Knight Defender (Knight Chronicles) Page 19

  He sat back then ran his hands over her skull. His probing drew her attention from her breathing difficulties to the throbbing in her head. She raised her hand to stop him from adding to that pain, but the hand she lifted was swathed in bandages. Attempting to dislodge him was like a butterfly trying to move a bull.

  She gave up, resting her hand on the pine boughs where she lay. Then the memories came flooding back. The fish, the dog, the horses, the fiery log. She’d been kicked by one of the frightened horses she’d been trying to save. “Persia … your destrier … are they all right?”

  Raeb chuckled. “Jessamyn Du Grace, you are the only woman I know who would worry more over a horse than her own injuries.”

  “Hmph.” Any attempt to speak louder or with more force would cause her nothing but hurt.

  “Here, I’ve made some broth. You need to eat so you can heal.”

  “If I sit up to eat, I won’t be able to breathe. Besides, I cannot hold a spoon.”

  “You need only open your mouth and swallow. I will feed you.”

  She eyed him. Was she that close to death? “You would play nurse?”

  “I have done so many times. I’ve seen men with injuries to the chest like yours. My sister Maeve taught me to wrap the torso tightly when there was no obvious sign that ribs were broken.”

  “I doubt you are as skilled as she.” She couldn’t bear to admit that she wished she’d been awake when he had looked on her naked flesh and touched her intimately, even if he’d only done so to help her.

  His expression sober, Raeb nodded. “Sadly, I am no her equal, but I am all you have, and I am a verra good student.”

  She gave a wry smile. “If you say so, but I’m not certain how confident I am in healing methods taught by a gill-flirt.”

  Raeb nodded. “Aye, ’tis understandable. Perhaps this will reassure you.” He lifted his shirt, exposing his rib cage. Muscles rippled as he moved. A long scar shimmied snakelike from his waistband up his torso, taking an abrupt turn to the left and ending just below his heart.

  Jess’s mouth went dry, and without thinking she reached out to run her fingers over the faint line. “I saw this when—” Those memories were best left to die.

  Raeb hissed in a breath.

  She jerked her fingers back. “I’m sorry. I … ah … I did not mean to hurt you.”

  His big hand engulfed hers. “’Twas not physical pain you caused ghaolaich.”

  “Then what kind of pain is a gwi lax?”

  He tossed his head back, laughing loud and long.

  She might have been angry had she not been fascinated by the column of his throat, the line of his jaw, and the breadth of his shoulders.

  When the fit finally subsided, she smiled.

  “Well?”

  He sobered. “’Tis a darling pain, I promise you. Now eat before your soup gets cold.”

  He presented a spoonful of liquid before her lips.

  She eyed the spoon for a moment, considered whether to risk his cooking, but she was too hungry to care if the broth was like dishwater or not. What kind of pain was a darling pain? She’d ask but she doubted he’d say aught other than to order her to eat her soup. She nearly choked as she realized that he’d actually meant she was a darling. Now she was thoroughly confused. Why would he call her darling when he’d announced to Clarwyn that he did not want her? She must ask Raeb what he intended, but not right now.

  “Very well.” She opened her mouth.

  He inserted the spoon, and she sucked the liquid into her mouth, surprised to find it flavorful. She held it a moment savoring the meat, wild onions, and an herb she could not identify.

  “Do you remember what happened yesterday?” He presented her with a second spoonful.

  “You are simply trying to distract me from being fed like a child.”

  “Mayhap, but I’ll remind you that I’m feeding you like I would any warrior injured in battle. Talking will help you relax, and reviewing the events will fill in missing information for me.”

  She could see she was not going to stop him from doing exactly as he pleased, so between spoonfuls of broth she related what she remembered.

  “I think that explains all my aches and pains,” she responded on a yawn.

  Raeb set the bowl and spoon aside. “Rest now. I’ve some things to do before we can continue our journey.”

