Loving A Highlander (3 page)

Isabella turned back to him and noted the look of sympathy that shown from his eyes.  He was sorry for her and that was something she wouldn’t tolerate.  She didn’t need the pity of a man she had only known for a matter of hours.

She straightened and nodded toward the open window.  “Your horse looks restless.  Perhaps it is time for you to continue your journey.”  She brushed passed him, but was stopped by a firm grip on her arm.

Gerard turned her to face him.  “I have hurt you,” he said in a husky voice.

“You haven’t,” she said firmly. 

He arched a brow in disbelief.  “Why else would you be in such a hurry to be rid of me?”

Isabella ignored the spark of attraction she felt as their bodies connected.  What would it feel like to take a step forward into his arms?  To feel them close around her and offer her comfort that only a man could give.

She was treading on dangerous ground.  If she wasn’t careful, she would lose her heart and that was something she wasn’t prepared to give.  There was something about this man that was special.  He possessed a quiet strength and she somehow knew that he took care of his own. 

“I don’t wish to be rid of you,” she lied.  “But the sun travels higher in the sky and I imagine your family is worried about you.  Your wife must be pacing the floor.”

Gerard’s jaw clenched and he hesitated.  When he finally did speak, his voice was thick with emotion.  “I have no wife,” he said, as a shadow clouded his eyes.

In her mind’s eye, Isabella saw a flash of a beautiful woman with chestnut colored hair and brown eyes.  She was snuggled in Gerard’s arms and the two of them looked quite happy.  Just as quickly, the vision faded and she was left searching for the truth, finding it hard to ignore the lie behind his words.

“There is no one?”  Her gaze met his and held.  “No special woman who has captured your heart?  I find it hard to believe you are not married.”

Gerard crossed his arms and returned her stare.  “I was married, aye, but she is no longer among the living.”  A look of pain entered his eyes, but was gone just as quickly.  He wouldn’t let himself dwell on the past, on what might have been.  The present was all that mattered.  The past was just a memory and the future promised to no man.

Isabella winced at the bleak look in his eyes and shivered as a wave of sadness crashed over her.  He had caused her pain and it appeared as if she had paid him back in kind.  It wasn’t her way.  She believed in the law of do what you will, but harm none.  It was something she had been taught at her grandmother’s knee.  One of the old teachings, a truth about life that she would be wise to heed or pay the consequences.

And here she was ignoring her grandmother’s advice.  Dredging up memories of the past.  Memories that should have been left buried and forgotten.

She took a step back.  Away from the sadness that wrapped him in its smothering embrace.  “It appears as if it is my turn to apologize.  I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.”

Gerard sighed and looked around the one room cottage that was now bathed in morning light, illuminating the cracks in the walls and the dirt floor underneath his feet.  “You didn’t.”  He attempted to smile, but the corners of his lips wouldn’t obey. 

He motioned for her to take a seat at the rickety table while he sat back down on the bed, trying to ignore how good it felt and how just walking across the room had drained him of energy.  “Sit down and I will tell you about my life.”

Isabella’s protest died on her lips as she noticed the weary look in his eyes and the paleness beneath his tan.  He was still ill and it had been foolish of her to suggest he was in any condition to travel.

Gerard cleared his throat as he leaned back against the down pillow.  “Her name was Lorna,” he said, his voice dull as he tried to distance himself from the pain that roared through him, tearing him apart from the inside out.  “We had been married a little over a year when she got caught in a rainstorm, became ill, and died.” 

His gaze tangled with hers.  “Lorna was pregnant with our unborn child,” he said softly.

Isabella gasped at his words and from the raw pain that was stamped upon his features.  This was a man who had lost much.  Had loved much, only to have the thing he cherished most torn from his grasp. 

She had a feeling Gerard had been wandering far from home for some time.  Afraid to return and confront the memories that haunted him at every turn.  Tormented by thoughts of the woman he had loved and the child he would never know.  The pain was etched into his face and scored deeply into his soul.

She wondered what it would be like to have that kind of love.  For a man to care about her more than he cared about his next breath.  For Gerard had loved his wife, of that she was certain.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Isabella whispered.  Her words sounded hollow, but she didn’t know what to say to ease his pain, or if such a thing was even possible.

Gerard inclined his head slightly.  “And I am sorry for yours, lass.  It appears as if fate has been most unkind to both of us.”

