Page 18 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

The next morning, when she woke up after a night filled with unsettling dreams, Raven found she was alone in the room. When she got out of bed to use the chamber pot, she was surprised to find a pile of clean clothes on a chair. She looked thought them. Her stays, petticoat, stockings, with garters, and her shift, all clean and pressed were there.

But there was also a gown of pale blue wool, one she did not recognize but looked new, some shoes, and a woolen shawl. Where had they come from? Had the maid found them for her or had Arne? Whoever it was, she was touched by the care they had taken to find them and leave them for her.

The maid brought her some hot water and some tea and sweet rolls for breakfast. She ate and drank, then slowly washed and dressed and brushed her hair. When she finished, she felt more human than she had since the start of her recovery.

She wondered where Arne was, fearing that he might have simply left her there and gone home. She had to try to find him. If necessary, she would follow him back to Castle MacLeod and keep trying to convince him to let her see Thorsten.

For the first time since the wreck, when Arne had brought her to the room, she left it and went down the stairs to the main part of the inn to find out if anyone knew where he was. The landlord greeted her from behind the counter, which he was polishing with a cloth. He greeted her with a smile of surprise.

“Are ye better then, lass?” he asked cheerfully.

She managed a small smile. “Aye, and I must thank ye all for takin’ such good care of me. I’m very grateful.”

“It was nay trouble. I’m just glad tae see ye on yer feet again. Some were nae so lucky, sad tae say.”

“I’m sorry for them,” she said, wishing she could honestly say she felt lucky for surviving when others had not. “Have ye seen Arne?”

He thought for a moment, then said, “I reckon ye’ll likely find him out speakin’ with the villagers. He’s his braither, the laird’s, right-hand-man, ye ken. He spends a lot of his time makin’ sure the villagers around here have all they need, especially after the recent tragedy. He’s a good man.”

That made Raven feel even more terrible than she already did. Yes, Arne was a good man who cared for the clansfolk, yet he hated her, the woman who loved him.

The landlord continued, “I think I recall him sayin’ somethin’ about clearin’ away some of the trees damaged by the storm. If ye take a wee walk around the village ye’re bound tae find him.”

“Thank ye, I’ll dae that,” she replied, relieved to hear he was still on the island. Wrapping the shawl around her and tying it behind her waist, she ventured outside. The air was cold and fresh, and it made her cough a little, her lungs still fragile from their ordeal. Yet it also cleared her head, which was now free of the pain of the mighty crack she had sustained in the wreck.

She stood for a moment outside the inn, looking about her, seeing the lay of the island properly for the first time. Everything around her seemed as shiny and freshly minted as a new penny, washed clean by the storm. The colors of the trees and grass, the sparkle of the sun on the sea, the gold of the gorse blossoms, and even the clothes on people’s backs seemed unusually vivid. After cheating death and being shut up in her sick room for so many days, it seemed to her that the world had been reborn, and her with it. A feeling of exhilaration and hope filled her.

The apparent newness of her surroundings and the fresh air were invigorating, rejuvenating her senses. She enjoyed her walk through the village, with people smiling and nodding at her and wishing her well as they passed. Yet as she walked by the little kirkyard, she paused, seeing the row of fresh graves.

Her heart swelled with sorrow, silently praying that Sandy and his parents were not lying there beneath the earth with the other poor souls who had lost their lives in the wreck. The captain had not been so lucky, it appeared, for she spied his name inscribed on one of the wooden crosses.

She continued her stroll and soon became aware of the sound of men at work in the near distance, accompanied by the rhythmic metallic noise of sawing. She headed in that direction and shortly came across a small group of men gathered around a tree that had been partially wrenched from the earth the gale and was listing dangerously. Her heart leaped to see Arne was among them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Raven withdrew slightly behind the corner of a building, wishing to observe unseen for a moment. He was perched precariously halfway up the stricken trunk, wielding the saw. He was clearly aiming to cut down the dangerously positioned ash tree, preparing it for felling by attempting to remove the large branches that had been bent and battered by the wind. Raven could see the reasoning behind his actions. The weakened boughs were large, and if any of them should break and fall, they could injure or even kill a person.

Two men on the ground were steadying the ladder Arne was standing on, shouting up advice as to where he should cut next. Though it was chilly, Arne had apparently worked up a sweat, for he had stripped down to his sleeveless buff jerkin and had rolled up his shirt sleeves. His short, blond hair glittered like gold in the sun. Where his shirt was open at the front, a good deal of his muscular neck, arms, and chest were on show, along with his swirling tattoos, as he sawed at the branches with powerful strokes.

Safe in her hiding place, Raven’s eyes wandered downward, to where Arne’s long, powerful legs, clad in leather trews and high-top boots, were braced against the rungs as he reached up. Their athletic outline stood out sharply against the sky. She found herself dwelling upon the rugged, masculine beauty of his form. Images sprang into her mind of how he used to hold her easily as she wrapped her legs around his waist while he pinned her against a wall, his rock-hard shaft pounding into her.

He had become harder, leaner, and the tantalizing glimpse of the body she had taken such pleasurable liberties with in former times, and which had taken her to ecstasy and back too many times to count, sent a hot frisson of excitement shooting through Raven’s belly and down between her legs.

She had never stopped loving him, and she had never stopped wanting him either. It made her sad to think they would never be together again that way. Because of the actions she had been forced to take against her will, she had lost the love of her life, the man whose touch she craved, forever.

If her heart had not broken so many times already, it would have broken again.

As she was musing, secretly admiring the flexing of Arne’s muscles as he worked, she was suddenly startled from her guilty reverie by an explosive crack.

“Watch out below, lads, she’s comin’ down!” Arne shouted a warning, throwing the saw to the ground and skimming down the ladder in seconds. The great branch above cracked again and sheared off completely close to the trunk before plummeting to the ground.

One of the men dived quickly out of the way, but the other was a little slower, and the branch threatened to come down right on top of him. And it would have if Arne had not thrown himself at him, barging him clear of the danger. Unfortunately, part of the branch caught Arne’s leg and pinned him to the ground with a tremendous crash.

Raven saw his face contract with pain, and before she knew what she was doing, she picked up her skirts and ran to him, shouting his name. The other men were already there, straining as they tried to manhandle the heavy branch from his leg. Raven reached them and grabbed the branch too, summoning all her strength to help them raise it high enough for Arne to slide out.

Once they had it a few inches above his leg, she shouted, “Hold it there!” and dived to grab Arne’s wrist and pull him away as he slid awkwardly from beneath it, his face contorted with agony.

But he waved her away impatiently through gritted teeth. “What d’ye think ye’re doin’? Get out of the way, will ye?” he said tersely.

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