Highland Heaven

  Merritt lay very still, listening to the soft morning sounds. Overhead a pair of doves cooed. Nearby a fox gave its shrill cry. An answering bark echoed in the distance.

  Slowly, tentatively, she sat up arid waited for the images before her to come into focus. As her vision cleared, she saw Shaw striding toward her, looking very much like a bonny, golden-haired giant.

  “How do you feel this morrow?” He dropped to his knees beside her and instinctively reached out a hand to steady her.

  As one, they felt the jolt. Merritt stiffened and looked away, avoiding his eyes. Cursing his lapse, Shaw pulled his hand away as if burned.

  “I am fine. Much stronger,” she added for emphasis.

  He got to his feet, towering over her. “Do you feel strong enough to ride?”

  “Aye.” She looked up at him and shielded the sun with hand. “I dare not tarry longer. My family will be worried.”

  He was forced to offer her a hand up. Keeping his cloak wrapped firmly around her for modesty, she accepted his help and was lifted to her feet.

  He was watching her so closely she felt her cheeks grow warm. “You are certain you are up to riding, my lady?”

  She nodded, afraid to trust her voice. He was close. Too close. And the memory of last night was still too vivid.

  “You will want to wash yourself in the stream before we begin our journey.”

  “Aye. If my father were to see all this blood, he would ne’er let me out of his sight again.”

  Perhaps it would be the best thing for her, Shaw thought. Aloud he said, “While you wash, I will prepare some food.”

  She walked to the stream, then followed the banks until she came to a tangle of vine and brush. Knowing they would serve as cover, she undressed and stepped into the water. The morning sun had warmed it only slightly, and she was soon shivering as she hurriedly washed the blood and grime away. Within minutes she strode from the stream, grateful to pull on dry, sun-warmed clothes.

  As soon as she approached the fire, Shaw thrust a flagon of warm ale into her hands and draped a fur robe around her shoulders.

  “Drink, my lady. It will chase away the chill of your bath.”

  “Thank you.” She drank, savoring the warmth that flowed through her veins.

  He helped her to sit, then handed her a joint of roasted venison, before taking another for himself. They ate in companionable silence.

  “Now that I am rested and recovered, I am most eager to see my family,” Merritt admitted.

  “And they will be relieved to see you. Especially Edan. By now the lad will have no doubt driven himself half-mad with fears over your absence.”

  “Aye. And poor Sabina has had to cope alone with Edan, and father, and your brother.”

  At the mention of Sutton, Shaw felt a pang of guilt. Not once since all this had occurred had he given a single thought to his brother’s recovery. This woman had so bewitched him, she had managed to drive all other thoughts from his mind.

  Needing an outlet for his uneasy thoughts, he snuffed out the fire and set about dismantling their camp. When all was in readiness, he saddled his horse.

  “If you are ready,” Shaw said, extending a hand.

  “Aye.” She placed her hand in his and was helped to her feet. With his arm around her waist, he walked with her to his horse. After pulling himself into the saddle, he lifted her easily in his arms.

  “You will tell me when you grow weary.” His muffled words, whispered against her temple, had her head spinning.

  “I will tell you.” The truth was, she would never grow weary of being held in his arms, so close to his heart.

  If she could, she thought as the horse began following along the banks of the swollen river, she would remain just like this, safe and secure within his embrace, forever. She d no way of knowing that the man who held her harboured the same thoughts.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sun had long ago taken cover behind a bank of dark, roiling clouds. The air had grown heavy with the threat of an impending storm. Shaw could sense Merritt’s flagging energy. Though she put on a brave face, he could see the effort this journey her. Her lids grew heavy. Several times her head nodded as she struggled to stay awake and alert. Her wounds, though healing, were taking their toll.

  “Are we close?”

  “Aye, my lady. Soon you will be home.”

  “Home.” For a moment her lips were touched with a smile. Then her eyes closed once more.

  A short time later he whispered, “I believe there is something you would like to see, my lady.”

