The Highlander's Forbidden Bride(43)

She sighed as she shook her head. “I’ll never make it.”

“I’ll fashion a sleigh of wood to pull you along on. If we leave shortly after dawn, I can have you there before nightfall.”

She shook her head.

He leaned close and whispered, “Ye of little faith.”

She smiled. “I always had faith in you.”

Her response shook him to his soul. How could she have faith in a man who had wanted her dead? More and more he wondered who this woman was. “Good, then hold on to it. We leave here today.”

He fed her a few tablespoons of the concocted brew and set to work. He made certain not to feed the fire in the hearth, wanting it cold before they took their leave. With the single-room cottage soon to lose heat, he dressed Carissa in her linen shift, wool skirt, and blouse, left her stockings off until later, and tucked blankets around her.

It took more time than he liked to form a sleigh from branches and pine, but when he finished, he was pleased with the sturdy piece. He packed the wooden bucket with a few food items and set it aside.

He then went to collect Carissa. He threw the blanket off her and gently took hold of her foot, noticing how small it was. He had always thought of Carissa as a formidable woman, and he supposed one would then believe her tall, but not so. Carissa was petite, much like Hope.

He shook his head. This was no time to let his mind wander. He grabbed hold of her stockings, ready to slip them on to keep her warm during the journey, but her feet were already warm.

“No,” she protested, waking from a light slumber. “I’m too hot. No more clothes.”

“It’s cold out.”

“The blankets and my cloak will do.”

He acquiesced to her concern and wrapped her cloak around her after he sat her up in bed, and as he lifted her, she placed a hot hand to his cool cheek. It felt as if she branded him, but then maybe she already had.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” he grumbled, annoyed that once again he heard Hope in her voice.

“No,” she said softly, “it’s love.”

He sat her in the rocking chair and shoved the narrow bed away from the hearth against the wall. Though he would douse the embers left in the hearth, he wanted to make certain there was no chance of a single one remaining and jumping to ignite the bed.

Almost like embers of their love jumping forth and igniting his heart.

Was he dousing the embers of love in his heart? He grumbled beneath his breath at the crazy thought. He had to stop this. There was no love, never had been.

He rushed around like a madman, wanting to be on their way. And in no time they were. He took the stuffed bedding and placed it on the sleigh. He cocooned Carissa not only in her cloak, but two blankets; the third he placed over her, tucking it around her after he had placed her on the sleigh. He pulled her hood up, making sure to tuck her hair away from her face.

When he was finally done, he hunched down beside her, surprised to see that she had fallen asleep. He felt her brow, and it was hot, though not raging. But if the fever followed the course it had been on, it would spiral soon enough.

He stood, took hold of the rope of knotted pine that served as the reins, dropping it around his chest and stepped forward, pulling the sleigh behind him.



“I won’t tell you.”

“Where is he?”

“Ask me all you want, Father, but I will not tell you.”

“You dare defy me?”

“I love him, and I will not let you kill him.”

“What did I tell you about love?”

“I don’t believe you.”

His large hand stung and her head snapped back from the blow.

Her knees trembled, but she stood defiant. “I won’t tell you.”

She winced, pain shooting up her arm from his sudden grip.

“You will tell me or suffer the consequences.”

“I will die before I tell you. I love him, and I will protect him.”

She cringed as he crushed her slim arm with his powerful hand.

“You will learn the foolishness of love.”

Her head shot back from another stinging blow, then she felt the heat. She screeched as the flames greedily licked her flesh. “I love him. I love him. I love him.”

“Do something,” Ronan said frantically. “She’s in pain.”

“I am doing all I can,” Bethane assured him. “Dreams and memories cause her pain. Also that grip you have on her arm may be too tight.”

Ronan immediately let go, though he remained by Carissa’s side on the bed. “She appears to have grown worse since we arrived yesterday evening.”

“Some fevers like to trick, sinking low before spiraling out of control, while some remain constant, locking onto a person and draining her of all strength.”