Chapter Fifteen

Will’s strength returned little by little. Each day he could feel the difference. His side ached a little less. His limbs ceased their trembling every time he moved. His arm was almost back to new. It was the other wound that still gave him trouble. It was healing as well as he could have hoped. There was no sign of infection and, aside from the initial fever the first few days, he’d been mostly lucid. Except he slept more than a newborn babe and felt about as weak.

A circumstance made all the more frustrating because of the beautiful woman who slept by his side every night.

She touched him as little as possible during the day. Something he both hated and appreciated. The heat burning between them grew more unbearable, and there was little he could, or should, do about it. Even if his physical condition was much improved. They both knew that nothing could come of furthering their connection but heartache. He belonged at Kirkenroch, with John. And she…she belonged back in England. Back in the grand houses where she’d grown up, where she’d be safe from marauding villains and surly Highlanders. Where she could go back to caring for dresses and jewelry instead of bleeding wounds and dying men.

During the day, he reminded himself of all that. Reminded himself that they didn’t belong together. That she had a home far from there where she longed to be. That they had responsibilities that pulled them in different directions. Not to mention the sore point she’d never forgive him for. He’d stolen her. Put her in danger. Dragged her from one end of England to the far end of Scotland and had made her life miserable every step of the way.

Even if that weren’t the case, he’d proven pretty conclusively that everything he touched, he destroyed. The decisions he made on instinct, like taking her, had turned out disastrously. The decisions he agonized over, thinking over every aspect, like sending Kirkenroch’s men to Glenlyon—those turned out even worse. Even if he thought for a split second he and Rose might have something between them, his decisions were the last anyone should follow. He had no right to think of anything but returning Rose to her home.

He had no right to long for anything else. To count the hours until night fell. Because at night…at night, after she’d toiled the day away, she slipped down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand covering his heart. Perhaps she felt he was too wounded, and she was too tired for there to be any danger of anything more than sleep. Or perhaps after an entire day of staying away, it was too much to do so once the sun set. He didn’t care. He knew only that he lived for the moment when she secured the door with the tree branch she’d hauled inside, banked the fire for the night, and wordlessly lay down beside him.

Rose continued to amaze him. Somehow, she’d managed to not only save his life, but Rob’s as well. The dainty lady’s maid who he’d thought was too soft to do more than fold her mistress’s silk stockings was now trapping and skinning game, gutting fish, and sewing up gaping wounds like she’d been born to it. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d be dead.

If he were honest, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about her saving his life. He’d meant to die. A just punishment in his mind for the harm he’d brought to those he loved. He’d brought the devil to their very door. A solitary death in the woods was nothing more than justice.

But his harpy-tongued guardian angel had swooped in and saved his life, and he’d been too far gone to stop her. And then, for good measure, she’d saved Rob’s as well. Despite knowing next to nothing about surviving in the rough, she’d kept them breathing. More than that. She’d made them alive and whole again.

Rob watched her with a sort of worshipful expression that made Will want to throttle the boy within an inch of his life. An overreaction, to be sure. But one he couldn’t help. Though he understood the emotion. She was their savior.

By the third week, Rob was able to walk without the aid of his crutch. Mostly. He still used it from time to time, but he didn’t totally rely upon it to get around. After a few days of ambling around the cottage without tiring, he seemed to have come to a decision.

“I think I should leave in the morning,” he said. “Ye’re much better, Will. But ye still willna be able to travel on foot for a week at least yet. Maybe more. But if I make it to Kirkenroch, I can bring back horses.”

“But your leg,” Rose protested. Will watched her, trying to ascertain if she protested out of a sense of concern for his leg. Or something else. But her expression betrayed nothing but worry that he’d reinjure himself.

“It’s much better,” Rob pointed out. “Not totally healed yet, no. But I can walk well enough. It might take me a day to reach the manor. Maybe even two. But even with that I’d be able to return with help to get ye home much sooner than if ye waited until ye were fully healed.”

Will nodded. It was a good plan, but part of him would be sad to leave the little cocoon they’d made for themselves. He would not be sorry to see Rob go, however. The lad had been a tremendous help. But with Rob gone, there would be only he and Rose, alone in the cottage. It would be nice to finally have some privacy for when they were awkwardly avoiding each other.

