to find a fairy hill.
Disgusted at his lack of will when it came to her, he squeezed the water from her tattered gown. He rose to leave, but lost to temptation as he stole a quick peek at her through his lashes. What did she expect? He wasn’t a saint.
A groan of pure lust ripped through him.
Full breasts jutted proudly above the water as she stood lathering herself. The curve of her waist a fantasy in itself. And the downy softness of her auburn hair encasing her essence.
He turned away, desperately wanting a quick douse in the icy water to temper his own raging need.
“Alexander?”
Her soft voice slid through him like warm wine. “Aye?”
“I am ready to come out.”
“Then out with you.” He regretted his curt tone, but if she knew of his lusty thoughts or ungentlemanly act, she’d remain in the safety of the water. He strode away and hung her garments upon the branches of a nearby bush to dry.
Water splashed in his wake.
He would not envision her walking from the pool naked. Of the beads of water clinging to her body, and of how sweet they would taste as he licked each drop from her flesh.
“I need a blanket to cover me.”
“It is on my horse.” His body hummed with unspent desire as he headed toward his mount. Alexander drew a deep breath as he unlashed the blanket from the roll, visions of her naked burning through his body with aching efficiency. A sin he suffered greatly for.
With the wrap under his arm, Nichola watched as Alexander strode to the water’s edge. Thankfully, he kept his gaze averted. A hand’s length from the bush she had hidden in, he stopped.
“Put the blanket on the rock to your left,” Nichola said. A shudder rippled through her. The soap and cool water had helped ease the itching, but her body still burned as if on fire.
A wave of tiredness swept over her and she now understood his urging for her to hurry. She wove on her feet. All she wanted to do was rest.
“Nichola?”
“Please, just set it there.” The concern in Alexander’s voice threatened to break down her resistance. She wanted nothing more than to turn to him, to lean against his strength during her misery.
As much as she wanted his comfort, she was more afraid of what such an action would yield. Already she’d stepped beyond the bounds of viewing him as her enemy. Not that she’d forgotten he was her abductor, but their time together was unveiling a proud, honorable man. A man who inspired trust—something she could never give him.
Alexander kept his back to her as he set the blanket down. He walked away, leaving her alone.
On a sigh she reached out, took the blanket and draped it about her; the coarse wrap was rough upon her tender, itchy skin. Despite the heat coursing through her, her teeth chattered as she walked over the soft, leaf-strewn ground.
Curious as to the green leaves Alexander was mashing on a slab of stone, she moved closer. As she approached, she noticed that every so often he tipped the flattened rock to catch the juice in a small, hollowed piece of dry wood.
Nichola halted by his side. “What are you doing?”
“I am making you a poultice with plantain. The herb often grows alongside the stinging nettles. The juice will help calm the itching and burning of the nettles upon your skin.” He looked up and his cobalt eyes locked on hers; desire simmered in his gaze.
Heat stroked her body, but it had nothing to do with the offensive weed that’d left her body on fire.
He turned away and the magical spell was broken. Alexander continued to mash the leaves.
A sense that she’d narrowly escaped a disaster descended over her. She tugged the blanket closer. Or had she avoided anything? Hadn’t he been the one to turn away? She drew in a steadying breath, the need for calm far from achieved.
Exhaustion. That was why she was reacting so strongly to his presence. That had to be the reason for her emotional state. And prayed it was the truth.
Alexander added another mound of the wide plantain leaves to the mashed pile and ground them together. Again, he was careful to pour off the juice in the rough wooden container as he squeezed it out.
She huddled under the blanket, mesmerized by his meticulous attention to detail in this task. She’d believed him a man of action, a warrior impatient with life. This patience of his was unexpected, which disturbed her further. He wasn’t a simple man as were her brother or ex-fiancé, both with their focus on money and drink.
He tossed the rock with the mangled leaves aside. “It is ready.” He held up the rough wooden container with the extracted liquid.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice not as steady as she would have liked. She didn’t want to see him on this personal level, as a man who cared, a man who offered to help someone in need. Why couldn’t he just be a simple rogue whom once this ransom plot was over, she could forget?
Doubts of that happening grew.
He stood, slowly, his eyes darkening with intent. “Remove the blanket.”
Chapter Six
At Alexander’s advance, Nichola stepped back and tugged the blanket tighter. Wool scratched her inflamed skin.
His cobalt eyes darkened to an inky black. “It is foolish to disobey me, you will only cause yourself further suffering. The juice needs to be rubbed all over.”
“A task I am capable of doing,” she whispered. Already he’d aroused feelings no other man had ever inspired. For her own sanity, she needed him to keep his distance. “I will do it.”
“Not as efficiently as I.”
“But—”
He kept coming, closing a step for every one she retreated. His eyebrows wedged into a dark frown and the cleft in his chin deepened. He appeared every bit the warrior, until she caught the softness in his gaze.
