The Highlander's Conquest (12 page)

Her lips parted slightly. There was more to tell. She wanted to hear, even if meant she had to take care of the barbarian. Hope renewed her energy somewhat and she was able to put one foot in front of the other.

When the
y
entered the inn,
Mistress Kerr
gasped and called out for water and linens.

“Whisky,
Mistress Kerr
. I’ll need more than a wee dram of it.”

The woman nodded and shouted for whisky. Liam took Blane’s arm over his shoulder and helped him up the stairs to the bedroom that had been Aliah’s.
Blane’s grunts of pain reached her ears, increasing her guilt at having hurt someone who meant to protect her.

The problem was, she wasn’t sure who he was protecting her from. And shouldn’t she protect herself from him?

Once inside the room, Blane laid down on the bed, his face pinched with pain
and turning ashen in color. Hi
s eyes met hers,
but surprisingly
they did not hold any of the hatred she expected to see.

Mistress Kerr
hurried into the room with a jug of whisky and passed it to Blane, eying Aliah with question.

“What happened to Sir Blane?” she asked.

Aliah swallowed, not prepared to tell the woman who’d been so kind to her that she’d been the one to shoot him.

“An accident,” Blane answered, his voice laced with agony.

He took a large swallow of whisky and then dumped a healthy portion on his leg
. With a growl, he flung
the bottle down on the bed and grabb
ed
at his
thigh
.
Mistress Kerr
grasped the bottle before it spilled. Aliah couldn’t take her eyes from the wound, the protruding arrow.
Ghastly.
Her stomach
roiled
, and she felt very near
to
passing out.

“Take it out,” he ground out.

“I…I don’t know how,” she managed.

“I’ll do it,” Liam said, shouldering his way to the bed.

Aliah shouldn’t have been shocked by the burr of
Liam’s
Scottish accent, but she was. Now everything made sense—the reason his men did not speak. They couldn’t for fear of their accents being revealed, but what of Blane? He perfected the most
flawless
English tongue, and yet his Scots brogue was thick and she found…she liked it.

Liam tied a thick strip of linen around Blane’s thigh
,
then took hold of the arrow shaft.
Shaking her head, she turned away as Liam methodically took the arrow from Blane’s leg.
Blane
shouted, cursed, and growled.
Mistress Kerr
thrust the whisky bottle at him which he greedily slurped before dumping more onto his wound.

“’Tis out. Ye can sew him up,” Liam said to
Aliah
.

Aliah nodded, then looked down at her shaking hands. She had to steady them. This was her fault. She’d shot him, and thank goodness she’d aimed for his thigh, else he could be dead by now
or worse—maimed for life
.
Just the thought of nearly killing
him
made her head spin.
An
outlaw in the forest had been one thing. He’d been intent on killing the lot of them. But Blane was different. She could see that now, even if she hadn’t understood it when she’d climbed from the window and dropped to the ground. Even if she didn’t see it when he’d smiled at her from the corner of the inn and clapped at her courage to escape. He’d only been amused
,
not intent on
brutalizing
her for trying to escape.
Impetuousness had once again marked Aliah.

Mistress Kerr
handed her a long needle and horsehair thread. She nodded encouragingly, and Aliah somehow found the will to still her hands and settle her stomach. Sitting on the bed beside Blane, she threaded the needle, tying off the end.
His pain-filled eyes followed her movements.
She placed her hand on his thigh, acutely aware of its corded muscle and warmth, then she stuck the needle into the edge of his torn
flesh
, ignoring the ooze of blood on her fingers.
Thankfully,
Mistress Kerr
wiped away the blood with a piece of linen
. Concentrating on her task and not on his moans and groans helped to keep her from completely losing
her mind and the contents of her stomach
.

As much as she abhorred the task, part of her felt better for having taken care of him, even if she was the one
who
harmed him in the first place.

When she completed sewing up the wound
,
she cleaned off the blood on his thigh, then wrapped another
piece of
clean linen around as a bandage.

“Leave us
.
” Blane
’s
voice
was
noticeably less filled with pain and more filled with drink
. His eyes met hers
.
“Ye stay.”

Aliah glanced up to see the room empty.
T
hey were alone. Noticing she was still sitting next to him, she quickly hopped up from his bed.

“Sit back down, lass.” His voice was low, drawing her in.

She obeyed, feeling the warmth of his thigh pressed to hers.

“Ye will know the truth of it.”

Aliah nodded. She did want to know.

“I am brother to Laird Sutherland—your sister’s husband. As I know it, when she arrived in Scotland to marry her intended a battle broke out. She fought valia
ntly, but ’twas not enough. The
heathens were upon her.”

Aliah shuddered to imagine what he was telling her.
Arbella struggling for her life amongst a bunch of savages… ’Twas a nightmare come to life.

“Magnus, my brother, saw her. He thought of nothing save her safety, and so he took her away from the battle. Away from the danger.”

A savior.

