Page 88 of Desire of a Highlander

“Ye are not all right, lass.” He guided her across to one of the rocks. “Sit.”

She opened her mouth to argue then seemed to think better of it. She settled onto the flat stone gingerly. “Happy?”

“Not yet.” He crouched in front of her. “May I?”

She looked puzzled until he nodded towards her neck. “Oh.”

She held still as Ronan reached out and gently brushed her hair back. His stomach lurched. Bruises were forming along both sides of her neck where that bastard had grabbed her. Fury flashed through him so hot and stinging that for an instant his vision swam. His fingers itched with the need for violence.

“Ye should have let me kill him,” he growled.

She grabbed his clenched fists in her hands. “No, I should not. Don’t become like them, Ronan. Don’t let them turn you into something you’ve fought so hard to resist.”

For several heartbeats the fury rampaged through him so strongly that he could barely think straight. That man had hurt Elodie. He deserved to die for it!

But slowly, her words reached him. She was right. He’d spent too long resisting what the world wanted to make him. He couldn’t give in now.

“Aye,” he breathed. “Ye are right. Doesnae mean he doesnae deserve one hell of a beating though.”

He rose to his feet and crossed to where Angus was idly cropping grass. Reaching into the saddle bag, he pulled out a small glass jar and returned to Elodie. He pulled out the wax stopper, sending a pungent smell through the air.

“What is that?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Comfrey ointment. Faye swears by it. Now hold still.”

He was as gentle as possible as he spread the salve across the bruised skin of her neck but even so she hissed in pain.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It just stings a bit.”

Only when he’d finished did he really look at her. Her hair had escaped its braid and there was dirt on one cheek. She looked exhausted. Something inside him twisted painfully.

“I should never have left ye,” he said roughly.

She laid her hand over his. “You couldn’t save both Morag and me.”

“I should have found another way.”

She squeezed his fingers. “You came back for me.” She slid from the rock and knelt in front of him, resting her forehead against his.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll always come for ye.”

“I know.”

The certainty in her voice humbled him. He wasn’t sure he deserved that kind of faith. He wanted to remain here, in this hideaway, with her. He wanted to forget about the problems that waited for them in the world beyond this outcrop and just be with Elodie. But he knew it wasn’t possible.

“They’ll be coming,” he said quietly.

“I know that too.”

He looked south, where somewhere beyond the rolling hills his people were making their slow journey towards the lands he had abandoned years before. He prayed they had gained enough of a head start because from this moment onwards, every mile mattered. Beyond their little hollow the wind sighed across the heather, carrying with it the haunting cry of a curlew.

Elodie took a steadying breath. “There are things I need to tell you. I overheard them. The Murdochs, I mean.”

His whole attention sharpened. “What did ye hear?”

She looked back the way they’d come as though she could still see the Murdochs’ camp. “They’re not interested in helping you. Their offer of alliance is just a ruse.”