Highland Burn (14 page)

He’d remembered the burn of something flowing through his veins and even now he was in a tremendous amount of pain.
Poison?
Aye, he had to have been poisoned.

“If the arrow was an inch deeper… it would have reached yer heart.”

James took Abigale’s hand in his. “Ye’re a healer?”

Abigale shrugged her shoulders, “Just a nurse with some knowledge in surgery.”

“A surgeon?” This puzzled him. Usually women were discouraged and not allowed to practice surgery.

Abigale reached over to feel his head for fever and was stopped quickly. James grabbed her slender wrist as if he was done with her fussing over him. “How did you become a surgeon?”

Pulling her arm away from him, she said, “At the abbey, I spent a lot of time assisting the physicians and surgeons in the infirmary. Fortunately for ye, I’m one of the best surgeons the abbey had.” She smiled.

James knew that she’d lived at Dunfermline Abbey, but for how long he did not know. Never really asking her about her time there, it dawned on him that he really didn’t know Abigale at all and this saddened him. For some strange reason he wanted to know everything about her. He could have died not knowing the woman who’d saved his life.

Abigale swallowed hard. “James, I… couldn’t help but notice when I was removing the ---“

At that very moment Marcus stepped into the room interrupting their conversation with a plate of oatcakes and with Alice trailing close behind.

“My Laird, ye’re awake! Oh tis a glorious day!” Alice beamed with delight and rushed over to James’s bedside. “Lady Abigale brought ye back to us.” Alice glanced at Abigale as they shared a smile.

At that moment the rest of his kinsmen came rushing into the bedchamber. Good news sure did spread fast. Rory’s smile reached ear to ear as he looked at his chief. “Lucky bastard.”

James returned his smile. “Aye.”

He hated the fact that they were interrupted; he wasn’t done with the questions he wanted to ask. Furthermore he needed to hold her… to feel her warmth. He studied her for a while. She looked exhausted. Had she been here with him the entire time?

As his men fussed over him, James kept his eyes on Abigale and watched her every move as Alice hugged her and gloated over the princess’s healing abilities. His kinsmen, one by one, took their turn thanking her as well.

After the commotion settled he noticed Abigale walking toward the door to leave the bedchamber. “Abigale, where ye going?”

She turned back around. “I was going to look for a place to rest for a while. I’ll be back soon.”

“Nay lass, this is yer bedchamber. Ye’ll sleep here.” James had made his demands and motioned for everyone to take their leave.

“Are ye sure? I can find another room.” Abigale worked her hands nervously into her apron.

Grinning a sexy smile, James pulled back the covers, offering her a warm place to snuggle. “My lady.”

Deep blue eyes stared back at him. Abigale untied her bloodstained apron and slowly unlaced the front of her dress until she wore her shift. Intently watching her as she crawled on to the bed, James motioned for her to come closer. Dropping his view to her chest, he could see straight down her under dress to two perfectly round breasts that he begged to touch. By the saints, this lass was going to be the death of him. With smoldering eyes he traced her body back to her face. The dark skin under her eyes showed just how exhausted she was. Damn him for thinking with his cock; she needed sleep.

Abigale laid her soft body next to his. Her warmth pulled him in and held him captive. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until their bodies molded together. This tantalizing feeling was the same he’d felt back in his dream. It was like he was basking in the sun, soaking up its rays without a care in the world. Is this what Conall meant? A woman's love bringing peace? Love… well maybe he shouldn’t go that far, but this sensation he felt was like paradise.

He knew he was probably being selfish by wanting her next to him instead of letting her sleep by herself. Truth be told, when Abigale was around she chased his demons away. Firsthand he’d seen it, there was no doubt that she was the one who had chased the soul collector away. No nightmares… no soul collector to be found; she was the light to his darkness. James closed his eyes and kissed the top of Abigale’s head. “Sweet dreams my
bel ange.
”

Knowing where his demon hid, he would take these moments, cherish them, and put them to memory; only to recall them to remind him of who he was… a dragon. It wouldn’t work out between them. How could it? She was human and he was Dragonkine. As soon as she found out the truth, she would be gone. No man with his amount of uncontrollable vengeance could possibly be honorable enough to deserve a happy life. The English had taken so much from him that he feared that no matter how much blood was shed it would never be enough. Even if, and that was a big if, she could forgive his evil ways, there still lay a huge problem between them… he was a dragon. A young Dragonkine that needed the thrill of battle in order to quench his dragon’s lust for blood and vengeance. Joining the king’s rebellion allowed him to tame the beast.

Even with his bad reputation, his enemies were out there, he knew it… he welcomed it. This was why he vowed to never take a wife. Just the thought of something happening to Abigale in retaliation for his wrong-doings stirred a sinister feeling deep inside him that left him restless. Which led him to believe that this was no accident. Nay, the arrow being this close to his heart was no accident at all, he’d been a target. Unease settled in his bones; someone had tried to kill him, but who had taken the shot? Undoubtedly, the attacker had to have known he was Dragonkine, for he used a poison arrow. No mortal arrow could kill a dragon. Furthermore, the marksman was quite skillful with his bow, an accurate shot indeed.

James stiffened and held Abigale closer. Could there be a weed in the garden that needed to be pulled? A kinsman betraying not only their clan, but betraying the whole secrecy of the Dragonkine Guard? James ground his teeth together as he thought about one of his brethren turning on him. He needed to talk with Magnus soon.

Chapter 13

If you can’t take the heat, don’t tickle the dragon. ~ Anonymous

“Och lass.” James tightened his muscles and sucked in a deep breath. “Touch me like that again and I'll have ye on your back quicker than I can draw my sword.” He arched a brow. Even though he didn’t want a wife he still very much desired the auburn-haired lass. The last two days had proven to him that he indeed liked Abigale's company and it didn’t help that his dragon was relentless with his needs as well. He made himself known by stirring inside James’s body, insisting to be around Abigale.

