Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Dawn light had yet
to touch the sky when Lindsey slipped from her bed and made her way
to the adjoining room. Carrying a candle aloft, she opened the door
to the sleeping chamber and beckoned the servant seated by the
bedside to come to her. In the adjacent sitting chamber they spoke
in hushed tones.
“He has not stirred?”
“Nay, my lady. All day and night he has
slept.”
“The fever?”
“It has run its course. He sleeps as
peacefully as a bairn.”
“His wounds?”
“The bleeding has stopped. The wounds appear
clean.” The serving girl’s tone revealed her admiration for the
stranger who was the object of much speculation among the household
staff. “He is most strong, my lady. Never have I seen a man recover
so quickly.”
“Next, Moira, you will tell me the saints are
on his side,” Lindsey said with a trace of impatience. Then, seeing
the weariness in the girl’s eyes, she said softly, “You have done
well. Go to sleep now. I will keep watch until the dawn.”
“Aye, my lady.”
As the servant left, Lindsey picked up the
candle and entered the sleeping chamber. For long moments she held
the candle aloft, peering at the man in the bed. Then, placing the
light on the table, she drew a blanket around her shoulders and
settled herself into a chair beside the bed.
She glanced around the room with a little
frown. Her father had demanded that this man be treated like a
respected guest. The basin of water and bloody linens had been
removed. The stranger’s blood-soaked breeches had been stripped off
and tossed into the fire. They were beyond saving. His tunic and
fine shirt had been washed and mended. They lay neatly atop a
nearby chest. His boots had been polished to a high shine and
placed beside the bed.
Jamie was sprawled on his back, his arms
outstretched. Pristine bed linens covered him modestly to the
waist. His chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber. Despite the
fact that there should be nothing out of the ordinary about the man
who lay sleeping, there remained about him a hint of danger, even
mystery. In the candlelight his thick shaggy hair and beard glinted
with russet strands, as did the mat of hair on his chest.
Lindsey clenched her hands at her sides to
resist the sudden urge to touch him. She drew the blanket tighter
around her shoulders, vexed at the way her thoughts were wandering.
She had grown up in a world of men. With an earthy father and four
callous brothers, men held no mysteries for her. She had nursed
them through dozens of wounds and illnesses, and had seen them in
various stages of undress. Yet the sight of this man did strange
things to her.
Each time she had entered this room to check
on the sleeping visitor, her throat had gone dry. Worst of all,
whenever she allowed herself to think about his kiss, her heartbeat
became wild and erratic, and her palms became damp. As they did
now. She wiped her hands on the blanket and tried to look away. But
the man in the bed was like a magnet, drawing her gaze even when
she tried desperately to ignore him.
Annoyed at her weakness, Lindsey slid the
blanket from her shoulders and crossed the room to poke the fire. A
log smoldered, then exploded into flame, filling the room with a
sudden burst of light. She added another log, then returned to the
bedside. For a moment she paused, studying the man as he slept.
Some might call him handsome, though she
thought his bearded jaw too strong, his brow too wide. Some would
probably be amused by his roguish smile and teasing banter. She
considered him arrogant. Some women might even be impressed with
his wide shoulders and strong, callused hands. She knew him to be a
brute.
She leaned closer, studying the firm lips
beneath the growth of red beard. So this was the man who was legend
among her people. The Heartless MacDonald.
“I take it you see something that interests
you.”
Lindsey nearly jumped out of her skin at the
sleep-roughened voice. Quickly she composed herself. “You are in
error, my lord. I see nothing here of any interest.”
As she began to back away his hand snaked
out, catching her firmly by the wrist. “My mistake, my lady.” His
lids snapped open, revealing eyes of midnight blue. In their depths
she could see a hint of the danger that lurked there.
She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and
snatched her hand away, as if burned. “I merely wanted to ascertain
that you were still breathing.”
“Beware, my lady. It is dangerous to get this
close without my bidding, unless, of course, you do not fear my
blade.”
“Your blade is no longer with you. It was
removed, along with your clothing.” Despite that fact, Lindsey took
another step back, determined to keep some distance between them.
Though her breath felt lodged in her throat, she would never give
him the satisfaction of knowing that he caused her the slightest
discomfort. “Since you are feeling so bold, my lord, it would be
best to leave you to your own care.”
“Nay.” He caught her hand and was stunned at
the feelings that surged through him at the mere touch of her.
