To Love A Highlander (Highland Warriors Book 1) Read online

  Tula was too afraid to disobey Craven, and Espy understood. To keep Tula from risking punishment for disobeying him, Espy had taken it upon herself to do what was necessary on her own.

  Once at the bottom of the stairs, she hugged the shadows close to the wall. She could hear noise and laughter coming from the Great Hall and though she would come close to entering it, she would not have to walk through it to get outside. She would slip through the narrow passage that connected to the kitchen and make her way from there to Anwen’s cottage.

  She had told Tula that she was exhausted and wanted to sleep and that Tula was no longer needed. She intended to deliver Anwen’s bairn and get back in bed before anyone discovered her gone. This was Anwen’s second bairn and with the first one having delivered fast, there was a good chance the second would as well.

  She had let her dark hair fall loose down the sides of her face to keep herself from being recognized since everyone was used to seeing her hair braided. She walked with a quick stride through the kitchen, appearing as if she belonged there and no one paid her heed. Once outside she hurried to the healing cottage, grateful the rain had turned to a trickle, and grabbed a cloak that had been left there and the healing basket, and rushed off.

  Shivers took hold of her again, the wet, cold mud squishing through her toes and sending more chills through her.

  After an hour with Anwen, Espy was glad she was there. It was not going to be as easy a birth as she had believed.

  Several hours later, one son lay cradled in Anwen’s arm and the other in his da’s, and their sister, barely three years looked on with sleepy eyes.

  “I cannot thank you enough,” Anwen said. “If you had not been here, one of them would have died.”

  “Aye, we owe you much,” Nevin, Anwen’s husband, said.

  “It is what I am here for,” Espy assured them. “I will check in on you and the bairns later in the morning. “Rest, for you will need it with these two strapping lads.”

  Nevin beamed with pride.

  Espy left the cottage relieved the birth was done and all had turned out well. There had been a moment she feared she would lose the one bairn, the cord having wrapped around his neck and looking as if it was choking the life out of him. But she had managed to pry it loose and the bairn cried out loudly. Now if only her body did not ache so badly.

  She did not know if she would make it back to the keep and besides, she wanted to desperately clean her feet of the mud. With the healing cottage closer, she decided to go there. Every step hurt more than the last one, but when a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder form behind, Espy found the strength to swerve around sharply, her arm swinging out at whoever stood behind her.

  Her wrist was caught in an ironclad grip and Espy was never so relieved to see Craven. Whether it was relief or instinct—she did not care which—she collapsed against him and sighed with relief, and his powerful arms closed around her.

  Craven was ready to turn an angry scowl and angrier words on her. What was she thinking walking the village in the dead of night when the physician had just been murdered, then she fell against him and his anger fled. He lifted her up in his arms, hugging her tight against him, and walked to the keep.

  “What are you doing out?” he demanded, though knew it would have something to do with a birth or an illness.

  “A bairn that turned into two and a delivery that proved a bit more difficult than expected.” Espy smiled. “Anwen and Nevin have fine twin sons.”

  How could he scold her for seeing that twin bairns were safely delivered and the mum did well? Had she not told him that no man would want her as a wife, for she would be forever seeing to those who needed her help? She was a woman who gave much of herself, but who truly gave to her?

  “I am glad to hear all went well, but you should have told me that Anwen needed you.”

  “Would you have given me permission to tend her?”

  Craven smiled. “Probably not, though I have no doubt you would have persuaded me.”

  “It is your kind heart that would have been persuaded.”

  He snorted. “You do not know me at all if you think I have a kind heart.”

  “Perhaps it is you who do not know yourself.”

  “I know myself all too well,” he argued and felt the dampness of her garments seeping through her cloak. One shiver followed by another annoyed him even more and he hurried his steps.

  He carried her through the empty Great Hall and up the stairs and, as he had done earlier, he gave no thought to taking her anywhere but to his bedchamber.

  “Do not put me in the bed,” she said, upon entering and before Craven could argue, she continued. “My bare feet are caked with mud.”

  Craven halted. “Where are your boots?”

  “The last I saw them they were on the bank of the stream.”

  He lowered her to her feet. “I should give you a good thrashing for not obeying me.”

  “Can that wait?” she asked softly and unable to hold her head up, she rested it on his chest. “I fear that without some rest, I would never survive such a beating.”

  He muttered several oaths at himself for threatening something he would never do to her as he stripped off her cloak and tossed it aside. Then he once again proceeded to strip her, though this time her hand stopped him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He shoved her hand aside. “You should have never dressed in wet garments and with your feet bare, the cold has seeped deep inside you. You need to get warm.”

  Espy could not argue with that and for the second time that day she let Craven strip her naked. She had no worries over his touch. The last time his touch had been swift, not at all intimate. It had had her wondering why then his innocent touch had sent a rash of heat running through her and set off a flutter of intimate tingles?

  He wrapped a blanket around her, scooped her up, as soon as he had her naked once again, and sat her on the chair close to the hearth. He got the bucket of water that had been left near the door and set it by her feet. When she leaned down, her hand sneaking out of the blanket, he pushed it away.

