She could never see to her own care in this
horrendous condition, but how then could she allow a stranger to
tend her? Tears threatened her eyes and she fought hard to keep
them away. It would do her little good to shed senseless tears.
They would serve no purpose and only manage to hamper her already
hampered sight.
Courage.
She needed the courage of her heritage. She
was born of a strong clan, and no matter the difficulties or
challenges, the Cameron clan faced all adversaries with pride and
honor. She had only recently regained that pride and honor in
herself after having surrendered it to a husband who had not been
worthy of her. She had promised herself she would never do so
again. She would maintain her rich heritage and face life’s
challenges with courage as only a Cameron could.
The pain subsided enough for her to focus
once again on her surroundings. She thought she caught sight of a
single window but could not be certain, and the delicious scent in
the air told her that something tasty roasted over the hearth’s
flames.
The well-maintained condition of the cottage
told her that a caring heart resided here, and that thought gave
her pause to sigh in relief.
Her eyes drifted shut once again, and she
almost slipped back into the blissful relief of the darkness when
she heard a movement and her eyes sprang open, causing her to
grimace in pain. She did not moan, for she had found that even the
slightest sound caused her discomfort.
Where had it come from?
She listened to the silence, hoping to hear
the slight movement again, but she heard only the crackling of the
hearth’s flames. Someone was here with her and she knew not who.
The thought that a stranger lingered nearby made her grow
fearful.
How could she protect herself? She had not
the strength, nor the means to defend herself. She could do nothing
but rely on the kindness of a stranger. But was it kindness he
offered?
She searched the room, her glance going from
corner to corner, and she could see nothing, but she had heard.
What had she heard?
The sound came again.
It was a shuffle of sorts, as if someone
moved, but it was a brief movement, a barely noticeable or audible
one.
Did he not want her to detect his
presence?
She remained quiet, not moving, only
listening. She fought the darkness that reached up to capture her.
She could not surrender to it even though it removed her from the
constant pain and offered her relief. It was a false sense of
relief, for she would wake to the pain once again and realize her
plight. Strength was her ally and she could not surrender to her
pain.
She battled with herself and forced her eyes
open, forced herself to glance once again around the room. She
thought she caught a movement in the corner next to the fireplace,
and she allowed her glance to settle there.
She thought it a shadow, a large shadow that
dominated the corner, the width and height of it overpowering and
intimidating like a dark angel who hovered in wait.
She swallowed her fear and remained focused
on the shadow. It moved, only slightly, but it moved.
She waited to see if it would move
again.
It did.
It moved away from the fireplace slowly, as
if hesitant, and with even slower steps it approached the bed where
she lay.
Brianna tried to take a deep breath, but
pain rushed into her chest and she gasped as a relentless ache
stabbed repeatedly at her body.
Her distress caused the shadow to move
faster, and it reached the bed in an instant.
Brianna stared in horror at the sight that
hovered over her.
She thought the face that of a man, but she
could not be sure, for a freshly stitched scar, red and raw, ran
from his forehead over his eye, down his cheek to his jaw. His
other eye was badly bruised and swollen almost shut. His lower lip
was in the process of healing from a severe split. His multiple
injuries had swollen his face grotesquely out of shape so much so
that he resembled a demon from the depths of hell. Her response was
natural.
She screamed herself into
unconsciousness.
Brianna made her way out of the darkness. A
nagging thought warned her to remain in the shelter of the shadows,
but that was not possible. The light would bring her knowledge, and
Moira had taught her that knowledge was important to survival.
She opened her eyes slowly and her
surroundings rushed back to her, filling her with an anxious fear.
The hideous face she had last seen before unconsciousness claimed
her loomed in her mind’s eye. And the realization that the
grotesque man shared this lone cottage with her made her tremble
with dread.
Was he merely a hapless victim of
unfortunate circumstance? Or was his beating a justifiable
punishment for a crime? She would not have her answers or ease her
fear if she did not ask, but she found it difficult to speak. She
was not certain if the lack of speech was due to her injuries or
her fear of hearing unfavorable answers.
“I mean you no harm.”
His soft, deep voice startled her. It was
much gentler than she had expected, but still she knew little of
this man.
“I apologize for my appearance. I do not
wish to frighten you.”
He offered her an explanation in a tender
and caring tone and made no move to approach her. She had not
expected thoughtfulness, and her anxiousness calmed, though it did
not vanish. It lingered nearby along with apprehension.
He continued, his voice filled with a
confident strength yet touched with a soft concern. “I have
recently seen a harsh battle and my wounds only begin to heal.
Again, I mean you no harm. I but wish to help you. While your body
shows no signs of broken bones, you have sustained a severe
bruising to your chest and legs and need care.”
The thought that she was helpless upset
Brianna, and tears trickled from her eyes, though she fought to
keep them under control. It would do her no good to show this
stranger weakness.
“My name is Royce, and I ask permission to
tend to your needs.”
That he spoke the truth to her was obvious.
She could not move without pain stabbing at her. But how could she
allow this strange man to see to her every need? How could she bear
the thought of being so vulnerable in front of him? Could she do
nothing for herself?
Her Cameron pride made her attempt to at
least sit up in the bed without any assistance. If she could
accomplish that menial task, perhaps then she would not feel so
helpless and dependent on this stranger.
She stubbornly moved her arms, though her
chest ached from the effort, and when she attempted to brace them
on the bed and move herself, a vicious stabbing pain knifed through
her and forced a scream from her. She did not, however, count on
the scream being his name.
He rushed to her side and took her hand,
holding it gently while his other hand tenderly stroked her
forehead.
