“Thank ye.” He held her eyes a moment, then moved to the sofa.
Annoyed with herself, Brie gave the chocolate a final stir, and poured the steaming liquid into two mugs. For both their sakes, she prayed for an abnormally warm day tomorrow. The sooner she could take Mac off the mountain, the better. Maybe she’d take the ATV in the morning and begin cutting apart that tree.
~ ~ ~
Mac sipped the wonderous concoction Brie handed him. Warm, sweet, soothing. The very same words he would use to describe her.
The drink relaxed him on the inside, while the fire and the comfort of Brie’s presence, lulled him on the outside. He set his cup on a small, nearby table and gave into the temptation of stretching out on the soft…what had she called it? A sofa?
The pressure in his head had eased a little. At least it no longer felt as if it might explode at any minute. But a sturdy headache still plagued him. Mayhap if he could just close his eyes a moment…
Something touched his shoulder and he roused long enough to see ’twas Brie covering him with a blanket, but his eyelids were too heavy to hold open.
“Pretty Brie,” he mumbled as he surrendered to sleep.
The sounds of battle stormed around him. The screams of injured and dying men thickened the air, overridden only by the sound of cannon shot and close musket fire. The smells of bog, mud and blood were overpowering.
“Alistair!”
“Stay close, Angus”, he called amid the chaos. Lads from the Keppoch, Clanranald and Glengarry Regiments fought beside him. Left of the front line, they scrabbled through the marshy ground toward an unending sea of Redcoats. Men fell like cast-off garments under the onslaught of grapeshot and musket ball. Everywhere he looked, clan plaids littered the boggy earth.
The Redcoats were everywhere. Alistair fought, fell, got up and battled on. Suddenly, his breath was ripped from his lungs. He dinna ken why he couldna draw another until the pain exploded inside him and he looked down at the blade piercing his side. The Hanoverian on the other end of the blade growled, baring his teeth as he twisted and heaved the razor edge several inches along Alistair’s ribcage before yanking it free and kicking him to the ground with a muddy boot.
Alistair gasped, unable to staunch the blood spilling from his body onto the battlefield of Drumossie Moor.
“Alistair…” the voice was weak, wrought with pain.
“Noooooo,” he moaned. No’ Angus, too! He turned his head to see his friend’s chest swathed in blood. With the last of his strength, he reached out to him, but ’twas too far.“Dinna fash, laddie,” he mumbled. “I will go first and wait for yer soul tae join mine. Have courage in this last deed. I promise, I willna leave ye behind.”
The sun disappeared as a shadowed shape moved over him. “This ‘un’s still alive!” The sharp stab of a bayonet pierced his chest...
“Mac! Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”
Brie’s voice drifted to him through a haze of pain.What was she doing on the battlefield?
“Wake up, Mac.”
Something shook his shoulder and the pain in his chest moved to his head. He forced his eyes open to see Brie standing a few feet away, a worried look marring her pretty face. He looked around him, struggling to bridge the gap between where his mind had just been and where he lay, now. His heart still raced, and his chest heaved from the violence of the battle.
Where he’ddied!
What the bloody hellwasthat? What had taken him to such a dark place?
Brie came a step closer. “I’m sorry to wake you, but…you seemed to be having a terrible nightmare. I was almost afraid to come too near, for fear you wouldn’t come out of it.”
He blinked a few times, focusing on her lovely face instead of the gruesome scene he’d just left. “I’m better, lass. Thank ye.” He held his hand out, and when she took it, drew her down beside him. Slowly, he became aware of her familiar, captivating scent. It filled his nostrils and banished the scents of musket fire, bog, and blood. Unlike the first time he’d awakened, Brie’s creamy skin was devoid of muddy smudges. But the same, familiar look of worry darkened her eyes.
His hand shook as he raised it to smooth the crease from her brow. “Dinna fash, lass,” he whispered. “I’m awake now. Thank ye. ’Twas a disturbing dream, indeed.”
Her skin felt as soft as he’d imagined. If he had to dream such horror, he was grateful ’twas Brie he could awaken to.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
He couldna possibly describe such a thing to her. ’Twould only burden her further.
“It might help,” she urged.
Nae. He needed time to puzzle it out for himself. The vivid images still flashed in his mind while unbidden emotions swirled in his gut. Why did he feel the burn of heartache and unshed tears, for someone calledAngus?’Twas as if a heavy stone had settled in his chest with a sudden, unexplainable need to mourn the loss of hundreds who’d died in a battle he’d only dreamed.
