A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (4 page)

"Luck is with ye," Caitlin said as she finished wrapping the
bandage about Kenneth's foot and tied it off. "Though there was a
wee tip of thorn left in yer sole, which was beginning to inflame,
there's yet no sign of festering. What with removing the thorn,
cleansing it well, and the marigold ointment, we may soon have
ye on the mend.

"Meanwhile," she added as she gently laid his injured foot
atop two pillows, "I'd like ye to stay off that foot as much as
possible. Ye must also elevate it to ease the swelling and improve
the flow of blood."

Kenneth sighed but nodded his acquiescence. "I'm not a man
given to inactivity, but I'll do as ye ask, lass. And at least I can
practice my clarsach while abed." He grinned. "I've several new
tunes I'm working on, so it'll be time well spent."

"Aye, it will. And we'll expect to enjoy the fruit of those labors
in a few days." Caitlin began replacing her supplies in the large,
leather bag she carried for her healing visits. "Which will work
out perfectly, as Niall isn't even in Kilchurn at present and won't
return for the next few days."

"Niall Campbell? Yet clan chief?" Darach asked abruptly
from his bed, where he had been watching Caitlin care for his
friend.

She nodded, more than a bit curious over his sudden interest
after such a long span of silence. "Aye, one and the same."

"Och, what a disappointment! I'd hoped for the chance to meet
him." He rose and walked over to stand beside them.

"Well, ye can at least make his wife, Anne's, acquaintance, if
ye wish to sup with us this eve. She expressed a desire to greet the
both ofye." Caitlin glanced back at Kenneth. "Unfortunately for
ye, however, the walk would be too much for yer foot. My suggestion is to have someone bring ye a tray of food, and ye remain
here for all yer meals. At least for another day or two anyway."

"As ye wish." The younger man looked to his friend. "There's
no reason ye need hole up here, though. Go to the supper meal,
have a look around, and meet the Lady Anne."

"Mayhap on the morrow." Dar smiled down at Kenneth.
"But not this eve. I'll go up with the lass and have her show me
about"-he glanced at Caitlin-"if ye think ye can spare me a
bit of yer time, and then bring down a tray of food for the both
of us."

"Supper should be served in a half hour or so," Caitlin replied,
not so sure she cared to spend more time than was absolutely
necessary in the disturbing Highlander's presence. "Once I put
away my bag, I can only manage a wee tour of Kilchurn before
we must gather for the meal."

"That should suffice for today." Dar reached for her bag and
slung it over his shoulder. "It'll take me awhile to learn my way about a castle this large. Just being able to navigate the labyrinth of corridors down here, back up to the first level, and then
mayhap my way to the kitchen, will likely be all I can handle
on this first try."

Though Caitlin seriously doubted Darach MacFarlane would
have any difficulty learning his way through a maze at first try,
she decided it wiser to keep her opinions to herself. Better to play
along for the time being. The truth of his abilities would become
evident soon enough.

Since Niall wasn't even in Kilchurn and Anne was preoccupied with their son and the day-to-day running of such a large
dwelling, the task of watching these two men must of necessity
fall to Caitlin. Or, leastwise, until her suspicions proved correct
and the help of others was indicated. After all, the responsibility
was first and foremost hers just because she had been the one to
invite them into the sanctuary of their home.

Unfortunately, that also required Caitlin to spend far more
time than she cared to, keeping close watch over them. Or, to be
more precise, over Darach MacFarlane.

"Well, then if that plan suits yer needs," Caitlin said, climbing
to her feet, "let us be off." She smiled down at Kenneth. "It can
get a wee bit chilly down here. Besides yer supper, I'll see that ye
both get some extra blankets."

"Ye're kind to think of our comfort," the bard replied. "I thank
ye for that, lass."

"Aye, that we both do," Darach added as he walked to the door
and opened it. "All that's ever been said of Campbell hospitality
has certainly proven true."

"It's no more than what any Highlander would grant to a
stranger." She brushed past him, then waited until he had closed
the door. "And no less than what I'd expect of ye and yet clan, if
ever I was to pay ye a visit."