  “Please say we are still going home to Dungarob.” People she’d come to care for could be harmed in her name, even though she had never shared her godfather’s passion to conquer the Scots.

  “Aye.” He soothed a hand across her brow. “But no until you are well enough to ride. The path we’ll take is too arduous for any other means of travel. Even a travois would break up over the rocks, and we’d spend more time repairing it than ’twill take for you to heal enough to ride.”

  “I could ride now,” she protested and covered a yawn with her good hand. She knew he’d never go on without her.

  The corners of his lips lifted. “Aye, I ken you’d try. Persia would obey you even with only one good hand on the reins. But I’ll no risk making your injuries worse by putting you on a horse too soon.”

  “I promise I’ll be no worse for riding, even if you outpace me and must leave me behind. You must return to Dungarob with all possible speed to guard the keep from Edward.” If they lingered here, she might never be able to save herself from falling in love.

  • • •

  Raeb knew the need for haste. “I already said I wouldna risk further injury to you, so dinna argue with me. In your condition, you canna win.”

  “But your family, your clan? Edward plans to attack your home.”

  “My clan will take care of themselves as they always have in my absence. My men are well trained, and Dougal knows our plans. They will have help, for the neighboring clans are to gather at Dungarob during the week before midsummer. They will camp nearby but out of sight, so they can surprise Edward’s forces. Even with the increase in troops, the Scots will outnumber the English. Dungarob will be safe.”

  “But … ”

  He laid a finger against her lips. “Hush. I’ve made my decision. We’ll remain here while you heal or until you have the strength to force me to change my mind, whichever comes first. If you wish to hasten our departure, indulge me by resting. I can see how weary you are.”

  She yawned again. “I am very tired.”

  “I’m no surprised. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you in a while.” He pulled the fur they’d used as a cover during the night up to her chin.

  “All right.” She shifted a tiny amount, yawned, and snuggled into a doze. “What happened to the dog? Do you know?”

  “Aye, ghaolaich, I know. He’s cowering in the thicket, confused and … ”

  A light snuffle informed him that Jessamyn was asleep.

  Raeb sat a while watching this baffling woman. The sight of her crumpled and bleeding last night had struck him a staggering blow. For the long moments it had taken to discover she was only injured, he’d wanted to die too. He’d never known fear as cold and deep as what he felt while binding her wounds, then watching over her in the night for signs of fever or worse. He’d fallen asleep, his body curled around hers, knowing he’d fight death itself to keep her.

  He had to laugh at himself. What irony that he’d want the one type of woman he’d sworn never to take to wife. His body ached with untapped longing for her. She clearly responded to him. She’d lit up the world in his arms when they made love. Occasionally he’d caught her watching him in the way a child watches a forbidden sweet. However, when she noticed him she’d turn up that delightful nose, put on her coolest air, and act as if he were a turd in the road.

  Then there was that absurd idea she had of living in a convent without taking the veil. If ever a woman were made for loving a man, that woman was Lady Jessamyn Du Grace. And of course there was the matter of her betrayals.

  He could scarce blame her for coming to Dungarob with no intention of wedding him
when he’d planned all along to send her back to England. He could, perhaps, be disappointed that she’d tried to sneak off in the night. However, given the circumstances at the time, her choice had been the right one. What sane person would confront a host who’d shown himself to be decidedly unfriendly and who was plotting against one’s king? No loyal subject would do so. Yet she wasn’t loyal to Edward. Fear for her brother had spurred her to try to retrieve the letter she’d sent to Longshanks. She’d broken her vow not to leave Dungarob in order to defend her family. She’d said as much when they made their first stop after escaping Ravensmere. But when he questioned her for details, her answers were vague and evasive. He suspected more than her brother’s safety was behind her broken promises and flight to England.

  A vain man might imagine she’d done so for love of him. Raeb wasn’t that vain. She’d only resigned herself to marriage with him when he promised her all the things she could have living with the nuns. He wished she might love him just a little bit. It had taken the belief he’d lost her to convince him he could love her. But that love made him vulnerable. For the sake of his sisters and his clan, he could not allow Jessamyn to know the kind of power she might wield.