“Forgive my rude behavior. I am not usually such a dolt. Lay the
blame upon the strange circumstances that brought us together, my
lady.”
Lindsey felt the pressure of his hand on hers
and stared into eyes that held the merest hint of laughter. She was
not certain she liked this relaxed side of him. If anything, it
made him appear even more dangerous. Like a sleek mountain cat
drowsing in the sun.
“Stay awhile, my lady. There is much I need
to learn.”
He released her hand and she hesitated a
moment before returning to the chair beside the bed. She had
promised her father to see to their guest’s comfort, after all. It
would do no harm to answer his questions. She would never admit to
herself that this man intrigued her.
“What day is this?”
“You have slept a day and a night, my lord.”
Lindsey glanced at the balcony window. “It will soon be the dawn of
the second day since you arrived.”
A look of annoyance crossed his face. “God in
heaven. A day and a night.”
As he started to sit up, Lindsey pressed a
hand to his shoulder. He lay back heavily, feeling the room spin in
dizzying circles. “There is much to be done. I have no time for
such weakness.”
“ ’Tis not weakness to give in to the
exhaustion of the mind and body, my lord.”
“It is when the queen’s life is at
stake.”
“Rest a while longer, my lord. Just until the
household stirs.”
“Aye.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the touch
of her hand against his flesh. “My steed. Has he...?”
“A groom saw to him. At great peril, I might
add.”
Jamie opened his eyes and arched a brow.
“A vicious hound kept circling and baring his
fangs. But when the servants attempted to soothe him with food, the
beast ran off. It would seem your hound is as dangerous as his
master.”
Jamie’s lips curved into a smile. “He is not
mine. Wolf sets his own course. And he has little use for
humans.”
“Wolf?” Her hand paused in the act of
smoothing his blankets.
“He resembles the wolves that roam the
forests. I took him, half-starved, from a brute who had beaten him
senseless. And though I set the animal free, he seems torn between
his world and mine.”
“Might he harm the servants?”
“Only if they attempt to get too close to
him.”
“Then they and Wolf are safe. I assure you,
they have no desire to challenge the creature.”
“I am most grateful, my lady.” He lay very
still. “If I should sleep,” he said, fighting to clear his mind,
“wake me when the others wake.”
“Aye, my lord,” Lindsey said as she settled
into the chair and drew the blanket around her. For long minutes
she studied him as he slept. Then, lulled by the rain against the
panes and the warmth of the fire, she closed her eyes and
dozed.
* * *
A log blazed on the hearth and the morning
sun slanted through the balcony windows, bathing the bed in a pool
of warmth. Jamie’s eyes opened, and for one brief moment he
struggled to recall where he was. Then, as reason returned, he
glanced at the chair, only to find it empty. Momentary regret
washed over him. The lass’s nighttime visit had been only a dream.
A most pleasant dream.
A servant approached. “My lady Lindsey
instructed me to awaken you as promised, my lord, and to invite you
to join her family in the refectory when you are dressed.”
A smile touched his lips. It had not been a
dream. “Thank you. Instruct my lord Gordon and his family that I
will join them shortly.”
“Aye, my lord.” The servant poured fresh
water into a basin, then crossed the room and left without another
word.
Jamie watched as the door closed behind her.
With a hiss of pain he sat up and felt the room spin for several
moments. Slowly, as his vision cleared, he forced himself to stand.
Setting his teeth against the pain, he walked to the basin of water
and began to wash. He touched a hand to the wound at his shoulder.
Though there was pain, the fire was gone.
It was the same as with his other wounds. He
had suffered enough battle wounds to know that although he
experienced much pain, the worst was over. Best of all, his mind
was once more clear. The brain-numbing weariness had vanished. By
the time he finished dressing, he had managed to push the pain to a
distant corner of his mind. There were pressing matters to address.
His discomfort was of little consequence.
He descended the stairs and followed the
rumble of voices along the hallway. Pausing outside the open door,
he listened for a moment to the chorus of voices raised in
dissent.
“There is no way we can keep our departure a
secret, Father.”
Jamie studied the bearded lad he knew to be
the eldest son. Murray’s tone was low and intense.
“There are many in the Highlands who might
take advantage of our departure to pillage our land and steal our
wealth.”
“Aye,” echoed several other voices.
“Is our wealth at issue here? Must not our