The Highlander

  "Oh, Niall," Anora said, dropping the knife on the table and rushed to wrap her arms around him. “You are still burning up. Come, you must lie down now." She helped him back to the bed and covered him with the sheepskin.

  “I worried for your safety, lass," Niall said, his voice rough and weary. He reached up to touch her face. "I woke earlier and called out, but you were no' here. I looked for you in the byre."

  She kissed his hand and held onto it, his hand much too hot still. "You should have stayed in bed. I… I was enquiring about Gunnolf in the village."

  Niall tried to sit up, but she placed her hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. "He is well, according to the tavern keeper, and looking for me. The tavern keeper did not know where Gunnolf was. I… I let it slip that he is your friend."

  "Ah, lass, I didna want you to go enquiring about him, for your own safety. But 'tis good he is alive and well."

  She was glad to see the relief in Niall's face at learning about his friend. "Aye, but I had to learn if anyone had seen him. What are we to do now? You cannot stay here."

  "Tell me what was said." Niall's eyes were merely slits as if he could not keep them open any wider.

  She explained about Cian and his men. She rattled on, worried that any of them might barge in at any moment. She was afraid she wasn't making sense. "Michael, the tavern keeper, said I have to leave." She bit her lip. "Oh, Niall, are you truly here to help me?"

  His brows furrowed a bit. "You are the one I seek?"

  "I… I believe so. Cian's men queried those in the village concerning not only you and Gunnolf but about a Frenchwoman's whereabouts."

  He sighed a little. "We knew this already, aye, lass?"

  She moistened her lips with her tongue, not wanting to tell Niall the next part because she was certain the stranger in the village and those with him would soon learn where she lived. And Niall couldn't move from here—not until the fever abated.

  "Lass, speak the truth." He squeezed her hand with encouragement.

  She took a deep breath. "The count you spoke of is my uncle. I was… I was being delivered to my betrothed when another ship attacked ours. But I did not know about my uncle fighting in the Crusades alongside your cousin, James."

  "Aye, continue," Niall said, as she took the cloth she'd used before and soaked it in the pail of water, then wiped his brow.

  "Everyone was killed aboard the ship but me. The captain of the English vessel said he had a little girl my age at home, and I reminded him of her. He took me to Banbh because he was afraid the English king would learn I was on English soil and he would take me hostage." She looked away from Niall. "When he arrived in Banbh, the captain made inquiries of the laird—the current laird's father. They were Saxon and had fled when the Normans conquered England. But his wife was Norman and she would not have me living in their home. The shepherdess was selling sheep there when she overheard the lady's complaints. And when the captain thanked the laird and began to leave the walled-in castle, the shepherdess chased after him and begged the captain to allow her to raise me as she had lost her own child the year before."

  "Jane and her brother."

  "Aye. Old Laird Callahan died six years ago and his son took over. He has always treated me with kindness and buys my sheep when no others will."

  "Because he knows who you are," Niall said. "That you are of noble blood."

  "Of French nobility. Laird Callahan's father allowed Jane and her brother to raise me, and as far as I knew, the laird did not tell anyone of my birthplace. Even so, it seems the word has gotten out. I am sure I spoke a good deal of French when I was young until the shepherdess could break me of the habit."

  Niall touched Anora's cheek with a sympathetic caress. "Now that we know these men are coming for you, we must take you away from here at once."

  "You cannot travel. I… cannot leave my sheep behind. My cottage."

  "Lass, you canna stay here. If Cian's men discover what we have done, and that you are who you are, he will slaughter your sheep, burn your cottage, and hand you over to whoever is paying him. If the French get hold of you—well, you willna be allowed to stay here any longer, either. And your uncle stated emphatically that you could be in grave danger."

  She couldn’t tell him about the tavern keeper's daughter. Niall was too sick to leave. "But… you cannot travel, Niall. I forbid it."

  His lips quirked upward in a small smile.

  "I am serious," she said, angry.