“But then she was attacked by one of Magnus’ own men. He determined the only way to truly keep her safe was to
marry her. Your sister agreed to the marriage for her safety. At first they thought to be married in name only, but…”

Aliah could hear no more. She held up her hand. Emotion overwhelmed her. She’d shot this man. This man who’d kept her out of danger thus far and sought only to bring her to her sister.

“How is your leg?” she asked, trying valiantly to change the subject.

“’Tis fine, now let me finish.”

She shook her head. “Not now.”

“Aliah, I must.
’Tis imperative ye
believe I was not sent to harm ye.” His eyes, bloodshot from the whisky
and pain
, pleaded with her.

“I believe you.”

Chapter
Twelve

S
hock radiated through Aliah. Had she really just uttered those words?

But what was more shocking was that she meant them. She believed him. He was not sent to harm her. Although, she wasn’t certain she could believe her sister had willingly married a
Scot.
That was so unlike Arbella as to be
almost
blasphemous. Somehow Blane was connected to her sister and her father—
how
was the question she’d
get an answer to
when she came face to face with them.

Arbella had lamented of marriage. Their father had nearly dragged her kicking and screaming from the house to marry an Englishman
housed at Stirling
. The idea of living in Scotland scared the daylights
out of
her sister. Marrying a Scot and being doomed to a lifetime of Scottish living was the very last thing her sister would do. Unless coerced.

Aliah couldn’t let that bother her now. She had to stay alert. Stay alive. When she met up with her sister in Scotland she would make sure Arbella was safe and offer  her a chance
to go home with her to England.
As to her father, she prayed he healed from whatever injuries he’d suffered soon so they could make their escape before winter.

Blane’s eyes slowly slipped closed, his thick lashes fanning over h
is
chiseled cheeks. ’Twas a sin for a man to have lashes so thick.
His breathing deepened, and she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. A soft puff of breath escaped his lips as he fell deeper into sleep induced both by pain and whisky. A pang of guilt rippled through her at having been the cause, especially when he’d only ever been kind to her. Too kind if she thought of his kisses.

Aliah’s gaze traveled over his full lips. Perfect for kissing. Without thinking
, she traced he
r fingers
along the
outline of his mouth. Blane’s tongue darted out—by instinct she was sure—but she yanked her arm back before he could touch her flesh. ’Twas as if her appendages had minds of their own
, and a
s though in sleep he meant to seduce her.

Chewing on her lower lip, she continued to absently stare at him, wondering what would happen when he woke. She prayed he wouldn’t catch a fever from his injury. They were meant to leave in the morning. Their journey would now most likely be postponed
by
several days
. All because of her.

Arbella could be in danger and Aliah played with her own sister’s safety.

Doing the only thing she knew how, Aliah knelt on the floor beside the bed
. H
er hands coming together in prayer, she stared up at the ceiling, then closed her eyes.

“Dear Father, I pray to thee that you will see this man healed. That our journey will not be too long extended. That we make it safely to the Highlands and my sister and father. That you shall guide me, for I fear I know not the way. My actions have caused…” She swallowed, wanting to give excuses for the way she’d reacted but knowing God would already know. The excuses were for herself. To make herself feel better. But how often had her impulsive actions resulted
in someone getting hurt. Was coming into this world before her mother was ready, causing her own mother’s death
,
the start of her disastrous reputation for impulsivity?
“So much pain,” she ended in a whisper.

Opening her eyes, she glared at the bandage
,
tinged
with a small
stain
of red
,
that covered Blane’s wound. Tears stung her eyes and she swiped angrily at the large drops gathering in the corners. Crying would solve nothing. She straightened her shoulders, preparing to harden her heart and to stand when Blane’s fingers skimmed her cheek.

She jerked her gaze toward him, his bleary eyes connecting with hers.

“Do ye pray for me, lass?”

’Twas hard not to lean into the subtle stroke of his fingers, to let him comfort her. Aliah opened her mouth to answer, but his eyes slipped closed again. He wasn’t even awake.

“Aye,” she answered anyway, knowing he
w
ouldn’t
remember.

“So sweet,” he murmured, a slight smile touching his lips. His hand fell from her face, landing with a plop by his side.

Where his hand had last touched her was cold. She missed the feel of his fingers tracing over her jaw and cheekbone. With a sigh of longing
,
she stood from the bed, gazing down at his prone figure. In sleep, he seemed so peaceful. Not at all the robust, confident man he was when awake. On impulse she bent down and brushed her lips over his. But as she attempted to lift up, his hands skimmed through her hair, keeping her lips locked on his.

Blane’s tongue swiped over her lips then slipped between them to stroke lazily over her own. A shudder of need passed through her, and she sank against him, letting herself have this one last kiss. He tasted of whisky and his flesh smelled clean as though he’d
also
had a bath. The stubble had been shaved from his face and no longer scratched her sensitive skin. Aliah braced herself against his shoulders, feeling the
muscles flex and roll beneath her. The urge to climb into the bed beside him, to let the world melt away, was strong. Too overpowering.