  “I will see to your muddy feet.” She went to speak and Craven pressed his finger against her lips. “Not a word.”

  Espy was too tired to argue, besides there was no one else to help her and she doubted she could see to it herself.

  He took her one foot and stuck it in the bucket and she gasped, the water chilly. He dipped his large hand in and began scrubbing off the mud. He was thorough, rubbing every inch of her foot, his fingers gliding between her toes, rubbing hard along the bottom and around her heel, and Espy never felt anything so wonderful. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.

  Her skin was smooth and soft, her toes perfectly shaped with a slight arch along the bottom of her foot. He ran his hand up her leg some and around her slim ankle, making certain he got all the mud. When he finished he dried her foot thoroughly admiring the view of what his hands had only felt. He did the same to her other foot and when he finished drying that one he looked up at her and saw that she was sound asleep.

  The blanket had fallen open across her chest, leaving her full breasts to peek out. There was no denying she was a beautiful woman and no denying he wanted her. But not here, not now. He wanted her wide awake and willing. Now she needed to rest and stay warm.

  He lifted her gently and placed her on the bed, leaving the blanket tucked around her and pulling another blanket up over her, and still she shivered.

  “Cold,” she whispered and continued to shiver, turning on her side and drawing her legs up and locking her arms against her chest, looking for warmth.

  He stared down at her, fighting the urge to climb in bed with her and chase her chill away. It would not be wise. She would warm up eventually.

  Her shivers worsened.

  Leave now! His own voice warned in his head.

  He groaned, annoyed, and forced himself to turn away and walk toward the door.

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bsp; “Craven.”

  It was enough of a pleading whisper for him to hear and for him to return to the bed. Her eyes were closed, she remained sound asleep. She had called out to him in her sleep.

  “Craven.”

  He should turn and walk out of the room and close the door soundly behind him. He should not—

  He shed his garments, letting them drop to his feet, and climbed naked into bed, easing his way beneath the blanket to lie beside her. He gently stripped away the blanket that he had wrapped around her and curled his body around hers, slipping his hand to rest over her two that she held tightly clasped together against her chest. He placed his leg over her chilled ones, rubbing it up and down several times to warm them, then pressed himself against her back. Her chill assaulted him, but his warmth overpowered it and he held her tight, letting his heat soak into her, warming her, keeping her safe.

  Never in his wildest imaginings would he have ever thought that he would share his bed with the woman he had had so much hatred for, but then he would have never imagined that his hatred had been misplaced. He had wasted a year loathing her when she had never deserved it. He had wrongly accused the one person who had been there to help his wife, to fight for her and his bairn.

  Aubrey had recognized Espy’s kind nature and having now seen it for himself, he understood why his wife had trusted Espy. She truly cared about helping people, always placing their safety above her own. Aubrey had known that Espy would have done whatever was necessary to save her and the bairn, and she had been right.

  Craven was pleased when Espy’s shivers finally drifted off, his heat having warmed her. He could leave her now, but it was not his intention. He would stay wrapped around her. It was where he wanted to be, as strange and unbelievable as that was, and he believed it was where Espy wanted him.

  Sleep finally poked at Craven and in a few moments he drifted off to sleep.

  Espy did not want to open her eyes, she felt so warm and comfortable. She wanted to linger there in the peacefulness, something she had not felt since she was a young bairn. She cuddled closer to the heat and its strength and the fresh scent of forest and rain. She breathed deeply, smiled, and pressed her head against… a naked chest.

  She sprang up in bed, the blanket falling away from her chest to pool at her waist and she stared at Craven’s dark eyes that rested upon her. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to cover her bare breasts.

  “There is no need to hide your lovely breasts when I have already seen them more than once,” he said, raising his arms to stretch above his head.

  Espy’s eyes fixed on his muscles that bulged and stretched as he did.

  “You were cold and I warmed you,” he said, bringing his arms down to tuck beneath his head.

  “I am cold no more.”

  “No, you are not. You warmed nicely against me.”

  She felt heat tinge her cheeks and she turned away just as the door burst open.

  Dylan stopped so abruptly he almost tripped over his own feet, and he stared speechless.

  Craven pushed himself up to sit and he was surprised when Espy scurried closer to him, dragging the blanket along with her to cover herself some more. He slipped his arm gently around her, offering whatever it was she sought from him. He was pleased when she leaned against him.

  “It must be important if you rushed in here as if the devil was after you,” Craven said.

  “He is,” Dylan managed to say.

  Craven sat up straighter, seeing not only concern, but a hint of fear in Dylan’s eyes, something he rarely saw there, and his arm tightened around Espy.

  “Six of Warrick’s warriors are in the woods and they are headed this way.”

  Craven turned to Espy. “You remain in the keep until I tell you otherwise.” He hurried out of bed and into his garments and was out the door without another word to Espy.

  Espy sat stunned, fear gripping her stomach and churning it so badly that she thought she would retch.

