"I dreamed I was in h.e.l.l. And there were flames all about me."
"There was a fire. Gareth MacKenzie ordered his men to set torches to your home. But after the invading army left, your people were able to put out the flames."
"And you." Brice lifted a hand to her cheek. Even that small effort cost him. But it was worth it to satisfy himself that she was truly here and not just a vision.
"I feared that MacKenzie had spirited you away and had forced you to wed him."
"Nay, my lord. I hid myself from view. Had I been braver I would have faced him with naught but my dirk. But like a coward I hid beneath your bed until he and his men were gone."
"You? A coward?" At her words he wanted to laugh, but his throat was too raw. He lay there letting strong new emotions wash over him.
"And I have been here with you since. Even though I feared I had lost you." She felt tears fill her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks, but she made no effort to wipe them. Instead she cupped his beloved face in her hands and studied him through the filmy haze.
"Oh, Brice.
I am so relieved that you have come back to the land of the living."
"Are you? Did you miss me?"
When she merely nodded he felt his heart soar to the heavens.
"Maybe that is what saved me. Knowing that it was you I was coming back to."
He caught her hands and held them in a death grip.
"Do not leave me, little firebrand. Promise me that when I again awaken you will be here."
She would promise him anything at this moment. Anything.
"I will not leave you, Brice."
His lids flickered, then closed. The hands holding hers slid down and dropped heavily against the linens. His breathing became soft and easy.
For endless minutes Meredith merely knelt beside him and watched as he slept.
Alive. Brice was alive. Truly alive. And for the first time since he had sustained his mortal wound in battle, she was convinced that he would not only survive but return to his former strength.
Suddenly she was exhausted beyond belief. The rush of energy she had experienced when he had first spoken was now slipping from her. All the long days and nights of nursing Brice through his ordeal were now beginning to take their toll. Her limbs were heavy. She felt lightheaded. Her eyes yearned to close. She was drained. Drained of all strength. Drained of all thought.
With a sigh that welled up from deep within her Meredith curled up beside him and joined him in sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Q^r^s^Q -D rice lay very still, fighting a wave of pain. His shoulder throbbed. His side ached. And something that resembled a flaming torch pierced his upper back.
He tried to roll over but there was a heaviness in his right arm and for one breathless moment he thought it might have been severed in the battle. His eyes snapped open and relief flooded through him as he gazed in wonder at the figure curled up alongside him.
Meredith lay facing him, her head pillowed on his arm, her hands resting lightly at his chest. Her hair spilled across the linens, a dark splash of color against stark white. Her breathing was slow, steady.
In these few moments before she awoke he took the time to study her.
When had this fierce little woman taken over his life? How had she come to mean so much to him?
His men, on their frequent visits to his chambers, had relayed how she had ignored the threat of fire to stay with him, how she had stood up to Angus and Jamie when they had suspected her of aiding in his murder.
Even the servants never seemed to tire of praising the way Meredith had protected him as fiercely as any she wolf during his recovery.
He had kidnapped her only as an act of defiance against the MacKenzies. It had been his intention to use her to flush out Gareth, and then to return her to her own people.
But now? Now he could not imagine being without her. Her presence filled these rooms, his home, his very life. And though he knew that her heart lay in the Lowlands, he yearned to change her mind.
If she returned his feelings, he reasoned, she would choose to stay here with him always.
If he tmly cared for her, a little voice within him whispered, he would want only her happiness.
He did not love her. He could not. She was a lady, born and bred for the gentle life. And he was a Highlander, a barbarian.
But he did love her.
Love. Why was it never simple?
He had not meant to love her. And surely a woman like Meredith MaeAlpin could never love the man who had stolen her freedom.
Meredith"s lids flickered, then opened. For a moment she was strangely disoriented. The eyes staring back at her were dark, narrowed in thought.
Brice watched as the last clouds of sleep were blinked away and reality set in.
Brice. She had fallen asleep practically in his arms. And though she was fully clothed, he had little more than a strip of cloth for modesty. As she realized where she was, Meredith pushed herself away from him and sat up.
He studied the flush that colored her cheeks, and noted the guarded look that came into her eyes. Wonder of wonders. This same bold woman who had stripped him of his clothes and tended to his wounds with all the skill and care of the queen"s physician, was now suddenly shy with him. Her reaction was oddly appealing.
Her hair fell in a tangle of curls and she dragged a hand through, pushing it away from her face.
"How do you feel this morning?" She tried not to stare at the dark mat of hair that covered his chest, or at the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders. For days he had been a mortal wound to be healed; today he was much more. Today he was a man.
"Like any man who just awoke with a beautiful woman in his arms."
"I did not mean to... I had not intended..."
"Meredith." He chuckled, low and deep in his throat, and reached out a hand to her chin, forcing her to meet his dark gaze.
"It brings me comfort to know that, despite my grave wounds, my manhood is still intact."
Her face flamed. Scrambling to her feet she retorted,
"I will see about some food. You have grown extremely weak in the days you have been recovering."
"I feel far from weak at this moment. And it is not food I crave."