Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (20 page)

She shivered again at the mention of weapons and the need for them. But even though
their camp seemed well protected, she was glad Daniel had come prepared for all eventualities.

They lapsed into silence while they finished their meal, sharing the last of the tea
between them. He cleaned up and repacked the biscuits and tin cup inside the valise,
to which she added the handkerchief with its uneaten piece of cheese. He didn’t remark
on the fact that she hadn’t finished it all.

Then it was time for bed.

“Do you need to visit down by the stream?” he asked with cautious politeness.

It was his way, she realized, of ascertaining whether she had bodily needs that required
attention. She really, really did not want to discuss such matters with him, but it
wasn’t as if she had much choice. Now that he mentioned it, she did need to “visit”
and would never make it through to morning. And she certainly wasn’t going to go wandering
off in the dark alone, not even the few yards to the stream.

“Yes,” she admitted softly.

He reached for the tin pan and stood. “I’ll get some more water and check on the horse.”
Lighting the end of a long branch, he used it as a torch and together they left the
camp.

He did exactly as he said, seeing to the horse and retrieving more water, while she
found a private spot not too far away. She managed quickly and with a surprising lack
of embarrassment since he didn’t once look her way. She joined
him at the stream to wash, and then they returned to the camp.

“You go to sleep,” he said, indicating the makeshift bed. “I’ll sit by the fire.”

“But won’t you be cold?”

“Nae. It’s a warm night. I’ll be fine.”

But it wasn’t a warm night, not since the sun had set; a chill was beginning to creep
into the air.

But rather than argue, she crawled between the blankets, which smelled slightly of
mold and horses. They were warm, though, and the “mattress” of branches that Daniel
had fashioned was surprisingly comfortable.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

But sleep refused to come, and a few minutes later she quit trying and stared up into
the sky instead. The vista above her was magnificent. She’d never seen anything quite
so lovely in her life.

“Daniel,” she whispered, entirely forgetting all the reasons why she shouldn’t use
his given name. “Are you awake?”

A small silence fell. “Aye,” he said. “Why are you no’ sleeping?”

“I’ve been trying, but I cannot seem to drift off. Have you seen the stars?”

“Aye. Rather often, in fact.” He sounded amused.

“I mean, have you looked at them tonight? They’re beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Another small silence descended. “They are…quite bright.”

But she could tell by his tone that he could see their beauty too. She knew he understood
their majesty.

“Come look at them with me,” she invited.

“I can see them from here.”

“But not as well. Please, come here so we can look at them together.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“I shouldn’t, lass,” he finally said.

“I know. But join me anyway.”

He said nothing further and she thought he was going to refuse. Then, on nearly silent
feet, he was there, sliding under the blanket next to her.

Together they gazed into the night sky.

“I’ve read about the stars,” she said in a low voice, “but I’ve never seen them like
this. The night is so clear. Look, there’s Cassiopeia.”

She lifted a hand and pointed toward the constellation. “See how the five bright stars
form a W?”

“Hmm. I’ve ne’er thought the letter looked quite right, though. The one side is odd,
more like a backward L.”

“It doesn’t look like an L. You just have to use a bit of imagination, is all.”

“Och, is that what I need? Imagination?”

But she could tell he wasn’t offended by her remark.

“Oh!” She pointed again. “See Draco, how he weaves through the sky like a dragon?
Some of the Greek myths say he was the dragon who protected the golden apples of Hesperides,
while the Romans believed he was killed by Minerva and tossed into the heavens after
his defeat.”

“Poor wee dragon,” Daniel observed with mock seriousness. “I’m more familiar with
the stars like Polaris. The North Star, now, that one is dead useful, it is.”

He raised a hand to point this time. “And there is the Plow, or as the Irish call
it the Starry Plow. I’ve heard of it as the Butcher’s Cleaver too. They say the Yanks
call it the Big Dipper, if ye can believe it.”

Briefly, she searched the sky and easily located the three stars that formed a great
handle and the other four that made up what the British, or in this case the Scots,
considered a plow. “I know it as the Great Cart. See how it resembles a cart far more
than a plow?”

