Tess and the Highlander Page 2

  Pushing himself to his feet, he picked up a more worn woolen blanket that he saw folded by the bed and draped it over his shoulders. With one more glance around, he descended the stairs and pushed out into the storm.

  Added to the shivering that had taken control of Tess’s limbs, her teeth were now chattering and she could not stop it. Her clothes were soaked through from her efforts to get the man out of the tidal pool. Her skin was clammy, and she was feeling chilled to the bone. The leather cloak offered some protection against the bitter wind-driven rain, but her body seemed unable to produce any warmth as she lay flat on her stomach on the rocks to the west of the priory.

  Tess’s eyes narrowed as the Highlander finally came out of her house.

  She had hoped to go inside and get a blanket or two and some food before fleeing to the caves on the western side of the island. In fact, it was much more than a hope, she corrected. She had to get some supplies before retreating there. Who knew how long the storm surges would require her to stay hidden or how many days it would be before the Highlander’s people would return?

  Night was quickly dropping its dark cloak over the island. The storm, though, seemed to have shaken off its leash. It was now hammering the island with ten times the fury it had before. A freezing rain had been falling in fits and spurts. It was not a night to be out.

  He was making a fire. She saw him walk back toward her house a couple of times. Each time he came back carrying armfuls of dry seaweed and driftwood she had diligently gathered, she felt herself growing angrier. And if this wasn’t enough, he was building his fire within the area protected by the priory walls.

  A standing stone wall served as a windbreak. The location kept away the rain. There he was, safe and warm. But there was also no chance of any passing ship seeing his fire.

  And what was worse, he was building it where she could not possibly get inside her house without being seen by him.

  She should have left him to swallow more seawater.

  The sparking flames, hissing and crackling, climbed high into the night. Colin’s clothes were practically dry now. His plaid, with the added layer from the blanket he’d borrowed from the house, was keeping the worst of the rain off him.

  He was surprised to find that he was even growing hungry. He considered for a moment the food he’d seen in the priory building. Making one last trip, he entered and approached the hearth, picking up the wooden spoon beside the still-simmering cauldron. One mouthful of the thick, bitter-tasting brew, though, and his stomach wrenched. Colin ran outside, gulping down draughts of fresh salt air to keep his guts from spilling out.

  His appetite was now gone, most likely for good, and he returned to the fire. Even as he walked, he could feel the eyes of someone watching him from the darkness. He settled by the wall for the night and thought about the old stories of seals who became women.

  Tess started abruptly. She didn’t know how long she had been lying on the cold rocks. It was still night, and the storm was continuing unabated. Her limbs were stiff and numb. The chattering of her teeth was like thunder rolling painfully through her head. At some point, she thought, she must have fallen sleep. But she wasn’t sure.

  Lifting her head off the rock required an effort that surprised her. She pushed the hood of the leather cloak back so she could see. The sleety rain continued to pelt her, but the Highlander’s fire was still burning below. In the circle of light around it, she could see his sleeping form tucked snuggly against the wall. He must be quite comfortable with her blanket wrapped about him, she seethed.

  She glanced at the door of her house and back again at the Highlander. The light from the fire didn’t quite reach the entrance of the building. He seemed to have gone to sleep with his back to it, anyway.

  Her first attempt at pushing herself to her feet was rejected by her stiff, half-frozen muscles, but her second effort was more successful. Carefully picking her way through the boulders, she descended, praying that her chattering teeth wouldn’t alert him.

  There were other things that she had to be concerned with besides the storm. Tess recalled Auld Charlotte’s warnings about sailors and fishermen…about all men. With the exception of Garth, there was not a single male in existence that Tess could trust. The old woman had been blunt about it. And she’d continued to preach the lesson even on her deathbed.

  If the filthy dogs find a young and bonny thing like ye on this deserted island, they’ll all be thinking the same thing, lassie. They’ll knock each other down, racing to see which one of them can lay his hand on ye first. But do not let them touch ye, Tess. Ye fight them, child, ye hear? Better yet, go and hide and do not let any of them see ye in the first place.

  Tess circled around, staying in the shadows and crouching as she moved along the low stone wall that surrounded the ruins of the priory. All the while, she kept an eye on the man’s sleeping form as she considered what she needed to take.

  The door creaked a little as she pushed it open. She looked back toward the Highlander. He hadn’t stirred.

  As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she stood in the dark and took off the dripping cloak. Feeling for the familiar peg, she hung her cloak and turned toward the steps. After so many hours in the cold, her knees protested as she tried to climb the stairs, but she pushed herself on anyway.

  Food. Dry clothes. Blankets. Flints. She wondered if the pile of seaweed and driftwood she’d gathered and stored in one of the caves a year ago would still be there. When she reached the landing, Tess saw there was some red glow left of the dying fire in the hearth. The cauldron was hanging where she’d left it.

  There was nothing that Tess wanted to do more than dry and warm herself first. In her rush to get to the fire, though, she slipped and nearly fell on some seashells that the Highlander must have moved. Quickly regaining her balance, she made her way more cautiously across the room.