Enough so that she fought to control her desire, and pushed away. The force of her movement had her stumbling backward and her booted heel caught on the rug.

“Oh!” she cried as she tripped. Her arms flailed to
and fro
in the air as she tried to catch her balance. She took a number of staggered steps backward on her heels, until finally her rear met with the table
. Clutching
the surface
, she stared wide-eyed at Blane to assess his reaction.

The frustrating man appeared to doze once more. Aliah didn’t know whether to be grateful or to shake her fist in the air and shout for him to wake up. She supposed it was a blessing in disguise, for her cheeks already felt aflame at having kissed him in his state and
from
fall
ing when
trying to get away.

Aliah swallowed several times, trying to get around the lump in her throat so she could breathe normally. She smoothed her skirts, stood up straight and decided it was best for her to get some fresh air. Silently she left the room and descended the stairs into the main room of the inn. A few of Blane’s men sat around a table drinking ale and eating stew. None of them appeared to have noticed her, and she was glad. She was too embarrassed to greet them or to have them engage her in conversation.

When she reached for the handle
of the front door
,
Mistress Kerr
’s voice sounded behind her.

“Where are ye going, my lady? Not that ye have to tell me, I’m just curious ’tis all.”

Aliah turned around to see the woman looking nonchalant, but her acting skills weren’t polished enough for Aliah not to see that she’d been asked to keep an eye on her.

“I need some air.”

“Would ye like some company?”

“Nay.”

“If ’tis all the same to ye, I’d like some air as well. I’ll walk behind ye if
ye’ve
a mind not to indulge an older woman.”

Aliah abhorred when Glenda made similar remarks. They were meant for her to acquiesce and she always felt obligated. She supposed she should be grateful that the woman even asked. She could have just trailed her like a spy, but was instead offering companionship.

Nodding, Aliah opened the door. “Come then.”

“’Tis awfully nice for ye to allow me on a walk with ye, my la
dy. I’ve never met a real lady a
fore. Especially one who knew how to use arrows.”

There it
was. The
taunt
. The
barb
. As if Aliah needed any more reminders of her blunder.
She ignored it. The woman was only trying to be friendly, and probably didn’t realize how her words affected Aliah.

“I’m happy to make your acquaintance,
Mistress Kerr
. You’ve a lovely inn.”

“Thank ye.”

Several children ran around once more and the
women
had to dodge their path.

“Are they your children?” Aliah asked.

“Aye, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Mistress Kerr
nodded, a shadow coming over her eyes. “
Four
are my sister
’
s. She passed some time ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Aliah felt genuine sadness for the woman at having lost a sister. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose Arbella. Heartbroken was the only thing
she
was sure
to
feel.

“’Tis the way of things. God felt good to call her up to Heaven. But in doing so, he gave us a special gift.”
Mistress Kerr
nodded to the youngest child running around. A girl with a mop of golden curls who couldn’t be more than three or four summers.

“Your sister died in childbirth.”

“Aye. We named Sarah after her mother.”

A pang of sorrow clenched at Aliah’s heart. Without knowing little Sarah
,
she felt a kinship to her. “My mother passed the same way,” she muttered, not realizing she’d said the words aloud until
Mistress Kerr
responded.

“Then we should be so lucky
God
bestowed an angel upon us.”

Aliah’s gaze met
Mistress Kerr
’s. The older woman’s brown eyes held warmth. “Thank you.”

“For what, my lady?”

“Trying to make me feel as though I did not do something wrong.”

“Ye did
na
.”

Aliah gave her a weary smile. “I fear that I have. Many times.”

“No one is perfect, my lady. We can only work with what we have, and try to do our best.”

Aliah laughed. “Aye. I do.”

“Then why be so hard on yourself? Ye seem like a good lass to me.
Ye
even have a bit of courage most of us
dinna
.”

Aliah bent to pick up a small stone upon the ground. A habit she’d formed years ago, if she ever spotted a stone that could be carved into an arrow, she collected it.

“
Mistress Kerr
, I’m afraid that courage was not what hastened me to fire my arrow upon Sir Blane.”

The innkeeper smiled. “Aye. But ’twas courage that had ye coming back inside to sew him up.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“He already has.”

“How do you know?” She rubbed her thumb over the stone, gathering comfort from its solid mass.

“
Because if he
hadna
, h
e
wouldna
let ye sew him up. Men are stubborn as mules, my lady. I’ve known Sir Blane for a few years now. He strikes me as a man with a clever head on
his shoulders. I dinna think he would allow ye into the room if he didna forgive ye, or if he feared
ye’d
hurt him more.”

A slight weight was lifted from Aliah’s shoulders and she continued walking around the perimeter of the small courtyard. “That is good to hear.”

“Besides, I saw the way he looked at ye.”

Aliah’s eyes widened and she tucked the stone into the small pouch at her waist. “How did he look at me?”

“When ye first arrived, he looked at ye… I’d say besotted but I’m not sure Sir Blane would appreciate it. ’Twas the look of a man in lo—”