Seduction of a Highland Lass (McCabe Trilogy #2)(12)

“I beg your pardon?”

Gannon sounded positively affronted.

“Not you. ’Tis myself I’m referring to.”

She thought she heard him make reference to daft women, but she couldn’t be sure.

“How long is the journey to your keep, Laird?” she called out.

The laird turned in her direction. “Barely a day, but with Alaric having to be carried, we can count on it taking longer. We’ll travel as far as we can and camp as close to McCabe land as possible.”

“And when I’ve cared for your brother and delivered Lady McCabe’s babe safely, then may I return home?”

The laird’s gaze narrowed. Caelen looked very much like he wanted to shout aye!

“I’ll consider it, aye. But I make no promises. Our clan has need of a skilled healer.”

She frowned, but she supposed it was better than an outright refusal.

Bored and restless from the slow pace the warriors set, she leaned back against Gannon’s chest again, uncaring of whether it was proper or not. It wasn’t as if she’d asked to be abducted, and it certainly hadn’t been her idea to be tossed from man to man like foul-smelling rubbish.

She set her sights on the countryside, trying to muster excitement for seeing beyond the area that she’d grown up and resided in since her birth. In truth, it wasn’t so different. Rugged landscape. Rocks scattered across the ground. They rode in and out of densely forested areas to valleys that were richly green and etched a path between rugged peaks.

Aye, ’twas beautiful, but not the difference she’d always imagined.

When they approached a stream that connected two lochs, Laird McCabe called a halt and ordered his men to secure the perimeter of their encampment.

Like a well-honed operation, they each took a different task, and soon tents were set, fires were built, and guards were posted.

As soon as Alaric was settled close to the fire, she hurried to him, feeling his brow and laying her head close to his chest to listen to his breathing.

His prolonged lack of consciousness bothered her immensely. He hadn’t woken once during their travels. She strained to hear his breaths. They were shallow and his chest barely rose with the effort.

His forehead burned to the touch. His lips were dry and cracked. Grimly she turned her head in the direction of his brothers, knowing they were watching.

“I need water and I need one of you to assist me in getting him to drink.”

Caelen went for the water himself while Ewan knelt on Alaric’s other side and put his arm underneath his brother’s neck. Ewan lifted as Caelen handed a tin down to Keeley.

She carefully put it to Alaric’s lips, but when she dribbled the water into his mouth, it spilled right back out again.

“Stop being stubborn, warrior,” she scolded. “Drink so that we may all sleep this night. I’ve gone long enough without sleep because of you.”

“Devil,” Alaric mumbled.

Ewan’s mouth twitched and Keeley glared at him.

“You can call me whatever you like if you’ll just drink,” she said.

“What did you do to my angel?” Alaric slurred.

She took advantage of his open mouth and tilted the tin so the water spilled past his lips. He choked and coughed but swallowed most of it down.

“Aye, that’s it. More now. You’ll feel better for it,” Keeley crooned as she dribbled more water into his mouth.

Alaric obediently swallowed, and when Keeley was satisfied he’d taken enough, she motioned for Ewan to lower Alaric back down.

She tore off a piece of her tattered skirts and dipped it into the remaining water. Then she wiped it over Alaric’s brow, easing the taut lines that gathered at his forehead.

“Rest easy now, warrior,” she whispered.

“Angel,” he murmured. “You came back. Was worried the she-devil had done something evil to you.”

Keeley sighed. “So ’tis an angel I am again.”

“Stay next to me.”

Keeley glanced over her shoulder to see Caelen frowning while amusement glimmered in Ewan’s eyes. She narrowed her eyes at both of them. They wanted their brother to regain his health. Part of that was keeping him calm and noncombative. If that meant sleeping next to him, then she’d do so.

Ewan stepped forward. “I’ll get blankets so that you’re both comfortable. I appreciate you staying close to him when he’s so ill.”

In that moment, Keeley decided the laird couldn’t be all bad. Caelen she would reserve judgment on, but the laird knew she was discomfited by what she considered her duty, and he was putting her at ease and giving her an excuse for remaining by Alaric’s side.

Still, she glanced quickly around to gauge whether the laird’s men had heard or had any understanding of where she was going to sleep.

None of them seemed bothered, and in fact, they began positioning themselves in a tight circumference around Alaric so that he was protected on all sides.

Two of the men brought blankets and rolled one of them into a cushion.

“For your head,” one of the warriors explained. “So the ground won’t be so hard to sleep on.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, she smiled and took the blankets. “By what name are you called?”

He returned her smile. “Cormac, mistress.”