Page 17 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Chapter Six

Bruce was spent. They had been riding for four hours straight. He had expected Elspeth to protest three hours ago, but the lass had kept going, even keeping pace with him. The horses were winded and needed rest. The sun had come up, and they were exposed to any passers-by. It would be foolish to continue.

"We'll stop and rest here a few hours," he announced.

Elspeth did not sigh in relief or showed in any way that she was pleased to be off her horse and back on her two feet. Instead, she found a thicket of trees by the stream and unsaddled her horse, hobbling the mare effectively so it couldn't go very far. Bruce did the same but much slower. He was still regaining his strength.

"I'll go find firewood," she said. "Ye should bathe in the stream."

"What of the wound?" he asked.

"It will be good for the wound. I'll apply another salve once yer done."

She took off, her back straight.

Bruce undressed, gingerly plucking the cloth bandage off his injury. It did not seep as much as it had yesterday. Unable to help himself, Bruce made sure Elspeth wasn't watching before he slipped off his breeches.

The water was cold and refreshing. Bruce dunked his head in and rubbed his scalp vigorously to get as much dirt and grit out of it as he possibly could. It felt good to wash off the horrors of Bass Rock Castle. With every dip and scrub, he felt alive, more renewed. The wound on his back throbbed, but it was a good ache, not the seething, tearing pain of infection and death.

He was so long in the water his fingers wrinkled up. When he returned to the camp he found a roaring fire, two pheasant's roasting upon the flames, and clean clothes laid out for him on top of a green tartan. Elspeth was nowhere to be found. He suspected she had seen him returning and stolen away to afford him some privacy. He was touched by her thoughtfulness.

Bruce dressed quickly. He removed the pheasants from the fire and waited for them to cool. Time passed, and he began to worry for Elspeth when, as if conjured into the clearing by his thoughts, she showed up with her hands full of herbs and flowers.

She looked like a fairy of the woods. Her long dark hair had come undone and cascaded down her back; cheeks pink from exertion and green eyes bright and attentive, Elspeth was very pleasing to look at. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

In fact, why hadn't he noticed Elspeth in all these years? He recalled her as a tenacious young girl, keeping a stiff upper lip when injured or admonished. Bruce had been quite impressed with her. But then he had no definitive memory of her after their early childhood. It was like she had disappeared into the background as she grew older, never coming forward - no more than part of the tapestry on the walls. The young woman he had seen at the last spring festival and the one taking charge now were as different as night and day.

"Ye should eat up," she said, indicating the pheasants with her chin. "I'll whip up yer poultice."

"Ye should eat as well," Bruce said, lifting the roasting stick and offering her a bird.

Elspeth looked at the pheasant and the herbs in her hands. Then licking her lips, she placed the herbs near her saddle as she made a quick trip to the stream.

Bruce sat up to see what she was doing and saw her washing her hands thoroughly. It was a simple act but held a lot of meaning - Elspeth was a healer first, a woman second, and a Lady of Buchan clan last. Bruce was very intrigued by her. She was unlike any woman he had ever known.

Elspeth rejoined him and took one of the pheasants. They ate in silence, both lost in thought. He wondered what she was thinking, then his mind flitted to how good the pheasant tasted, then to the mission he had been given.

It would be difficult to fulfill his promise with a woman in tow, but it would be impossible to do anything without her help. Bruce was no fool. He knew that soon enough everyone would know what he was after and they would come for him. Those were dangers he was willing to face, but Elspeth had not signed up for battle and war. She would be a handicap in a fight.

The Bishop had said he would find the map in the ruins near Loch Lomond. That was still a few days’ ride. There was no hurry to find the Honors. They had been lost for so long it wouldn't change anything if it took a few more days to find them. The key was to stay hidden, to conduct the search in secret so little was known of his mission.

And what to do with the Honors once recovered? Bruce balked at the Bishop's suggestion. The Bishop had high hopes of Bruce. The man had loved him like a son and took pride in his growth and maturity. But that did not mean that Bruce was worthy of the crown or the right to rule Scotland. Who was to say he could unite the scattered Lairds under his reign? Why would they swear fealty to him? They did not love him the way the Bishop did.

"Penny for yer thoughts?" Elspeth asked, breaking into his reverie. "Yer awful quiet. Is it yer wound? Does it bother ye?"

"Nae," Bruce shook his head. He licked his fingers and threw the bones into the fire. "It is much better than before."

"Good," Elspeth smiled, very pleased to hear it. "I'll prepare the poultice. It will heal in no time."

He watched her clean her hands again, then she cleaned the herbs and flowers. Once they were cleaned to her satisfaction, she pulled out a mortar and pestle from her bag and began to pound them. Her hair came into her eyes, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand, all the while pounding the herbs into a paste.

Bruce was mesmerized by her. Her hair, the glow on her face as she concentrated on her task, and the small swelling of her breasts as she thrust her arms up and down to pound the herbs. He swallowed and averted his eyes, but they kept darting back to her breasts. His manhood stirred in his breeches, and he shifted the tartan over his legs to conceal his arousal. Elspeth Buchan was a bewitching woman.

"Take off yer shirt," she commanded, lifting the mortar, and coming to sit by his side. He noticed that the lace on her lace-up bodice had come loose and he could see the tops of her breasts. Her skin was creamy-white and irresistible. "Laird Grant?"

"Aye?" he said, blinking into her eyes.

"Yer shirt," she said, indicating the garment. "Please remove it. I cannae put this on unless ye do so."