Highland Champion (3 page)

“Wicked lass to toss such temptation before a mon of the cloth,” he said, shaking his head again as he turned away.

Keira laughed then, and leaving the door open so she could hear if Liam should call out, she began the tedious chore of drawing the water for her bath from the well. It was undoubtedly improper to even think of bathing with a man sharing the tiny cottage with her, but she felt a strong need to bathe. A blanket or two hung up around the tub should provide her with enough privacy. Thinking of Brother Paul, she decided she would also bar the door.

Liam blinked and bit back a groan as full awareness of his various injuries returned upon waking. He could not recall falling asleep. One moment, he was listening to Keira and Brother Matthew talk, and the next he was rousing from a deep sleep. He suspected whatever she put into the cider or even the broth not only eased his pain but also nudged him into sleep, whether he willed it or not.

Glancing around the dimly lit cottage, he wondered how long he had slept. Keira sat near a tiny window at the rear of the cottage, sewing what appeared to be a woman’s shift. A quick glance at the neatly folded monks’ robes set on a stool by the door told Liam that he had slept long enough for her to finish that chore.

He studied her as she sat so quietly plying her needle and tried to recall all he had overheard before falling asleep. She and Brother Matthew had sounded just like the cousins they claimed to be, speaking of people they both knew and teasing each other. Liam felt a pinch of guilt over his wariness. The woman had obviously been caring for him for days. If she meant him harm, she had clearly had ample opportunity to inflict it. No one would have questioned it if he had not survived his injuries. After all she had done for him, he would not be foolish to trust her.

There was, however, at least one thing that made him hesitate to trust in her. Why was she living here in a tiny cottage on the grounds of a monastery? From what little had
been said, Liam got the feeling she had been living here for a while. Even though her cousin was here, it was an odd place for a woman to take refuge. Why did she not return to her family? Everything he had ever heard about that clan told him the Murrays were closely bonded and deeply loyal to each other. He doubted there was much they would not forgive or help her with.

Brother Matthew seemed to have no qualms about her or her tale, but Liam was well aware of the man’s sweet nature and naïveté. The man could also be blinded by the fact that this pretty little woman was blood kin to him. Liam knew he would find it difficult to remain wary, especially when he looked into those big green eyes. Or glanced at that tempting mouth. Or heard that seductive voice. Liam inwardly cursed. It was going to be very difficult indeed.

He shifted his body in a vain attempt to get more comfortable and realized his broken leg was propped up on several cushions and still secured to the bed. A moment later, he also realized that his movement had drawn Keira’s attention. He watched as she set aside her sewing and moved toward him. That was something else he had better not do too often if he wished to remain sharp of mind and cautious, he thought ruefully, for she had an almost sultry grace to her walk.

“I think ye are a fast healer, Sir Liam,” Keira said as she looked him over.

“I dinnae feel much healed,” he said as he studied his broken leg.

“Nay, I suspect all those aches and pains ye suffer now hide the truth from ye, but I can see it in the color of that bruising and in the amount of the swelling. Both have eased more swiftly than in other people I have tended, and that is good. E’en your leg isnae as troubled by swelling as others I have tended.”

“Why is it still tied to the bed then? And why have ye set it up on those cushions?”

“’Tis tied so that ye dinnae move it too much as ye rest. Not only could the pain that would cause disturb the rest ye need, but ye could also easily destroy what healing has begun. ’Tis raised like this to ease the swelling, but I think that willnae be so verra necessary soon. Oh, ye will still have to rest it a lot and raise it like this from time to time for several weeks yet but unless ye do something verra foolish, I think ye will soon be using that leg again. ’Twill be weak at the start, but nay more than that.”

Liam muttered a curse, then muttered an apology for his language, then sighed. “How many weeks?”

“Six or more until we can remove the slats and the wrappings. I cannae say how long after that until ye can use it with the same ease and grace ye did before. That is up to ye, but I think it willnae be that long for ye are young, strong, and healthy. Ye willnae be left with a limp if ye take care,” she added, softly reminding him of his good fortune.

“I ken it. I am verra fortunate indeed. ’Tis still an irritation.” He met her smile with a faint one of his own as she helped him sit up against the pillows she hastily set behind his back. “I think there are some monks who must be resting their heads on a verra flat bed.” She chuckled, and the low, husky sound stirred a dangerous warmth inside him.

“Some do anyway as they feel such soft pillows are a sinful indulgence, but, aye, there are few spare ones at the monastery just now.”