Something flickered in the depths of the man's silver blue eyes, then was gone. "Aye, no less," he muttered. "It's the Highland
way, after all."

He almost seemed bitter, Caitlin thought as they made their
way down the torch-lit corridor. As if he resented having to adhere to the ancient Highland code requiring anyone-even an
enemy-who requested the shelter and hospitality of another's
home be granted it with all good grace.

She could only wonder at what circumstances had turned him
against the custom. It was as inbred in a Highlander as the love
of clan, the stirring of the blood whenever the bagpipes played,
or the unfettered joy of traversing the wild, untamed mountains
and glens. Somehow, in some way, she sensed he had been deeply
hurt, or even betrayed, by the code.

"If ye count the torches," Caitlin said, deciding to file that little
observation in the back of her mind for future reference and move
onto the task at hand, "t'e'll discover the easiest way to discern
which corridor to turn at to make yet way back upstairs. And, as
ye can see"-she indicated each widely spaced, pitifully flickering
torch hanging from a rusted iron bracket on the wall-"ye turn
at the third torch."

They halted where the corridor intersected with yet another corridor. A dank, musty scent wafted by on a chill current of air.

"That seems simple enough." Darach turned to gaze down the
hallway that continued along the way they had already come.
"And where does the rest of that corridor lead? It seems to go
on forever."

"To more servant's quarters, additional storerooms for foodstuffs, and, finally, to more steps leading down to the dungeon.
None of which ye'll need to be visiting, I'm certain, in yet short
stay here."

He glanced back at her and smiled. "Nay, I suppose not." He
gestured ahead of them. "Shall we continue on then? I'm eager
to see the rest of Kilchurn."

"Aye." Caitlin stepped out once more. "Let's be on our way."

Wordlessly, she led him down the connecting corridor until
they reached the staircase leading to the main floor. After the
dimness and stone-muffled silence of the underground level, for a
moment Caitlin was overwhelmed with the brightness and hustle
bustle. Servants hurried to and fro, some with trays of victuals
meant for the Great Hall, where they usually ate the supper meal,
and others with armloads of fresh, folded laundry or sheaves of
dried rushes to scatter on newly cleaned floors.

Caitlin smiled. Anne had quickly grown into the efficient,
meticulous chatelaine that Kilchurn had lacked since the death
of Caitlin and Niall's mother now eight years past. But, even
more importantly, Anne had brought such joy not only to Niall
but to Kilchurn and its inhabitants as well.

"That most pleasing smile on yer face ..." Darach chose that
moment to interject, dragging Caitlin from her contented thoughts.
"Dare I presume my company played a part in yer happiness?"

She shot him a bemused glance as they walked the short
distance from the stairs to the healer's storeroom. "Hardly. My
thoughts weren't even concerned with ye." Then, realizing how
unkind her words may have sounded, she grinned a bit sheepishly. "No offense meant, of course."

"No offense taken. I suppose I am, after all, hardly the sort to
interest a lass like ye."

At that less than subtle attempt to garner a compliment, Caitlin
couldn't help but laugh. "If ye hope to interest any lass, much
less a lass like me, ye really must put some additional effort into
yer conversational stratagems. All but asking for flattery is hardly
the way to intrigue a woman."

Darach arched a dark brow. "And do ye truly imagine that was
my plan? I'd have taken ye for a far more astute lass than that."

His question gave her pause. If he hadn't been seeking a favorable reaction from her, what, indeed, was he about?

"Well, playing games with me also falls far short of the mark."
Caitlin drew up at the storeroom door. "I've neither the time nor
the patience, so why don't ye just tell me what yer plan actually
was?"

"To make conversation, of course. To get ye to talk with me.
How else is a man to learn more about a woman he finds verra
attractive on so many levels?"

For once, Caitlin found herself short on words. Well, momentarily, at least.

"Ye're quite the gallant, aren't ye?" she finally asked. "And I'll
wager, as well, that ye're used to having all the lasses swooning
at the verra sight of ye."

He laughed, and the deep, rich sound sent a most involuntary
ripple of pleasure through her. "Not all of them, it seems."

"Losing yer touch then, are ye?"

"Evidently."

