Page 2 of Love Me Forever (Highland Duo #2)

B rianna made her way out of the darkness. A nagging thought warned her to remain in the shelter of the shadows, but that was not possible. The light would bring her knowledge, and Moira had taught her that knowledge was important to survival.

She opened her eyes slowly and her surroundings rushed back to her, growing her anxious with fear.

The hideous face she had last seen before unconsciousness claimed her loomed in her mind’s eye.

And the realization that the grotesque man shared this lone cottage with her made her tremble with dread.

Was he merely a hapless victim of unfortunate circumstances?

Or was his beating a justifiable punishment for a crime?

She would not have her answers or ease her fear if she did not ask, but she found it difficult to speak.

She was not certain if the lack of speech was due to her injuries or her fear of hearing unfavorable answers.

“I mean you no harm.”

His soft, deep voice startled her. It was much gentler than she had expected, but still she knew little of this man.

“I apologize for my appearance. I do not wish to frighten you.”

He offered her an explanation in a tender and caring tone and made no move to approach her. She had not expected thoughtfulness, and her anxiousness calmed, though it did not vanish. It lingered nearby along with apprehension.

He continued, his voice filled with a confident strength, yet touched with a soft concern.

“I have recently seen a harsh battle and my wounds only begin to heal. Again, I mean you no harm. I but wish to help you. While your body shows no signs of broken bones, you have sustained a severe bruising to your chest and legs and need care.”

The thought that she was helpless upset Brianna, and tears trickled from her eyes, though she fought to keep them under control. It would do her no good to show this stranger weakness.

“My name is Royce, and I ask permission to tend to your needs.”

That he spoke the truth to her was obvious. She could not move without pain stabbing at her. But how could she allow this strange man to see to her every need? How could she bear the thought of being so vulnerable in front of him? Could she do nothing for herself?

Her Cameron pride made her attempt to at least sit up in the bed without any assistance. If she could accomplish that menial task, perhaps then she would not feel so helpless and dependent on this stranger.

She stubbornly moved her arms, though her chest ached from the effort, and when she attempted to brace them on the bed and move herself, a vicious stabbing pain knifed through her and forced a scream from her. She did not, however, count on the scream being his name.

He rushed to her side and took her hand, holding it gently while his other hand tenderly stroked her forehead.

“It is all right. Calm and the pain will subside. I am here and will care for you and protect you. Think naught but of my hand soothing your head and my voice that reaches out to you in concern. Tell me your name. I have wondered over it.”

She concentrated on his strong voice, and his confident touch comforted her. “I am Brianna.” She made no mention of her clan, for she did not know of his clan distinction, and there was much friction amongst Highland clans.

“A gentle name,” he said and stroked her face.

She kept her eyes closed, gaining the courage to look upon him. It was not that she thought him horrendous, though his fresh scars made him appear so. It was that she felt for his plight. He had suffered horribly, and the scars that remained attested to his horrific ordeal.

“It is kind of you to look after me.” Her pain was slowly ebbing, and she breathed more easily, though she would not surrender the comforting strength of his hand.

“I do not mind. You need me.”

She instantly responded, “Aye, I do, though I do not mean to be a burden.”

“I do not think of you as a burden, and I tend you most willingly.”

She was relieved to hear his truthful words. “I am grateful for you, but I must ask of the two men who were with me.”

A moment of silence preceded his answer. “I am sorry; they did not survive.”

She felt a sense of sorrow for her companions. They were good men and free of family so there was no particular person who would mourn their loss, though the clan would. All members of the clan were considered family, and all mourned when someone passed.

“They were good men.”

“Then they will be missed.”

“Aye, they will,” she said softly and offered a silent prayer for their souls.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his hand remaining firmly locked with hers.

She thought a moment, for food had not been a thought and she simply felt too weak even to consider attempting to eat. “Nay, I have not the strength.”

“The very reason you should eat something, to regain your strength.”

She sighed softly, knowing a deep breath would only bring her pain, and before she could respond he spoke.

