Highland Champion (2 page)

She idly bathed Liam with a soft cloth and cool water. He did not really have a fever, but it seemed to make him rest more quietly. He was a strong man, and she felt certain he would continue to recover. By the time he was able to tend to himself, she had better have decided what to do about Ardgleann and Rauf. Once she knew why Liam had been hurt and was certain that no enemy hunted him still, she would leave him in the care of the monks and face her own destiny.

Keira felt an immediate pang at the thought of leaving the man and almost laughed at the absurdity of it. He was a mass of bruises, and had barely said three words in as many days. She supposed that she felt some odd bond with him because she had been the one to find him. In truth, she had been drawn to him by a strange blend of dreams and compulsion. It had been a little frightening for although similar experiences had occurred in the past, she had never seen things so clearly or felt as strongly. Even now, she could not shake the feeling that there was more to it all than helping him recover from his injuries.

“Foolishness,” she muttered and shook her head as she patted him dry with a soft rag.

Perhaps she should send word to his people, she thought as she began to make a hearty broth to feed to him when he woke again. From what her cousin had told her, Sir Liam’s kinsmen were more than capable of protecting him. Keira quickly discarded the idea for the same reason she had given her cousin when he had suggested sending for the Camerons. Sir Liam might not want that, might be reluctant to pull his family into whatever trouble he had gotten himself. She could sympathize for she too hesitated to involve her family in her own troubles.

That, too, was foolish, she suspected. She had done nothing wrong, had not caused the trouble or invited the danger. If one of her family were in such trouble, she would be ready and eager to ride to his or her side. Which is why he or she would hesitate to tell her about it, she suddenly thought and briefly grinned. It was instinctive to try to keep a
loved one safe. When her family found out the truth, they would be angry, perhaps even a little offended or hurt, but they would understand, for they would know in their hearts that they would have done the very same thing.

And, she told herself as she sat down at the small table near the fire, if this man was as close to his family as her cousin implied, he would do the same. The last time she had seen her cousin Gillyanne, she had heard a few tales about the Camerons. Even though the tales had been told to amuse everyone, they had revealed that the Camerons were probably as close a family as her own. There was also Sir Liam’s manly pride to consider. It would undoubtedly bristle at the implication that he could not take care of himself. No, Keira decided, it was not a good idea to send for his people without his permission.

After a meal of bread, cheese, and cold venison, Keira took a hasty bath. She then settled herself upon a pallet made up near the fire. Keira stared into the flames and waited for sleep to come. She hated this time of the night, hated the silence, and hated the fact that sleep was so slow to come, leaving her alone in the silence with her memories. Try as she might, she could not shake free of the grip of those dark memories. She could only suppress them for a while.

Duncan had been a good man, passingly handsome and gentle. She had not loved him, and she still felt guilty about that, even though it was hardly her fault. At nearly two and twenty, however, she had decided she could wait no longer for some great, passionate love to stroll her way. She had wanted children and a home of her own. Although she loved her family deeply, she had begun to feel an increasing need to spread her wings, to walk her own path. Marriage did not usually free a woman, but all her instincts had told her that Duncan would never try to master her. He had wanted a true partner, and knowing how rare that was, she had accepted him when he had asked her to be his bride.

She could still recall the doubts of her family, especially those of her grandmother Lady Maldie and her cousin Gillyanne. Their special gifts had told them that she did not love the man she was about to marry. They had sensed her unease, one she could not explain even to herself. Keira was not sure it was a good thing that they had not pressed her on that, and then roundly scolded herself. They had respected her choice, and it had been
her
choice.

Why she had felt uneasy from the moment she had accepted Duncan’s proposal of marriage was still a puzzle to her. Keira had smothered that unease and married him. Within hours of marrying him, the first hint of trouble between them had begun, and within days of reaching Ardgleann, the trouble with Rauf had begun. She had thought that explained all those odd feelings she had suffered, but now she was not so sure. Every instinct she had told her that the puzzle was not yet solved.

Just as she began to relax, welcoming the comfort of sleep, a harsh cry from Sir Liam startled her. Keira tugged on her gown and hurried to his side to find him straining against his bonds, muttering furious curses at enemies only he could see. She stroked his forehead and spoke softly to him, telling him over and over where he was, who cared for him now, and that he was safe. It surprised her a little when he quickly grew calm again.

“Jolene?” he whispered.

Keira wondered why hearing him speak another woman’s name should irritate her as much as it did. “Nay, Keira,” she said as she placed her hand over his to try to stop
him from tugging at his bonds.

“Keira,” he repeated and grasped her hand in his. “Aye. Keira. Black hair. Confused me. Thought I was home. At Dubheidland.”

