Embraced by a Highlander Page 4

  Love.

  Would she ever know that?

  She shook her head. There was no time for nonsense and something that would never be.

  With the cramp in her hand finally gone, Hannah took the basket of heather into the Great Hall and began to place sprigs around the candelabras on the clean tables and along the mantel. She also threw several sprigs in the fire.

  She returned to scrubbing a few more tables and benches, leaving the rest for tomorrow to finish. Finally done, she looked around pleased with what she had accomplished… except.

  A thorny thicket had grown up along one of the windows and with the sky growing cloudy and the earlier breeze turning to a wind, a thicket branch was tapping against the window.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  The thorny branch seemed to demand entrance.

  She would not be able to sleep tonight if that continued. She hurried off through the passageway into the kitchen and out the lone door. She glanced around and not seeing what she was looking for, almost gave up. Then she spied it. She hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed a small hatchet and returned to the ladder that lay strangled by thickets and vines. She hacked away to free the ladder, thorns stabbing at her hands, refusing to release it.

  Hannah was just as tenacious, refusing to give up. She chopped and chopped and chopped until finally a brilliant smile burst across her face.

  She did it. She freed the ladder. Or had the chopping been like freeing herself?

  She slipped the hatchet in her belt and dragged the ladder around to the other side of the keep and stopped once to push strands of her wild red hair that had broken free of its tie, out of her face. She had to plant the ladder nearly up against the window, behind the thickets thick beneath it.

  She made sure the ladder was planted firmly before she climbed it. She had to hurry, dark storm clouds having gathered overhead while she had been busy getting the ladder, and the wind was growing ever stronger.

  It took a climb to nearly the top rung to reach the annoying branch and once Hannah did, she began hacking away at it. She cheered when it finally fell to the ground, though it was a brief victory, since a clap of thunder had her drawing her shoulder up and wincing at the sound.

  She dropped the hatchet to the ground and went to hurry down the ladder when her left arm and hand lost its strength. She should have expected it. It often happened awhile after her hand cramped. It hung nearly useless at her side. She would have to rely on her right hand to get her down.

  She had stepped only a few rungs down when a strong wind whipped around her and she clung to the ladder with her one hand. Hannah felt the ladder sway before she felt the rung beneath her crack. She reached out with her good hand to grab onto a protruding stone just as the ladder gave way beneath her.

  She tried desperately to force some strength into her limp arm, but it refused, continuing to hang useless at her side. Her grip was precarious. She would not be able to hold on much longer and when she fell, it would be the thickets that caught her.

  Hannah glanced up to the heavens to beg for help, when she caught sight of a black figure with wings rapidly descending on her. And as her fingers slipped from the stone, and she thought she was surely falling to her death, the black figure consumed her along with darkness.

  Chapter 5

  Home. She was home, the bedding soft and welcoming, and while the scent was more robust than she remembered it, it was quite pleasing to her senses. She went to turn on her side, to bury her face in the pillow and breathe in more of the pleasant scent when she felt a pain slice down her left arm, stirring unpleasant nightmares.

  Not nightmares… memories.

  Hannah’s eyes shot open and she bolted up in bed, grimacing against the pain as memories came flooding back.

  “Do not dare move from that bed!”

  Hannah stilled at the sound of the potent command that would freeze the bravest of men. She remained as she was, her eyes slowly searching the room. A small fire in the fireplace did little to light the room, darkness and flickering shadows occupying most of it.

  “You will remain there until your arm heals.”

  Hannah shivered against the chilly tone of his forceful command, but she gathered her courage and asked, “Are you the winged creature that saved me?”

  “I am the creature you will stay away from,” the strong voice ordered.

  “Slain MacKewan?” Hannah dared ask.

  “The savage,” the voice corrected.

  “From what I have seen, you seem more a raven.”

  “I am many things that you should fear,” he warned.

  Before Hannah could lose her courage, she said hastily. “I have need of you.”

  “Satisfy your need elsewhere,” he snapped.

  Before Hannah could say no more, she heard the creak of a door opening and jumped when it closed so hard that it seemed to tremble the room. She sat there waiting in near darkness, thinking perhaps he had stayed and would speak at any moment, but she was met only with silence.

  Exhaustion, pain, endless struggle, she did not know which one plagued her the most, though the heaviness weighing on her shoulders suggested it was all three. She eased her head down on the pillow and allowed herself to indulge in the comfort of the bed. Why fight a good rest in a decent bed?

  Besides, she could take the time to think on the various plans that had been swirling in her head, not that she thought any were of much worth. One thing was for sure, she could not stay here forever. She would be found, then what?

  She could be honest, but she had discovered that honesty often got her in more trouble, especially with everyone that had been around her lying with ease and without care.

  She yawned, the warmth and comfort of the bed forcing her eyes to close and surrender to sleep.

  Voices penetrated Hannah’s sleepy haze and she lay still listening to them.

  “I will send her away.”

  “No. She stays.”