“Ye mean like this.” Abigale blushed as she skimmed her fingers across his ribs teasing him as she unwrapped his bandages.

James squirmed in reaction to Abigale’s tickling assault. “Aye,
bel ange."
If only his men could see him now chuckling like a wee lad, they would jest him relentlessly. Truth be told he craved her touch a little more than he had the right to.

“My father speaks French, though I never learned. It’s a beautiful language.” She smiled. “He would call me his bel Abigale when he would come visit me at the nunnery. I cherished his visits especially not knowing when he would call again.”

James noticed how Abigale’s mood seemed to sadden when she talked about her father. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head up so he could stare into her deep blue eyes. “Pas aussi belle que vous.” James smiled.
Indeed, not as beautiful as ye,
James thought. “My father sent me, my younger brother, and mother to live in Paris when I was nine years old. He wanted our family safe and far away from the English.” James huffed in annoyance. “Bloody Sassenach made my father surrender Castle Douglas and in return they let me, Archie and my mother leave unharmed.”

“What happened to yer father?”

“My father was left to rot at the Tower of London. They called it a traitor’s death.” Hatred lingered on his every word.

“I’m so sorry, James,” Abigale consoled him.

“Aye, me too.” He changed the subject quickly, for bringing up that part of his past was no good. He already felt his dragon growling. “I can assure ye Abigale, if yer da could have he would have come to see ye more.”

“Would have, could have, doesnae matter anymore. He had the chance to make it up to me and well—“

“He married ye off to the Bogeyman.” James saw it in her eyes; she too did not want this marriage.

“I dinnae mean it that way. I’m happy here.” She looked up from the bandage and smiled.

Abigale unwrapped the last bandage. “Hmmm.” Her brows furrowed as she felt around the wound, examining it.

“What?”

“James, yer wound is healed,” Abigale informed him.

He’d forgotten about his healing abilities. No wonder she looked shocked and confused. “Well, that’s because I had an excellent nurse."

“But, the severity of yer wound—“

“Abigale, ye healed me.” His tone was firm.

Knowing better than to push James, Abigale changed the subject. “What was Paris like?”

Bloody hell, what was with all the questions? This part of his life he’d as soon like to forget. Details of his life in Paris were difficult to explain and now wasn’t the time to discuss it with her. He wouldn’t know where to begin, for he’d gone through hell. His mother had died a few months after arriving. Some said it was the black plague that took her, but James knew differently. She’d died of a broken heart. Elizabeth loved his father so much that she couldn't live without him. Knowing that her husband was most likely dead or imprisoned, she had fallen into a deep depression and died.

After his mother’s death, he and his brother were left to fend for themselves. Poor and with nowhere to go, they lived in the back alleys of Paris barely surviving. Up until that point, James had been strong and took care of wee Archie, always making sure Archie ate his fill first while James went without most nights. But fate had changed their roles, when James had become sick and his wee brother had to take care of him. James fought a burning fever, agonizing body aches, and violent vomiting. It had been two miserable weeks and he was weak and scared. For sure he’d thought the plague was taking his life.

It had been a cold, dreary winter in Paris, making it impossible to find a warm place to lay your head. With the spread of the black plague, no one took their chances bringing strangers in from the frigid weather. Surely if Archie hadn’t made the decision to find shelter at a nearby church, they would have frozen to death.

James, as weak as he was, could barely walk through the thick snow covered ground. Falling into the thick powder, James could no longer bear his own weight. “Ye must go, Archie.” His breath was visible through the flurries. “Leave me here. I will only slow ye down.”

“Nay, Jamie.” Archie bent down and propped his brother’s arm around his neck. “Ye’re all I have left. We go together.”

James leaned on his younger brother, as they struggled through the unforgiving weather and made it to the steps of the church. Once inside they met a bishop who took the two frigid lads in and fed them a hot meal. As fate would have it, Bishop Andrews had been waiting for this day to come. It was written in the scrolls that it was his destiny to train and care for a dragon.

The massive clock tower at the church was secluded, a perfect place to house James as he went through his transformation to Dragonkine. As the dragon took over his body, bones popped, liquid lava burned through his veins, and raw uncontrolled power surged through him. James remembered how violently sick he was, and the pain was unbearable. This part of his life was off limits, sealed up tight, and never to be opened.

James felt a warm hand covering his arm and saw Abigale leaning toward him. “Ye dinnae have to tell me, James. I understand, the past is the past.”

Indeed he did want to tell her everything in hopes she would accept who he was, but sheltering her from the truth was the logical thing to do.

“But,” she interrupted the silence, “ye do have to tell me what
bel ange
means.”

James moved closer to the edge of the bed so Abigale was standing between his legs. Two huge hands reached up, cupped her face, and pulled her closer. James stroked the tops of her cheeks softly with his thumbs and rested his forehead to hers. She had the most beautiful deep blue eyes. “It means beautiful angel.”

Pressing his lips to Abigale’s, he kissed her gently at first until her mouth opened, reassuring him that she indeed wanted his kisses. He plunged his tongue deeper inside her mouth, dominating the kiss and she matched his rhythm lick for lick. Heat flooded through him and his cock hardened as she ran her hands up and down his shoulders to his neck. His dragon roared, vibrating his core. Wanting to feel more of her, he pulled her closer until the softness of her breasts pressed up against his bare chest searing his flesh. James ran his hands down her back stopping at her tiny waist. If he didn’t stop now he wouldn’t be able to.

He grabbed her skirts, trying to contain the desire and douse the flames. He pulled away and stopped the kiss. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Abigale, ye make me want things I can no have.”