No matter how admirable his actions were, she didn’t want to see his caring side. He was her enemy. “You can apply the salve where I cannot reach,” she finally agreed. A part of her dreaded such intimacy. Even nauseated, another part of her wondered how his hands would feel upon her skin. Mary’s will. Did she have no shame?
Alexander passed her the wooden container holding the freshly pressed liquid. “Go behind the boulder,” he said gently. “Do not tarry.”
She gave a ragged nod.
“If you try and run, I will catch you.”
A tremor shook her body. “As if naked and wrapped only in a blanket I would choose to flee?”
“I will not underestimate you again.”
She frowned at where he’d hung her tattered garments—in the opposite direction from the boulder.
Her knees trembled as Nichola headed toward cover. Shielded by the boulder, she released the blanket. She leaned against the moss covered rock and closed her eyes at the cool softness that offered blessed relief to her searing skin.
Her stomach roiled and she almost doubled over. She gave a soft groan as she sank to the ground.
“Do you need help?”
The concern in his voice tempted her to admit that she wasn’t sure if she could complete the simple task. “I am almost done,” she replied out of preservation.
Nichola scooped the salve into her palm. Sweat beaded her brow. Her vision blurred.
You can do it—or he will.
With trembling fingers, she applied the cool liquid over her body, except for her upper back. She reached over and managed to curl her fingers in the blanket. Her hand shook as she drew it around her body
Blackness threatened.
She clutched the wool wrap, crawled back up to her feet and braced herself against the boulder.
She could not pass out!
She could not pass out!
“Nichola?”
Bracing herself, she staggered forward. Halfway around the rock, Alexander caught her. His gaze raked the length of her. Worry furrowed deep lines in his brow.
“By God’s eyes!” He scooped her into his arms and strode toward the small encampment at a dizzying speed.
“Put me down.”
“Why did you not ask for help?” The softness of his tone did little to diminish the censure in his voice.
“I am naked,” she mumbled, the effort to talk a feat unto itself. Blackness encroached around the corners of her vision.
He gave a disgusted snort. “As if I have not seen a woman in all of her splendor.” He sat on a stump with her sheltered in his arms. “Did you apply the salve?”
“Yes, except fo—for my back.”
“I will see to that then.” Alexander carefully angled her against his chest. With a gentle hand, he loosened the blanket and began spreading the ointment.
A sigh fell from her lips at the cool balm against the burning of her skin, but the wool blanket draped around the rest of her body offered its own brand of torture. Damning the consequences and out of sheer desperation, she caught the edge of the blanket and tugged down.
“What is wrong?”
“The blanket. Hu—Hurts.”
“I should have thought to give you my tunic.”
His sincerity touched her. As he gently removed the blanket, she heard his sharp intake of breath before looking away. She tried to be embarrassed by her nakedness as she lay against him, but with her head pounding and her body caught between freezing and a raging inferno, she couldn’t muster the energy to mount a protest.
Another wave of nausea hit. The forest around her blurred in a painful haze. “Please, make the burning stop.”
At the pain in Nichola’s voice, Alexander wished this day over. Or that he could bear her pain. He could do neither. But he would make her as comfortable as possible.
That, he could give her.
He smoothed back a wisp of hair that had fallen across her face. “It will take time for the effects of the nettles venom to fade.” With her still in his arms, he rose. He removed his boots.
“What are you doing?” she asked on a groan.
“Your body is too warm. The cold water will bring you relief.” He scooped up the soap and waded into the icy water, ignoring the throbbing in the back of his skull from her earlier blow.”
“Your clothes—”
“Will dry.” She stared at him, helpless, needy, but beneath, he saw the trust. Moved she would choose to believe in him, ashamed to find her belief warming his heart, he grimaced. Her offering him her trust would only complicate things further. He trudged deeper into the mountain-fed stream.
“But—”
He shook his head. “I am going to wash you again. It will ease the pain. Once your body has cooled and you are dry, I will reapply more balm. For now, it is more important to bring your fever down.”
Gratitude flashed in the gray eyes that stared up at him. Then she laid her head against his chest, her teeth chattering; the skin pressed against him burning hot.
When the water reached his waist, he carefully set her down before him. Pain glazed her eyes as she stared blankly at him, her body continuing to shake.
Blast it. If he had paid attention to her at the stream while filling up his water pouch, she never would have had the chance to clout him, much less escape. But she had.
Despite her foolishness, she did not deserve this punishment. The nettles venom wasn’t lethal, but would leave her very ill for the next day.
Alexander rolled the soap in his palms until it foamed. Aye, he couldn’t help but appreciate her lush curves as he lathered her body; how her nipples hardened to taut peaks against the cold water, but now she needed his aid, not randy thoughts slipping through in his mind.
But they did, images of her slick body wedged against his, of his mouth skimming over her smooth skin, her heat wrapping around him as he lay her down upon the soft moss and claimed her as his own. Cursing silently, he gazed off into the distance, forcefully suppressing his lust and busying himself with his task.
After he’d cleansed her entire body, he moved Nichola to where water cascaded from the cliffs into an almost black pool. When the depth of the water reached his shoulders, he dipped them both within the freezing water.