“I dinnae suppose ’tis time for Brother Matthew to arrive, is it?” Liam asked, aware of a pressing need and reluctant to have this blood-stirring woman assist him in such a personal chore.

“Ah, nay, but one of the lads is here. He brought some hay for your horse. I will
fetch him for ye.”

The moment she left, Liam closed his eyes and recited every curse he could think of. It might be wise to cease trying to remain wary and use all his willpower to keep himself from reaching for her. He could not recall any woman who had stirred his lusts as swiftly and fiercely as this one did. Worse, she was not even trying to do so. There was not even the smallest hint of flirtation in her manner. She gave him no coy looks, no soft flatteries, and no inviting smiles, but despite the pain he was in, he wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before.

Keira returned with a thin boy who had not yet grown into his feet and hands. She introduced young Kester and then hurried away. Liam watched the youth stare after her and heard him sigh. Obviously, the boy was old enough to suffer an infatuation with a woman. Liam supposed he ought to find some comfort in that for it revealed that he was not the only one bewitched by Keira. However, he thought grimly when the boy finally turned his way, Kester was not gambling with his life.

A fortnight of deception, Keira mused as she finished collecting herbs from the monastery garden and started back toward the cottage. That was how she saw the time she had spent with Sir Liam Cameron. To be completely fair to herself, she supposed she could say it was more like ten days of deception, for Liam had been mostly unconscious, then resting, for four days. It was as his mind had begun to clear and they had actually begun to talk to each other about more than his injuries that the deception had truly begun.

She shook her head over her own foolishness. Deception was necessary. In a way, it was an act of self-preservation. She had to keep herself at a distance from him in any way that she could. It was impossible to leave him as he still needed care, but in all other ways, she had to keep a wall between them. If she revealed any of her confused but intensifying feelings for him and he responded in even the smallest way, she feared she would be lost. The man was proving to be all she could ever want, but he was far above her touch.

There was also Ardgleann and its people to consider. To help them, she had to hold fast to a lie. Duncan had made her swear to it shortly before his death. That was not a vow she could risk breaking. There was not even any room for compromise, a way for her to get what she was craving more each day and yet keep her vow to her murdered husband.

Setting her basket down as she neared the well by the cottage, Keira went to clean herself of the dirt she had accumulated while collecting herbs from the garden. She had felt compelled to work in the garden for a while in payment for the herbs she harvested, and it showed. What little vanity she possessed would not allow her to go into the cottage where Sir Liam rested without at least attempting to look her best.

“Foolish woman,” she muttered to herself as she drew up a bucket of water.

“Aye, that ye are. Ye thought ye could continue to tempt a mon to madness and nay pay the consequences.”

Keira silently cursed as she turned to face Brother Paul. The man looked flushed, a little wild-eyed, and dangerous. She was neatly trapped between him and the well, armed with only the rag she had just dampened to clean herself. This, she thought, could be unpleasant for he did not look as if he was in the mood to listen to reason.

Liam sat on the edge of the bed and scowled at the cottage door. He was restless. Most of his other injuries had healed, but his broken leg kept him trapped. Although he had spent the morning hobbling around on his crutch, hoping to gain some semblance of grace while using it, he was not tired. He was bored. There was nothing to do and no one to talk to, so he sat there wondering when Keira would return. It was a sad end for a man who had never had to wait upon any woman before, he mused, and briefly smiled at the vanity of such thoughts.

Holding himself at a safe distance from Keira was proving as difficult as he had thought it would be, and it was not because she was the only woman around. She fascinated him as much as she aroused him. It was a dangerous combination. The more he watched her, the more beautiful she became. He knew she was holding fast to some secrets, and he wanted to know each and every one.

The fact that she was trying to keep a distance from him as well was not helping
him all that much. Instead, it worked to intrigue him. Liam knew she was not doing so intentionally, but that air of mystery around her kept pulling at him, tempting him to step over the boundaries he had set for himself. Even reminding himself that he had little to offer a woman like her did not rein in his growing interest. For one brief moment, when he had learned that she was a widow, he had even considered becoming her lover for a while, but had forced that tempting plan out of his head. Widow she may be, but Keira was a woman one married. Although he had heard that the Murrays allowed their women to choose their husbands, he doubted they would smile upon a poor, landless knight.