  “That is not a good—”

  “Your opinion is not wanted and your permission not required.”

  “I will keep her busy.”

  “You will not work her hard. Get more help.”

  “It is not easy to—”

  “Nothing is easy. See it done.”

  “I will move her to another bedchamber.”

  “No! She stays in my bed for now.”

  Of course, the pleasing, familiar scent, she was in Slain MacKewan’s bed, and a tingle of fear washed over Hannah.

  His words returned to her. I am many things that you should fear.

  She did not fight the sleep that rose up to claim her once more. At least in sleep no worries plagued her. She woke again when she rolled on her sore arm, wincing as her eyes drifted open.

  “How did you injure your arm?”

  Hannah squinted her eyes, trying to see into the shadows as she responded, “Torture.”

  The voice turned hostile. “Who dared to torture you?”

  “That is wiser left alone,” she said and rubbed her arm.

  A hand, fingers lean and grip strong, covered hers, easing them away. With the fire’s light having dwindled, it was too difficult to make out the shadow that hovered by the side of the bed. She could only see his hand that lay on her arm, the fingers beginning to massage the strain and ache from the muscles. His fingers worked along her flesh slowly, kneading and forcing the sore muscles to obey him.

  The soreness began to drift away and so did Hannah, his commanding touch forcing sleep on her.

  “I have need of you as well.”

  The words drifted in her head as she thought to ask him what he meant, but sleep claimed her before she could.

  Morning found her trying to stretch out what aches and pains remained. Her arm was still sore, but the strength of Slain MacKewan’s hands kneading it had helped greatly. She wondered why he had done that and why he had brought her to his bed after the fall? Most of all, she wondered what he had meant when he had said, “I have
need of you as well.” If they had need of each other, perhaps they could help each other. A thought, she feared, was more wishful than probable.

  She told herself to hurry out of bed and get to work. She had lingered enough, neglecting her chores and she could not lose her position here. She spent a few more moments snuggled in comfort, not knowing when next she would know such ease.

  With her mind finally clear, she realized that she was wearing a nightdress, a soft wool one. But who had stripped her and dressed her in it?

  The door swung open and to Hannah’s relief, Helice strode in.

  “Time to eat and then chores,” Helice said, approaching the bed.

  Hannah hurried to get up.

  “These are for you.” Helice placed folded garments on the bottom of the bed. “You must look presentable.”

  Hannah could not hide her surprise at the brown shift, pale yellow tunic, and a soft green wool cloak. “You are too generous.”

  “The chief’s orders,” Helice said as if she did not approve.

  “May I speak with him? I would like to thank him for saving me from a terrible fall.”

  “You will not disturb the chief and I gave you no permission to do such a foolish thing. Obey my commands or else.”

  Hannah wondered over the or else and recalled hearing Slain forbid Helice from sending her away. If so, what had Helice meant by or else?

  Hannah ran her hand slowly over the soft white wool. “As you say, and thank you for kindly changing me into this fine nightdress,”

  Helice glared at her. “No one has ever called me kind. Hurry and dress. There are chores to be done.”

  Hannah stood frozen when Helice closed the door behind her. Was the woman telling her that she was not the one who stripped her naked and placed her in the nightdress? If that was so, only one other person who could have done so.

  Slain MacKewan.

  Around mid-day Helice informed Hannah that she would be going to the village.

  “While I am gone, you will see to the chief’s bedchamber, since you disturbed the fresh bedding. Also, see to the hearth. When he returns he will want to rest.” She turned to go, then stopped and fixed a stern glare on Hannah. “Remember what I told you about not going to the east wing.” She turned again and walked away, calling out,” “I will not be gone long.” A warning for Hannah to get busy and be finished by the time she returned.

  Hannah gathered a few items she needed from the kitchen, then stepped outside to dip a bucket in the rain barrel. Her glance caught Helice walking off in the distance, but instead of going toward the village, she veered off into the woods. Whatever was she doing going into the woods?

  The keep and its two occupants held secrets, but then so did she.

  Hannah thought of secrets as she climbed the stairs to Slain’s bedchamber. Had she been wise in coming here? She had wondered where to go after her escape and when the thought had struck her, she had argued with herself against it. Was it wise and what would it accomplish?

  The point was and would remain that she had no choice. Nothing else was left to her. She had made it this far. She had survived. She could not give up now.

  She saw to adding more logs to the fire and quickly got busy straightening the bedding that she had rumpled. Why had Slain brought her here to his bed? Why not another bedchamber in the keep?

  She grabbed the pillow to fluff. There it was, his potent scent, like the fields when they were ripe for planting. She did not know what it was about it that she found so appealing, so tempting that it made her bury her face in the pillow and inhale deeply, as if taking part of him inside herself.

  The improper thought jolted her and she tossed the pillow down, staring at the bed where she had slept last night. Where Slain MacKewan had made love to many women who he had never invited back.

