Page 13 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERFIVE

Night fell, but the rain continued to fall relentlessly. A chilling wind pierced Lara's skin, causing her petite frame to shiver despite her cloak as she stood at the entrance of the cave, looking out into the darkness. Darragh, a giant compared to her small form, moved closer to her side.

"Here, let me help ye with those sores," he said softly, his black eyes warm and gentle. He reached into his pouch and he produced a small tin of salve. "This should help with the pain."

Lara hesitated for a moment, feeling shy and vulnerable. She bit her lip and glanced away from his gaze. She was always cautious, especially around men. However, something in Darragh's demeanor made her trust him just enough to extend her wrists toward him.

"Thank ye."

Carefully, Darragh took her hands into his, his large, calloused fingers cradling her delicate ones. He gently spread the rich balm over the damaged skin, massaging it into her wounded wrists with a tenderness that surprised her. The salve’s warmth seeped into her skin, chasing away the biting cold and lingering pain, while his touch sent a different kind of warmth coursing through her veins, warmth of a kind she had never felt before. It was disturbing because she did not fully understand the effect he had on her.

Their eyes met briefly, and Lara felt her cheeks flush with color. She quickly looked away, unable to hold his gaze for too long.

"Tell me, lass," Darragh began, a teasing tone in his voice, "dae ye have a husband waiting for ye?"

Lara's blush deepened as she shook her head, her eyes downcast. "Nay," she replied softly, though she felt a flicker of relief at the thought that she did not have to answer to another man after all she had been through.

"Ah," Darragh mused thoughtfully, his fingers still gently massaging her wrists. "A bonnie lass such as yerself, unmarried? I find that hard tae believe."

Lara hesitated before responding, weighing whether or not to share her thoughts with him. Finally, she whispered, "I was tae be wed… but fate had other plans."

Darragh offered her an understanding smile. "Well, perhaps it's for the best. Maybe he wasnae the man fer ye."

Their conversation lulled into silence, filled only by the sounds of their breathing and the wind outside. When Darragh finished applying the salve, Lara's wrists and hands felt warm, and the soreness abated. She hadn’t realized how much the wounds had pained her, she was so used to them.

Lara shifted her gaze from the rainy night to Darragh.

"Ye ken," she began, her voice faltering slightly, "I was abducted just before me wedding."

Darragh's eyes widened in surprise. "That must have been awful," he murmured sincerely, the teasing tone from earlier gone.

"Aye," she agreed, a shiver running down her spine as memories threatened to resurface. "But I dinnae ken if I would have been happy with him, even if we had wed."

"It was nae a love match?" Darragh inquired softly.

Lara hesitated again, her brow furrowing. "Nay," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, "and there was always a part of me that felt trapped, as if I were bound tae a life nae truly meant fer me."

Darragh's sharp eyes searched her face. He clearly wanted to delve deeper into the well of her past. But as he opened his mouth to ask another question, he must have seen the reluctance on her face, the way her eyes clouded with pain and her body tensed up. He closed his lips, and she was grateful to him for respecting her wishes and not probing further.

"Forgive me, Lara," he said gently, his voice full of understanding. "I did nae mean tae pry."

"It’s all right, Darragh," she replied. Though it was difficult to share even a fraction of her painful past, the gentle man’s empathy and willingness to listen without judgment touched something deep within her.

As the night progressed, the cave's interior grew colder. Despite the fire, which by some magical means Darragh had managed to keep going, it was soon so cold, Lara found it almost unbearable. Shadows stretched along the walls, weaving intricate patterns that seemed to dance around them. She shivered, despite the loan of Darragh’s cloak over her own.

"Come, lass," Darragh said, his voice deep and reassuring as he began clearing away the remains of their meager meal and laid out their bedrolls by the fire. "We should prepare for sleep now. It will be a long, cold night."

Lara hesitated, her eyes flickering from the bedrolls, which were laid side by side, to Darragh's scarred, muscular form. The thought of sharing such close quarters with him made her stomach twist into knots, though she was unsure why.

"Must I… lay so close tae ye?" she asked, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.

"Listen, lass," Darragh interrupted as if sensing her unease. "I understand yer apprehension, but this cave is bitter cold, so we must rely on each other's warmth tae survive the night."

He approached her slowly, his eyes searching hers, and Lara swallowed hard, knowing he spoke the truth. The chill had already begun to seep into her bones.

"Ye have me word, Lara," he continued, his voice softening. "I will dae naught tae harm ye. We'll keep our distance but stay close enough for warmth."

"All right, Darragh," she murmured, but the doubts remained. He lay down, and she took off his cloak and used it as a blanket for them both as she settled down beside him, leaving just enough space between them for modesty's sake. She tried to focus on the warmth emanating from Darragh's body. She curled up facing away from him and wrapped her arms around herself, her thoughts drifting back to the conversation they had shared earlier. Though she still held many secrets close to her heart, the connection she felt with this man was undeniable. With him she felt… safe.