The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair

Chapter Fourteen

Ethan didn’t know what to say, but he did understand one thing. He understood running as a solution to your problems. He’d run away from his years ago.

Dark was upon them before they knew it, so he said, “We should get some rest. We can sleep in the cave together. I promise to be honorable and not to make any inappropriate suggestions, but using each other’s heat would be advisable. We’ll keep the plaid between us so you’ll not be uncomfortable. Are you agreeable?”

“Aye, I am getting cold. I have two furs in my bag.”

“And I have several. Enough to put two beneath us and we can use the others as cover. I’m ready to sleep if you are.”

“I am. My thanks for saving me, Ethan.” They stood up together, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I hope that does not upset you.”

“It does not. I trust you.”

“Ethan, I nearly forgot. How is your shoulder? I should have put salve on it. I have a wee bit with me…” She began rummaging through her bag.

“’Tis fine. I don’t need the salve.” He glanced at his shoulder inside his tunic. “It does not bleed at all. You can tend it on the morrow if you wish.” It did hurt some, but he was a warrior. He wouldn’t make a fuss over a small injury.

They settled on the ground in the back of the cave, away from the opening out of the wind. He moved in from behind her and Jennet quickly tucked herself against him, her back to his chest. That suited him fine. Once they were covered, she relaxed against him.

He liked having her this close, a feeling of protectiveness coming over him. And something else. His mind wandered to thoughts of touching her skin, of becoming intimate with her, what Marcas referred to as “making love.”

He hadn’t made love to Cori. That had been forced and without a satisfactory ending for either of them. With Jennet, he was confident it would be different. She gave him hope he hadn’t felt before. He dared to open his mind to the possibility of a life where he wasn’t agonized at the thought of being close to others, especially Jennet.

Could he be like others?

“Ethan, what happened to make you so afraid to touch people? I don’t mean to pry, but if you truly do wish to pursue me, I’d like to know.”

“I will tell you, if you like. ’Tis not so much about touching as it is trust. I need to trust the people I touch, or who touch me.” He sighed and prepared for this new challenge. Of all the happenings in his life that were difficult to recount, this one topped them all.

“Many years ago, when I was five and ten, I traveled to Clan Milton’s summer festival. All clans were invited, and it featured multiple challenges. They had sword-fighting, log tossing, and archery, among others.

“I was happy to go, but my skills were not the best. However, I was exceptional at one particular event—hammer tossing. Clan Milton had large hammers they used in their competitions, and I was good at it because I could calculate in my mind how high I had to toss the hammer to have it land closest to the center of the target. They often changed the hammers on contestants because the different weights would throw the contenders off, but not for me. I could readjust my arch to meet whatever hammer they gave me.”

“’Tis an impressive skill for one your age, Ethan. How did you learn to adjust so quickly?”

“’Tis hard to explain, but I can see it in my mind—the hammer, the distance, the height of each toss. I enjoyed it, and I was good at it. I actually came in first place.”

Jennet rolled over onto her back so she could look at him. “So how does this fit into your fears?”

He swallowed, deciding he would be honest with her. “I liked a lass, thought she was beautiful, and I wished to meet up with her, if I could. So, after I won the contest, I walked around the grounds of the festival looking for her. Her name was Cori. But, unfortunately, Cori was with another lad. That upset me, but to my surprise her friends approached me, talking about how strong I was with the hammer. Her two friends were Alva and Dunn. After I came away with my award, they found me. Alva, who was not my favorite because she was often loud-mouthed and crude, pulled me into an area behind bushes.”

He hesitated, mostly because he’d never told anyone but his brothers and sister this story. Would she laugh at him or understand what he’d gone through? As his sire had said, telling someone about your most vulnerable moments could reveal a lot about a person’s character. He would know right away if Jennet was a poor match based on her reaction and understanding. But he didn’t harbor much fear of this. He’d gone this far, he would finish what he began. He knew now that pursuing Jennet also meant offering himself to her, complete with all his foibles and complexities. The moment of truth had arrived, and he would place his trust in Jennet.