“The broth I have made would suit you well.”

Brianna knew she could not lift even a simple spoon, and her disappointment was evident when she repeated, “I have not the strength.”

“I will feed you, you need not worry.”

A single tear trickled from her eye. The idea that she was completely dependent on this stranger upset her.

She had no choice but to rely on his kindness and to trust him.

She realized that trust was the most difficult for her.

She had not been able to trust her husband; how was she ever to trust this man she did not know?

With a gentle swipe of his finger, he removed the single teardrop from her cheek. “You need not fear me. I mean you no harm, Brianna. I will care for you as long as is necessary. Trust me.”

She had shut her eyes and listened to the soothing lilt of his voice. If she had not known his features, she would have thought of them as gentle, a smooth complexion, tender eyes, soft lips. This vision of such a man she could trust, but the man who stood over her possessed no gentle features.

Her eyes drifted open. He looked down at her with an intense dark green eye; his other eye was too badly swollen shut for him to open.

The color reminded her of the forest in the winter, cold and empty yet content in its solitude.

His hair was long, a burnished brown, as though fire and light mixed with the color of the earth, and it looked to be well tended, for it shined with a silky radiance.

One braid hung down on the right side of his head, a brown leather strip entwined in the strands.

His lip swelled from the severe spilt and made it impossible to determine the true shape of his mouth.

And one look at his body left no doubt that he was a warrior.

He wore a dark shirt over a broad and heavily muscled chest. His plaid was of dark colors and wrapped snugly around a narrow waist; below that she could not see, for he leaned over the edge of the bed, blocking the rest of him from her view.

“Now that you have looked me over, will you trust me?”

“Have I a choice?” Brianna asked, feeling justified in blatantly taking stock of him.

His hand gently pushed a stray strand of hair off her face. “Nay, Brianna, you have no choice but to trust me.”

An unexpected cough seized her and she cried out as pain stabbed at her chest. Without thought she squeezed at his hand that held firm to hers, and his other hand instantly reached out to gently cup her face and force her to rest her glance on him.

“Look at me and breathe calmly,” he ordered in a tone that he must have used to command men in battle, for she immediately obeyed him without question.

“Calmly,” he repeated when she fought the breath that followed. “If you struggle you will only worsen the pain and bring yourself more discomfort. Ease your breathing.”

She followed his words and took short shallow breaths and realized the pain lessened, though her hold on his hand remained firm.

“Time and rest will heal your bruises.”

She nodded slowly, knowing he was right.

“I will get you some broth and you will eat.”

“A command?” she asked with effort, the pain not having completely subsided.

“If it is necessary.”

His response warned her that he was a man accustomed to having his command obeyed, and being that she had no choice at the moment; she wisely chose to defer to him.

For now.

“Nay, I will eat what I can.”

“It is good that you try, but first I must raise you up more on the pillows so that you may eat more comfortably.”

Her eyes rounded, the thought of pain filling her with dread, and he understood. “I will move you as gently as possible.”

He did not wait for her to respond or object. He removed his hand from hers and slipped his arm beneath the wool blanket.

Her eyes grew even wider.

He offered an explanation. “I had no choice but to remove your clothes. They were torn and dirty. And I needed to see how severe your injuries were. I could carry only you and thought to return later for your chest, but I have been reluctant to leave you alone.”

She said not a word but gave him a brief nod, letting him know she understood.

“Relax,” he said softly, his hand slipping slowly beneath her back. “I will not hurt you.”

The strength in his arm was remarkable, for he moved her with the gentlest of touches, his other hand pushing the pillows beneath her back and head so that she lay reclined. She suffered only the slightest discomfort and paid it no heed, for her new position eased her aching body.

“That feels much better,” she said, sending him a brief smile. “Thank you, you are most kind.”

He stared at her a moment with an intensity that could frighten; she, however, slowly raised her hand to gently touch his swollen lip. “I wish I had the basket of herbs my sister-in-law Moira had sent along with me. I have something that would help relieve your swelling.”