  He needed to balance the scales before risking his heart. He suspected the solution lay in the reason she had rescued him from Ravensmere’s dungeon. Once she told him—and she would—he could use that reason to his advantage until he knew what her true feelings were and whether or not he shared them.

  However, right now he needed to provide more comfortable shelter for her. Tend the horses. Hunt up food. Mayhap even check on the dog and leave it more food and water. Fortunately he carried a small axe when he traveled and could use that to cut poles of enough length to form support for a pine bough roof that would keep Jessamyn out of the elements. ’Twas a start, and he had hope for the future.

  • • •

  “I think I should try a short ride tomorrow,” Jessamyn announced a few days later over the remains of the rabbit they shared for supper that night.

  Raeb jerked and bit the inside of his cheek as he chewed his last bite of hare. He swallowed abruptly and choked a bit.

  “Are you all right?” Jessamyn was at his side, pounding his back before he could respond.

  He coughed and cleared his throat. “Aye, if you will cease beating me black and blue.”

  She stopped and, head bent, subsided back to her seat across the fire. “I am sorry. I only meant to help.”

  “’Tis no matter, a chiallaich. I was simply surprised. I had no thought of you riding for another week or more.” In truth, they should hurry, but he could not make himself leave this isolated haven from their troubles.

  She snorted. “You cannot be serious. Midsummer will be long past if we wait. What of your family, your clan?”

  “I told you, Dougal knows what to do.” Raeb wished she would cease before he lost his temper. He did not need her scolding to know he neglected his duty.

  “I’ve scarce any pain at all from my head or my chest. You said yourself nearly all the bruising has gone away. If I have to linger here doing nothing for another week, I’m like to go mad.”

  “Heaven forbid my lady should be bored.” He shrugged. “If you insist, you’ll ride tomorrow, but you shall do so with me at your side the entire time. Just remember if you re-injure yourself, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

  “Excellent.”

  They lapsed into silence. Privately, he’d been enjoying their time together. Would he have been happier if he could have made love to her every night? Certainly. Watching passion overcome her was pure delight. He wanted that and more. But even though he’d not kissed or caressed her in more days than he could count, she’d given no indication that she wanted his touch. Those lingering looks she once shared with him no longer lit her eyes. And if those glances never appeared again? He set his jaw. So be it. She’d be his wife with or without affection, and he’d have to be satisfied with that.

  “I’ve named the dog Sir Andrew MacKai.”

  “You did what?” He nearly shouted. Why did her naming the dog upset him?

  She gave him a wide-eyed stare. “I believe you heard me,” she said primly.

  “Why Andrew, and why a title, and why a MacKai? ’Tis a madadh. Why name the beast at all?” If he adopted the dog, as her naming it implied, and she left, he’d have a constant reminder of her, of the turmoil she caused. He didn’t want that, did he?

  “I cannot keep him, for I’ll not return to my father, so our friend must become a MacKai, not a Du Grace.”

  He frowned. “Have you forgotten you agreed to marry me?”

  Jessamyn sucked in a breath. “I had not forgotten, but after…” She swallowed. “After what you said at Ravensmere Castle, I thought you’d changed your mind. That you agreed we should not wed.”

  So she still didn’t wish to marry. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her and lay with her in a field of clover. She’d been hurt and needed gentle treatment, but his control frayed with every moment spent together.

  “I’m sorry you thought so.” He gritted his teeth, determined to master his roiling emotions. “Naught has convinced me that anything but marriage is the right course. Now, tell me why you decided on Sir Andrew for our dog’s name.”

  She cast him a doubtful look but must have decided not to argue further. As she explained her reasoning about Sir Andrew, he smiled, then grinned, then laughed. “D’ you imagine a madadh will want to come with us?”

  She blinked. “I hadn’t thought otherwise.”

