The Highlander's Runaway Bride. Terri Brisbin

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       Chapter Four

      A war waged within her.

      The forces of good and evil were surely battling over some prize—her soul mayhap?—leaving her battered and bruised. Every place on her body ached. She could not even lift her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow and eyes. Waves of pain began in her foot and sent tremors through her whole body.

      But, she had given birth already. She should not feel this much pain now. Had she not? Or was this all a terrible, dark dream, and she was yet labouring to push her child out?

      Nay! Her child, her daughter, was alive. She’d birthed her weeks and weeks ago. Eva struggled to open her eyes. She needed to find her...

      ‘Hush now, lass.’

      The voice came once more. Not a woman’s soft tones but the deep masculine tones of a man. Not her father, surely. She tried to force her eyes open, but they would not obey her.

      ‘Do not struggle,’ he said. ‘You’ve been ill and need to rest.’ A soft caress of her cheek was followed by something blessedly cool on her brow.

      She wanted to offer her thanks, but no words would come out. Eva stopped fighting and let her body and thoughts drift, as he’d said. The next hours and days melded into a blurred time of pain and relief, heat and chill, dreams and emptiness.

      When she was hot, cool touches eased it. When she shivered with cold, warmth surrounded her. When she called out in fear, a soothing voice urged her on. On and on, over and over, days blended into nights until suddenly Eva woke. She glanced around to discover she was no longer in the cave she remembered. Lifting her head caused so much dizziness that she did not try it again.

      Across the small chamber, the door opened, letting in light and a man. A fresh wind blew through the room, bringing the smells of spring inside and banishing some of the staleness. Her dry throat tightened as she tried to speak. He was next to her in a moment.

      ‘Here. Try a sip of this before you try to speak. I doubt you have much of a voice left by now.’

      He placed a cup at her mouth and lifted her head a tiny bit to help her drink. The watered ale tasted better than any fine wine or spirits she’d ever drunk. After one more sip, he took the cup and she tried to reach for it. When she settled back, Eva looked closely at the man as he moved back and sat on the floor next to the pallet on which she lay.

      No kith or kin she remembered. But his face was familiar to her. Something flashed through her mind, a memory of someone or something, then darkness again. Had he been sent by her father to find and bring her back?

      ‘Who are you?’ she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘What is this place?’

      ‘I wondered how much you would remember,’ he said. ‘You have been ill for days. I found you in the cave and brought you to this cottage.’ He stared at her, clearly expecting her to remember.

      She remembered shadows moving around the cave and something approaching her. A large beast-like creature. Then he’d spoken.

      ‘I thought you a bear from long-ago times,’ she admitted. ‘I do not remember much else.’

      ‘I have been called worse, lady,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘You mistook my plaid and furs for the beast.’ He nodded towards the corner where he’d draped several cloaks and then at her, or rather the pallet beneath her where his furs now were. ‘The dirt floor was damp, and I feared it would make you sicker.’

      Only then did she realise that she lay naked on those furs! Her garments, even her shift, were gone, and the woollen plaid was her only cover.

      ‘Your garments were soaked with water and sweat. They are dry now,’ he said, once more nodding to the corner.

      Eva had been here for days. She’d been sick and unconscious, and this man had been with her. Who was he?

      ‘Are you my father’s man?’ she whispered, still not certain of what had happened. She remembered seeking the cave and falling into it. Then...nothing more.

      ‘He sent me.’

      This man held his tongue well, never saying too much. Mayhap he would hold that tongue if she paid him? If he was a hired man and not kin, it was not an insult to offer him coins for his silence.

      ‘You took care of me and I am grateful. I would know your name,’ she said.

      He must have noticed her hoarseness again, for he came closer with the cup. Each sip was like a soothing balm as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. СКАЧАТЬ