“It is all right. Calm and the pain will
subside. I am here and will care for you and protect you. Think
naught but of my hand soothing your head and my voice that reaches
out to you in concern. Tell me your name? I have wondered over
it.”
She concentrated on his strong voice, and
his confident touch comforted her. “I am Brianna.” She made no
mention of her clan, for she knew not of his clan distinction, and
there was much friction amongst Highland clans.
“A gentle name,” he said and stroked her
face.
She kept her eyes closed, gaining the
courage to look upon him. It was not that she thought him
horrendous, though his fresh scars made him appear so. It was that
she felt for his plight. He had suffered horribly, and the scars
that remained attested to his horrific ordeal.
“It is kind of you to look after me.” Her
pain was slowly ebbing and she breathed more easily, though she
would not surrender the comforting strength of his hand.
“I do not mind. You need me.”
She instantly responded, “Aye, I do, though
I do not mean to be a burden.”
“I do not think of you as a burden and I
tend you most willingly.”
She was relieved to hear his truthful words.
“I am grateful for you, but I must ask of the two men who were with
me.”
A moment of silence preceded his answer. “I
am sorry; they did not survive.”
She felt a sense of sorrow for her
companions. They were good men and free of family so there was no
particular person who would mourn their loss, though the clan
would. All members of the clan were considered family and all
mourned a passing.
“They were good men.”
“Then they will be missed.”
“Aye, they will,” she said softly and
offered a silent prayer for their souls.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, his hand
remaining firmly locked with hers.
She thought a moment, for food had not been
a thought and she simply felt too weak even to consider attempting
to eat. “Nay, I have not the strength.”
“The very reason you should eat something,
to regain your strength.”
She sighed softly, knowing a deep breath
would only bring her pain, and before she could respond he
spoke.
“The broth I have made would suit you
well.”
Brianna knew she could not lift even a
simple spoon, and her disappointment was evident when she repeated,
“I have not the strength.”
“I will feed you, you need not worry.”
A single tear trickled from her eye. The
idea that she was completely dependent on this stranger upset her.
She had no choice but to rely on his kindness and to trust him. She
realized that trust was the most difficult for her. She had not
been able to trust her husband; how was she ever to trust this man
she did not know?
With a gentle swipe of his finger he removed
the single teardrop from her cheek. “You need not fear me. I mean
you no harm, Brianna. I will care for you as long as is necessary.
Trust me.”
She had shut her eyes and listened to the
soothing lilt of his voice. If she had not known his features, she
would have thought of them as gentle, a smooth complexion, tender
eyes, soft lips. This vision of such a man she could trust, but the
man who stood over her possessed no gentle features.
Her eyes drifted open. He looked down at her
with an intense dark green eye; his other eye was too badly swollen
shut for him to open. The color reminded her of the forest in the
winter, cold and empty yet content in its solitude. His hair was
long, a burnished brown, as though fire and light mixed with the
color of the earth, and it looked to be well tended, for it shined
with a silky radiance.
One braid hung down on the right side of his
head, a brown leather strip entwined in the strands. His lip
swelled from the severe spilt and made it impossible to determine
the true shape of his mouth. And one look at his body left no doubt
that he was a warrior. He wore a dark shirt over a broad and
heavily muscled chest. His plaid was of dark colors and wrapped
snugly around a narrow waist; below that she could not see, for he
leaned over the edge of the bed, blocking the rest of him from her
view.
“Now that you have looked me over, will you
trust me?”
“Have I a choice?” Brianna asked, feeling
justified in blatantly taking stock of him.
His hand gently pushed a stray strand of
hair off her face. “Nay, Brianna, you have no choice but to trust
me.”
An unexpected cough seized her and she cried
out as pain stabbed at her chest. Without thought she squeezed at
his hand that held firm to hers, and his other hand instantly
reached out to gently cup her face and force her to rest her glance
on him.
“Look at me and breathe calmly,” he ordered
in a tone that he must have used to command men in battle, for she
immediately obeyed him without question.
“Calmly,” he repeated when she fought the
breath that followed. “If you struggle you will only worsen the
pain and bring yourself more discomfort. Ease your breathing.”
She followed his words and took short
shallow breaths and realized the pain lessened, though her hold on
his hand remained firm.
“Time and rest will heal your bruises.”
She nodded slowly, knowing he was right.
“I will get you some broth and you will
eat.”
“A command?” she asked with effort, the pain
not having completely subsided.
“If it is necessary.”
His response warned her that he was a man
accustomed to having his command obeyed, and being that she had no
choice at the moment; she wisely chose to defer to him.
For now.
“Nay, I will eat what I can.”
“It is good that you try, but first I must
raise you up more on the pillows so that you may eat more
comfortably.”
Her eyes rounded, the thought of pain
filling her with dread, and he understood. “I will move you as
gently as possible.”
He did not wait for her to respond or
object. He removed his hand from hers and slipped his arm beneath
the wool blanket.
Her eyes grew even wider.
He offered an explanation. “I had no choice
but to remove your clothes. They were torn and dirty. And I needed
to see how severe your injuries were. I could carry only you and
thought to return later for your chest, but I have been reluctant
to leave you alone.”
She said not a word but gave him a brief
nod, letting him know she understood.
“Relax,” he said softly, his hand slipping
slowly beneath her back. “I will not hurt you.”
The strength in his arm was remarkable, for
he moved her with the gentlest of touches, his other hand pushing
the pillows beneath her back and head so that she lay reclined. She
suffered only the slightest discomfort and paid it no heed, for her
new position eased her aching body.