Even as he wondered why the thought of marriage kept tripping through his mind, he heard a noise outside. At first, he thought Kester had returned with Keira, following her like some faithful puppy, as was his habit. Then he realized that the voices were raised, for he would not be able to hear them through the door otherwise. He was just wondering if he ought to limp to the door to see who Keira might be arguing with or if he would soon have other company to deal with when he heard a brief, feminine screech.

Cursing softly over how awkward he still was with his new crutch, Liam made his way to the door. He opened the door, stepped outside, and nearly bellowed out the rage that swept over him. A monk had Keira pinned to the ground. Liam caught sight of Kester in the distance, but the boy tripped and fell as he hurried to help Keira. When he saw the monk was struggling to pull up Keira’s skirts, Liam forgot about his injured leg, forgot about his pain, and hurried toward the wrestling couple.

Keira could not believe how quickly Brother Paul had gotten her pinned to the ground. One minute they had been arguing, the next she was beneath him. He smelled strongly of ale and sweat, and was proving to be far stronger than she would have expected him to be.

“Brother Paul, remember who ye are!” she cried as she struggled to keep him from mauling her. “What about your vows?”

“I am a mon first,” he muttered as he tried to pull up her skirts yet not lose his grip on her. “I have prayed for guidance and strength until my knees bled from the kneeling on them, but still ye tempt me. I have set harsh punishments for myself, but still ye haunt my dreams. I have tried so hard—”

Brother Paul was suddenly removed from on top of her, his sentence ending abruptly in a strangled gurgle. Keira stared in wonder as Liam held the man several inches off the ground with one hand. Liam’s beautiful face was hardened by fury while Brother Paul’s was white with fear.

“Ye obviously didnae try hard enough,” Liam said, shaking the man slightly. “Ye are an idiot. And if ye e’er touch the lass again, ye will be a
dead
idiot.”

Keira was just scrambling to her feet when Liam flung the terrified monk aside. She gaped as Brother Paul landed hard on the ground several feet away and sprawled there, gasping like a fish out of water. As she turned to stare at Liam, Kester stumbled up to them.

“M’lady! Are ye hurt?” asked Kester.

“Nay, just a wee bit bruised,” she replied, smiling at the youth to ease his obvious concern. When she looked at Liam again, she suddenly became aware of the fact that he had rushed to her rescue and manhandled Brother Paul on his broken leg. “Och, Sir Liam, ye should ne’er have rushed out here! I thank ye, but ye could have damaged your leg.”

“’Tis already damaged.” Liam’s anger was fading, and he was becoming acutely aware of the intense pain in his broken leg.

“I meant ye could have ruined whate’er healing there has been.”

“Ah, weel, ye may be right.” He realized he had dropped his crutch as he had reached for the monk and looked around for it. “’Tis verra clear it doesnae like being stood on.”

Keira quickly picked up his crutch and handed it to him, then moved to his other side to give him even more support. The man was suddenly very pale, and there was a faint sheen of sweat upon his face. He had to be in agony, but he made no sound.

“Kester, see that Brother Paul returns to the monastery,” she said to the boy as she began to help Liam back into the cottage.

“Aye, m’lady.” A scowling Kester moved toward the groaning monk. “There will be a dire penance to pay for this.”

The boy seemed quite pleased about that possibility, Keira thought, then hoped he was right Brother Paul deserved some punishment for trying to force himself upon an unwilling woman and, worse, for convincing himself that it was all her fault. She doubted he would be punished for that latter idiocy, however. There were undoubtedly many at the monastery who would agree with him.

As soon as she had helped Liam onto the bed, Keira began to remove the bindings and wooden slats from his broken leg. The fact that he remained still, his arm flung over his eyes and his breathing a little ragged, told her that he was in a great deal of pain. She prayed he had not undone all of the healing that had begun.

When she found no sign of further injury to his leg, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He had obviously caused himself a great deal of pain, but he had not actually hurt his leg. Keira glanced at him, but he still had his eyes covered. His breathing had eased a little, and she wondered if he had swooned. She knew she could ease his pain, but she was a little reluctant to reveal her skill. Then she scolded herself over her fears. The man had already been told that she had found him because of a vision, and he had not cried her a witch. There was also the chance he would not even realize what she had done. After one last glance at his face, she placed her hands upon his leg and closed her eyes, sensing where the pain was the worst and working to ease it.