Isabella brushed a lock of her blond hair away from her face and opened her mouth to respond, but Gerard’s eyes had drifted closed and he was breathing heavily.  She placed a blanket over his sleeping form and sat back down in her chair.

Her gaze fastened on his handsome face.  In sleep, he appeared much younger.  Closer to her own age of twenty-four, although she knew he was more than likely older.

She was old by most people’s standards.  Dried up and shriveled on the vine as Owen used to say.  He had been a few years younger than her and hadn’t hesitated to remind her that she was lucky he married her.  After all, he had often said, what man wanted a woman who was close to becoming wrinkled with age.

She returned her thoughts to her visitor.  His hands were crisscrossed with scars, and she could tell he was a man who was not a stranger to hard work.  It was apparent he had been knocked around by life.  Weathered the storm and was still standing.  He was a fighter.  Someone who would protect what was his with his dying breath.

A thrill of excitement went through her at the thought and she shivered.  What would it be like to have a man such as this in her life?  To wake up in his arms every morning and feel his hands on her body?

Isabella shook her head and rose from her chair.  She was being foolish.  This was a man who could have any woman he wanted.  Why would he want a woman such as her?  Knowing that she was wasting her time thinking about things that would never be, she quietly slipped out the door.  Out into the dim light of the new day and away from the troubling thoughts that plagued her.

Chapter

Three
             

Gerard sat up in bed and wiping the sleep from his eyes, took in the one room cottage with a glance.  There were cracks in the walls and a hole in the roof that needed to be patched.  Things that should have been taken care of by her husband.

He clenched his fists as his anger flared at the thought of the other man.  He made a vow that as soon as he was able, he would track Isabella’s husband down and make him pay for the pain he had caused her.  A smile curved his lips as he imagined his fist connecting with the other man’s face, but then he sighed.  As much as he would love to obliterate Isabella’s husband from the face of the earth, it was obvious she still cared about the man.  No, he wouldn’t do anything to cause her more pain.

He could hear singing outside the cottage window and with a groan, he got up and walked to the door.  The sun was already high in the sky and he knew he must have slept for hours.  The thought bothered him.  It wasn’t like him to let his guard down in a strange place and the fact that he had been dead to the world for some time was unsettling.

Anything could have happened while he was asleep.  Isabella could have smothered him while he slept and stolen what little coin he had left and no one would be the wiser. But something told him she wouldn’t harm him.  She was sweet and kind and glaringly out of place in the cold hard world.  A woman who needed protection.

Not that he thought she was a weak woman, far from it.  He could see the strength in the set of her shoulders and her ability to handle problems that would have left most noble women in a dither, unsure of how to proceed.

His gaze scanned the small clearing until he located Isabella by the small chicken coop.  She was talking to the birds that milled about her feet as she spread handfuls of grain.  Sunlight filtered through the trees and highlighted her hair, turning the blond tresses into strands of gold.  Her soft voice floated to him on the breeze and he felt his cock begin to stir.

Gerard leaned against the doorjamb and sighed.  What was it about this lass that made his blood run hot?  Before and after his wife’s death, plenty of women had visited his bed.  He didn’t have to look far to find a willing partner.  So what was it about this woman that had him so intrigued?  Made him feel the fierce need to protect her?

“It’s nothing that a good tumble won’t cure,” he muttered, as he scrubbed a hand across his whiskered jaw.  He knew of several women who would be willing and able to scratch his itch once he returned to the castle, but at the moment, he found none of them appealing.

Isabella glanced over to where he was standing.  A frown marred her forehead and she walked across the clearing to stand by his side.  “Were you speaking to me?” 

“No, lass.  I was just talking to myself.  I do that sometimes.”

Isabella gave him a slight smile.  “My grandmother used to do the same thing.  She said that she learned the most amazing things when she talked to herself.”

Gerard inclined his head.  “Your grandmother was a wise woman.  I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to meet her.”

Isabella nodded.  “She was an amazing woman.”

Gerard reached out to twine a lock of her hair around his fingers.  He let the silky strands slip through his fingers before responding.  “Your grandmother would have to be amazing to raise you,” he said, his voice low and husky.  “You are one of a kind, Bella.  A treasure in this dreary world.  Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Isabella thought about how different this man was from her husband.  She studied his face.  His eyes burned with a naked hunger and she took a step forward, twining her arms about his neck and drawing him down for a kiss.