  Whatever was she thinking? That had nothing to do with her. It was no concern of hers. She shook her head and kept shaking it as she rushed to finish straightening the bedding. She stopped now and then to stretch out the lingering ache in her arm. It continued to linger, though more as a dull ache, after an incident, more often than not, and she wondered if it would ever truly heal completely. She wanted to hurry through the chore, be done with it, and be gone from the room, but that would only serve to worsen her arm, so she slowed her pace. Once she finished, she rolled up the bedding and rushed out the door, then stopped abruptly.

  Never go to the east wing.

  Why did Helice’s warning have to plague her now?

  Most believe the ghost of Slain’s mum walks the east wing.

  Of course, Blair’s tale had to enter her head as well.

  What difference did it make to Hannah what was in the east wing?

  You will be sorry.

  Her mum’s never-ending warning about Hannah’s never-ending curiosity rang in her head.

  No one was here. No one would know.

  How badly do you want to know? she asked herself.

  Sometimes ignorance could be more dangerous than curiosity or so it was the excuse she used to approach the door that would take her to the east wing. The door was dark wood, a round metal ring attached to the center.

  Hannah took slow steps toward it, thinking that perhaps she would be wiser not to know what was behind it. She shook her head at her doubt. It was better she knew all she could about Slain MacKewan, especially the things he wanted to keep hidden.

  She reached out and took hold of the metal ring once in front of the door. It squeaked and she stilled. She stayed as she was for a moment, then tilted her head to listen, having thought she heard a distant sound.

  Could Helice have returned already? Or had Slain returned home?

  She continued to remain still, her ears perked to hear any sound and it came again. She rushed down the stairs as fast as she could, not wanting to be found standing at a door she had been forbidden to enter. The more she descended the stairs, the louder the sound grew until she realized that it was someone banging forcefully on the front door.

  Did she answer it with no one home?

  She was about to enter the Great Hall when she heard the door creak open. She moved with haste and silence to the dark alcove a mere two steps from the stairs.

  Silence hung heavy for a moment before someone finally spoke.

  “Are you not going to invite me in?” a man asked.

  “No, say what you have come to say and take your leave.”

  Hannah recognized that voice… Slain.

  “The time grows late. Have you got what he needs?” the man demanded.

  “Does he not recall my answer?”

  “No is not a response he accepts.”

  There was something familiar about the man’s voice, but she could not place it.

  “It is the only one I have for him,” Slain said.

  “He will not accept it.”

  The harsh warning in the man’s voice was not to be denied but Slain’s icy, curt response sent a shiver through Hannah.

  “I do not care.”

  “He will not be pleased with this news.”

  “Did you not hear my last response?”

  “You forget what he has done for you?”

  A reminder or another warning, Hannah could not tell.

  “I thought he did that out of friendship, but then I realized he did it to benefit himself.”

  “Watch your tongue, Slain.”

  “Why? Will you cut it out as he has had done to others?”

  “If necessary.”

  “You can try, but you know very well why I am called the savage and I will see your tongue ripped from your mouth before you or any of your men lay a hand on me. Take that message back to him.”

  “There is also the other matter.”

  Slain’s snort of laughter echoed through the Great Hall. “Again something else that will benefit him.”

  “That is not the reason and you know it.”

  “My answer remains the same for that matter as well… no!”
/>
  “He can force that one.”

  “He can try.”

  “Regardless of what you think, he is your friend.”

  “At one time, I believed that.”

  “You will hear from him.”

  Again Hannah heard a stern warning in the man’s voice.

  “Will he have the courage to face me himself the next time?”

  “Do you have a death wish, Slain?”

  This time there was frustration in the man’s voice while Slain’s remained confident.

  “I have faced death too many times to let anything frighten me.”

  “I will tell him what you said.”

  “Good. Now that you have what you need… leave.”

  “This is not the end of it.”

  “It is for me.”

  “Do not be a fool, Slain. He will—”

  “Enough!”

  Hannah jumped at Slain’s forceful shout, the word echoing through the Great Hall.

  “We are done here. Take your leave now!”

  “Until next time, Slain,” the man said and the door slammed shut, the latch falling into place with a thud.

  Hannah remained tucked in the secluded alcove, thankful to the shadows that concealed her. Her heart pounded as rapidly as a mighty war drum in her chest and her stomach churned so anxiously that she feared she would lose whatever was in it. If Slain chose to go to his bedchamber, he would have to pass by her and she would risk being discovered hiding there. She prayed with all the strength she had that he would go to his solar.

  His heavy footfalls drew closer and closer and she shut her eyes as if somehow it would help her from being seen. She released her breath when his footfalls drifted off in a different direction.

  She opened her eyes after a moment and sighed softly. She would wait a few more moments, then hurry to the kitchen and—

  An arm suddenly snagged her around the waist and she was yanked up against a hard body, her feet left dangling in the air.

  Chapter 6

  Hannah recognized his scent… Slain. He brought his face close to hers, his lips resting next to her ear, and his warm breath prickling her skin.