Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) (19 page)

The slugging went back and forth, neither man willing to back down, though Jesse felt weak with hunger, and he needed both food and sleep in a bad way. Both men’s blades slid out of their sheaths, and the closing darkness stole any telltale reflections off the metal. The men moved smoothly, like beasts: a wolf and a cougar, circling, waiting for an opening.

“I’ll tell ye once more, man. Go back. Ye dinna want to test me wi’ a knife.”

Jesse sucked in his breath, keeping the pain from his voice. “Don’t tell me what to do, Scotsman. I don’t know if anyone ever told you, but you don’t listen too good. Understand this,” he said deliberately, trying to hide his exhaustion. “I will have Adelaide. Nobody’s gonna stop me.” Jesse lowered his voice to a growl. “Nobody.”

With a roar, he dove toward the big man, knife at the ready, but his target spun out of reach. Jesse used his momentum, spinning as well until he faced the stranger. He sliced his blade downward and met a thick, resisting barrier of flesh. The knife went in, and the man grunted, quick and deep, but he still didn’t go down.

Jesse did. The broad Scottish dirk had gone deeper than his own knife had, cutting into Jesse’s side and opening a hole he knew Adelaide could have healed easily if only she’d come out of that damn house. He dropped to his knees, pressing both hands as hard as he could against the wound. Doc had told him he should always do that. Push on a wound to stop the bleeding. But there was a hell of a lot of bleeding, and he wasn’t sure he could push quite that hard. His knees gave way, and he collapsed with some relief onto his back.

His opponent still stood, but he clutched his side as well. Less blood, less damage overall, lucky bastard, though blood did seep from beneath his hand. The man walked toward Jesse and glared down, lips tight with pain, eyes narrowed in a forbidding expression.

“No one hunts my women,” the man growled.

His
women? Who the hell was this guy?

“Ye were warned. Get yerself gone now, if ye can, but know this: I am no’ the only man here, an’ I’m no’ the strongest of us. Ye willna get past us to Ah-dlaide. She’s safe from ye here.”

He turned and headed toward the houses, which were sinking quickly into the murk of night. Jesse watched his attacker get smaller with every step, finally stopping outside one of the doors. The dark man looked back up the hill, toward Jesse, hesitating just a moment, then stepped inside and shut the door.

Jesse lay back and squeezed his eyes shut, still pressing hard against his side. The cut burned, cold and hot at the same time, feeling much wider than the thin slice he could see. He grabbed a handful of wet leaves and stuck them under his other hand, hoping the cool touch would soothe the pain. It did. It helped. A bit.

“I’ll find you, Adelaide. I’ll save you,” he whispered to the stars, and they winked back.

CHAPTER
29

Not Dead Yet

Jesse was shaken awake by tremors. They rolled through his body so that he shuddered from toes to teeth. His body ached from the hard bed of wet dirt on which he’d tried to sleep. Fortunately, his side, where the blade had gone, had stopped bleeding but still burned, and when he rolled carefully to his side, it began to ooze again. The hand he’d pressed against it was stiff, caked with dried blood. He grabbed another handful of leaves, now soaked by dew, and pulled up the side of his shirt. He swept the leaves gently across the wound, gritting his teeth when the shocking cold hit his hot skin.

“Not dead, you son of a bitch. I ain’t dead. Not yet.”

But he wasn’t ready to challenge the big man again, either. No, the kilted man, whoever he was, had effectively taken care of Jesse’s immediate future, meaning he didn’t foresee any more fights for a while. Damn the man. Why was he so bent on keeping Jesse from Adelaide? Seemed a little off. He should have at least let Jesse speak. Then again, he’d heard Scots were stubborn.

The cut, once it was relatively clean, didn’t look all that wide, but it did stretch about three inches long. Clean but not deep. The man kept his blades sharp. Killing Jesse at that point would have been easy. Scary how easy, actually. That suggested he’d used this altercation as a warning. The rest of Jesse’s stomach was a mottled and swollen red and purple, reminders of the Scotsman’s wicked fists. Jesse dabbed the leaves at a bright dot of blood that had surfaced, then moaned and lay flat again.