His lips were warm and firm against her own and she moaned as he took charge of the kiss, nipping gently at her lower lip until she opened, allowing his tongue inside.  He plundered the dark recesses of her mouth causing her to whimper with need.

Isabella tore her mouth from his and gasped when he slipped a knee forward, pressing it against the juncture of her thighs.  She moaned as her fingers twisted in the material of his shirt, enjoying the sensation as he shifted against her womanhood. 

Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she took a step back and ran a trembling hand through her hair.  “We can’t.”

Gerard gave her a wicked grin.  “It was just a kiss, lass, nothing more.”

Isabella turned away.  Aye, it had only been a kiss, but oh how she wished it had been more.  Could be more, but she knew now was not the time and seriously doubted if that time would ever arrive.

They moved in different circles.  Men like him considered women to be little more than play things, a pleasant way to pass the time when they were bored.  A night in his bed would be enjoyable, but that would be all it would be.  He would soon depart for his world and she would be left alone in hers.

Gerard turned her to face him.  “I’ve offended you.”

“No,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. 

He tilted up her chin, forcing her to look at him.  “Don’t think that I don’t want you, lass, because I do.  I want you much, but…”  He gave a sheepish grin.  “I’m not in any shape for that kind of activity.  Perhaps, when I am better, we can discuss it further.”

Isabella flushed as images of a naked Gerard wrapped in her arms flashed through her head.  “Sounds like…fun,” she murmured.

Gerard’s grin was pure wickedness.  “Oh, aye, lass, it would be most enjoyable.”

Her gaze dropped to the bulge at the front of his pants.  Was it just her imagination, or had it grown larger?

“Keep staring at me like that, Bella,” Gerard growled, “and I will use what little strength I have to show you how much fun it can be.”

Isabella met his gaze.  There was a challenge there, one she would have loved to accept, but he was in no shape to follow through on his promise.  She pointed to where the clothes he had been wearing when he arrived were spread out on a stump to dry.  “Your clothes are over there.”

Gerard looked down at the garments he was wearing.  The pants were far too small and ended well above his ankles.  He arched his brows.  “Are you suggesting I change?  I thought I looked quite dashing.”

The tension broken, Isabella’s laughter floated on the air as she walked over to retrieve his things.  “I’m sorry,” she said, as she handed the garments to him.  “My husband was a good deal shorter than you.”

Her expression clouded as she thought about Owen.  How could she have been foolish enough to marry him in the first place?  It had been obvious he hadn’t loved her.  Oh, he had said all of the right words and had been eager to get her in his bed, but there had been no warmth in his eyes.  Not that she hadn’t enjoyed their time together, because she had.  But it was clear to her now that the words he had spoken had been empty of meaning.  His promises, hollow.

Gerard winced at the raw pain stamped upon Isabella’s pretty features before she willed it away.  He blew out a harsh breath as his anger began to simmer.  To trick a man was one thing, but to prey upon a woman was beyond evil.  To cause a woman to fall in love with you only to walk away was especially cruel and his hatred for Isabella’s husband was rekindled. 

“I’m sorry, lass.  Life isn’t always fair.”

“No,” Isabella whispered with a faraway look in her eyes.  “No, it certainly isn’t.”

Gerard pulled her to him and gently grasped her chin.  He stared down into her blue eyes, eyes that looked troubled and held a sheen of tears. 

He steeled himself, preparing for the onslaught of tears he knew was coming, but none came.  Instead, Isabella took a deep breath, and stepped away from him.

“I have been managing just fine on my own,” she said, staring off across the clearing.

Gerard looked around the small property.  His gaze took in the chicken coop, an old horse and a scraggly garden patch lying fallow for the winter.  It wasn’t much.  His suite of rooms back at the castle were far bigger and much nicer. 

“How do you make a living?” 

A flush of anger stained Isabella’s cheeks as her gaze met his and fled. It was obvious he considered her to be a weak woman who needed a man to take care of her. 

“I make do.”

It crossed Gerard’s mind that maybe she didn’t want to tell him how she made a living.  There were plenty of women who were forced into prostitution just to survive.  It was a cruel world and he wouldn’t judge her.

He sighed.  “I won’t pass judgement on you, lass.  It is a cruel world we live in and sometimes a woman has to do things she doesn’t want to just to survive.”

