The Highlander's Secret(49)

Alan nodded, standing back once he’d caught a spark to ignite the campfire he’d been working on. “I suppose it is. It’s difficult to say without looking around a bit. Would ye like to search a bit in the morning?”

Jain bit down on her bottom lip. “Aye. I have this strange feeling in my stomach.”

“Try not to think about it,” he suggested. “We need to get some rest. Ye can have the bed yerself. I wouldn’t have ye thinking I’d take advantage. I’ll make a bed on the floor.”

“Nonsense, ye’ll sleep up here with me,” she told him. “I won’t hear another word about it.”

Alan eyed her, his eyes filled with desire. He glanced back and forth between her and the feather mattress. “Jain…”

“Alan,” she responded in a challenge. “We’re betrothed, aren’t we?”

“Aye, but still not married yet. I appreciate what ye’re trying to do, but it isn’t right. I will share yer bed when ye’ve agreed to be my wife and not before.”

Her lip twitched as she gazed back at him trying not to smile. “Ye really place such high value on a woman’s virtue?”

“On yer virtue, aye,” he responded instantly. “But it’s not about that. It’s about respect. It’s about what’s right and proper.”

Jain sighed, returning to the bed. Alan laid out a blanket on the floor and exhaled a tired sigh before settling down herself. She watched him longingly and wished he would reconsider the offer of joining her on the bed, but knew that he was right, they would have to wait for that until later.

“Could I ask ye something?” she asked him quietly.

“Of course.”

“Sometimes when we go walking ye'll sing fer me on the road...”

“Aye,” he confirmed, not really sure where she was going with their conversation.

“I ken that ye won't share a bed with me till we're married, but it might help me get my mind off other things. I like it when ye sing fer me,” she whispered. “Would ye do it fer me now?”

He smiled at the request and said, “Anything fer ye, my dear.”





Chapter Twenty-two


It was a rough night for sleeping.

Even on the comfort of a bed, Jain’s mind kept running around in answerless circles of how they were going to solve this crisis. She was worried about her family and hoped Conrad had been put in his place. She’d tossed and turned for hours before sleep eventually claimed her, and Jain succumbed to unconsciousness.

Jain woke up in the morning and sat up on the bed, looking around blearily at her surroundings. Alan was already awake and keeping watch in the doorway. “Mmmm…good morrow,” she told him quietly.

Alan turned and gave her a crooked smile. “Good morrow.”

“How long have ye been sitting there?”

He turned back towards the door and said, “About an hour. It’s been quiet through the night and there’s still nae sign of anyone, so we might be safe.”

Jain tossed her legs over the side of the bed and let out a yawn. As she did, her stomach rumbled, and she blushed from the sound of it, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“Dinnae worry about it,” Alan grinned. “We should be getting some breakfast soon. I’m starved as well.”

“Where do ye suggest we get some food?”

He pointed out the door towards the river. “We could catch some fish in the stream,” Alan told her hopefully. “Ye were right about the house.”

Jain looked up at him in surprise. “What do ye mean?”

“The bed is new,” he told her. “Look at the mattress. It’s the only useable piece of furniture in his house.”

Jain glanced around again, taking in the dirt floor covered with rushes and decrepit ceiling one more time. He was right. It didn’t make sense to have a useable bed when everything else was rotten. Unless…that was the sole purpose of coming to this place, to use the bed and leave.

“Ye think this could have been a secret lover’s hideaway?” she asked him, smiling.

Alan shook his head in unmasked horror. “No, I dinnae ken it was romantic as all that.”

Jain’s brow furrowed with confusion. “What do ye mean?”

Alan swallowed hard walking past her towards the bed and ran his fingers across the headboard. A series of faint scratches were clawed in deep to the wooden surface. Her eyes flickered to the wall beyond where a few spots of dark liquid had dried onto its surface, leading down into a puddle on the floor. Jain went pale at the sight of it and with a trembling hand pulled back the feather mattress to get a better picture. A smell became more prominent, filling the room with its signature aroma of rust and salt. Old rust and salt – the kind which had congealed and settled there for days until it stank of death.

Her eyes bulged in horror when she realized what it was: Blood.

Blood that had been spilt before they got there and hastily cleaned up. Whoever was responsible, missed where the dark stain had dripped down the wall and stained the rushes on the floor.

Jain gasped, backing away from him slowly. Now that she was aware of it, there was little else that could rip her eyes away. On further inspection, she also realized there were rips in the mattress fabric. Whatever happened here was violent and caused Jain’s stomach to churn with bile.