“Ah. She is your healer?” Keira tried to wriggle her hand free of his grasp, but he would not release her, so she sat down in the chair at his bedside.

“Sigimor’s wife. Lady of Dubheidland. Thought I was home.”

“So ye said. I can give ye something to ease the pain, if ye wish it.”

“Nay. Thought I was caught again.”

She could see that it pained him to speak, but she could not resist asking, “Do ye remember what happened to you?”

“Caught. Beaten. Thrown away. You found me?”

“Aye, me and my cousin Brother Matthew.”

“Good. Safe here.”

“Aye, ye will be.” She tried yet again to wriggle her hand free of his, but failed.

“Stay.” He heaved a sigh. “Please. Stay.”

Keira inwardly cursed the weakness that caused her to heed that plea. She carefully shifted her seat closer to the bed so that she could sit more comfortably as she waited for him to release her hand. After a few moments of silence, she wondered if he had gone back to sleep, but his grip upon her hand remained firm. To her surprise, he began to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. The warmth that gesture stirred within her was a little alarming, but she could not bring herself to stop him.

This was not good, Keira thought. The light brush of a man’s thumb over her hand should not make her feel warm. True, it was a very nice hand, the fingers long and elegant, but it was too benign a caress to stir any interest. Or, it should be. She looked at his battered face and sighed. To all the troubles she already had, she realized she now had to add one more. A man she did not know, a man whose face was so bruised and swollen it would probably give a child the night terrors, could stir her blood with the simple stroke of his thumb.

Liam opened his eyes, feeling an odd spark of anticipation mingled with his pain. He was just wondering what he could possibly be looking forward to, since being awake meant being far too aware of all the pain he was in, when he realized he was holding someone’s hand. He hoped he was not clinging to Brother Matthew. The hand was too small and too soft, he decided. Liam had the fleeting thought that somehow that small hand was soothing him in body and in spirit. Then he remembered the woman.

Cautiously, he turned his head, even as he struggled to remember her name. Keira, he whispered as he saw the lovely, delicate hand resting in his and a thick, gleaming black braid draped over his wrist. The chair was pulled up hard against the bed, and Keira was sleeping half in the chair and half on his bed. He recalled being tied down, but either he had dreamt that, or she had loosened the bonds on all but his right leg. Her cheek was resting on his stomach, and he fleetingly cursed the bedcovers that separated them. Liam looked at the hand he held close to his chest and wondered how long he had kept the woman captive. He felt guilty for having forced her into such an uncomfortable position, knowing she would ache when she awoke, but he was still reluctant to release her.

She looked as innocent as a child as she slept. Yet, in the sensuous curve of her mouth, there was the hint of a passionate nature. She was beautiful in a way that grew more evident the longer one looked at her. When she entered a room, men might give her a brief, curious glance, but they would soon find themselves looking again and again until she firmly held their interest with the purity of her features—her beautiful skin; her thick, long hair; and the delicate, feminine curves of her slim body. Liam suddenly recalled the sound of her voice, a soft, sultry music, and knew she would only have to speak to firmly catch the attention of any man.

He felt her hand move in his and resisted the urge to clutch it tighter. She placed her hand over his heart, and her neatly curved brows lowered as she frowned. If he did not know better, he would think she could tell he was awake simply through that touch. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at him. Liam looked into her sleep-softened deep green eyes and felt an odd twist in his heart, as if she had reached into his chest and pinched it. Pain was making him delirious, he decided.

Keira slowly sat up, wincing at the many aches she had gained by sleeping in such an awkward position. She blushed a little as she met his gaze, embarrassed to have been found with her head on his stomach and her hand upon his chest. Recalling how he had refused to release her even as he slept, her embarrassment eased.

His eyes were not quite so swollen today, although he wore a livid mask of bruises. Those eyes were surely tools of seduction, she mused. Well shaped, surrounded by lashes almost feminine in their length and thickness, they were an intriguing and beautiful blend of blue and green. She had once seen water that color. Shaking herself free of her fascination, she idly rubbed her back as she studied his color.

“Ye look improved,” she said.

“Do I? I still feel weel trodden on,” he replied, wincing a little as his bruised mouth protested the movement.

“And so ye shall for a while yet, but soon, ye will be cursing that leg for keeping ye abed.”

“Was it a bad break? I ken ye spoke of it last time I awoke, but I cannae remember much.”

“Nay, ’tisnae bad. Ye were lucky. A verra clean break, and the bone didnae come out through your skin. Howbeit, ye will need to be verra careful. ’Tis why I shall continue to tie that leg down whilst ye sleep. It must set firm, ye ken.” She stood up and brushed down her skirts. “’Tis difficult to say just how long that will take.”

