Page 18 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

P rofoundly shocked by the violence and chaos of the attack and Bane’s chilling, brutal ferocity as he dispatched the four brigands, Constance stood rooted to her spot by fear. Repulsed as she was by the sight, she could not help staring in horror at the bleeding bodies on the ground. Bane had frightened her before, but not like this. It was the first time she had seen what he was really capable of. And she found it terrifying.

When he came and spoke to her, she cowered away from him distrustfully, unable to hide her fear of him. But he was in front of her, so she had to look at him. When he began to speak to her softly, explaining that he had killed the men to protect her, her grip on reality slowly began to return.

“The world is a dangerous place, Constance, but ye need have nae fear when ye’re with me. I’ll protect ye,” he told her in a soothing voice. She found herself looking searchingly into his eyes, seeking reassurance that she could trust him. His hazel eyes shone with earnestness, and lines of worry were etched on his handsome features. She was stunned by this previously unknown gentle side he was showing her. It utterly contradicted the hard, impatient, emotionless demeanour he often displayed.

Seeing him kill the brigands had been shocking, yes, but she knew he was right—they would have murdered them both if he had given them the chance. Her heart seemed to shift in her chest as it came home to her that he really had saved her life, and he had put himself at great risk to do so.

He cares for me! And I’ve never felt so safe in my life as I do with him!

Like a damn bursting, the strain of what had occurred in the last few minutes gave way inside her. Acting on pure instinct, craving the feel of his strong arms around her, she sobbed as she leaned forward and hugged him as hard as she could, overcome with gratitude. They stayed like that for a few moments, with Constance feeling his strength flowing into her. Loathe to leave the safety of his arms, she finally made herself pull back.

“Thank ye, Bane, thank ye for savin’ me again. I’m truly grateful,” she murmured quietly, looking deeply into his eyes. He did not smile, but she saw some of the worry fade from his expression.

“It was naethin’,” he told her modestly. However, as he pulled away from her, leaving her feeling strangely bereft, she glimpsed a flicker of something in his expression that suggested a crack in the wall he had tried so hard to maintain between them. She did not know quite why, but it set her heart fluttering.

“Ye didnae run away,” he said suddenly, catching her off guard.

“It did not even cross my mind,” she admitted, puzzled by her own behaviour.

He only nodded, but she thought she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips and knew he was pleased. For some unfathomable reason, that pleased her in turn.

They remounted to continue their journey, with Bane guiding the horses as they picked a path through the dead men. Perched in front of Bane, settled comfortably between his thighs, Constance reached beneath her dress and took hold of her locket. She gripped it tightly, sending up a silent question to her mother.

How is it that I feel so safe with the man who abducted me and is keeping me prisoner?

After hours of traveling, the exhaustion of the journey began to wear on them both, and Bane’s untreated wound was causing him a lot of pain.

“We’ll stop here fer the night,” he told her, reining in the horses and dismounting at the edge of the forest, in a small dell sheltered by arching trees. Ignoring the ache in his side, he lifted Constance down from the saddle and quickly set to work gathering wood and securing their surroundings. He knew he really needed to see a healer but had already decided there was no time nor money to spare for that.

“How far are we from my father’s castle now?” Constance asked, pleasantly surprising him by helping him to gather firewood.

“Thirty miles or so.”

She frowned. “Such a long way? How long will it take to get back there?”

“Nae as long as it did goin’ the other way. Especially, if the weather stays fine.” They took back the wood they had found, and after Bane had lit a flame with his tinder box, he placed the pieces on the fire, encouraging the flames higher until it was throwing out a good amount of heat. Constance dawdled at his side, watching.

“A few days, and I shall finally see Agnes,” she said, her green eyes flashing with a mixture of excitement and determination as she passed him more wood.

“Aye, I ken how much that means tae ye,” he replied, secretly impressed at how quickly she had overcome her privileged background and learned to help out when they made camp. She seemed to enjoy having something useful to do, as though realizing her old life had been empty and pointless. But then again, he thought it was just as likely that she wanted to speed up the process of making the tea so she could have a hot drink as soon as possible.

“You cannot imagine how much. I have always felt something was missing from my life and now I know it was Agnes all along.”

As he watched her preparing the water for the tea, Bane knew she was far from the pawn to be used in his plan to free Tav to him. Over the course of their time together, he had come to admire her hidden strengths. She had gradually forced him to see her as a person, with her own fears, hopes, and desires. Despite her pampered background, she displayed a quiet resilience which pushed her to keep moving despite the hardships of their journey.

“Aye, ye’ll meet yer long-lost sister, and I shall have me braither back at last.” He sat down against a tree stump near the fire to rest his aching side.

“You must be looking forward to that very much after missing him for such a long time,” Constance remarked as she took the pan of boiling water from the fire and added the dried tea leaves in a far more measured way than before he had told her off for using too much. It touched him to see that she had taken his criticism on board and was trying to conserve their supplies.

“Aye, I cannae wait tae see him. I’ve missed him so much. I just pray he’s all right and hasnae been tortured ” he replied, shaking out the blankets for sleeping and spreading them on the ground next to the fire.

“Tortured!” Constance cried, staring at him aghast. “I hope my father would not be so cruel.”