  Breaking free of the forest, the horse moved out at a swift pace, taking the steep cliffs with breathtaking speed. Below them lay the imposing sight of the Lamont fortress. To one side, horses milled about in the makeshift enclosure Shaw had put together. On the other side, spread out on a rolling meadow between the keep and the chapel, a flock of sheep grazed peacefully under the watchful eye of the hound.

  At that beautiful sight, all Merritt’s weariness vanished. Her eyes shone with happiness.

  “Inverene House,” she breathed.

  “Aye, my lady. You are indeed home.”

  He heard her little laugh of delight as the horse broke into a run.

  In the courtyard Shaw slid from the saddle and gathered Merritt into his arms. Even before they reached the door it was thrown open and Astra rushed forward.

  At once, Shaw set Merritt on her feet and took a step back, breaking contact.

  “What have ye done wi’ my lady?” the old woman demanded.

  “I am fine, Astra.” With a reassuring smile, Merritt caught the old woman’s hand.

  “Truly, child?”

  “Aye.”

  Eagerly she and Shaw swept past the servant and strode inside.

  “The laird is supping in the great hall,” Astra called as she closed the door and followed along behind.

  When they paused in the doorway, Astra cried, “M’laird, look who has returned safely to us.”

  At once three heads came up sharply, and Upton, Sabina and Edan broke into wide smiles and shouts of glee at the sight of Merritt.

  “We had thought you dead,” Sabina cried as she jumped up to greet her sister with a warm embrace.

  “I told her you were not,” Edan put in quickly. “I knew you would return.”

  “As you can see, I am not dead.” Though she walked more slowly than was her custom, Merritt crossed the room and hugged each one of them before taking her place beside Sabina.

  “The lady needs sustenance, Astra.” There was a trace of impatience in Shaw’s tone, though he tried to soften it. The journey had taken its toll on his nerves, as well. It had been a hellish torture to hold Merritt in his arms all those long miles, knowing that, when they returned to Inverene House, they must put aside forever what had transpired between them in the forest. And for both their sakes, they must never touch each other with tenderness again. For to do so was to tempt fate.

  And so he had held her, mile after endless mile, wondering what it would have been like to give in to the passion that had burned between them, though he knew that even indulging in such thoughts was wrong.

  “It has been a long, tedious journey,” he added, to mask his discomfort.

  At once the servant hobbled away and returned with a platter of steaming lamb and two goblets of hot mulled wine. Without thinking of himself, Shaw pressed a goblet into Merritt’s hands, “Drink, lass. It will revive you.”

  She did as he bade, feeling the heat slowly return, chasing away the weariness. While she drank, Shaw broke off a hunk of meat, then passed the trencher to her and said, “Now you must eat, else the wine will go to your head.”

  Suddenly she felt ravenous. Without a word she ate, feeling her energy quickly restored.

  During this entire time, her family watched in silence. Now they could hold back their questions no longer.

  “Tell us,” Sabina demanded. “Where have you been? And what happened to you?”

&
nbsp; “I went out in search of...” Merritt paused and glanced at her father, who was watching her intently. “Those stray lambs I told you about. I found them in the forest, and was returning them to the flock, when I was caught by a group of thieves.”

  “I warned you that you were courting danger,” Sabina said with a cry of alarm. “But you never listen.”

  “What was I to do? Someone had to go after the lambs—”

  “How did you escape the thieves?” Edan broke in. “Were they very strong and very wicked?”

  “They were indeed. The Campbell rescued me.” Merritt chanced a shy look at the man who had taken his place at the far end of the table.

  “The Campbell?” Edan seemed extraordinarily pleased that his tutor, who until now had seemed only interested in books, should display a taste for battle.

  “Truly?” Sabina’s brows arched in surprise.

  Even Upton turned to study him with new respect.

  Shaw emptied his goblet, feeling the warmth of the wine revive him. Sitting back, he surveyed the Lamonts, who suddenly seemed to be talking at once.