She gave a derisive snort, turned, unlocked the storeroom
door, and walked in. That was her first mistake. Darach followed
her, closed the door behind him, and slid the interior bolt into
place.

Caitlin set her bag on the table and began removing its contents. "And what do ye have in mind, to lock us both in like that?"
she asked, masking her rising apprehension with a false calm.
"Because I don't take ye for a fool, and the stone walls aren't so
thick that my cries for help wouldn't soon bring me aid."

"Not to mention any unseemly conduct on my part would
besmirch the Highland code of hospitality," he added with a wry
twist of his lips.

"Actually, I believe the expectation of hospitality falls primarily
on the host, not the guest."

She began to replace the jar of marigold ointment, roll of
extra bandages, a bowl that held a small sponge, and her box
of surgical instruments, which-besides the needles and thread used to suture wounds, a cautery iron, a pair of shears, several
sizes of probes used to dig out arrows, pistol balls, and various
and sundry other objects that might penetrate the flesh-also
held several razor-sharp small knives. That box she put on a lower
shelf within easy reach, then turned to face him.

"So, ye feel then, do ye, that the tragedy nearly a year and a
half past when the MacNaghtens turned on the MacNabs in their
own home didn't step outside the bounds of hospitality?"

"Hardly. What the MacNaghtens did was reprehensible. Besides all the other despicable things they'd already committed, it
well and finally justified their proscription." Caitlin smirked and
shook her head. "So, if ye're of a mind to choose that incident as
validation for whatever dark and dirty acts ye seek to do while
at Kilchurn, yet intent is sadly muddled."

"Ye'd hear no argument on that from me," he said as he moved
toward her, "if my intent truly was dark and dirty. But surely a wee
kiss from a bonny lassie wouldn't be such a dastardly thing."

Darach drew up before her. Instinctively, Caitlin backed away
until she was pressed against the cabinet. She couldn't help it-no
woman could.

From even across the expanse of a room, the big Highlander
exuded a powerful, intimidating presence. But up this close ...
Suffice it to say, the vast disparity in their size and relative strength
froze the blood in her veins and choked the breath from her body.
Surprisingly, though, at the same time Caitlin felt her heartbeat
quicken with anticipation.

The realization angered her. He was the most handsome and
exciting man she had ever met, yet he nonetheless presumed
far, far too much. In the past, she-not the man-had always
determined the pace of a dalliance, if there even was to be one.
Indeed, even that disastrous business with David Graham had
initially been of her doing.

She slid her hand behind her back and gingerly placed it in the box of instruments. Immediately, her fingers grazed one of the
knives. With the greatest care, she moved her hand down until
she felt a smooth metal handle and gripped it.

"Nay, a wee kiss wouldn't be such a dastardly thing," she replied, forcing the response past a throat gone tight and dry, "if
the lass were of a mind to accept it. But this lass hasn't the least
interest in being kissed, and especially not by the likes of ye."

The smile on Darach's fine, firm lips didn't waver, but a wolfish gleam flared in his eyes. She had tossed down the gauntlet,
challenged him. Caitlin belatedly admitted that was her second
mistake. The big Highlander was quite obviously a predatorand his favorite prey appeared to be women.

"On the contrary," he said, his voice dropping to a husky
whisper. He leaned close, propping both hands against the wall
on either side of the cabinet, enclosing her in the prison of his
arms. "I think ye are interested, and especially by the likes of
me.

Darach's head lowered toward her. No amount of reasoning
or protest would stop him now, Caitlin realized. Nothing, save
one thing. She pulled her hand free from behind her and pressed
the knife to the side of his throat.

"Think again, ye arrogant knave," she growled. "Think again,
or suffer the consequences."

He paused a hairsbreadth from her lips. "And would ye truly
slit my throat over a wee kiss?" He smiled. "I think not."

With that, Darach MacFarlane took her mouth, covering it in
a gentle, achingly tender, and most practiced way. It was as if a
bolt of lightning shot through Caitlin, from her lips to the tips of
her toes. She went rigid, couldn't breathe. Yet, at the same time,
she wanted nothing more than to arch up to meet him, to deepen
the kiss, to press into the length of him and never let go.