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ly.
He did as she instructed. Is there anything else, mistress? he remarked coyly as
his fingers trailed up her arm.
Catherine shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to make him even sicker
through lovemaking. No, Alexander, there will time enough for that later but for
now, I
want you to rest. Are you hungry?
He shook his head, the blue-black curls moving in response. No, Catherine, I am
not, he said rather sadly. All I want to do is sleep. His response reminded her of
a
child. If he could not get what he wanted, he would not do what she wanted.
Very well then, she commented as she rose from the bed. That potion will help
you sleep as well as help your body heal from the illness. In the meantime, I wi
ll have to
bathe you and bring your fever down.
Alexander seemed to relax with this notion, his eyes fluttering slightly. That
would be wonderful, he said slowly as the potion snaked its way through his veins
.
Good. Now go to sleep, she ordered softly.
With that, Alexander drifted off to sleep again, his breathing gentle and smooth
.
She brushed the hair from his feverish forehead, her fingers gracing his stubble
filled
cheek. Though it was a perfect opportunity to escape, she could not bear to leav
e him in
this state. He needed her to take care of him and see that he regained his stren
gth.
****
Fog rolled in Henstrige, as thick as a blanket. He could not see or hear anythin
g
except the soft murmurs of his men as they rode behind him. If the Scots had so
much as
harmed a hair on Riana s head, he would slaughter them were they stood.
The path he knew so well seemed unusually long, the bend taking forever to come
THE WARLORD S WOMAN Tracy L. Ranson
around. Once he was clear of the copse of black trees, he could see his home ver
y clearly.
It looked as he had left it, quiet and serene. Except for one thing. Death hung
in the air
like an unwanted thief waiting for another victim. His heart pounded while the b
lood
hammered in his temples. No, the Scots were not here, he told himself over and o
ver
again. It is just a dream.
He urged his horse forward, trying to keep as calm as possible despite the stenc
h
of death filling the air. Perhaps someone s animal had died or they had cooked rot
ted
meat. Aye, that was it.
His better sense told him that is was nothing like he thought. It was worse. Out
of
panic, he kicked his horse in the unarmored flanks, making the beast run forward
with
abject abandon.
At the drawbridge, he realized his worst fear. Bodies of the peasants lay all ar
ound
the bailey, their families crying and lamenting over their corpses. His mouth dr
ied up as a
lump formed in his throat. Was Riana still alive?
With that, he pushed his horse into a hurried gallop toward the door and ripped
it
open. Calling her name several times and receiving no answer, he ran up the stai
rs to their
chamber, kicking the door open. Riana was no where to be found.
Anger raged inside of him as he stormed through the castle, calling her name and
looking for her, his sword drawn.
Finally, he entered the dining hall, the only place he had not looked. What he s
aw
turned his blood cold. Riana was there, hanging from the wall above the fireplac
e, gutted
like a fish. Her amethyst colored eyes held no life, appearing glassy....
Riana! he shouted, his body shivering as he stared at her gruesome corpse.
What is the matter, Alexander? echoed a sweet, familiar voice.
Riana? he questioned, his heart beat slowing. It was a dream. Only a dream
Cool hands touched his forehead, reassuring him of their validity. Oh Riana, I am
overjoyed that you were not hurt....
Tis Catherine, Alexander, she answered gently, her fingers brushing against his
arm.
Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Catherine standing above him with worry
stamped on her features. Aye, it was a dream, he murmured, holding back any
emotions. The brutality of Riana s death was something he would not share with any
one,
not even Catherine.
She held a cool cloth to his forehead, wiping away some of his heat. Aye, you
were dreaming of your beloved, she murmured softly, her face gentle and full of p
assion.
"I regret that she had to die, Alexander."
His eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know about her?"
"Servants have a penchant for gossip," she offered as she wiped down his arms. "
I
heard what happened and I was immediately sickened with the tale. For a brief mo
ment, I
was ashamed of my Scottish heritage."
THE WARLORD S WOMAN Tracy L. Ranson
"'Tis over now," he said gruffly as he turned away. His eyes moistened slightly
at
the thought of Riana and he did not want Catherine to think him weak and womanis
h.
"There is no use in thinking of the past."
Her fingers touched his shoulder. "You still grieve, Alexander, so do not hide i
t
from me. If someone I loved was taken away from me in such a cruel manner, I too
would
hate the people who brought about the destruction."
"I grieve not...."
"Aye, you still do, Alexander, and that shows how much you loved her and why
you hate my people."
He looked at her blinking hard. "I do not hate you...."
"You hate what my blood represents and I understand why. I know it has nothing
to do with me as a woman but me as a Scottish woman." Her hand covered his
reassuringly. "I do not hate you for feeling this way, Alexander."
Such compassion filled her eyes that he could not help but feel warm inside. He
had always expected her to completely hate him for the rest of their lives but s
he did not.
Somehow, in her words, she had forgiven him for what he had done to her. "Cather
ine...."
he whispered softly in the dim light of the room, the air heady with her scent.
"Alexander...." she returned and leaned forward. Her lips, succulent and moist,
pressed against his softly at first, her teeth grazing his bottom lip. Unable to
resist her, he
crushed her to him, capturing her face in both hands, never wanting to let go. H
e explored
her mouth infinitely, tasting her sweetness. Their kiss deepened at Catherine's
invitation,
his arms wrapping around her tightly.
Suddenly, Catherine pulled away. "You are not well, Alexander, and we should
not be doing this," she whispered as she bent and retrieved her previously forgo
tten cloth,
wiping his arms again. "Once you are better...."
"I am certainly not that weak...." he said in a hushed tone as his eyes began to
close.
Her light feather of laughter echoed through the room. "Aye, you are, Alexander,
so I do not think you will be able to sustain yourself," she answered coolly and
laid the
cloth aside. "I do wish to extend my regrets again to your love and what happene
d to her.
If it will ease the burden of her death, I do have one thing I wish to share wit
h you."
His brow lifted. "What is that?" Excitement grew quickly. Was she going to share
her love with him?
She adjusted the folds of her crimson gown, smoothing them out before returning
her gaze to him, her emerald orbs swimming with emotion. It was Laird McLeish of
the
rebel McLeish clan. You may remember him--he is the man who claims to be sired b
y
your father.
"How do you know this?"
"My servants gossip among themselves. One in particular claims her daughter
shares the Laird's bed on occasion. From what the woman said, her daughter claim
s the
THE WARLORD S WOMAN Tracy L. Ranson
Laird likes to boast and related his gruesome stories to his prospective bedmate
s in order
to arouse himself," Catherine confessed as she wet the cloth again, her eyes moi
st. "He
related to this young woman the gruesome details of your beloved's death."
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