Bane shrugged. “Ye dinnae get tae be a powerful respected laird like him without bein’ cruel now and again. Ye make a lot of enemies, and ye havetae be tough tae earn respect.”

“Hmm, I suppose so, but I do not see why my father should torture your brother. That would imply that Tav had information my father wanted to get out of him, would it not? Why should a blacksmith know anything of importance to a laird as powerful as my father. It would not make sense.”

“I hope ye’re right about that.”

Bane sipped at the hot tea, which he enjoyed, even if it could do nothing to ease the pain he was in. He shared out some hard bread and dried meat he had stocked up on in town between them. He could see by the way Constance looked at the simple meal, that she found it as unappetizing as ever. But she had become better acquainted with hunger during their journey and overcame her reluctance, eating it without complaint. And although he did not show it and had no reason to be, Bane once again felt proud of her. Raised as a spoilt English lady, she was now a survivor, and he admired that about her.

They ate quietly, with the fire crackling between them and the noises of the forest as it settled in for the night all around them. He noticed that Constance was not half so fearful of the noises as she once had been.

Suddenly, she burst out, “Bane, what is that? You are injured.” She looked at him angrily. “You have been hiding it from me! Why? Do you want to get an infection?” She had somehow spotted the injury he had been trying so hard to hide.

“Ach, ’tis naethin’, a mere scratch,” he muttered, annoyed with himself for letting her see it.

“It most certainly does not look like nothing,” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her skirts as she got up and hurried over to him. She crouched down next to him and lifted his arm to take a closer look at the wound. It was a long, narrow slit made by a slashing sword that had sliced through the leather of his jerkin and vest, right through to the flesh.

“You really need to see a healer,” Constance declared, standing up and looking down at him, a small line of consternation between her brows.

“Aye, good idea. I think I see one hidin’ behind that tree over there,” he replied sarcastically.

She gave him a withering smile, but her sudden pallor told him she was shocked. “Then I shall have to do it.” Constance waved vaguely at his torso. “I need you to take off your things so I can get to it properly.”

It moved him to see her suddenly so serious, especially for something he knew she must find daunting. It was the first time he had even dared to think she might care about him, and he inwardly marvelled at it as he watched her inspecting the wound. She was so adorable, he could not resist teasing her a little. “D’ye ken anythin’ about treatin’ wounds? I mean, a wee bit of knowledge in the wrong hands, it can cause disaster,” he said, feigning doubt as he looked up at her.

He watched as a constellation of emotions sped across her face before she finally admitted, “Well, no, I do not know much. I admit.” She paused, her face brightening as she straightened up. “But I know it needs cleaning… and bandaging, to keep the dirt out of it. That cannot be very hard for a novice, can it?” she asked, hands on hips, looking determined.

Bane kept up the pretence of doubt. “Well, it daes need seein’ tae, I admit, and since there’s nay alternative, I suppose I have nay choice but tae let ye have a go. It cannae be any worse,” he said in a falsely grudging tone. But he saw his words were wasted, because to Bane’s surprise, she lifted her skirt and exposed the cheap petticoat the maid at the inn had sold to her for a few pennies and used her teeth and fists to tear off a long strip off the bottom. Despite the pain in his side, he found the long, slender outline of her legs through the thin petticoat very distracting until she dropped her skirt again. When she had done that, he watched amazed as she tore the strip into smaller cloths and made a neat pile of them on the tree stump.

“Let me help you with your clothes,” she offered. He accepted, and she helped him to take off his jerkin and the padded leather vest beneath without it hurting his side too much. He was touched by how much care she took not to hurt him. It had him wondering again if she might care for him just a little bit. Even though he knew there could be nothing between them, he wanted her to care.

“Oh, dear Lord, there is such a lot of blood!” she exclaimed on seeing the crimson stains surrounding the long slit in the white cotton where the dirk had passed through his shirt. Unaccustomed as he knew she was to witness blood and violence, Bane was impressed when she did not faint or scream or run away at the gory sight. Instead, she hurriedly helped him off with his shirt.

As she stood back from him, holding the shirt against her, their eyes met and locked. Bane felt a shock go through him as some invisible energy crackled in the air between them. He could tell by the way her eyes widened that she had felt it as well. Her gaze fluttered over his naked torso before darting away, leaving her cheeks flaming pink. But she managed to remain composed when she said, “Can you lift your arm up a little higher, so I can get a better look?”

Obediently, he lifted his arm while Constance bent down and examined the wound more closely, her brows drawn together in concentration. “It urgently needs cleaning,” she announced, taking up a cloth and dipping it in the hot water. She knelt at his side and gently began dabbing at the wound with the now warm water in the pan. The water in the pan quickly turned red.

“How daes it look?” he asked, ignoring the soreness and craning his neck sideways to try to see the injury. “I cannae get a good look mesel’.”

Constance grimaced as she assessed the wound. “I cannot really say until it is cleaned properly, but it is about six inches long. I am sorry if this hurts a little,” she warned him, applying herself to the task of cleaning the wound with exquisite gentleness. Bane watched her work silently, his discomfort overwhelmed by the look of intense concentration on her face. Secretly, he revelled in her touch, thinking how beautiful she was when she was flustered, her cheeks stained bright pink. That she should apologize for hurting him was yet another sign of her sweetness.

She’s apologizin’ tae me—the man who kidnapped her!