He wasn’t going to die of this. He could tell. His body always healed well and quickly, though it was covered in scars that had tried to prove him wrong. But it would need some time. So what to do next? Damned if he was going to head back to the village and have Wah-Li or one of the others sing chants over his body, praying their gods would fix him up. He was tired of Cherokee medicine and Cherokee minds right about now. He’d had enough of their ridiculous fights and arguments and talk about honour. He needed Doc. But he thought he could maybe last a little longer before heading that way.

Adelaide was his priority right now. Jesse groaned and braced his hands against the dirt, then forced himself to his feet. No point in lying around feeling sorry for himself. He had to do something. He glanced into the trees, imagining what might be going on in the village, then looked across the yard toward another, more travelled road. A road he thought probably led to town. He sniffed and chewed on his lip, deciding, but his gaze kept returning to the little cluster of houses at the base of the hill. Adelaide was there. Of the three paths, the narrow one to the houses was the one he most wanted to follow, but that wasn’t going to be possible just yet.

He could wait. It wasn’t as if she’d stay forever. He wished he could see her just once, get a glimpse of that shining white hair, that dazzling smile. It wouldn’t be such a shy smile if he saw her with her sister, and he’d like to see that. Yeah. He’d wait. He’d stay here for a couple of nights, lick his wounds, then talk her into letting him walk her home. Scots weren’t the only stubborn ones.

PART
5

Adelaide

CHAPTER
30

Reconciliation

“What should I do?” I asked.

“You sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Maggie tucked me in, then accepted Andrew’s hand and let him lead her to their bed. I had thanked her and closed my eyes, then fought sleep with all my heart. I couldn’t allow the images back into my head. Couldn’t. I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to believe.

Sleep claimed me anyway, and the fates saw fit to give me at least one calm, sweet night of sleep. I woke to the songs of birds and lay without moving for a few minutes, relishing the fleeting peace. I listened to the calm, rhythmic
whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!
and prayed the rest of my day might be similar to this moment.

But the hoarse shout of a raven disturbed my thoughts, and my chest tightened, remembering that Maggie had seen what I had seen. If only I could have dreamed a few moments more, stayed submerged long enough to see the ending, I’d know what to do.

All I could think was that I had to tell Jesse, explain to him about the dream. He wasn’t connected to the nightmare from before. That I knew. So the only thing I could think was if I told him about that day in the woods, it might affect the dream I’d had about Thomas Black. I could see no other reason the two visions had intertwined in my head. But my heart sank at the thought of that conversation. I would have to open my heart and tell him of the men, tell him what they’d done to me, to my sisters. And by doing that, I would reveal myself, showing him I was no more than a dirty, loathsome whore, a defiled woman no man could ever truly love.

“Well, you said you wanted to help me,” I said softly, staring at the ceiling. “You said you loved me.”

Maybe he wouldn’t hate me. Maybe he’d just walk away, not wanting to see the disgusting truth every time he looked at me. I wasn’t sure which would hurt more.

I heard movement in the front room and quickly pulled my clothes on. The autumn morning was chilly, so I wrapped a blanket around me as well, like a cloak. When I stepped into the front room, Andrew’s friend, Janet, was leaning over the big black pot, stirring something that smelled wonderful. That woman could cook anything.

“Good morning, Janet. Sleep well?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, startled by my sudden appearance. “Good morn to ye as well, Ah-dlaide. Can I get ye some parritch?”

Janet was an absolutely beautiful woman, with ebony hair like the Cherokee and eyes the colour of summer grass. She’d come from Scotland with Andrew and the others, the only woman among them, and she seemed to me as brave as they were. Besides being attractive, she was efficient, smart, and funny. And she could cook. All the best aspects in a woman. Yet she remained unmarried. Maggie had told me it was by choice, that Janet had been approached by a great many neighbouring farmers, and some eligible bachelors in the town as well. But Janet was headstrong and wasn’t about to accept anything not exactly right. I didn’t worry for her. Maggie had assured me Janet would be very happy, and that she’d seen it would happen soon.

“Porridge would be lovely, thank you. Is everyone awake?”

“Aye, Andrew and Seamus are huntin’, but yer sister is still a-bed,” she said, leaning over the pot and dipping in a deep ladle. The porridge steamed as it was spooned into a bowl for me. Janet turned and pulled a jar from the pantry behind her, then held it up in question.

“Honey?”

I smiled and nodded.