  "Allow me to sleep for a short while longer. We will leave a couple of hours before sunset and then travel for another couple of hours during gloaming. If Gunnolf is alive and well, he will find us. The sun rises early so we will only have to find another place to sleep for a little over four hours before the sun begins to rise. At least we will be far away from here."

  Anora was torn. She wanted Niall to sleep. The longer they stayed here, the worse the danger was that the French strangers or Cian's men would arrive. Niall was sure to be a dead man because she knew he would protect her with his life.

  "I will pack food and be ready," she said. "First, let me help you off with your tunic and wash you to attempt to bring your fever down."

  Again, his mouth curved up a little.

  "I am not doing it to see you half naked, you barbarian."

  He chuckled. "Aye, Anora."

  He was still smirking as she helped him to remove his tunic. When she returned, she washed his skin with cool water, and he shivered.

  He finally closed his eyes, and she thought he had fallen asleep when Charlie rose from the spot on the floor where he'd lain and emitted a low growl. Someone was outside her cottage. Her whole body chilled with fear.

  Had the Frenchmen seen her leave the tavern and followed her home? Or Tesslyn, had she found them and told them where Anora lived? Even Cian's men could have returned when they couldn't find their own men.

  She touched her sgian dubh sheathed at her waist, but feared the knife would not deter anyone from killing Niall or taking her hostage.

  She grabbed Niall's claymore, barely able to lift it and uncertain if she would be able to wield it. Not like she could her pitchfork. Why had she returned it to the byre?

  The front door creaked open. "Niall," a man called out in a low, gruff voice.

  "Gunnolf," Niall said, his voice just as low, but sounding much relieved.

  "Your friend?" she asked quickly. If it was his friend, she was comforted to learn he was truly alive. And here now.

  "Aye," Niall said.

  "We are in here," she called out, not leaving Niall's side, ready to defend him if this Gunnolf was not alone.

  The man peered through the doorway—a blond bearded man with steel blue eyes, who first considered her holding Niall's sword, and then Niall in her bed. She couldn't believe he would grin at them. The heathen. His friend was sick and could be dying and Gunnolf was grinning?

  What kind of a friend did that?

  "I should have known you would be in a lass's bed while I have been searching for you everywhere. Not to mention trying to locate our horses, and the lass we should be finding. Is the woman protecting you with your own sword, mon?" Gunnolf laughed.

  "He was wounded and is now feverish. There is naught to jest about," Anora said harshly.

  Gunnolf laughed again. "I hope you plan to wed the lass, Niall. She appears to be just the one for you. Every mon needs a woman who will fight to protect him."

  "She is the woman we seek, Gunnolf," Niall said weakly. "She is a French countess. I am no' certain she would wish to marry the likes of me."

  She stared at Niall open-mouthed. Marriage?

  Gunnolf considered Anora from the top of her head to her shoes and said, "She truly is the one we were sent to fetch and protect?" Then he smiled again. "Here she is protecting you. But 'tis our good fortune."

  "Even in his weakened condition, he fought the men who stole your horses," she said, furious with the Viking. "He has not been lying around in my bed. And you no
w have your horses back, thanks to him."

  Gunnolf's smile only broadened. Infuriating man.

  "Help the lass pack, will you, Gunnolf, while I rest a moment? Several will want our heads anytime now," Niall said.

  "Sleep, Niall. We will wake you in a while," Anora said, patting his shoulder.

  "Only as long as it takes you to ready the horses," he warned, then closed his eyes again.

  "Come, lass," Gunnolf said, serious now, as if he had the right to order her about in her own cottage.

  She brushed past him and he said to Niall, "Aye, Niall, you would do well to keep this spirited filly for your wife." Then he shut the door and followed Anora out of the cottage.

  "You are the French countess?" Gunnolf asked Anora, his voice low for her ears only as she made her way to the cellar.

  "Aye," she said, glancing up at him. "I am not sure Niall can travel just yet."

  Gunnolf helped her gather food and mead for their journey. "How badly wounded is he?"

  "He took a sword wound in his side. I stitched him up and the area seems to be healing fine, but he has a fever now."

  "Who was he speaking of that would descend on this place of yours?"

