Page 19 of The Highlander’s Gypsy Temptation

“It gave ye the fight tae defeat me, did it nae?”

She stood thinking for a moment, then nodded slowly. “It did.”

“Another?” he questioned.

She nodded. “Another.”

Bran taught her several more moves before he called an end to their training, as the horse was once again ready to move on. He admired her ability to learn swiftly. Every time her body brushed against his, his body reacted instantly with desire for her. It had been a long time since he had lain with a woman. August provided all of his men with women to warm their beds, but Bran had never wished to participate in such activities. Any woman August chose could not be trusted, nor was Bran willing to risk that any of them might be providing companionship under duress. He had never in his life taken a woman against her will in that way and he was not about to start now.

Mounting the horse, they continued northward. Having Idalia riding between his legs, her body pressed up against his own, did not help matters any. He did not want to desire her. He tried everything in his power to resist his feelings for her. They were fleeing for their lives, he had been forced to leave his daughter in the hands of her uncle, and yet here he was, lusting after the woman he had kidnapped to save her. Ye have nae soul left tae ye, Bran MacLeod. Ashamed of himself, he attempted to put some distance between their bodies, to no avail. There was only so much room on the back of a horse.

They had ridden until just before nightfall when they came to a small clearing in the woods, with a cottage in the center of it. As it was still daylight, Bran rode up to the dooryard and dismounted. A dog barked a warning as they entered the yard, and a man stuck his head out of the door. Seeing them, he stepped out into the yard, his blade in hand. “Stay as ye are,” the man instructed, his tone one of warning.

Bran questioned how much to tell the man who stood before them, but Idalia must have thought him trustworthy for she spoke before he did. “Please, we are in need of shelter.”

The man studied them closely. Bran knew they must look a sight with their torn clothes. Bran’s were still stained with the blood from his head wound. “What brings ye here?”

“We are running from an evil man who wishes us harm,” Idalia answered honestly. “We are simply trying to return home.”

The man’s brows rose in surprise. “Ye do look as if ye have been in a fight for yer lives. Who is this man that ye fear?”

“He is a Romani leader by the name of August Raymond.”

“Romani, ye say?” He eyed Idalia suspiciously. “Ye are nae from around here. Ye gypsy as well?”

Bran’s body tensed in readiness should the man decide them harm. He did not believe August’s influence had spread this far from the encampment, but he could not be certain. “Aye,” he nodded in answer. “The lass is Romani, and she is under me protection.”

“And who might ye be when ye are at home?” the man asked of Bran, turning his gaze to him.

“Bran MacLeod o’ the Clan Leoideach o’ Orkney.”

The man’s brows arose in surprise once more. “Ye are a fair distance from home.”

“Aye,” Bran sighed, “too far, for too long.”

The man nodded, lowering his blade. “Dismount and we will speak further while ye eat.” He led them into the house, where they were met by his wife and children. “This is my wife Deirdre and our eldest son Samuel. That over there is our daughter Anne. Our youngest son, Hezekiah, is feeling poorly so will nae be joining us for supper. All Bible names, ye ken. We thought if we named them after those in the good book that God would be more inclined tae look after them. We have been praying for our youngest all o’ the day, but he has made nae sign o’ recovery.”

Idalia smiled and nodded to each of them in turn. Bran liked it when she smiled and wished she had more cause to do so. “Do you mind if I see the boy?” Idalia asked, confusing all present. “My mother was a healer among our people. She taught me much.”

A light went on in the man’s eyes and he nodded. “Aye, lass. We would be most grateful.”

Idalia and Bran followed him to a room at the back of the house, where a little boy lay on a pallet in the corner. He was coughing uncontrollably. His face was pale and drawn. His breath came in wheezes. “How long has he been like this?”

“Since yesterday.”

“Was there anything that seemed to cause the coughing to begin?”

“He began his apprenticeship with the village blacksmith. They said he became quite ill when the blacksmith’s shop filled with smoke. He has nae stopped coughing since. I was about tae go tae leave for the holy well tae fetch back a cure for him from the waters. Can ye help him, lassie?”

Idalia nodded. “I believe that I can. I will need some herbs.”

“I will get ye what ye need,” the boy’s father promised.

“I need mint, balm, thyme, wild marjoram, rosemary, honey, garlic, horehound…” She continued to name various other herbs she would need to treat the boy.

Bran stood and listened in wonder at her knowledge of medicinal herbs. He had previously thought her to be a selfish woman, reckless with her own life. But she had managed to prove him wrong at every turn since then. She had shown kindness to him even when he did not deserve it. She had stayed to help him save his daughter, even when it would have been safer for her to return home without him. Now, she was helping the child of a total stranger simply because she could do so. And she had saved a mouse, a small yet significant sign.

The boy’s father returned to the kitchen and informed his wife of everything that Idalia would need to prepare her treatment. “What is wrong with the lad?” Bran asked, coming to stand beside her as she knelt to run her fingers over his brow.