  All except Upton, who was studying his daughter through narrowed eyes. When, a short time later, Shaw excused himself, saying he wished to see how his brother fared, Upton watched him with equal interest.

  He noted that the Campbell paused beside his daughter and asked if she could manage the stairs by herself.

  But he did not touch her.

  With absolutely no inflection in her voice, she assured him she could manage just fine.

  But she did not look at him.

  The voices of his children washed over him as they demanded every little detail of Merritt’s adventure. But Upton was no longer listening. Instead, he was seeing, in his mind’s eye, the way he and his beloved Brinda had behaved when they had first realized the deep feelings each had for the other. Timid, shy, overwhelmed by emotions too strong to handle, they had hoped that by convincing others that such feelings were not real, they could convince themselves, as well.

  Aye, he thought, young love was a strange and wondrous thing. And, as he recalled, a force unlike anything else in the world.

  Renewed by food and drink, Shaw took the stairs two at a time in his eagerness to see his brother. He paused in the doorway to Sabina’s chambers and noted the low-burning fire. He would have to chop more logs on the morrow or the lass would be forced to burn her furniture once more just to keep from freezing in this cold, drafty wing of the fortress.

  He had convinced himself, from what Sabina had told him below stairs, that Sutton would be lying helplessly upon his pallet of rags. Instead, he caught sight of his brother leaning his back against a pile of fur throws, sipping from a goblet.

  Sutton looked up. “So, you have returned to us.” His eves danced with unconcealed joy.

  “Aye. I had thought to be gone but a short time in pursuit of a deer. Instead, I was delayed.” Shaw decided that his tale of adventure would wait for a more opportune moment. Right now, he cared only how his brother was feeling. “You look much stronger than when I last saw you.”

  “I am determined to regain my strength as quickly as possible. After all, I must, if I am to survive these Lamonts,” he said with a frown.

  Shaw knelt beside him and touched a hand to his shoulder. “What are you saying? Have you been mistreated?”

  “Mistreated? Aye. And abused. The woman attempted to force foul-tasting poisons down my throat, and ‘twas by sheer strength alone that I managed to thwart her.”

  Shaw bit back his smile. “It is not poison. It is willow bark tea, thought to have some healing powers. They tried to make me drink it, as well. But these people are not hoping to harm you, my brother. They are merely following my orders to see to your needs.”

  “I tell you, Shaw, it is fortunate that you were able to overpower these Lamonts, or I would already be lying dead in their lair. The woman is a hag, determined to kill me while I sleep.”

  Shaw chuckled. “I know old Astra is frightening to look upon, but her heart is good. She is a loyal servant who is forced to see to far too many duties for one old woman, though she is a bit brusque.”

  “Brusque? Nay, she is more than that. She is cruel. I tell you, Shaw, the woman enjoys inflicting pain. She pummels me while I sleep. She applies salves and ointments that turn my flesh to fire. But she is learning that I am not like other men she may have tortured. I am a Campbell, and she will not succeed in her evil deeds as long as I have a single breath left in me.”

  “I will talk with her,” Shaw said softly, soothingly.

  He had never before seen his brother in such a state. He intended to get to the bottom of this and learn just what Astra had done to make Sutton so agitated.

  Sutton’s frown deepened. He nodded toward the doorway. “Then you may talk to the wench now. For here she is, ready to inflict her latest torment upon me.”

  Shaw turned, then froze. The woman poised in the doorway to do battle with his brother was not old Astra. It was Sabina.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Beautiful, gentle Sabina. Dressed in a gown the color of heather, her dark hair pulled back with matching ribbons. Holding a silver tray, she stood uncertainly in the doorway, staring beyond Shaw to where his brother lay scowling at her.

  “I... brought a bit of food,” she said hesitantly. To Shaw she added, “I thought, since you were here, you might wish to help your brother sup.”

  “That is most kind of you.” Shaw took the tray from her hands and placed it on a table.

  Lifting the lid, he sniffed at a tureen of clear broth before handing it to Sutton. “It smells heavenly. This will restore you, my brother.”