Liam felt Keira’s small, soft hands upon his leg and peered at her from beneath his arm. The touch of her hands smoothed away the worst of his pain. There was a growing warmth and a strange, not wholly unpleasant tingling. His eyes widened as he realized she knew exactly what was happening to him, what her touch could do, as she stood there with her eyes closed and an intense look of concentration on her sweet face. A brief twitch of fear rushed through him, a superstitious fear of the miraculous, that he quickly dismissed. Even though he felt a little dizzy when she finally took her hands away, he knew deep in his soul that she could never hurt him, or anyone, that she truly was a healer.

He forced himself to hold fast to the pose of being nearly unconscious as she slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and poured cool, sweet cider down his throat. It was not all that difficult for he did feel dazed. She looked pale, and was trembling faintly. Liam watched her stumble over to the small table by the fire. His eyes widened as she gulped down cider and slathered honey over pieces of bread, shoving them into her mouth so fast her cheeks bulged slightly. He suddenly felt a craving for the food she was
devouring so rapidly.

“Do ye think I might have some of that?” he asked.

Keira was so startled she nearly choked on the honey-drenched bread she was eating like a starved piglet. Then she felt the heat of a fierce blush burn her cheeks. She was standing before a beautiful man she desired with her mouth so full of food she could barely chew it and honey dripping off her chin. It was impossible to act as if nothing was unusual about her gluttony, but she decided to try anyway. Wiping the honey from her chin with a rag, she quickly spread some honey on a few pieces of bread, set them on a wooden plate, and took it to him. It was not until she handed it to him that she realized he could not have been unconscious while she had worked to ease his pain, that there was a good chance he knew what she had done. Although she saw no fear or condemnation in his eyes, she waited tensely for him to say something. She stood torn between the hope that he knew what she had done and accepted it and the hope that he had not noticed anything strange at all.

“Why are ye limping?” Liam asked as he savored the taste of the rich, honey-sweetened bread.

Inwardly cursing, Keira tried to think of a reasonable explanation for her sudden limp. When she eased a person’s pain, it often flowed into her, and she had not yet fully mastered a way to remove it. That was not something she could tell him, however. She still clung to the small hope that he did not really know what she had done.

“Just a wee bruising from being roughly tossed to the ground by Brother Paul,” she replied, pleased with her response until she saw the glint of amusement in his fine eyes.

“Ah, foolish me. I had wondered if in taking the pain from my leg, it had somehow entered yours. ’Tis odd that ’tis the right leg, too. Just like mine.”

“One only has two legs. Nay much choice as to which gets injured.” He knew, Keira thought, and wondered why she was still trying to deny her gift, especially since her evasions seemed to be amusing him so much.

“True.” Liam finished the last of the bread, then idly licked the sticky honey from his fingers before asking, “Why cannae ye just take that pain away as ye did mine?” He had to bite back a laugh when she planted her small fists upon her gently rounded hips and glared at him.

Liam’s amusement abruptly faded when he saw that behind her anger lurked fear and cursed himself for an idiot. Of course she would be afraid. Although her cousin had spoken of her vision, he had also stressed that the Murrays were cautious in the revealing of the gifts their clan was so heavily blessed with. There was danger in possessing such skills. Too many saw them as sorcery or the devil’s work. The very last thing he wanted was for Keira to be afraid of him.

“Poor wee Keira,” he murmured, “ye need not fret that I will be making the sign to ward off evil. Aye, when I kenned what ye were doing, I felt a wee tickle of superstitious fear, but I killed it. My cousin’s wife kens your clan weel and has made it her duty to banish such nonsense from our heads and hearts.”

Keira felt herself relax. “Who is your cousin’s wife?”

“Fiona, once a MacEnroy. Connor MacEnroy’s sister. He is wed to a cousin of yours, I believe.”

“Aye, to our Gilly. I have met Fiona. She has a true skill at healing.”

“Aye, that she does. So, do ye take in the pain?”

Sitting down on the bed, for she suddenly felt very tired, Keira nodded. “It has to go somewhere, doesnae it? I havenae yet mastered a way to rid myself of it. It doesnae last so verra long. Sometimes if I can, I think of standing in the rain or beneath a gentle waterfall, letting the cool water wash it all away.”

She closed her eyes and struggled to fill her mind with the vision of herself standing naked beneath a gentle fall of water. Breathing slowly, she let the sensation of being cleansed fill her mind and body. Little by little, she felt the ache in her leg ease. Right behind that relief came a feeling of utter exhaustion.

“So, ye truly had a vision of me?” Liam asked, a little astonished at how the pinched look of pain slowly faded from her face.