“Alva tried to kiss me, then tried to grab me under my tartan. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like her, and the last thing I’d expected was for her to touch me…there. I panicked and shoved at her, but she told her friends things I didn’t like.”

“Like what?”

“She told Cori, while she was with the other man, that I was a terrible kisser and I didn’t get hard. Cori was the one I liked, and she looked at me and burst into laughter. Dunn then pushed me back against a tree and attempted the same, slobbering against my mouth, but I shoved her away. Unfortunately, I was not quick enough to stop her hand before she touched me under the tartan, and I responded with a roar, shoving her hard. She didn’t like that, either, so she began telling lies.”

“Oh, Ethan. How awful.”

“They stood on either side of Cori, and Alva said, ‘There’s something wrong with him. He doesn’t even grow hard.’

“Dunn said, ‘He’s creepy. I don’t trust lads who won’t return your kiss. What’s wrong, Ethan? You’d rather kiss your horse? Your cows or pigs? He didn’t even get hard and wouldn’t allow me to touch him. He’s got a sickness.’”

Ethan didn’t say anything more because he guessed he didn’t need to. This entire situation took place before Cori had approached him when he was a few years older. It was when he was young and knew little about relationships.

Jennet whispered, “Ethan, I need to hug you. I understand everything now, but please trust me. And I promise to tell you when I wish to touch you.”

His breathing had quickened in the retelling of that awful day. He felt embarrassed to admit his distaste for something other men seemed to wish for all the time, but he hadn’t liked it at all. “I don’t like to be grabbed under my plaid.”

“May I hug you?”

Ethan thought for a moment. Would giving in to her make the situation worse?

Jennet said, “Try it, Ethan. You might enjoy being hugged. And I’ll keep the plaid between us.”

“All right.”

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, resting her head on his shoulder and holding him tight. Ethan waited for the pain, but he felt no fear, no distrust at all. In fact, he did like it. He savored her closeness for a few more moments before he leaned back and said, “You are correct. I enjoy our hugs.”

She said, “Good. Then will you trust me for one more new experience?”

He nodded, finding himself wanting more of this woman.

Jennet leaned in, her eyes closed. Her warm, soft lips passed a heat through Ethan that he didn’t understand. But he then had a sudden understanding of something else.

He grew hard.

They slept the night through the same way they’d fallen asleep, Jennet’s backside tucked against his front, her heat alone pleasing him. Strange desires came to him in the night that he thought he’d never experience, and while he would have been interested in trying other things with Jennet, he had promised not to.

Ethan never broke a promise.

Instead, they slept in innocent bliss.

***

When Jennet stepped away from him in the morn and peered out of the cave, she was surprised to see it was way past first light. Midday was fast approaching. The sound of a burn nearby carried through the forest, though it wasn’t as close as she’d like, it could give her the privacy she needed to take care of her needs.

Ethan awakened behind her, and she said, “I’m going to the burn to refresh myself. I’ll fill the skin if you like.”

“I’ll see to it. If you need me, please yell and I’ll hear you.”

Knowing Ethan was within earshot was a comfort to her. He was an honorable man who would protect her against any man or beast, of that much she was sure. She needn’t worry about her virtue with him either, as he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Her virtue. Her blasted maidenhead, the bane of her existence because if she were a wagering woman, she’d bet against her ever losing it. If there were someone for her on Ramsay land, she would have met him by now.

Would she ever find a man for her the way Brigid had found Marcas? She made quick with her chores, washing her hands and face before she returned, rinsing her mouth last. Having no desire to be abducted again, she knew she needed to be cognizant of their time.

When she returned, Ethan came from the opposite side of the cave and outcroppings, then followed her path to the burn. “I’ll return quickly, lass.”

