The Virgin Spring. Debra Lee Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ throbbed. She tried to speak, but couldn’t make the words. She ran a hand over her scalp and drew a sharp breath when she met the source of tenderness.

      “Aye, ’tis a fair-size lump, but ye seem right enough now.” He reached out to touch her and she instantly drew back, her eyes riveted to his. “Hold still,” he commanded.

      Her pulse quickened as he moved closer and ran his huge hand across the nape of her neck then slowly upward, seeking out her injury. Her skin warmed under his touch and she fought the strange urge to let her head roll back in his hand.

      He was so close she could feel his breath on her face as he traced the bump with gentle fingers. He had a clean, male scent about him she found pleasing.

      She felt strange all of sudden, confused—by him and by the muddle of emotions that erupted inside her: fear, excitement, attraction. What was happening?

      Abruptly, he drew back and looked away, his face contorting, as if the exploration had been distasteful. “You’ll live,” he said, then stood.

      He strode to the far corner of the cave and stooped to retrieve the spitted hare. “Too bad about this. I expect you’re hungry.” He inspected it and shrugged. “’Tis still edible. Here.” He tossed it to her and she caught it.

      His manner had changed completely. He was stiff, cold. She felt a pang of disappointment. Was she daft? She had to get out of here. She must get to…where was she going? She could see the place in her mind, but—

      “The storm has passed. I’m leaving now,” he said. He gathered up the scattered plaids and cooking gear and placed them in the corner of the cave. “Ye’d best do the same. ’Tis no safe here for a woman alone.” He kicked some dirt onto the fire and, before she could even get up, he was gone.

      Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She looked longingly at the roasted hare, then at the cave’s entrance. After a moment, the warrior appeared by the spring, leading a gray horse. She’d been right about that.

      Without another thought, she ripped the hare from the spit, gathered the edges of the plaid about her, and followed him outside.

      What a nuisance.

      Gilchrist shook his head and urged the stallion into a trot. The woman clung to his back, a slender arm wrapped around his waist. He noticed she took great care to avoid touching his right side. She’d seen him bathing. Damn her prying eyes.

      Christ, what was he going to do with her? He couldn’t just leave her here, now could he? And what was wrong with her? She had yet to utter a single word.

      “Hmph.” None of this mattered as he’d be rid of her as soon as was practical. He tried to ignore her and focus on his own problems, but she made it damned difficult holding him as tightly as she did.

      He guided his mount into the forest and the gray settled in at a casual pace. Sunlight streamed through the emerald canopy of larch, laurel and a few scattered pines. Everything was green, fresh, the damp ground and a few downed tree limbs the only evidence of yesterday’s storm.

      Casting his head back, he inhaled deeply. There it was after all, the unmistakable scent of spring. He swore silently under his breath.

      They reached the forest path in no time and he quickly reined the stallion south, away from the burnt-out clearing and toward the clan’s new demesne. The woman let go of him for a moment. She looked back, he was certain, at the charred rubble.

      He issued one subtle command and the stallion lurched forward. The woman gasped and her arms flew around him. Served her right. The edges of his mouth turned up in a smile.

      They rode like that for some time, the warmth of the sun and the stallion’s easy pace lulling him into a rare state of relaxation. The woman rested her head against his back, and with each footfall of the stallion he could feel the soft weight of her breasts moving against him.

      For the first time in—how long?—he felt good.

      He focused on the path in front of him and tried to think of something else: the clan, Alex’s almost too casual helpfulness, and Hugh’s words of advice.

      A bride—a Davidson bride.

      Moments later the sound of bells and the dull clanking of metal on metal snapped him to attention. He narrowed his eyes, quickly scanning the forest in all directions. The clamor originated in front of them. He urged his mount into the cover of the trees.

      The woman squirmed and fidgeted behind him. Damn her! He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it. “Be still!” She tensed, then quieted. Fixing his gaze on the path, he waited.

      After a moment, a swaybacked draft horse came into view. The beast pulled a crude cart, laden with what looked to be household wares. Two men sat atop it, dressed in little better than rags.

      Tinkers.

      Gilchrist relaxed. He realized he was still holding the woman’s hand. He frowned and let it go, then guided the stallion out onto the path before them. The men saw him and their hands flew to their weapons.

      “I mean ye no harm,” he called out to them.

      The two men exchanged glances, then narrowed their eyes at him. One of them, a big, dirty-looking lout with stringy hair and bad teeth, rose from his seat. “Who are ye?” he shouted. “And what’s that ye got sittin’ behind ye?” The man tilted his head and eyed the woman.

      Gilchrist nudged his mount closer, his left hand moving to the hilt of his dirk. “Who am I? I am Gilchrist of Clan Davidson and this is my land. Who are ye and what is your business here?”

      The smaller man’s gaze fixed on Gilchrist’s disfigured hand. He tucked it quickly back into the folds of his plaid. “I have heard of ye,” the man said. “Ye are The Davidson, are ye no?”

      “I am.”

      “We are tinkers,” he said, “on our way north to Inverness.”

      The big man continued to eye the woman. “And that one…who is she?”

      “I dinna know,” he said. “She doesna speak.” He urged the stallion closer to the cart so the two men could get a better look at her. “Do ye know her? Have ye seen her before?”

      The woman clung to him tighter as the two tinkers looked her over.

      The big, dirty one grinned. “Nay, but I’d like to see more o’ her.”

      The woman tensed.

      The smaller man elbowed his sidekick in the ribs, then turned his attention to Gilchrist. “We’d gladly take her off yer hands. Perhaps ye’d like to trade?” He nodded to the cart full of goods.

      The woman’s grasp was like steel now. If she squeezed him much harder he wouldn’t be able to breathe. He sighed. He had more important matters to tend to than the fate of a mute, half-clothed woman. He should unload her now and be done with it. He drew his mount alongside the cart.

      “Go on then,” he said to the big man, “take her.”

      The man grinned, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth. He reached out and grabbed the woman around the СКАЧАТЬ