“Nae, only look how it’s shaped like a blade that runs straight through the moist
dark earth, making it ready for sowing. As a boy, I used to wonder what they’d be
planting up there in the sky. Oats or bere.”

“Bere?”

“Barley.”

“The Great Cart would hold both and plenty more besides, an overwhelming abundance
of all things good and sweet.”

The two of them fell silent once more, but it was a comfortable quiet, one of companionship
and mutual ease.

“You’re right,” he said at length.

“Oh? About what?”

“The sky. It is particularly bonnie tonight. I’ve rarely seen the like.” Slowly he
turned his head and met her eyes. “Nae, I’ve ne’er seen anything so bonnie in my life.”

Her pulse thudded hard and she knew he was no longer talking about stars.

And then he was kissing her, taking her mouth in long, slow drafts that drove everything
but him from her mind. Raising her arms, she wrapped them around his neck and pulled
him nearer, her fingers sliding into his thick, wavy hair.

They’d both spoken of beauty tonight, but nothing was as beautiful as this, nothing
was as powerful or as soulful as this kiss. Even if she lived to be a very old woman,
she knew she would never find anything as special or divine as being held in his arms,
the night spread around them like a blissful sea.

They kissed, how long she did not know, but she never wanted it to end. Never wanted
him to let her go again.

He seemed to want the same, his kisses growing fiercer, more demanding as he tangled
their tongues in a fiery dance, their ardor building until she feared she might combust.

Maybe he feared that as well, or worried that their desire would lead them past the
point of redemption. Without warning, he crushed her lips to his with a startling
need, as if he were trying to imprint the sensation into his very bones.

Then, with a great shudder, he pulled away, rolling onto his back. But he didn’t leave.
Instead, he just lay next to her while she fought to catch her breath.

His breathing wasn’t so easy either, his chest rising and falling, and rising and
falling again. Over and over.

They didn’t speak, the low melody of night creatures filling in the silence.

She opened her eyes and looked again at the stars. But this time they were just bright
points of light without meaning, without majesty.

The majesty lay mere inches away and yet far, far beyond her reach.

I’ll never be able to sleep,
she lamented.

But the minutes passed and slowly, too gradually for her to measure, weariness stole
through her. With a gentle, barely audible sigh, she rolled her head against his shoulder.

Seconds later, she drifted off.

Daniel sensed her go to sleep.

He could leave now. He could slip out from beneath the blanket and go sit next to
the fire.

Instead, he lay beside her, knowing that in spite of his unsatisfied desire, there
was nowhere he would rather be than by her side.

He’d promised to stay away from her.

He’d sworn he wouldn’t touch her again.

But such vows were useless. He realized that now, knew in his bones that staying away
from her was as impossible as forgetting to breathe.

But the worst of it was that he didn’t really mind. The unsettling part was knowing
that he wanted more from her than sex.

He wanted her—
Mercedes.

With all her wild imaginings and mercurial moods, her fears and sweetness and unmistakable
intellect. He wanted the woman—body, mind, and yes, maybe even her soul.

Ignoring the ache in his loins, which was starting to be quite a familiar discomfort,
he slid an arm around her and drew her close.

She sighed again and snuggled nearer still.

She felt good in his arms.

Right.

In a way he couldn’t remember feeling about anything in a very long time.

Staring again at the stars, he watched them blaze cold and emotionless from their
homes far away. What was it like, he wondered, out there?

Grateful for the warmth of Mercedes in his arms, he slowly went to sleep.

M
ercedes was dreaming of warm scones with clotted cream and juicy, sweet red strawberries
when something cold and damp pressed against her temple.

She wrinkled her brow and turned her face away, trying to recapture the dream.

An odd snuffling noise echoed next to her ear. A minute later, or maybe it was only
seconds, something warm and wet licked her cheek.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared up at a fur-covered muzzle and an open mouth
with shiny teeth and a pink tongue that lolled from one side. The scent of dog breath
wafted past and she wrinkled her nose.

