to sit up to face him. ‘How did you find me?’
‘I come from your father,’ he said with a shrug. ‘But neither of those things are important. A storm is blowing in from the north and this cave will flood very soon. We must get out of here now, for I have no desire to die in a place like this.’ His emphasis on I made it clear what he thought her intentions were.
Spring brought powerful storms as the winter struggled to keep hold of the lands and seas this far north. The man who suggested this place to her had said it was far enough from the sea’s edge to be safe. But now, listening to the sound of approaching waves, she knew the villager had been wrong. If her mouth and throat could grow any drier, they did just then as a wave of choking fear filled her.
‘Come,’ he said once more, reaching for her. ‘Put your hands on my shoulders and let me get you to your feet first.’
This time, she did as he said, reaching up and grabbing hold of his shoulders. He slid his large hands around her at her waist and lifted her, bearing most of her weight as she placed her foot on the floor. When he began to let her stand, her leg gave out and she stumbled. A moment later, she found herself cradled against his chest.
His wide, muscular chest. He barely exerted himself in lifting her. She could feel the strength in his arms as he walked towards the entrance to the cave. As they neared the torch he’d stuck into a crack in the rock wall near the opening, she dared a glance up at his face.
And wished she had not.
The light from the torch caught the auburn in his hair and made it flicker. His brow gathered in a frown that made him look fierce and frightening. His chin and cheeks, not disguised by the beard he wore, seemed carved from the same hard rock of the inside of the cave. She began shivering again and could not control the way her body shook.
‘Are you ill?’ he asked, carrying her towards the steep path that led to the top of the cliff. ‘Christ! You are burning up!’ he growled against her head. The anger in his voice made her tremble.
The fever must be back.
Glancing around, she saw the path she’d not seen when trying to reach the cave. Eva had approached the openings in the ceiling of the cave when she’d slipped and fallen in. The only reason she had not died was that she slid most of the way down, hitting her foot and leg on a large rock as she came to stop on the floor. They reached it, and he stopped.
‘I cannot carry you up this way and I cannot help you walk up. The path is not wide enough for two of us and I will need my hands on the steeper places.’
Her mind was so dulled by pain and fear that Eva could not come up with a solution. Then he began to lower her feet towards the ground.
‘Put your uninjured foot down,’ he directed. When she did, he gripped her waist until she steadied. His next action surprised her. He leaned her against the thick bushes there and removed a long length of tartan from around him. Then crouching before her, he said, ‘Come now, lady. Climb on.’
If she had thought herself confused before, this confirmed it. Her head ached as she tried to determine what he wanted her to do. Her hesitation was noticed, for he turned and motioned to her with his hand, pointing to his back.
‘Carrying you on my back will be safer,’ he explained, moving back until he almost touched her legs. ‘Hold once more on to my shoulders. Lean against me and give me your injured leg first.’
It took her several attempts and so much pain before she could position herself on his back. His touch was gentle as he guided and supported her leg around his waist and held it steady as she lifted her other one. Eva clutched his shoulders until he gave new orders.
‘Slide your arms around me, lady,’ he urged as he stood up. ‘It will be a more secure hold for you.’ She did as he said and she did feel more stable.
He tossed the length of wool around her, pulling it below her and wrapping it snugly around her, tying her to him much as a babe could be worn by a mother. He made several adjustments, uttering vile words when things did not do his bidding. Then, apparently satisfied with her position and the binding holding her there on his back, he took the first step up the path.
Between her exhaustion and pain and the warmth of his very strong body beneath her, Eva found herself drifting off to sleep as he climbed almost effortlessly up the steep trail. She woke to his voice, deep and masculine, calling out curses at the sky as the clouds opened above them. Spring rains were cold and this was just that. Only her head was above the woollen covering to feel it but he was more exposed and was getting soaked.
‘Hold on, lady,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘We are almost at the top.’
He stumbled then and nearly pitched them to the ground, but he somehow regained his balance before they fell. Eva waited for the ear-blistering epithets that she expected would follow his misstep and was surprised when she could hear only his breathing. She began to drift in and out of awareness with each step as the pain flooded her body.
They reached the top and he grunted and stopped. Eva could feel his lungs taking in deep breaths and expelling them hard. As though her body had waited for them to be on level ground and not scrambling up a steep cliff side, the moment he turned his head to look at her and spoke her name, the blackness claimed her.
* * *
Rob felt the moment she lost consciousness. He’d heard every gasp and moan as he’d carried her up the cliff. She probably did not even realise she made such sounds, but he heard each of them. And yet, not once did she utter a word of complaint. Strange, that.
Since she was secure wrapped against him as she was, he untangled the reins of the horse he’d borrowed and led the animal along the main road that led back towards the village of Durness. He’d found a small unused cottage there for his use during this search and he would take her there.
As the winds howled around him now, he wondered no longer why everyone here spoke often about the weather and the storms. The blacksmith had warned him about a coming storm when he asked about borrowing a horse. The innkeeper had, as well. And the miller, when he’d arranged for the cottage on his land. And, as if the mere thought of it made it happen, the rain became a wind-driven tempest, knocking him back and off balance.
Fighting against it, he made his way to the small dwelling and, after tying the horse behind it, Rob took the lady within. Crouching down to sit on the pallet, he untied the woollen fabric and eased her back onto it. He’d not realised how hot she was until he moved her off his back. Touching her cheek with the back of his hand, Rob felt the heat of a fever there and realised the danger of it.
His sister was the healer and she would know immediately what to do. He searched his memory of the times he’d watched her care for kith and kin, whether in the village or when they’d sought refuge in the mountains. Margaret was very succinct in her directions, and he smiled as he heard them in his mind now.
‘Warm the chill. Cool the heat.’
‘Watered ale throughout. Broth when hungry.’
Even a simpleton, or a man, could follow those directions, she’d told him once. He’d laughed then but not now, as the dangers of a fever were too real. Glancing around the cottage at the supplies he’d brought, he knew he did not have enough to last more than this night. Rob had not planned to stay here, only to use it as a place to sleep. After lighting a fire in the small hearth, he knew that now supplies were the most pressing need.