Rose still frowned and looked at Will. “Are we sure it’s safe?”

He nodded. “Aye. Once Ramsay was felled, there would be no reason for his men to stay and risk their necks. The men of Kirkenroch and Glenlyon would have been sent to search the woods and rout any who remained.”

“If that is true, why did they not find us?”

Will waved that off. “As I’ve told ye before, I’ve been coming to this place since I was a wee lad. If ye dinna ken what ye’re looking for, ye’d pass right by without the faintest idea what was here.”

“Yes, but…” Rose frowned and shook her head. “Never mind. If you feel like you can make such a journey…” Her gaze flicked to Will and then back. “We would be very grateful.”

“I’m much stronger, miss,” Rob assured her. “Ye healed me well.”

Rose’s cheeks blushed a faint pink, and Will frowned. Then berated himself for it. He couldn’t fault the lad for mooning over Rose. She was quite the woman.

The next morning, they helped Rob prepare for his journey. Rose frowned as she handed him the bag she’d packed full of food.

“Will it be enough do you think?” she asked.

“Aye,” Will said. “It’s about twenty miles to Kirkenroch. Were he fully healed, he could make that distance by nightfall. As it is, he should still make it by tomorrow. The day after at the latest.” He frowned a little, watching while Rob filled his waterskin at the stream that ran by the cottage. “As long as he doesna push himself too hard and takes care to rest that leg, he should reach the manor without too much trouble. Ye’ve packed him enough food to last a week at least.”

Rose snorted softly. “His strength hasn’t fully returned yet. It took me weeks to get him back on his feet. I don’t want him starving to death so close to home.”

Will rested his hand on the back of her neck, and she stiffened at first, but relaxed as he softly massaged her muscles. Rob turned back to them, waterskins full. Will kept his arm about Rose’s shoulders until she stepped forward to hand Rob his stick.

“I know you don’t think you need it, but you might be grateful for it later in the day.”

Rob looked like he wanted to argue but took it from her anyway.

“Be sure to take lots of rests. Don’t push yourself,” she said. “We’ve lasted here this long, we’ll be fine a few more days. Stay in the trees if you can. I know Ramsay’s men should be gone but…”

“I’ll be fine, miss,” Rob said with a laugh. “I ken well enough how to keep hidden. And I promise I’ll not push myself too hard. I’ll be back with men and horses before ye’ve noticed I’m gone.”

She nodded, then stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. The lad flushed with pleasure, and Will had to resist the urge to yank Rose back to his side. She wasn’t his and he certainly had no right to act the part of a jealous husband. But it didn’t stop the feeling from gnawing at him.

Rob nodded to him, and a twinge of guilt immediately pierced through the jealous haze. The lad was risking much to bring back help because Will was too weak to help himself. It might not sit well with him, but that was no excuse to take it out on Rob. Will limped forward and embraced him.

“God go with ye, lad.”

Rob nodded, his eyes bright. And then he gave them a little bow and limped out of the clearing.

Rose clasped her hands together and held them against her mouth, watching until he’d disappeared into the brushes.

“And now we wait,” she murmured.

“Dinna fear for him, lass. He’s strong. Smart. He’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I thought the last time, and he was nearly killed moments later.”

Will chuckled. It was far easier to laugh at such a situation once the danger had passed. “There’s no sense in worrying o’er something we canna control. If the lad fails, we’ll know soon enough. Have a little faith.”

She glanced up at him. “How do you think I’ve managed so far? Faith is all I have.”

Will’s heart jumped. He brushed her hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin. “Not all, lass.”

Her eyes grew wider at that, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she drew closer. Her gaze shifted to his lips and her own parted slightly. If ever there was a lass made for kissing, it was this one. With all that fiery spirit in her, all that passion, he could drink her in and be sustained for the rest of his life.

If he were smart, he’d run now. Haul his crippled body after Rob as fast as he could go and leave her far behind him. A headstrong English lass had no place in his world. No place with him, at least. He didn’t even know where his place was. At Kirkenroch? Glenlyon? He wasn’t needed in such places. Not really. The only time he’d felt useful was when he was with Ramsay’s men. And even there, he hadn’t been important. Not to them at least. But to his clan, aye, he’d been important. A spy risking his life to gain much-needed information, information that would turn the tides of the war they fought.