  “He’s still no in the best of shape. We’ll no be able to carry him if he falls back.” Which might be best. The beast obviously knew how to survive in the wild. Raeb could abandon the dog with a clear conscience.

  “Then I shall simply have to pray for God to give him strength,” she asserted. “I do not wish to leave him behind, Raeb.” Her eyes held a plea he could not ignore.

  His name on her lips was balm to his aching heart. She had asked very little of him. Yet she begged to ride and for the company of a dog. He had no will to deny her, though he knew it would cause him pain. However, he could do little to assure that her prayers would be answered. The dog’s destiny was indeed in God’s hands.

  Late the next morning he saddled their horses and helped Jessamyn onto her mount. Earlier, he’d insisted on checking her ribs himself. Touching her had been the sweetest of tortures, for he knew more than the lightest stroke on the silken skin was denied him, lest he’d lose his heart and soul to her. She’d not flinched once, but neither had she relaxed or shown anything save indifference to the feel of his hands on her body.

  Frustrated, he reined his destrier in so that he walked behind Persia. ’Twas well past noon before they paused on a gentle slope to rest the horses and eat the midday meal he’d packed for them.

  “I’m glad you came prepared with food.” Jessamyn chewed on the aran-coirce, what the English called an oatcake, a staple of all traveling Highlanders.

  She was back to speaking in monotones. What ailed the woman? He bit his tongue on the question, certain that she was still too weak for confrontation. “I was no sure you would be able to ride for so long, but you were confident enough for both of us.”

  “Thank you for trusting me to know my own capabilities,” she said flatly.

  “You are welcome.” His teeth hurt speaking the bland words.

  “I’ll be so tired from riding all day that I’ll sleep early tonight. We can be off for Dungarob at first light tomorrow.”

  He suppressed a frown. He didn’t want to leave, nor could he understand his own reluctance. Midsummer was just days away. With good winds and gentle seas, Edward I’s ships might even now be invading Dungarob Bay. Though he doubted it. He’d assured Jessamyn that Dougal could handle the situation, but he’d also believed that they would be home by midsummer and Dougal would not have to lead the fight.

  True to her prediction, Jessamyn retired before the last light was gone
from the sky.

  Raeb sat on the far side of the fire, watching night fall, unable to rest. Too soon, less than five days if they made good time, he would have to share her with others. Watch others receive her smiles and her love while he looked on. ’Twould be that way for all of their marriage. He’d best get used to it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  They traveled slowly the next day. She was tired when he finally called a halt, but she found she could not rest. Her heart ached more than her body. She went to him that night, the first of the last few she’d have alone with him. She would not force him to hold her. Would ask for no words or promises. He’d said they must wed, but she was less certain of the necessity. He’d be better with a Scots wife. He could never be hers, so for these last nights she would seek warmth and human comfort in lying beside him.

  Quietly, so as not to wake him, she slipped, dress and all, under the fur and with great care pressed her body next to his. She laid her head on his shoulder and sank slowly into the heat he generated. She was just nodding off when he shifted. He rolled onto his side, and his arms surrounded her, drawing her into his kiss.

  Why heaven had decided to bless her to be sheltered in Raeb MacKai’s arms, she could not know, but she would not reject the gift. She returned his kiss with all the fervor, all the yearning in her heart. That heart rejoiced when his hand drifted to her breast. She welcomed the stroke of his palm that lifted her skirt to her hips then sought sweeter delights. Caressing his body as he did hers, she poured all the love she could not speak into her touch. She could not have his love, but she would have his passion.

  • • •

  She was up and moving about the camp when he woke. “You did not linger abed …”

  “Sir Andrew is still with us. I worried when he dropped out of sight around noon yesterday. I fed him the last of the fish you caught. I hope you don’t mind. We can do with oatcakes this morning. I also think we will make better speed today…”

  Raeb ceased listening—it was clear she’d rather prattle randomly than talk about the things they’d done in the night. Her silence on the matter this morning spoke volumes.