Janet bustled around the kitchen, then set my bowl and spoon before me. Beside that sat a plate of biscuits and some cold slices of ham. A pungent, light brown dollop of honey spread over my cereal as the heat melted it.

“There are mornings when she’s up wi’ the sun,” Janet said, carrying her own bowl so she could sit across from me at the table, “and other times when the wee one tells her to sleep a while. This is one o’ those mornings.”

We talked about this and that, about nothing at all, really. Janet was a wonderful girl, but we knew little of each other’s lives or pasts. And I wasn’t one to start that kind of conversation, since I didn’t want to share my history. If Janet needed to know anything, Maggie would tell her. But I did like sitting with her, listening to her talk about what was going on around their little cluster of homes, and hearing how sweet and attentive Andrew had been since Maggie had told him he’d be a father.

“I ken some folk say it’s evil luck to talk o’ the child afore it’s born, but, well, ye ken Maggie well enough. She’d see if something bad were comin’. An’ she sees no clouds in her sky. She canna tell yet if ’tis a boy or a girl, but they’ve told us what they might call the bairn when it arrives.”

“Really? What if it’s a boy?”

“They’ll name a wee laddie after Andrew’s older brother, Dougal,” she said, her voice distant. A sad smile flickered across her lips, and she looked down into the porridge. “He was lost, ye ken. At Culloden.”

I did know. They had told us about the massacre in Scotland, the one that had convinced the group of them to leave their devastated country. I gave her a moment of grief, then asked what they would name a little girl.

“Ruth,” she said, her smile bright again. “Little Ruth. For yer wee sister.”

It was my turn to turn away, lose myself. Little Ruth. Golden curls and laughter like tiny bells. Little Ruth, forever ten years old. I closed my mind, solidly refusing to remember anything more.

“Sad,” she said softly. “And yet ’tis a good thing. To give the names of the dead to the livin’. We remember the dead, but with less sadness when it is connected with the joy of a bairn.”

I swallowed the familiar lump in my throat. “Ruth would be happy to know Maggie decided to do that in her honour.”

We both looked at our bowls a moment longer, then Janet started eating her porridge. I had lost my appetite but hated the idea of wasting food. I emptied the bowl, then discovered I had been hungry after all and helped myself to a slice of ham. By the time I was finished, Maggie was coming out of her room.

“Oh, good. I was afraid you’d left already,” she said. “I’m sorry I slept late. I should have been out here with you.”

“No, you needed the sleep,” I assured her. “Janet’s been taking good care of me, don’t worry.”

Janet rose and took our dishes away, leaving Maggie and me to talk alone. She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. She frowned at me, waiting for my full attention. Then she spoke.

“Addy, Andrew met the man you dreamed about.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. Thomas had been there? I hadn’t imagined it would be so soon. “What?”

“Last night. They fought. Andrew said the man insisted he wasn’t leaving without you, so Andrew scared him off with his knife. Got him pretty bad, he says. Didn’t kill him, but by now he should be far away.”

My sister and I looked into each other’s eyes, saying nothing, then Maggie closed hers. I closed mine as well, preparing myself for the strange yet comforting feel of her in my head. But the gentle prodding of her questions never came. No pictures flashed through my mind as they usually did. She let go of my hands and let out her breath. I opened my eyes, and she was already looking at me, her expression apologetic.

“I can’t see anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ve decided, Maggie. Knowing that you saw the same thing makes all the difference.”

She nodded. “And how do you feel about that?”

I gave her a half smile. “Like I was right all along. I never should have learned about my dreams. It’s terrifying, Maggie. I don’t know how you live this way.”

“I never had a choice,” she said quietly. “It’s only now I’m learning how to turn away from them, but it’s not easy.”

“At least I know I’m out of danger for now, since Andrew got rid of him.”
Except for those forgotten monsters who ripped our lives apart, Maggie. I’ll never get away from them, will I?

She sighed, and I knew she understood even without reading my mind. “What are you going to do?” I shrugged. “I have to go to the village and speak with Jesse, try to convince him of what I dreamed. He has to understand that because my dream was real, there was a reason I ran off on him. Maybe with Wah-Li there to help, he’ll believe. Poor man. He must be so confused. We were just getting close, and I sent him away without an explanation. I have to convince him.”

“And what about . . . the other part of the dream?”

“I’m going to tell him.”