Isabella arched a brow as she caught the meaning behind his words.  He thought she was a prostitute.  She almost laughed at the thought.  If Owen didn’t want her, what made him think that another man would?

“I’m a healer,” she said, with a proud lift of her chin.  She was a healer and a damn good one if she did say so herself.  Some women who called themselves healers only dabbled in the craft, but Isabella had taken to it like a duck to water.  She had read her grandmother’s book of herbal recipes from front to back and had even added a few of her own.

“A what?” Gerard asked, praying he had misunderstood.  Most healers were considered to be witches and the woman standing before him didn’t look like someone who dabbled in the occult.

He suppressed a shudder as a memory surfaced.  It had happened during his travels.  He had been passing through a village far from here and witnessed a mob dragging an elderly woman.  By the time he had managed to break through the crowd of people, it had been too late.  The woman had been tied to a stake and set alight.  Sometimes at night he woke up in a cold sweat, certain he heard the woman’s anguished cries in the wind.

Isabella straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eyes.  “I’m a healer.  The same as my mother and grandmother before me.”

Gerard sucked in a breath.  She had given him little choice but to take her with him.  He couldn’t risk leaving her here.  He would always wonder if she was safe or if an angry mob had broken into her home in the middle of the night and taken her away.  It would kill him to find out she had met the same fate as the elderly woman.

“You’re a witch,” he said firmly, wanting her to admit it once and for all.  He knew there was a difference between a healer and a witch, but most people considered them to be one and the same.

Isabella sighed deeply and shook her head.  It wasn’t the first time she had been accused of being a practitioner of dark magic and probably wouldn’t be the last.  “I’m not a witch,” she said, her eyes flashing fire.  “I am a healer.  People come to me for help with what ails them.”

Gerard gave her a slight smile.  The woman was beautiful when she was angry.  The rush of emotion causing her cheeks to burn a fiery red.  As if on demand, the wind had picked up, whipping her long blond hair about her face and shoulders.  And her teeth bit her bottom lip as if she fought to hold back a torrent of words.

Gerard arched a brow and looked around him doubtfully.  There hadn’t been anyone arriving to seek out Isabella’s aid in the short time he had been here.  “Do you do a fair amount of business?”

Isabella’s shoulders slumped slightly but the fire didn’t leave her eyes.  “Not as much as my grandmother and mother,” she admitted.  “But business has begun to increase.  It takes time for people to trust a new healer, but hopefully once news spreads about how well my herbs help, customers will come regularly once again.”

Gerard suspected that people might arrive, but not to seek her aid.  They would arrive in the middle of the night to cause her harm.  The number of witch burnings had increased over the months.  The poor women and a few men who died had been accused of causing crops to fail, turning milk sour, as well as putting curses on entire villages.  Fueled by superstition as well as fear, Gerard knew that it would only get worse before it got better.

No, he had to convince her to leave.  He would take her to the castle where he could keep her safe.  He folded his arms and frowned.  “You can’t stay here, lass.  Winter is fast approaching and then what will you do?”

The fire flared in Isabella’s eyes.  “I will make do.  I am not as naïve as you think.”

Gerard’s tone gentled.  “Aye, lass, I can see that you are quite capable of managing things,” he said, even though he secretly doubted it.  Isabella may be a strong woman, but even she wasn’t capable of holding off an angry mob.

He arched a brow.  “Winters can be harsh and you are on your own.”

Isabella watched as emotions flickered in his eyes.  It was as if he waged an eternal battle, and she briefly wondered what the outcome would be.

“I will be perfectly fine here,” she said, as she stared into his eyes.  He was worried about her; that was plain to see and it warmed her heart.  She couldn’t remember a time when a man had cared about her safety.  Owen certainly hadn’t.  He had often sent her out in the dead of night to see about a noise that had awoken them from sleep.  Most times it had been nothing, but one time she had noticed a set of footprints outside their cottage window.  Footprints that were too big to belong to either one of them.  Someone had been spying on them in the middle of the night and the thought could still make her blood run cold.

Gerard’s voice was hoarse when he answered.  “Why don’t you come with me?  I am heading to the Mackenzie castle.”  His gaze clouded, but he pressed onward.  “It will be good to be home.  I have been away a number of years.  There was a time when I thought I would never leave it.  As captain of the guard, I thought my duty lay in defending its walls.”