  The heat from the embers felt heavenly after her hours in the bitter wet and cold. She crouched on the hearth and added some dried seaweed and a couple of small pieces of driftwood that were nearby. While she waited for the fire to kindle and come to life, she pressed her hands to the sides of the cauldron and almost sighed aloud with pleasure from its warmth.

  “I shouldn’t eat any of that, if I were you.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The young woman sprang to her feet and whirled around with the quickness of a cat. Colin stared at his own dagger, drawn and ready in her hand.

  “I believe that dirk belongs to me,” he said calmly.

  She waved the weapon at him in a motion that he understood meant that she wanted him to back away. He didn’t want her any more frightened than she was, but he was as far away as he could get. Sitting in the dim light against the far wall, he had seen her enter, only to slip on some of the seashells that cluttered the room. She had been lucky to not crack her head.

  “Why don’t you put that weapon down.” He leaned casually against the wall.

  She raised her elbow a little, ready to strike, and took a step toward the stairs.

  Colin tore his gaze away from the dagger and studied the rest of her. She was the same woman that he had seen by the tidal pool. The same dark eyes sparkled in the growing firelight. But her face was stained with streaks of dirt, and in the dim light of the room, all he could see was that she was young…well, younger than he was. Her dark hair was soaked and a loose braid lay on her back like a thick rope. The woolen dress that she had no doubt spun and woven and sewn herself was also dripping wet. She was a wee thing, all in all, and Colin knew he could overpower her if he really wanted to. But despite the show of toughness, she was shivering and pale. Colin frowned, knowing that because of him she’d been forced to stay outside.

  “I had no intention of frightening you.”

  He raised both hands so she could see he was not armed. She continued to inch toward the steps. Colin could see that she wasn’t too steady on her feet. He straightened from the wall. The continuing storm was whistling in
through the slits of the windows.

  “Listen, you rescued me yourself. You know I was washed ashore. Alone.” He kept his tone gentle. “You’ll surely catch your death in this weather, dressed in those wet clothes.”

  Her foot went out from beneath her as she slipped again on the same damn shells, and Colin closed the distance between them. Before he could lend a hand to her, though, she rolled to her side and slashed at him with the dirk.

  “Bloody hell,” he cursed, glancing down at the torn sleeve of his shirt where the dagger had sliced through. His tone reflected his rising temper. She’d barely missed cutting his flesh. “I told you I mean no harm.”

  She was struggling to her feet, but he was through trying to help her. Taking one quick step, Colin kicked the dagger out of her hand. The weapon clattered loudly against the stone wall.

  “But you cannot expect me to take it kindly when someone steals my dirk and uses it against me.” He grabbed the back of her dress and yanked her slight frame to her feet. She was as light and helpless as a rag doll. He turned her around in his arm, so he could take a better look at her face. She hadn’t spoken a word. Maybe she didn’t understand what he was saying. “Now let’s start from the beginning, lass.”

  She kicked him hard on the shin.

  “By the devil!” He tightened his grip on her shoulder. “I told you…”

  She delivered a glancing jab to his face and tried to push away from him. Angry now, he twisted one of her arms behind her and pulled her roughly against his body. The dark eyes were spitting fire at him, and she looked like she’d bite him if she got the chance.

  “Now listen, I don’t know what has you so…”

  Her knee connected solidly and viciously with his groin area. He gasped for breath, and his hands released her.

  As Colin tried to catch his breath, he saw her run down the steps and heard the door bang open. Suddenly, he’d lost all interest in going after her. She was a witch, a devil, a madwoman.

  Nonetheless, she had managed to drag him out of the water, and he felt a pang of guilt.

  Grimacing with pain, he forced himself upright and took a step. Limping down the stairs, he spotted the leather cloak that still hung on a peg. This was the same one she had been wearing when he’d first seen her. He stepped outside. His fire was starting to burn lower. The bundle of blankets and sticks he’d used to fool her were still against the wall. The storm continued to lash at the island, and he braced himself against the wind. Colin let his gaze roam over the ruined buildings and the hills around him. To his left, he saw a dark shadow move quickly over the crest of a hill.

  “WAIT!” He set out after her. The fool! He was certain that there were no more buildings on the island. Cold and wet as she already was and without any kind of shelter, she would surely catch her death staying the night out in this weather.

  Reaching the top of the hill where he’d seen her last, he stared in frustration at the wild and dark terrain around him. The sound of the storm was matched only by the loud crashing of the surf in the distance. The sleet was stinging his face and he could see very little. He had no idea where she had disappeared to.

  “By St. Andrew, I told you I meant no harm,” he shouted into the night.

  Still, he was not ready to give up, even though he couldn’t see much beyond his next step. The ground was shiny from the rain. Jumping down from a ledge of a stone, Colin pushed on.

  She had to be a daughter to the reclusive husband and wife he’d heard about. But he recalled hearing that they were so old, and she was so young. And then there was the mending he found in the room—the young child’s dress and cap. His curiosity was definitely piqued.

