The Highlander's Bride(93)

It wasn’t her way to ignore the defenseless, and Cullen would surely realize that, since she had done the same for his son. She walked with pride and bowed to none, believing all people were the same, none holier or greater than others. From what she had heard of America, she might just fit in nicely.

Clouds gathered overhead and thunder rumbled in the distance, promising rain soon enough. She hurried her pace, keeping a keen eye for possible shelter from the impending storm.

She took a moment to slip the hood of her cloak over her head to keep the chill off her cheeks and to hide, if only briefly, her wound from Cullen. Then she entered camp, to find Cullen mounting his horse, Alexander in his arms.

“I’ve found a cave not far from here,” he said. “We’ll be safe from the storm.”

“Good,” she called out, keeping her face from his view, and turned her horse, ready to follow him.

“Sara?” he questioned.

She pranced her horse away from him. “We should be on our way.”

He came up beside her quickly, and just as quickly slipped her hood from her head.

Sara had no time to keep him from seeing her wounded lip, which had stopped bleeding but swelled considerably.

Her breath caught in a gasp at the fierce glare in his dark eyes, which was pure murderous.





Chapter 33





Cullen sucked in his anger and held it deep in his chest as his horse, sensing his master’s fury, pranced nervously.

“I got us sweet cakes,” Sara said holding up the bundle.

He gritted his teeth. “They cost you dearly.”

Alexander cried out when fat raindrops began to fall in earnest.

“You’ll explain after we take refuge in the cave,” Cullen growled like an animal ready to attack. He could barely contain his rage as he sped to the cave, the vision of Sara’s badly wounded lip burning vividly in his mind.

It did not help his mood that Sara had responded to his evident anger with an offer of sweet cakes. Though her thoughtful gesture touched him, it also annoyed him. He hoped she hadn’t suffered a wounded lip for those sweet cakes.

Knowing her, he imagined there was more to it, and he was determined to find out what it was. He settled Sara and Alexander in the cave, then tethered the horses to a tree, gathered their things and rushed out of the rain to join them in the enclosure.

Sara sat with Alexander on a blanket. His smile was wide, his little mouth sticky from the sweet cake Sara shared with him, though she tore even tinier bites off for herself.

Cullen’s anger bubbled up again, though he kept it from spewing over.

Sara pulled a wooden dog from one of the bundles and Alexander squealed with delight.

“Da! Da!” he yelled, waving the animal in the air.

Cullen joined them, putting aside his anger in order to make a fuss over his son’s new toy.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Sara said.

“You thought right,” he said and nodded. “That lip needs tending.”

“I’ll see to it.” She moved to stand.

“You’ll stay put,” he ordered curtly.

Sara froze for a moment, then bristled. “I can tend myself.”

His tone eased though remained determined. “I know you can, but I want to tend you.”

She stared at him.

“What happened?” he asked, then raised his hand. “Wait, before you tell me…”

Cullen searched through the bundles, grabbed a piece of cloth, stepped to the mouth of the cave and held the cloth out to be soaked by the rain. He returned squeezing some of the rainwater out of it.

He sat beside Sara, Alexander occupied with his wooden animals and feeding himself from the bits of sweet cake Sara had torn apart for him.

“Now tell me,” he said as he gently began to clean the dry blood from her chin.

Sara told her story, and as she did, Cullen’s hand slowed to a halt. He envisioned the whole scene, seeing clearly what she had faced and how she’d placed herself in a difficult situation to protect another.

“I couldn’t just leave her to such a horrible fate,” Sara finished.

Cullen leaned closer and patted at her swollen lip with the wet cloth. She winced, and he felt her pain. He wanted badly to race out of the cave, mount his horse, and go after the bastard who had hurt his Sara, but that wasn’t possible. Such rash reaction would satisfy his need for revenge but only endanger them more.

“No, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t,” he said, understanding she was not a passive woman, but a woman of action. He admired that quality, so how could he not respect and accept her actions?

He could, however, voice his opinion and concern. “I could have lost you.”

She smiled wide, which caused her to wince and her eyes to tear. “Never. You’re stuck with me.”