  Sutton glowered at the woman over the rim of his bowl. “How do I know it does not contain poison?”

  “Had I but thought of that,” Sabina said tartly, “’twould have lightened my chores considerably. Mayhap on the morrow, I will lace your gruel with poison. At least then I will no longer have to listen to your litany of complaints.”

  Shaw lifted a brow in surprise. Was this the same mild-mannered Madonna who had sat beside his brother’s pallet, going without sleep, ministering to his every need? When had she turned into this dour shrew?

  “Aye. A bit of thin gruel. A sip of watered broth. And foul swill that is not even fit for swine,” Sutton muttered. ‘If you do not poison me, you will starve me.”

  Shaw swiveled his head to study his brother. Had his injuries completely altered his personality? Was this churl the same charming rogue who had never met a wench he did not wish to bed?

  Whatever had happened between these two while he was gone?

  “I assure you, Sutton,” he said calmly, reasonably, taking several sips of broth to ease his brother’s mind, “the lass wants only to see you get well.” He handed the tureen back to his brother, then turned to the lass. “Is that not so, Sabina?”

  “Aye.” Her eyes flashed. “The sooner the better. For then, we will be rid of this lout, and our lives can be returned to us.”

  “Take your miserable life and welcome to it,” Sutton mumbled between sips of broth. “Look at this place. Have you e’er seen a more wretched hovel? The wench’s bed linens are in tatters. The settle is broken. There are no rushes upon the floors, no tapestries upon the walls. And look at my embarrassing excuse for a pallet.”

  Shaw did look. First at Sabina’s cheeks, glowing scarlet with shame and anger. And then at the pallet. He saw at once that the rags had been replaced with clean linens and several soft fur throws. The lass was as good as her word.

  “Such insults are unworthy of you, Sutton. I see nothing wrong with your pallet.” The tone of Shaw’s voice betrayed his growing impatience with his brother. “Now what is this about ointments that turn your flesh to fire?”

  Sutton set aside his tureen with a clatter. “The female enjoys inflicting pain upon my person. I believe she has deliberately added to her salves the leaves of nettles and plants that cause my skin to burn.”

&n
bsp; Again Shaw turned to Sabina. “What say you, lass?”

  “Your brother’s wounds were unclean and festering. Without my special ointments and salves, he would even now be writhing in a bed of pain. Instead, because the potions cleansed the wounds, he is healing well enough to find fault with everything.”

  “Roll over,” Shaw commanded.

  When Sutton did as he was told, Shaw knelt and examined the wounds. “It is as the lass says. They show no sign of the infection I had seen earlier. Thanks to her diligence, they are healing, brother.”

  He motioned to Sabina. “Come, lass. Apply your medicine and I will attend you.”

  She handed him several strips of fresh linen, then knelt beside Sutton and began to apply the ointments. As she did, her patient sucked in his breath, then began emitting a string of savage oaths.

  Beside her, Shaw grinned, remembering how the salves had burned when Merritt had applied them to his wounds. But such obscenities in front of a gently bred lady like Sabina were unwarranted.

  “You owe the lady an apology. You are as sulky as a hound who intruded his nose in a beehive. This must be another sign that you are healing,” Shaw commented as he helped Sabina wrap his brother in fresh linen.

  Sutton offered no such apology. Instead, when they had finished and managed to roll him over, he was still muttering a few choice words.

  While he was complaining, his gaze fell upon Sabina’s hands as she gathered up the soiled linen. For a moment his eyes widened. At once his hand shot out, catching her roughly by the wrist.

  She was surprised by the strength in one who had been so severely wounded. Though she tried to pull away, he held her fast.

  “Release the lady at once,” Shaw cried. “Why do you assault her?”

  His brother ignored him. His gaze was fixed on the purple bruises that encircled Sabina’s wrists. “How did you come by these?”

  For a moment she held her silence, refusing to meet his eyes.

  His voice deepened. “Tell me. Now, woman. Before I completely lose my temper.”

  She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze firmly. “You inflicted them.”