  He had no fear of getting lost. He could see the light of his fire reflecting on the walls of the priory buildings. What he needed to be careful of, though, were the bluffs to the west. One missed step there, and he’d drop forty feet into the surf and the rocks.

  And something told him his bonny hostess would probably not pull him out again.

  Colin stumbled on a mound of stone and shells. Coming to an abrupt stop, he peered down. Right before him, there were actually two mounds, side by side. Crouching before them, he could see a carefully arranged blanket of shells with large smooth stones piled on top.

  Graves. Two of them.

  Well, at least he knew where the old couple had ended up.

  As Tess worked her way out along the cliff, the wind buffeting off the rocks nearly knocked her from the narrow ledge a half dozen times. Once, inching across a particularly narrow ledge, her foot slipped on an icy spot. Tess clawed desperately at the slippery rocks, managing somehow to stop herself from falling into the frothy sea. A few moments later she had made it to her destination, only to realize it was all for naught.

  The tide was too high. She’d never seen the water up so far on the cliff face. The waves were crashing in above the opening to her cave. The footpath on the side of the opening was completely submerged. It was no good. She couldn’t get in.

  If she had been able to get inside, she knew the honeycomb of caves well. Inside, some of the underground passages climbed upward. Even at the highest surges, there were dry places where she could take shelter. She’d be safe.

  Desperate to get out of harm’s way, she considered jumping in the sea and trying to swim in. On many of the lower caves, she’d seen the seals forever playing their games and riding the surf into the caverns.

  Tess turned and started clambering back up the rocks the way she came. She was thankful that her miserable physical condition had not affected her state of mind. Banging her head against the rocks or having her body drawn out to sea by the tide was no solution to her predicament. Fighting with the Highlander had given her a temporary surge of strength, but as she finally climbed up over the ledge, she knew she had nothing more left.

  He’d said he meant no harm. But Charlotte had warned her about the lies, too.

  He was bigger. He was stronger. He was quicker.

  He was a Highlander.

  That alone gave Tess reason enough to distrust him.

  Exhausted, she was barely able to lower herself into a cleft between two rocks. She was still exposed to the sleet and the rain, but at least she was protected from the wind.

  Colin waited for the first light of dawn to lighten the sky before going out searching for her again. Other than finding the graves, no good had come out of his last attempt. But this time he was determined to find and bring her back. It had been damn cold last night. Hopefully, she was still alive.

  The sleeting rain had stopped, but charred gray clouds continued to lock out the sky. The wind, though, seemed to have picked up even more.

  Colin started out in the same direction he’d seen her go the night before. From there, he descended into a valley that cut the island in half and climbed the next hill. It was the highest point in the island. Standing on top of it, he now had an unobstructed view of everything, including the two piles of rock at either end, known as North Ness and South Ness. His eyes scanned the turbulent sea to the horizon in every direction. There was no sign of a ship anywhere.

  The Isle of May was much longer than it was wide. And he had been right the night before. There were no other buildings. Very few trees even. No place where a stubborn woman could have taken shelter for the night. But she had to be somewhere.

  Colin tried to imagine what he would do in her place. The answer was simple. He would have stayed put and heard the stranger out.

  Women!

  He again focused his thoughts on where she could possibly have gone. The east shore consisted of stony slopes descending gradually to the sea’s edge. A tidal pool here and there hardly offered any place to hide and not much in the way of shelter. The west shore, on the other hand, offered a possibility. He turned his steps in that direction.

  Colin’s hopes rose when he reached the high, rugged cliffs with their sharp ledges and deep crevices. Peering over the top, he gazed down the rock face and watched the m
any sea birds sailing along the line of cliffs, wheeling and sometimes landing on the ledges. They sometimes would disappear from his view. If they were nesting here, he guessed that there could be any number of caves in these rocks.

  He could only hope that she had found some place protected from the sleet and the cold during the night.

  He started moving northward along the cliffs, looking for a place to climb down safely.

  Moments later, Colin saw amid the distant rocks strands of dark hair whipping wildly in the wind. He hurried to her.

  She was lying curled up tightly in a shallow cleft between two rocks. For a moment, he thought she might be dead. He knelt beside her, pushed her long hair to the side, and touched the side of her throat. Her skin was icy cold, but he could feel a faint pulse. He pulled her out of the hole and rolled her into his arms. She mumbled something unintelligible and tried to push him away.

  “I’m taking you back to your house.”

  She made a feeble attempt to push away from him again, but she was clearly exhausted. She ceased her struggle and slumped limply against him. Lifting her in his arms, Colin pushed himself to his feet.

  “But I am warning you, lass. No more attacking me with my own weapon. No kicking. No fighting. No more attempts to unman me.” He started toward the priory. She was slightly built, but Colin hadn’t forgotten the courage she’d shown in facing him last night. “And no running away, either.”

  She mumbled something again and tucked her hand inside his shirt. Her fingers were like ice.

  “I don’t know how long we are going to be together like this, but you’d better get used to having me around.”

  Stirring slightly, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her face to the exposed skin of his neck. Her cheek was soft as cold silk.