  She explained the trouble they were in as they headed back to the cottage. There, she gathered blankets and clothes for herself, John's spare tunic, and Niall's mended one.

  "We must leave right away," Gunnolf said.

  "Aye," she said. "But what of my sheep? And what of Niall? He needs rest, most of all."

  "'Tis too dangerous for us to remain here from everything that you have said."

  She'd been fighting tears with the thought she'd have to leave her beloved home behind, the only one she'd truly had. But then a new dread consumed her. "I cannot ride a horse."

  "I doubt Niall will manage the journey well, considering how sick he is. You will remain with him and ensure he stays upon his horse. He will need you. I canna ride with him as it would weary my horse too much."

  "Me?" she asked, incredulous. "I cannot ride. And my dog. How will we take him with us?"

  "We canna take the dog with us, lass."

  "Nay. I will not leave him behind."

  Gunnolf looked so annoyed with her, she scowled right back at him. "You take Niall and disappear. No one wants to kill me, I do not think. Or… I could ask Laird Callahan for his protection. But you and Niall must go."

  "And leave behind the lass we promised to find, collect, and return to Craigly Castle?" Gunnolf snorted.

  The Viking was impossible.

  "Is there anything else you need before we depart, lass?" Gunnolf asked.

  She took an unsettled breath and looked over her cottage. "Nay."

  "I will help Niall onto his horse, and then you will ride behind him."

  She could do this. To save Niall's life, she could do this. "Then you will carry Charlie on your horse."

  Gunnolf looked incredulously at her, but she wasn't backing down.

  "Or I will stay."

  "Niall will have to marry you," Gunnolf said, and smirked.

  She shook her head at the Viking, then woke Niall and helped to slip his tunic over his head. "You will do this for me, or I will not go," she said to Gunnolf again, as he waited to help Niall out of the cottage.

  "'Tis no use fighting with the lass," Niall said wearily. "You will lose the battle, Gunnolf. No matter what it is about."

  Gunnolf shook his head, then helped Niall to stand, and with his arm around his waist, he helped him out of the cottage. "I tell you, she is the one for you."

  Charlie bounced around them as Gunnolf helped Niall onto his horse.

  "I cannot leave my sheep behind," she said. "Can we… can we leave them in the pastureland near Laird Callahan's keep?"

  "Nay," Gunnolf said. "'Tis in the opposite direction that we must travel."

  "All right, then. We must leave them at a sheepherder's lands I know of. 'Tis a long way from here on foot, but on horseback, it should not take too long. Charlie will guide them there. I can pen them up with the man's own sheep, and…" She took a deep breath. "He will care for them."

  "Aye," Niall said, "but we must be on our way, lass." He frowned at Gunnolf. "Where have you been all this time?"

  Gunnolf snorted. "I was like you, nearly killed—except the mon struck me such a blow that I fell into the burn and was washed downriver several miles. I only just kept enough of my wits about me to keep from drowning. I didna have a lass to prepare meals for me, or to offer me a bed."

  "Niall slept on the floor," Anora quickly said, as she hurried to open the gate to the pen and called to Charlie to bring them. She would not have Gunnolf or anyone else believing she was a wanton.

  Gunnolf smiled.

  "He was only in the bed this time because of his fever." She frowned up at the Viking, his blue eyes smiling back at her.

  And the other time—when Niall first slipped into her bed, and she poked him in the back with her pitchfork, but she wasn’t going to mention that.

  Then she reconsidered the Viking and said, "You… you are all right, are you not? If they nearly killed you with a blow to the head, and you almost drowned in the burn, you… you are all right?"

  Gunnolf's teasing smile shifted to kindness. "Aye, lass," he said tenderly. "I thank you for worrying, but my head is even harder than Niall's."

  She let out her breath. "Good. I could not keep you both on your horses for the duration." As much as she wasn't sure she could manage just riding with Niall. "The tavern keeper said you were looking for me in the village."