Just as she was wondering how to ask if he needed any personal assistance, Brother Matthew arrived. Keira breathed a sigh of relief as she left the small cottage. Dealing with an unconscious man could be done with a measure of calm. A wide awake man with beautiful eyes was another matter altogether. Even when he was no more than a limp, occasionally moaning, body, she had not been able to be completely impersonal. She doubted any woman could be while tending to such a handsome man. She did not want him noticing her appreciation, however. That could bring her the kind of trouble she had no time for now.

After a quick visit to the bushes, she stood by the well and washed as much of herself as she could without completely disrobing. Ever since she had caught Brother Paul spying on her, she had been careful. Worse, he seemed to think it was all her fault he was having difficulty controlling his sinful thoughts and urges.

Keira sighed and started back to the cottage. She had the sinking feeling she was going to be having similar troubles. Knowing that no woman alive could remain immune to the allure of a man like Liam Cameron did not make her feel all that much better. She still felt the sting of her husband’s lack of desire for her. The very last thing she needed was to expose herself to that humiliation again.

Liam cursed fluently as Brother Matthew helped him back to bed and then apologized to the monk. He slumped against the pillows the man plumped up behind him and waited for the pain to ease a little. Brother Matthew efficiently washed the sweat from Liam’s body while he sprawled there as weak and helpless as an infant. It was humiliating, but Liam had to admit that he felt better afterward.

“Keira will return soon,” said Brother Matthew. “If ye are willing, she will feed you.”

“Aye, I am feeling hungry,” Liam murmured.

“A good sign. I confess, when we first found ye, I held out little hope that ye would survive.”

“Just how
did
ye find me? I dinnae think I was attacked on the monastery’s lands.”

“Nay, but not so verra far away either.” Brother Matthew smiled. “My cousin has a gift, as do many of the Murrays, though ’tis something we keep secret, for some dinnae see it as a gift from God. Keira had a dream, ye ken. A dream told her what had happened and where to find ye. God wasnae ready to take ye yet.”

“I dinnae think He will e’er want me, old friend. I have followed few of the monk’s ways since leaving this place.”

“That does not surprise me.” Brother Matthew smiled when Liam frowned. “Dinnae take insult, my friend. I meant none. Some men can be true believers, yet there is an earthiness within that makes the monk’s or priest’s life a poor choice. Sadly, not all of us have the choice to return to their old life as ye did. They make poor men of the church, and oftimes, give the rest of us a bad name. We suffer for their sins. ’Tis the same with the nuns. If forced, I believe ye would have been verra successful within the church and done your best to hold to your vows, but ye wouldnae have been happy. ’Tis no fault or
sin. After all, there has to be someone to heed God’s word to go forth and multiply. Aye?”

“True enough, and dinnae worry. As far as I ken, I havenae multiplied yet. Aye, I ken that, too, is considered a sin, but, I think, a wee one. My laird, my cousin Sigimor, frowns upon the breeding of bastards. As do I. God’s truth, I would like to have a wife, but I am without lands and nay verra rich.”

“And, mayhap, havenae found one who can see beyond your bonnie face.”

“Aye, there is that, though it sounds vain to say so. Howbeit, this face may nay be so verra bonnie any longer.”

“’Twill heal. Keira said naught was broken there, although she felt certain the ones who beat you were trying hard to damage it. She was most astonished that your nose wasnae broken.”

Hearing her cousin’s words as she entered the cottage, Keira said, “I suspicion they found it difficult to strike a target that wouldnae stand still. And then, they tried to kill ye, aye?”

“I am nay sure about that,” Liam replied. “By the time I fell to the rocks, I was so dazed I cannae say for certain if they pushed or I just fell.”

“If ye fell, ’twas because they were beating on ye and caused that misstep. How many?”

“Four.”

“Ye are verra fortunate to still be breathing.”

“I dinnae think they intended to kill me. Nay so quickly, leastwise. They would have come down the hill after me to finish me, but they didnae. ’Tis that which makes me doubt murder was intended.”

“That may be. Of course, they may have simply decided that ye were dead or soon would be, so why trouble themselves. There was little chance ye would be found where ye lay.”

“True. My horse?”

“In the stables,” Brother Matthew replied. “All of your belongings were safe. So, not a robbery either.”

“Mayhap,” said Liam, “although they could have exhausted themselves trying to catch Gilmour. The beast shies from strangers, especially men, and can outrun most other horses.”

“He was there when we found ye,” said Keira as. she moved to the fire to heat up some hearty broth for him. “A loyal beast.”

“Ye had no trouble with him?”

“Och, nay. He was a wee bit uncertain about my cousin at first, but I had a wee talk with him. He wasnae going to leave ye. Nay, not e’en when we brought ye in here. I had to bring him inside so that he could see that ye were settled safely. Still, it took nearly two days to convince him to go to the stables.”