As they stood there, his own body began to shiver and slowly numb. He ignored the discomfort. The icy water would lower her fever and offer her another layer of relief.
She closed her eyes and curled tighter against his chest.
Her simple act swept him away as surely as the soap swirling downstream. He stared down at her slender body leaning into him for warmth and her looking fragile. Protectiveness surged through him, a base need to protect her storming his senses as if a well-planned siege. The intensity caught him off guard. He’d made love with women before, but never had anyone touched him as Nichola had.
Trusting eyes, bright with fever, stared up at him.
He wanted to hold her to him, whisper assurances he would protect her always. Struggling to accept the impact of what she made him feel, he continued to hold her.
After awhile, he stroked his fingers across her brow, which was cooler to the touch. Satisfied the water had done its work, he carried her ashore and set her upon a flattened rock. He lay a dry tunic over her.
“Stay still.” He kept quiet, conversation would drain her further. Though her fever had left, without the cooling effects of the water, it would return. And when it did, he prayed she didn’t fall into a delirium.
But as she watched him, dullness shading the normal vibrancy of her eyes, and he worried it was already too late for his prayers to be answered.
Alexander retrieved the remainder of the plantain salve he’d culled and reapplied the ointment. Then he selected the softest tunic he’d packed and drew the garment over her head. On her slender frame, it fell below her knees.
His heart tightened. She appeared as if she were a lost pixie. “Rest. I will fix you a drink that will aid you to sleep.”
She managed a slight nod.
Disturbed by her deteriorating condition, he busied himself to fill his mind with thoughts other than her. He built a small fire and retrieved a small pot he carried in his pack. After picking enough chamomile leaves from a nearby plant to brew a cup, he steeped the fragrant leaves within the boiling water. All through the task, he found himself glancing toward Nichola.
As the steeped herbs cooled, he quickly changed from his sodden clothes. Finished, he carried over the steaming brew and knelt before her. Her teeth chattered even as fever flushed her cheeks and the rash on her exposed skin had spread. The poor lass, she looked hopelessly miserable.
Alexander held the warm tea up to her lips. “Drink it slowly.”
She wavered before him.
He caught her shoulder and steadied her.
“I—I just want to sleep.” Her voice slurred.
“You will. This will help.”
At last she finished the tea. He set the cup down and drew her against him.
Her trembles increased.
Unable to do more, Alexander murmured soothing words in Gaelic he remembered his mother had offered to him while he was ill as a lad.
The next few hours passed in a blur. At times she rambled, at others she thrashed around in his arms. Finally, as the sun faded from the sky and blackness engulfed the earth, Nichola fell into an exhausted sleep.
Careful not to wake her, he placed her on another blanket he had spread out. In the moonlight she appeared so fragile. As if she’d break at the slightest touch.
He pressed a kiss upon her brow. “Sleep well.”
Unsettled to find kissing her such a natural thing to do, he walked to the bank of the waterfall. Moon-beams wove through the rush of water, flickering and teasing the erratic swirls as if fairies skimmed over the surface in a mischievous dance.
But the lightness he yearned to feel never came.
Guilt edged through him. ’Twas wrong to be caring for the lass. To do so went against everything he stood for. Against his vow to avenge his father’s death sworn upon his grave.
Sorrow clung to him like the drops of moisture to the low-hanging leaves as he returned to where she slept. A pace away he halted.
He stared down at her as if seeing her for the first time, wanting her more with his every breath. How could an innocent like Nichola have made him want her so much?
Crickets started to sing, their cadence filled with a sad lilt. Against his better judgment, he lay down and drew her into the curve of his arms. For this one last night, to offer her succor, he would hold her.
“Alexander.”
At the sound of a voice, Alexander instantly came awake. Without lifting his head, he slitted his eyes and scoured the forest for danger, his hand slipping his dagger free from its sheath.
The first shafts of sunlight slipped through the forest casting inky shadows where his enemy could hide.
He watched.
Waited.
And saw naught but the dew upon the grass and the first golden rays of sunlight shimmering through the leaves. The chirp of the morning birds backed by the steady churn of the water further aided his belief they were alone. And safe.
“What is out there?”
At Nichola’s whispered question, his body instantly hardened. He grimaced and he secured his dagger. She lay at his side watching him. Her clear eyes assured him she had recovered from her bout with the stinging nettles. A quick check of her body revealed that only a hint of a rash remained. Pink tinged her cheeks at his overt perusal.
He touched his fingers upon her brow, trying to ignore the softness of her skin. He withdrew his hand. “You body is cool.”
She looked up at him, confusion shining in her eyes. “I feel better.”
The delectable heat of her body pressed to his side clouded his thoughts. He shifted away from her. “I am thankful. You were very ill.”
She searched his face. He saw the desire she was struggling to define, a yearning he should ignore. Needing to touch her again, he brushed several strands of hair from her cheek and swept them behind her ear, savoring the satin warmth of her skin.
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