  "Ja. Was my good fortune that I went to the tavern after you did and learned from the tavern keeper that you had inquired about me and had something of mine here. He wouldna say what, but he seemed the honorable sort, and I found the place and waited, attempting to hear what I could inside before I opened the door. I thought I heard Niall speaking to a sweet lassie." Gunnolf shook his head. "He has all the luck."

  With much trepidation, Anora allowed Gunnolf to lift her onto Niall's horse and with a fierce grip, she hugged Niall practically to death, careful that she kept her arms wrapped around him high enough to avoid touching his injury. Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid Niall would feel it thumping against his back.

  Niall chuckled. "I was feeling a wee bit chilled, but no longer, lass."

  She felt feverish herself then—not from sickness, but from embarrassment. She had never held a man like this, so close, his body hot with fever, his smell so masculine and appealing. She kept telling herself she had to do this, to keep him safe, upright in the saddle, and from falling off the horse. That he wasn't thinking anything about her arms wrapped securely around his waist, and her breasts pressed against his back indecently, intimately. Most likely, Niall was too delirious to take much notice at all.

  Which was good. Though she couldn't help but enjoy the feel of him in her arms. She didn't think anyone would truly believe her holding him close had all to do with her taking care of an ill man.

  Even if she had wanted to loosen her hold on him, she couldn’t. So she was glad she was warming him when he was feeling cold.

  When Niall kneed his horse to move, Anora believed she was going to fall to her imminent demise and held on tighter.

  ***

  Having a devil of a time staying awake in his feverish state, Niall knew the only thing that kept him from dropping off to sleep was the knowledge he, Gunnolf, and the lass were at great risk of discovery.

  Though he had to admit, he was having trouble breathing as tightly as poor Anora clung to him, careful to keep her arms well above his injury, on the ride to the other sheepherder's croft. He loved feeling her arms wrapped around him, her sweet, soft body warming him while he was chilled to the bone.

  He wasn't certain the dog would corral the sheep in the direction Anora told him to take them, but Charlie was an excellent sheepdog and continued to nip at the sheep's withers, keeping them headed their way. When they finally reached a shieling cloaked in dar
kness, the only light shining was from the full moon glowing overhead. Gunnolf quickly dismounted and helped Anora down from Niall's horse.

  Niall instantly shivered once he lost Anora's warmth and couldn't wait to have her arms around him again.

  She hurried Charlie to direct the sheep to the pen. Before she successfully reached the gate, the door to the cottage creaked open. A man stepped onto the stone porch with a lantern in one hand, a knife in the other. "Who goes there?"

  Niall stiffened, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend the lass no matter what.

  "'Tis me, Master Torridon, Anora, the shepherdess, from the croft by the river. I must… I must leave my cottage and wish to gift you my sheep."

  She sounded so sad, Niall wished to comfort her.

  "Anora?" the man said, moving toward the pen, sounding unsure.

  Niall couldn't blame him. Here the lass was with her sheep, her dog, and a Highland and Viking warrior with their horses and swords ready for a fight in the middle of the night.

  "Aye. I have no choice. I… I…"

  Niall hated that her voice was full of tears, her eyes glistening with them as well.

  "I must leave," Anora said, sounding disconcerted. "And I cannot… take them with me."

  "They… they are after you?" the sheepherder asked, frowning, his voice filled with tension.

  "Aye."

  So the sheepherder knew something of the lass's difficulty. Mayhap he had heard the news about the men searching for her in the village.

  The sheepherder looked up at Niall still seated upon his horse, and Gunnolf standing on the ground, holding his horse's reins. "Who are these men?" He looked like he wished to defend her if need be, but he only had a knife. A sheepherder was no match for two armed warriors.

  "These are friends of… of a relation of mine who wishes me safe passage. We must go. Will you care for my sheep?"

  "Aye, lass. Be off with you then before the brigands search for you here." The man sounded kindly, fatherly.

  "Aye, thank you."

  She closed the pen, then allowed Gunnolf to help her onto Niall's horse again. Even for the short distance they had managed, Niall noted she walked stiffly, her body probably sore from riding. He imagined how difficult it would be for her traveling the much greater distance they still had to ride.