  How had he found her? She had been so careful, never mentioning her past, her grandmother, Craven, nothing that would connect her with home. She also had been careful to leave no tracks, no trace of where she had gone.

  She pressed her hand against her roiling stomach as she recalled the old healer’s words.

  You cannot hide from evil.

  Craven had enough problems already. He did not need to take her problems on as well. Besides, Craven would have no choice but to bow to Warrick’s demand. Everyone bowed to Warrick’s demands.

  A knock sounded before the door opened and Tula entered with garments and shoes in her hands. “For you,” she said, walking over to the bed. “Lord Craven ordered fresh garments brought to you.” She placed the garments on the bed and keeping her voice low, she asked, “Is it true? Have Warrick’s warriors been spotted in the woods?”

  Word always spread fast in a keep and through a village… along with fear.

  Tula continued. “At least, Lord Craven is friends with Warrick—” she paused, a tremor rushing through her at the sound of his name. “At least, they were once friends, though more like brothers.”

  “They were?” A chill settled over Espy. She stood no chance against Warrick if he and Craven were friends, though she could not fathom how Craven would be friends with such an evil man.

  Tula nodded. “There were three of them, feared like no other Highland warriors. It is said that an enemy troop had once turned and fled when learned they would face the three fierce warriors. It is believed they each earned the names their enemies bestowed upon them. Craven the beast, Slain the savage,” —Tula hugged herself tightly— “and Warrick the demon.”

  Espy had heard tales of the beast, the savage, and the demon warriors when she was up high in the Highlands, but she had never associated that particular beast with Craven. From what she had heard, the three warriors were heartless men who did whatever was necessary to claim victory.

  Craven was not heartless, though she knew Warrick certainly was.

  “Lord Craven says you are to stay in the keep until he returns,” Tula said, breaking through Espy’s thoughts. “I doubt anyone would seek the healer today anyway. Most will stick close to their cottages, waiting to hear what Warrick’s warriors want here.”

  Me.

  Espy wished she was wrong, though she doubted she was and she could not wait around to find out. She also had to make sure her grandmother was safe. If Warrick had tracked her here, then he knew about her grandmother. He would use her to make certain Espy was returned to him.

  “Tass has been told to stand ready with the other warriors,” Tula said. “I worry for his safety. I cannot believe that Lord Craven would even think to fight Warrick.”

  While Tula talked, Espy slipped into a brown skirt and pale yellow blouse. The shoes were a bit tight, but they would do.

  “I am sure Lord Craven will handle it without incident,” Espy said, trying to calm the lass, though fearful herself of what was to come.

  “I pray he does.” Tula nodded and as if just remembering, said, “The morning meal awaits,”

  “I will be down shortly.”

  Tula nodded again and walked to the door and froze when a bell tolled loudly. She turned a deathly pale face on Espy. “Warrick’s warriors have arrived.”

  Chapter 20

  Espy followed Tula down the stairs and into the Great Hall. That fright had arrived with Warrick’s warriors was evident in the way the servants huddled together, whispering among themselves while some visibly trembled. Several of Craven’s warriors stood guard at all entrances and exits, keeping watch and keeping everyone confined to the Great Hall.

  There was no way Espy would be able to get past any of them. At that moment, she made a crucial decision and she hoped a wise one. She went to Tass, stationed at one of the closed doors.

  “I need to speak with Lord Craven now,” she told him and as he shook his head and went to deny her request, she hurried to add, “Warrick’s warriors have come for me.�
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  Tass’ mouth dropped open and he stared at her as if he was still trying to make sense of her words, then he abruptly came out of his shock, nodded, and signaled another warrior to take his place, and hurried off.

  Espy prepared herself to face an angry Craven, but when he entered the Great Hall in powerful strides and approached her, she was surprised to see concern in his narrowed brow and dark eyes. He took hold of her arm and hurried her through the hall and into his solar.

  “What do you mean Warrick’s warriors are here for you?” he asked, keeping hold of her arm as if worried someone might enter the room and snatch her away from him.

  A pang of doubt poked at Espy and her hand went to rest at her stomach. She hoped she was making the right choice in confiding in Craven. “When you ordered me off your land and the surrounding area, I had no choice but to go higher up in the Highlands. I went from village to village, croft to croft, helping the ill in exchange for shelter and food. I stayed off the well-traveled paths for they were dangerous for a woman alone. In one village, a laird had me brought to his dungeon where he ordered me to tend a man who he had had tortured. He wanted me to get him well enough so that he could continue to torture him. There came a time I told him that the man was dead, but he was not dead. I knew no time or effort would be spent in burying the man and when they dumped his body in the woods, I dragged him off and tended him.”

  “Arran, the man you told me about,” Craven said.

  Espy nodded “Arran survived and left the area as soon as he was well enough. He found me about a month later and told me about other innocent people like himself who were being tortured, and he asked me to help rescue them.”

  Craven grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do not tell me you rescued prisoners from Warrick’s dungeon.”