We stared at each other in silence, both of us knowing that by doing that, I was changing everything about my life. Maggie eventually nodded. “Good.”

“I have to go this morning.”

She sagged. “So soon? You just got here.”

I felt bad, but it had to be that way. “I have to find him. I can’t let him stew on it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh Addy. Of course you have to do what you feel needs doing. I only wish you could stay longer.”

“I’ll come back and visit soon. I want to see you get big and fat.”

She grinned. “I’m working on that.” She picked up a biscuit and took a small bite, swallowed and waited, as if wanting to ensure her stomach accepted the offering before she continued. When it did, she settled in with a hungry grin, helping herself to another after that, and two slices of ham. “The baby’s hungry. Sometimes it won’t let me eat much at all,” she explained. She finished the first slice of ham, then pointed her knife at me while she talked. “Iain will come with you. Andrew and Seamus have gone, but Iain will go.”

“Oh no. There’s no need—”

“Yes, there is. I saw what you saw, Addy, and we’re keeping you safe. Andrew scared the man off, but he’s not dead. You still need protection. If anyone can do that, it’s big Iain. Once you’re back at the village you can stay safe with Jesse and Soquili.”

I turned to go, but she spun me back around to face her. She wrapped her arms around me and held me against her. Her breath was quick and warm on my neck. “Those men are all dead, Addy. You’re safe from them. It happened, but it’s over now. Don’t let them win.”

Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn’t let them go. I nodded silently and swallowed, choking down the grief in my throat, then I moved out of her embrace.

“Thank you, Maggie,” I whispered, then stepped outside.

Iain
was
big. Like a bushy, red-maned animal, part bear, part lion. And though his size and the gruff tone of his voice were forbidding to strangers, to me it was a comfort. During our breakfast, he had been in the stables, repairing something for the horses, and now he returned, slapping his hands together to rid them of dust.

“We’ll take my beast,” he offered, and I happily accepted. Riding back to the village would take less than half the time it had taken me to get there, and I suddenly felt in a great hurry to get to Jesse. Iain helped me onto the big chestnut mare and mounted behind me. When we ran out of things to talk about, we drifted into a comfortable silence.

The horse’s rocking gait checked when he tripped on something, then he began to step awkwardly, listing a bit to the side.

“Stone,” Iain grumbled.

We stopped at a pond so he could inspect the hoof. While the animal drank, Iain dunked his head into the water, then flung his massive red mane back so that it sprayed everywhere. He blinked at me with a dazed expression, and I giggled.

“Dizzy?”

“Aye.”

“Hey, Adelaide.”

Jesse was suddenly there. He stood, leaning slightly to one side, at the edge of the pond across from us, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand. Iain was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn.

I’d had no idea it was possible to miss anyone so much, but when I heard his voice, I wanted to run across the surface of the water to him. Iain held me back, extending one massive arm to block my path.

“D’ye ken this man?” Iain asked, suspicion thick in his narrowed gaze. “Or is this the wicked creature MacDonnell told me of?”

“Yes, I know him. This is Jesse.” I grinned. “He wants to marry me.”

Iain looked unsure, but Jesse took a few experimental, limping steps toward us, wisely careful around Iain’s blade. He kept his own sheathed, posing no threat to the giant. I was shocked at Jesse’s appearance. He was filthy, and swollen with bruises. He raised one eyebrow while he looked Iain over.

“Did ye meet wi’ a bear?” Iain asked, wary.

I stepped closer, my hand out when I saw the large patch of dried blood staining his shirt. “What happened?”

He glanced down toward the place where I was staring, looked at me, then back at Iain. His bruised expression seemed impressed. “That other fellow wasn’t kidding about him not being the biggest of you. You Scots must eat well.”

Iain flicked his own bushy red eyebrow, unimpressed. “What say ye, lass? Am I to trust this man?”

I stepped closer and pulled back the torn cloth at the side of Jesse’s shirt. The wound wasn’t terribly deep, but it was long. Blood had crusted along its edges, and the surrounding skin was black with bruises. I glanced at his face, but his eyes were trained on Iain. “What—”

“Sure you are,” Jesse said. “Isn’t he, Adelaide?”

“Isn’t he . . . ?”

“Able to trust me. Come on, Adelaide. Pay attention. The big man wants to know if you’re safe with me.”