The animal took a seat, beating the ground with his bushy tail. Clearly he was friendly
and anxious to make her acquaintance, thus the nuzzling touches he’d given her in
hopes that she would wake. He was tan and white with a medium coat and melting amber
eyes that gazed at her expectantly. She couldn’t fully determine his breed—or lack
thereof since his lineage seemed mixed at best, perhaps part retriever, part collie.
Still, he was a handsome boy—assuming he was a boy.

Slowly she sat up.

The dog stood.

Yes, definitely a male.

His tongue lolled again in a wide pant; then he tossed back his head and barked.

“Well, hello to you too,” she said, unable to keep from smiling. She reached out a
hand, and the dog came forward to sniff, then licked her palm.

“I see you’ve met our new friend,” Daniel said, his voice low with wry amusement.

She swung around to find him strolling toward her, his hair damp and neatly combed,
his cheeks and jaw clean shaven. The collar of his shirt hung open to reveal a V of
chest hair a couple of shades darker than the hair on his head. Her gaze lingered
on his throat for a long moment, remembering the way his chest looked without the
shirt.

Was it only yesterday that she had seen him bare-chested as they’d lain in bed together
at the inn? Was it only last night that she had fallen asleep with his kisses lingering
on her lips, her head pillowed blissfully on his strong shoulder?

She tore her eyes away and looked at the dog. “Yes,” she said, responding to Daniel’s
remark. “He licked me awake.”

She heard a low reply that sounded like “lucky dog,” but when she glanced at him,
his face was even and inscrutable, as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

“I was down by the stream when he showed up,” Daniel said, stopping next to her. “At
first I wondered if he might be with someone, but so far no one has put in an appearance.”

“A stray, then, do you think?” Reaching over, she stroked the dog’s head. He closed
his eyes in obvious ecstasy.

Daniel leaned down to place his razor and a small towel back inside the valise. “Possible.
Then again, it’s hard to say. Maybe he belongs around here and just wandered off for
a couple of hours to explore.”

“If he did, maybe he might lead us to people who can help.”

Daniel smiled. “My thoughts exactly. Why don’t you wash and make ready while I pack
up? We’ll have a quick bite to eat, then see if our canine friend here can prove himself
useful.”

Washed and refreshed to the best of her ability given their limited resources, she
joined Daniel for tea and what remained of the food. He’d finished dressing as well
while she’d been at the stream, his shirt now buttoned and his neckcloth tied in place.

Daniel would accept only half of the cheese she’d saved, which he ate with a small
handful of the rock-hard biscuits.

The dog stared at them while they dined, as if they were all that stood between him
and imminent death. His big amber eyes were moist and pleading and occasionally he
would give a piteous whine.

Unable to stand his suffering, she gave him part of her cheese, which he wolfed down
in delight. As for the half of a ship’s biscuit she offered, even he couldn’t be brought
low enough to eat that. Despite Daniel’s apparent love of the things, she couldn’t
blame the dog for his refusal.

“What are you doing feeding good cheese to that dog?” he chided. “You needed it more
than he did.”

“Oh, don’t fuss. He’s hungry.”

Daniel shot her a look, then rolled his eyes skyward. “That’s what he wants you to
think.”

“He wouldn’t lie, would you, boy?” she crooned.

The dog grinned and thumped his tail.

“See? He’s an honest dog.”

Daniel laughed. “Honest, is he? Well, we’ll see just what he’s made of once we set
off, assuming he doesn’t run off first.”

“He won’t,” she stated. “You’ll take us to your people, won’t you?”

“If he has any people,” Daniel retorted dryly.

The dog gave a woof, but whether it was to agree with her or Daniel they could not
tell.

“I wonder what his name is,” she mused aloud. “Something Scottish, I suppose, since
he’s a Highland dog. Angus, maybe. Or Fintan. Is that your name, boy? Are you Fintan?”

The dog just stared.

“Angus, then?” she asked.

He made no response.

Daniel gave a rough cough deep in his throat that sounded like a cross between a laugh
and a groan. Standing, he drained the last swallow of tea from the tin cup, shook
out a few remaining drops, then packed it in the valise along with the now cool cooking
tin. He fastened the valise closed, having already stored the blankets and the rest
of their meager belongings inside.