Once they finished their ablutions, she said, “I think ’tis time to head back to Black Isle, but there are only two of us, so I think we should stay away from the main path.”

“Are you sure you don’t wish to go back and see how your sire fares?”

Ethan’s words made her desperately wish she could talk with her mother and ask her if the wash and the salve they’d worked so hard on had helped her father at all, but there was simply no going back for her now. She would move only forward from now on.

Her father had attempted to strike her, and she would never forget the look in his eyes as he raised a hand to her. She gathered her things and noticed Ethan’s hand going to his shoulder. “Ethan, perhaps we should wash and bandage it. Was it a deep wound?”

“Nay, ’tis fine. Just a wee bit sore. I already pulled the arrow out and it hardly hurts at all, only when I move a certain way. I’ll be fine.” Jennet chastised herself for being so focused on her own internal pain and forgetting his injury, though there didn’t seem to be much blood, or she’d have noticed.

They mounted together and headed northeast toward Black Isle. They didn’t talk much because the wind wailed across the landscape through the trees, making voices impossible to hear. They stopped only once, and Jennet noticed a change in Ethan, though she wasn’t certain of the cause.

He helped her dismount, but his knee buckled just as her feet touched the ground. “Ethan, is something wrong?” She searched his face for any sign of illness, but he was stoic as ever.

“Nay, I’m fine. I just need to tend to my needs.” He turned slowly and headed off to a private area and all Jennet could think was that they probably should have stopped sooner.

But he returned in a timely fashion and helped her climb onto her horse without trouble until the last moment when she caught him wincing. “Your shoulder pains you? I can put some salve on it.”

“Nay, ’tis fine. I’m tired, but after all we’ve been through, you must be tired, also. ’Tis imperative we keep moving. The closer we are to Black Isle, the safer we shall be. Not many come this far into the Highlands, lass. Do not worry yourself over me.”

They continued their travel toward Matheson land, fortunately without any storms. The wind continued, but the rain stayed away, something she was grateful for because those kinds of storms slowed your travel considerably. Even the horses hated rainstorms. It was nearing dark when Jennet glanced over her shoulder at Ethan. “Are you sure you are hale? You don’t look well.” She couldn’t say exactly what it was, but he’d changed in half a day.

“I’m fine, but I can barely hear you with this heavy wind. We must find a place for the night soon. There’s another cave up ahead, and I think we’re in for a night of rain. I don’t care to be on wet ground with you, Jennet. This wind is too much.” He looked up at the sky, but the whistling wind gave no indication of letting up.

This is probably why Padraig was nearly upon them before they noticed him.

He drew his horse up alongside them and grinned. “I didn’t expect to find you so easily. You’ve not moved far, have you, Matheson? And how did you find Jennet?”

“You’ve met Padraig?” Jennet asked, turning around to look at Ethan again. Without waiting for his answer, she said to Padraig, “Ethan said there’s a cave up ahead. Can you find it? Do you know of one?”

“Aye, I’ll lead the way. ’Tis just around this next bend, on the far side of the burn.”

She looked up at Ethan to see if he would argue, but he didn’t. He nodded weakly in response, his glassy eyes giving her a bad feeling. She looked at Padraig and said, “Hurry.”

Padraig led the way, leaning into the wind. About half an hour later, he led his horse close to the burn, letting the stone landscape guide him for a bit until he located the cave. The mouth was large enough for the horses; a fortunate circumstance, as they could be used to block some of the violent winds invading the space.

Jennet dismounted with the help of Padraig, but to their dismay, Ethan nearly fell off the side of the horse. Padraig caught him, and Jennet reached over to help Ethan stand upright. “His body is burning up, Padraig. We must get him inside, get him drinking something.”

“Why would he have a fever?” Padraig yelled at her as they made their way up a short path to the cave.

“He had an arrow wound in the shoulder, but I never dressed it.”

“’Tis unlike you, Jennet.”

