Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

W hen he woke, it took Arran several moments before he could work out where he was. The morning light was seeping through the smoke-hole in the roof and his surroundings were altogether foreign to him.

As he went to roll over, he winced at a sudden pain in his side. Then the recollections of the previous day came tumbling back. He waited, took a deep breath and gingerly rolled over to take stock of where he was.

A sleeping Dahlia was curled like a kitten, tucked in beside him, halfway down the bed.

His movement disturbed her and he watched as her dark eyebrows fluttered and then her eyes shot open. She looked up at him, her blue gaze filled with concern.

"Dinnae fash, lassie," he whispered. "I've slept, as have ye, and I'm quite well." He winced again. "That is except fer this wretched bruise on me back and the pain in me head."

Dahlia sprang to her feet, glancing around. "Why, ‘tis morning. We've whiled away the whole night together on this wee pallet." Her cheeks were pink as she reached up to brush stray curls from her forehead and push part of the bird's nest of her hair behind her ears.

He chuckled softly, not wishing to wake the sleeping form of Colban in the far corner. Her disheveled hair only served to make her more deliciously appealing. It was difficult to tear his gaze away. In her crumpled clothes she was a far cry from the elegant lady he'd been tasked with escorting to meet with her future husband.

In fact, if he was honest, she had the look of a tavern wench who'd just spent the night rolling in his bed.

If only that were so.

He lowered his feet to the floor and stood, aware of his manhood standing to attention under his kilt. There was no hiding it. "I'll go in search of a cludgie so I can relieve mesel' and leave ye tae attend tae yer own needs."

She grinned at him, smoothing her skirt. "I am glad tae see ye well, Mackinnon."

He dipped his head. "Many thanks due tae ye." He turned and headed out the door.

Dammit. The lass has braithers but I daresay she's nae aware of what a man's shaft is like when he wakes.

He wandered in the woods for a few minutes before walking over to tend to the horses.

Wee Morag was there before him despite the fact the dawn was only just breaking through the clouds.

"They slept well," she said. "I came tae check on them before and they were both fast asleep on the ground." She frowned. "Mayhap ye rode them hard yesterday."

He grinned at her scolding. "Mayhap we did. Perhaps we'll ride slower today."

Apparently satisfied with this reassurance she turned to go. "Me mum has prepared porridge if ye'd care tae bring the Lady Dahlia tae break yer fast with us. And she's washed yer bloody shirt clean."

With Dahlia's satchel slung over his arm, he made his way back to Elspaith's infirmary.

Bairre would be furious at his failure to arrive at the castle last night. He'd no doubt be even more furious when he learned they had stayed together overnight in a peasant's house without a chaperone.

He smiled to himself, caring little for the prospect of the laird's impotent rage and in no hurry to take Dahlia to the meeting.

She was at the door waiting for him. "Are ye all right? Ye were a long time away and I was afeared ye may have fallen ill."

"Nay lass. I'm stiff and sore but, well enough." He raised a hand to his forehead. "And the egg must have hatched, fer me brow is smooth again."

"I'm glad tae hear it." He handed over her leather satchel. "Thank ye. Now I can make meself tidy. I'll nae be long, I'll wash me face and comb me hair."

"And when ye're done making yerself beautiful, there is porridge waiting fer us in Abigail's cottage."

She gave him a smile that showed a hint of a dimple in her cheek, before hastening off in the direction of the privy and the little spring that formed the villagers' water supply.

He watched her walk away, enchanted by her charm and beauty, but wracked with the deep pain of knowing he could never make her his. That is, unless he was prepared to see his mother put to death.

He found Elspaith fussing over Colban, who still slept.

"I've given him a gentle potion to let him sleep a day or two. ‘Twill speed the healing and spare him pain."

Arran untied his purse and took out two gold coins which he offered to the old healer.

She put up a hand. "Nae, melord. I did fer ye what I dae fer all who need me."

"I ken ye are a healer fer all, Elspaith, but I wish tae thank ye and all the villagers' fer showing such kindness tae us. From the smallest wean tae the elders, ye are good folk. I wish these coins tae help wherever they may be needed. Whether tae fix Colban's roof, or tae purchase a length of catgut fer ye, I ken all who live here have very little."