And he’d failed. Miserably. He hadn’t discovered the information they’d so desperately needed. He’d ignited the spark that started the battle and led the enemy straight to his kin. It had been the lovely woman in his arms who had discovered the location of Ramsay’s men. She who had saved him when the enemy first attacked. She who had gotten the ladies of the manor to safety. She who had saved his life.

He wasn’t worthy of her. He had no right to kiss her. To touch her at all. Yet still, he cupped her face, drawing his thumb across her lips.

He couldn’t resist. His heart screamed out for her and once, just once, he wanted to bask in her light.

“Do ye ken what I dreamed of when the fever had me?” he asked, his voice grown husky even to his own ears.

She shook her head, a fine tremor running through her as he continued to caress her.

“You.”

She sucked in a breath, and he leaned down ever so slightly. “I dreamed of you. These eyes staring into mine. These hands touching me,” he said, interlacing his fingers with hers. “It was yer voice I heard, pulling me back from death. Telling me to get well. Nay,” he said with a deep chuckle, “commanding me to get well.”

She smiled at that. “And you obeyed. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didna think I would, either.”

“You’re too stubborn.”

“Aye, but no more so than you.”

“Are we arguing over who is the most stubborn now?” she asked with a little laugh that sent sunshine blazing into his soul.

“No. We’d be arguing until the sun went down.”

She looked down at their intertwined fingers and brought them up to her face, rubbing her chin lightly across them. “Why did you listen?”

He frowned slightly, not sure what she was asking.

“Why did you come back to me? There were so many times…” Her breath hitched. His heart broke a little at the sound. “So many times, I didn’t think you would. I lay beside you at night so I could feel you breathing, even if I couldn’t see it in the dark. Sometimes you would falter, and I didn’t know whether you’d take another breath or not. I don’t think you wanted to. But you always did. Why?”

His hands slid down to encircle her body and hold her close. “Part of me didna wish to return. It seemed…easier to float away. I was tired of the pain. Tired of the guilt. So…tired.”

She frowned, her eyes searching his with tears in their depths.

“But I think, even in my darkest moments, I could hear ye. Feel ye by my side. And I didna wish to leave ye. I ken I dinna deserve ye. But I wanted ye still.”

Her mouth parted, and a tear tumbled down her cheek. “Will,” she breathed. Then she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. So softly he could barely feel more than her breath against his skin. Then again, she kissed him. Firmer. More insistent. And he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He pulled her to him and angled his mouth over hers, claiming her lips until she opened to him, her tongue tangling with his in an erotic dance that had him swaying on his feet. They broke apart with a laugh, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she said.

“Aye. I’m perhaps not quite so steady on my feet as I’d hoped.”

“Then we should get you to bed.”

He blinked at her, surprised. He’d thought perhaps she’d turn shy as so many women were wont to do. But not his Rose. She took his hand in hers and led him inside, straight to his pallet.

Then she sank down to her knees and lifted a hand for him to join her. He did, lowering himself carefully so as not to jostle his side overmuch. The minute he was seated, Rose climbed on his lap, her legs straddling his. She watched him carefully as if trying to gauge his reaction to her boldness. In answer, he wrapped one arm about her waist to draw her close and cupped the back of her neck so he could drag her lips back to his.

He’d never been with a woman who was so forward, and her confidence as she touched him sent a flaming fire through his blood. Had there ever been a more perfect woman?

Her hands tangled in his hair as they kissed and his hands explored the planes of her back, down to her waist and back up to grasp her shoulders. He twisted, thinking to roll her beneath him but broke off with a gasp and a curse as burning pain shot through his side.

“Are you all right?” she asked, through kiss-swollen lips.

“Aye.” He took a couple shallow breaths, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside. “I forgot I was wounded.”

She laughed, the husky, passion-tinged sound reverberating through him. She pressed against him, her arms going back around his neck. “I suppose we’ll have to make do like this.” She rocked against him and leaned forward to capture his lips again.

He groaned, his body burning as if his fever had returned. He needed her. Craved her. She was a dream made real, and if it was not but the fever playing tricks with his mind he wanted nothing more than to be consumed and to never wake again.

Still, when her fingers went to her bodice and began to pull at her laces, he covered her hands with his.

“Are ye sure, lass?”