“I know. My mind was on all that has transpired and how grateful I was that he came back for me. I could be dead if not for him. Too much happened, and I forgot his wound. This morn he told me it was nothing, and I didn’t see any blood.” Would her mistake cost her? Would it cost Ethan the use of his arm? Another sickness she couldn’t heal?

No, she’d not think on it. She would get him inside, clean and dress his wound, add some poultice to it, and let him sleep the night. He would be perfectly fine by morn, she assured herself, though it was unusual for her to let emotion weigh more heavily than reason.

She grabbed her saddle bag and Ethan’s, then followed Padraig as they made their way into the protection of the cave. Fortunately, the one bag she’d found after the reiver’s attack had been the one with her poultices and salves inside. Extra furs and leggings she kept in every bag so losing the one hadn’t been as devastating as losing both would have proven to be. Her hands shook as if something awful was about to descend upon them. Even the horses were skittish, another sign of an impending storm, but she had to keep her focus on Ethan.

Padraig led Ethan to a rock in the back of the cave and settled him on it while Jennet removed her healing tools, looking for the poultice she could put on it. “Ethan,” she said, glancing over at him. “You don’t look well. How do you feel?”

“Tired. I must sleep.” He looked at her and did something she never would have predicted. His hand reached up and stopped on her face, his finger grazing her cheek. “Will you sleep with me again?”

He was definitely feverish if he could touch her skin and not pull back. He’d avoided it all along.

Padraig said, “Better not let her uncle hear you say that, Ethan, or he’ll cut your bollocks straight off.”

Ethan’s gaze stayed locked on Jennet, but she had to find all she needed. Bandage, poultice, soap to wash. “We did nothing unacceptable, just shared each other’s heat. I had a plaid between us, so no skin touched. And Jennet’s uncle cannot frighten me as much as Jennet can.”

“Jennet? Care to explain that?”

“I will after I get him settled. Get a fire started and fill a skin with water. Have you any ale? And where did you come from, Padraig?”

“I went home to tell my sire and Uncle Alex that Uncle Quade was not doing well. But I got halfway there, and they already knew it. Ran into two messengers, one headed for Jennie Cameron and one to Muir Castle. So I came back, looking for Ethan. I was worried about him out here alone.” He returned to his horse then swung around with a smile on his face. “I’ll gladly share my ale. The messenger gave me one full skin. Give me one sip, and Ethan can have the rest.” He took a hearty swallow and handed it to Ethan. “Drink. I’m going for the water.”

Ethan leaned back against the wall, his eyes closing.

She wanted so badly to touch him, to comfort him, but she was afraid he would react too strongly. Upsetting him now was not going to help him. “Ethan, please drink this for me. Please? And I must remove your tunic.”

Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned forward and shrugged his tunic off, then leaned back, the glisten of his muscles showing through the dark hairs of his chest. She’d seen some men with more hair on their chest than on their head, but Ethan had a small amount…just right, in her opinion. Forcing her eyes away from where they constantly strayed, she examined the arrow wound, not surprised to see it festering. She knew better than to touch him, so she would use a linen strip and dagger to break the wound open.

“Ethan, I must drain it before I put the poultice on it.”

“Do as you must,” he said, drinking a guzzle of ale. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I trust you, Jennet.”

Jennet did her best to focus on his wound. She grabbed a knife, stuck it in the flame of the small fire Padraig had made, then waited before opening up his lesion. It wasn’t green or putrid yet, just white and oozing, but it had only been there for a day. He didn’t move as she drained it, but as soon as she tried to wipe it clean with a linen square, his eyes flew open and he stared at her. “Please leave it be.”

“I’m sorry, but I must clean it out. I should have done this when it first happened, but I was distracted.”

Ethan closed his eyes again. “Do what you must, but please do it quickly.”

Padraig returned with water, more wood for the fire, and a large handful of berries to share. “I cannot believe you were distracted enough to forget to dress his wound. What could distract you that much?”