Taking the coins, she patted his shoulder. "Thank ye. I shall make sure they are spent well."

Once Dahlia and Arran had finished their porridge and collected Arran's laundered shirt, they made their farewells to Abigail and Morag and the babe in Abigail's arms and made their way back to the spot where the horses waited.

As Arran assisted Dahlia into her saddle, he was acutely aware of the show of tears glistening in her eyes, her downturned mouth and the tremble in her lower lip. Her distress was clear, and his heart went out to her. What loomed before them now was the rest of the journey and in little more than an hour, their arrival at Castle Mackinnon.

"Are ye saddened tae leave our new friends?"

She lowered her eyes and shook her head, sending her fair ringlets flying around her face. He longed to hold her in his arms, wipe away the tears and bring joy into her day. His fingers itched to smooth her hair from her troubled face.

But, regardless of how much he was drawn to Dahlia MacLeod, a voice inside his head was cautioning him against losing his heart and his mind. He was sorely tempted to delay their arrival, yet he knew too well the fate awaiting his mother, the Lady Emilia, should he not obey his laird's instructions.

Despite it all, he wished Bairre Mackinnon and his commands to hell.

They were about to turn their horses back onto the road when Arran pulled up, reining in Dahlia's horse with his. An idea had occurred to him that could bring pleasure to them both.

"I can see the prospect of our ride this day is nae pleasing tae ye."

She shook her head. "Indeed. This is nae me home, Mackinnon. The country is strange tae me. I long fer me bonny island, where I could roam free and swim in the sea with naebody tae hinder me or command me, save fer our king, Robert the Bruce."

"D'ye have a dream of where ye'd while away yer time when ye were a lass? Mayhap a wildflower meadow, a glen, a gentle flowing burn or the loch?

She gazed into the distance, a wistful expression in her eyes. "I long tae be riding in the Cuillins, walking the cliffs by the sea or dipping me toes in the icy waters of the loch."

He reached over and took her soft, small hand in his. At that moment all he wished was to bring a smile to her face, to see the sadness banished from her blue eyes.

"I cannae take ye intae the hills ye love, or escort ye along the cliffs, but I ken a place, nae far from here, where a burn cascades over bonny waterfall. We could spend a wee moment there before we continue on our way."

A smile broke out, lighting her face. "I would love that." She brightened, sitting higher in the saddle, straightening her shoulders. "Mayhap I shall be able tae wet me toes in the burn."

He turned the horses in the opposite direction and soon the road narrowed, turning into nothing more than a track where they could not ride two abreast but continued in single file.

Arran marveled that Dahlia had not taken advantage of his injury during the night, when she could well have taken her mare and set off. He struggled to find an explanation; wrestling with the possibility that she may have been concerned for him and then rejecting such a fanciful idea out of hand.

No, he could only consider they had travelled too far for her to find her way back home.

The track they followed was thickly wooded and it was slow-going through the pine trees. Dahlia looked around, a delighted smile on her face that warmed his heart.

"However did ye discover such a hidden place?"

"I was only a lad, out hunting with only me dogs for company. The dogs took off barking in hot pursuit of a rabbit, with me following them on me horse."

"And did ye catch the rabbit?"

He chuckled. "Nay, he was long gone before I caught up with the hounds. But I kept going, following the burn a short distance further on. It's been a place I've returned tae many times. I find solace here when times are difficult or when I simply yearn fer a lift tae me spirits."

He understood her answering sigh. This was a difficult time for her and he hoped the brief moments they would spend together in this peaceful place would provide her spirits with some serenity.

They stopped in a small clearing where the sun's rays penetrated deep. Arran dismounted and helped her to slide off her mare's back.

"We'll leave the horses here and go on foot until we reach the burn."

Leaving the tethered horses, they continued along the track until the rushing water came into view. He took her by the hand as they ventured along the rocky, fern-covered bank following the roaring sound of the nearby waterfall.

"Careful lass, these stones are slippery and I daresay ye're nae in fer a soaking."