“Ye brought Gilmour inside?”

“Aye, he was fretting.” She turned her attention to mixing him a tankard of cider strengthened with healing herbs.

Liam looked at a grinning Brother Matthew and laughed softly. That hurt, but he ignored the pain. For the first time since waking up in the cottage, he felt sure he would live. He did not believe he would be so amused if he had one foot in the grave.

“Ah, weel, ye are laughing,” said Keira as she set the tankard of herbed cider down on the small table by his bed. “’Tis a good sign.” She sat on the edge of the bed with a bowl of broth in her hands. “A dying mon doesnae find too much to laugh about.”

“Unless he is too dim of wit to ken he is dying,” Liam drawled.

He swallowed the broth she spooned into his mouth. It was thin but rich with the flavor of herbs and vegetables. Liam did hope it would not be long, however, before he could eat something that required chewing. The fact that the simple chore of swallowing the broth and the drink exhausted him made him realize that it would be many days before he was recovered enough to actually argue over what he was being fed. He sagged against the pillows as she took the empty bowl and tankard away.

“Liam, do ye ken who did this to you?” asked Brother Matthew.

“I have my suspicions,” Liam replied, “but I am nay sure. Things were said as they beat me, but I think it may be a while ere I recall any of it. There isnae much chance that will help, though.”

“An old enemy, mayhap? One of your clan’s?”

“Nay, I think not.”

“Weel, ’twill come to ye, I am certain. Do ye want us to send word to your family?”

“Nay, not yet, not until I am more certain of who did this and why. I dinnae wish to lead trouble to their door.” He frowned. “Mayhap I should leave here.”

“And go where, my friend? Nay, ye will stay here until ye are healed enough to travel. Now rest. Naught helps a body to heal as much as sleep does.”

Liam nodded faintly in reply and closed his eyes. When he heard Brother Matthew and Keira move away, he opened his eyes just enough to watch them. He felt weak, but was not quite ready to go to sleep. His pain had been eased by whatever herbs Keira had put in the food, and he wanted to savor that for a little while. He was also curious about this woman who had saved his life because of a dream she had had. Although he believed in such things, more or less, and Brother Matthew clearly accepted it, Liam felt a need to remain wary. There was no ignoring the cold fact that if she had not found him because of some vision, the only other possibility was that she had known about the attack. He loathed the idea that she had had any part in it, but one thing he had learned in his time at the royal court was that it was dangerous to trust anyone too quickly. That was especially true concerning bonnie lasses who could stir a man’s lusts.

“Do ye need help in the garden today, Cousin?” Keira asked as she took the pot of broth off the fire and set her pot of mutton stew in its place.

“I think ye must needs stay here, dinnae ye?” Brother Matthew sat at the small table set near the fire. “If it willnae be too much trouble, I did bring some clothes that need mending.”

“Nay, ’tis no trouble,” she assured him as she sat down across the table from him. “’Twill give me something to do whilst he sleeps. Aside from a wee bit of cleaning, tending my mutton stew, and having a bath, there isnae much else for me to do.”

“Have ye finished all that needlework ye were doing? Ye were making some gifts, aye?”

“Aye. I finished the shift for Mama. I must needs decide what to put on the one for Grandmere. And there are months left in which to finish those. S’truth, if I hadnae bought all the linen and thread from Lady Morrison, I wouldnae be making gifts now anyway.
And all of that lovely lace,” Keira murmured and shook her head. “I felt most guilty o’er how little I paid for it all.”

“She needed the coin, and ye didnae cheat her. Many would have once they kenned how desperate she was. She was most thankful for what ye gave her.” He glanced at the pot upon the fire. “Mutton stew, did ye say?”

Keira laughed. “Aye. Plan to sup with me now, do ye?”

“Aye. When ’tis a choice of what is fed to us at the monastery and your mutton stew, I fear my will to resist temptation is verra weak. Mayhap a game of chess, too?”

“Do ye think losing to me will be penance enough for enjoying my stew?”

“Such arrogance.” Brother Matthew tsked and shook his head. “I could win.”

“Aye, ye might,” she murmured, and they both grinned.

“Weel, I had best return to the monastery,” he said as he stood up. “Do ye need me to come back here, say, at about midday?”

“To tend to him?” she asked as she followed him to the door, and he nodded in reply. “Nay, I can manage him. I did before.”

Brother Matthew frowned and hesitated just outside the door. “’Tisnae right.”

“I am a healer, Cousin. He is a battered mon who still has one leg tied down on the bed. And I tended him myself ere he woke. Go, tend to your work. I will be fine. Why, I shall probably e’en find time to make some honey-sweetened oatcakes.”