Jennet continued with her work, Ethan gritting his teeth. He was strong enough to allow her to run water over the draining wound and pat it with the linen when necessary. She worked as quickly as possible, though recognizing she had to be thorough. “I was attacked. I tried to help Papa with his wound, but he was furious and nearly struck me, so I ran. I shouldn’t have, but ’tis too late now. I was upset and ran away.”

“Let me guess. Ran away straight into some reivers. They’re peppered all through the Highlands in the summer.”

“Aye, they had plans for me that I would prefer not to think on, but they wished to find a place away from the main path so no one would hear my screams. I’m assuming they planned to take my maidenhead over and over again,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Padraig cleared his throat and said, “One can only lose their maidenhead once, lass. After that, it’s just multiple rapes. So how did you get away?”

Ethan opened his eyes and asked, “’Twas it true what you said about a man’s bollocks? Have you ever done what you suggested? It made me nauseous just to think on it.”

“I created it, Ethan. Not sure if it would work or not.”

Ethan drawled, “Don’t wish to find out. She scared them good, Padraig. Made them think she was a witch.”

“Again?”

Ethan looked at her, and she wasn’t sure how to read what he was thinking, so she said, “Ethan, I can create many tales to frighten men away, especially by making them think I’m a witch. It worked verra well for me as a child, so I still create tales. I had no choice. I don’t wish to go back in time now, Padraig. I have plenty of time to tell him what happened years ago with Bearchun.”

“And the Buchans? Those tales too.”

“Aye, I have two stories to tell. But I don’t need to tell them right this moment.” She finished scrubbing Ethan’s shoulder and said, “Look, I’ll tell you this tale, but you must help me tie Ethan’s dressing in place. Agreed?”

Padraig laughed. “Agreed. Go ahead so I’ll have more stories to tell on Grant land.”

“She’s a wee bit crude. I feel I must give you that advice before she continues,” Ethan warned.

“Crude?” Padraig rubbed his hands together. “The cruder, the better. Please do continue, dear cousin.”

“I cursed them. Told them a snake would come in the middle of the night—”

“A fork-tongued snake…” Ethan corrected.

“Fine. A fork-tongued snake would come in the middle of the night and slice their bollocks down the middle so they hung freely.” She was nearly done, the bandage in place, now just waiting for the ties.

Padraig glanced from her to Ethan, then said, “It was going to split a man’s sacs? Why is that so fearsome? If I still have them, ’tis all I care about.”

Ethan said, “Mayhap not. She claimed if it split them, they would bang against each other whenever they walked.”

“Ach!” Padraig jumped up from the spot, his hands covering his bollocks in a protective stance. “Hellfire, what a fine method of torture.”

Ethan said, “She also told them it was so painful when a man would run, she’s known many who took their own life after having it done.” Then he stared at Jennet. “’Twas all a lie, ’twas it not?”

Padraig said, “It must be. But how did you think of such a twisted tale? You have a sick mind, Jennet.”

The two men stared at each other, the look on their faces priceless. They both acted as if they feared to approach her. She actually felt sorry for them, so she knew what she had to say. “I made it all up. Totally fabricated. I don’t know why it’s so odd. A man values his bollocks and his penis more than anything else. Threaten either of those and you have a man’s complete attention.”

Padraig choked, then tried to speak, but they were interrupted by one of the horses acting up. They suddenly heard the sound of hooves moving through the leaves. Padraig hurried over to the mouth of the cave to investigate.

“What is it?” Jennet asked, standing up to see what was the matter. The look on her cousin’s face did not please her.

“There was someone listening to us. Know you someone with red hair?”

“Aye,” she replied, hurrying to the door. “One of my captors had red hair.”

“Is that him?” Their eyes followed the horse and rider as they hurried out of view.

“I’m not sure if it’s him or not, but it surely is my horse.”