She clutched his hand tighter, her feet slipping and sliding as they traversed the rough stones positioned at the edge of the burn.

As they progressed, the roaring intensified until, all at once, the stream disappeared in a rush, tumbling over the edge of a chasm that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

He led her over to an outcropping rock from which they had an unimpeded view of the white, frothing cascade as it descended to a pool far below.

Dahlia opened her mouth to speak but the words she uttered were lost in the sound of the torrent. He leaned in so he could hear what she wished to say.

"I want tae go down to the pool. Can ye take me there?"

He straightened, fixing her with his gaze. In return her eyes beseeched him. Although the way down to the pool was treacherous, he'd made the descent many times before. In his boyhood he'd swum in the cool water of that glorious crystal-clear pool more times than he could count.

He shook his head. "There's some danger in it, melady."

She took his forearm in a despairing grip, her eyes focused below them to the deep green pool at the foot of the cascade. The mist swirled around them, enfolding them in its magic. "Please. I'm sure footed and I've nay fear of clambering over a few rocks. I can tell the pool is a place fer the water sprites tae play and ‘tis me fervent wish tae be among them."

It was impossible for him to resist her pleas. All he could offer her was a brief respite from their journey and a slight delay before her fateful meeting with Laird Bairre. His heart longed for so much more. Without his fear for his mother's safety, his heart would have bid him to take the Lady Dahlia wherever she wished and the devil to take Bairre.

After they'd discarded their boots, Arran rolled up his britches. Dahlia had fastened the hem of her skirt and petticoat above her knee so as to keep them out of the damp that lined their path. While she adjusted her belt to catch the fabric, Arran caught a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth, pale skin of her thighs that brought a flush of heat to his groin and set his pulse racing. Feeling the first stirrings of his manhood he did his utmost to distract his thoughts. Although, he mused, feeling himself growing hard was one battle he was in danger of losing.

"Come." Dahlia grasped his hand and he took his first tentative step onto a moss-covered rock with her close behind. He could only hope she would not catch sight of the tell-tale bulge in his trews.

Slowly, they picked their way down the tortuous slope, carefully avoiding the splash and spray, until they at last arrived at the edge of the pool, where the water was calm and still.

Dahlia laughed with delight, first dipping her toes into the water, then wading further, until it was up to her knees.

"Oh, Arran. Ye should see this. In the water, there are tiny brown fish darting to and fro."

"And d'ye see any trace of the water sprites?" He remained at the edge of the pool, enjoying the sight of her, as she reveled in the feel of the cool water swirling around her with not a jot of self-consciousness.

Rainbows danced in the mist from the spray where the sun's rays dappled the water sending tiny darts of bright colors across her hair, enveloping her in a shining light.

"I'd love nothing more than tae throw aside me clothes and dive into the depths," She called. "There I'd be sure tae encounter the sprites."

He laughed, mentally wrestling with the vision of nakedness her words conjured. She was even more beautiful in this place he'd always loved, her face flushed from the effort of their climb, her curls flying free, her eyes sparkling with delight.

All his senses were on fire. He breathed in the forest-scented air, tasting it on his tongue, as he watched over her laughing and playing in the water. His entire being was consumed with wanting to take her in his arms. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining how it would feel to take those perfect, laughing lips in a long kiss and to press her naked body to his own nakedness.

He was lost in longing and a yearning for what could never be.

His snapped his eyes open, willing himself to the present moment and the unhappy reality of what was ahead. "Come," he called "We've dallied too long in this place. Our delay will incur the laird's wrath and I must dae me best tae hide ye from it."

With reluctant steps she emerged from the water, looking for all the world like one of the sprites she'd hoped to encounter. She bounced up to him, slightly breathless, her face still alight with the pleasure of her precious moments of respite, raising her face almost as if she was ready for his kiss. It took considerable effort on Arran's part not to seize her in his arms and take her mouth. Instead, he spoke more sharply than he'd intended.

"Hasten, Lady Dahlia. We mustnae keep yer husband waiting any longer."

Even uttering the words caused a stabbing pain in his heart, but no matter what it cost him, he would never reveal his true feelings to her.