Fraser 03 - Highland Homecoming by B. J. Scott Page A

knees.
    She chastised herself for not taking better aim. A little higher and she’d have struck his heart, but had to act when she could. While the blow was not enough to kill the blackguard, it did give her a chance to escape. Without looking back, she raced from her chamber, up the steep wooden staircase, and onto the rain-soaked deck.
    Gasping for breath, Lauren shot up in bed. She’d been attacked by her father’s advisor, a man she’d called uncle and trusted with her life. While she still could not remember her name, she did recall she was on her way to be married to the laird of another clan. More than likely to end a feud or to gain her father land and wealth.
    Now, more than ever, she needed to get away. If Alasdair took her to Sinclair Castle and they recognized her, she’d be sent home to her father, and forced to marry a man she dinna love. What was worse, she’d have to face the man who’d tried to rape her and attempt to convince her father of his deception.
    Both options were unappealing, and she refused to be put in that position. But what if Callum was right? When she told her father of the attack would he chose to believe his friend and call her a whore? She shuddered at the thought.
    The door opened and Alasdair entered. He carried a pair of grouse in one hand and a bouquet of heather in the other.
    “I see you had another good day of hunting,” she said as he totted the game and flowers across the croft, then set them on the table. “Are those for me?” She smiled and slid to the edge of the pallet.
    He held up a fistful of fragrant purple blossoms. “I thought they might help tae freshen the air and add a wee bit of color tae the room.”
    “They’re lovely.
    He glanced at the hearth and a broad grin crossed his face. “I see someone has been busy. You baked these?” He tore off a piece of bannock and popped it in his mouth. He lifted the lid on a pot simmering over the fire, dipped in a ladle, then tasted the contents. “This soup is verra good. Have you grown tired of my cooking already?”
    “Nay, but I thought you might enjoy a wee bit of a change. And I wanted tae show my appreciation for the fine care you’ve given me.” She grabbed her walking stick and struggled to stand.
    He was at her side in an instant. “Let me help you. Judging by how clean everything is and this fine food, I have no doubt you’ve overtaxed yourself. You must be exhausted.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side. “Can you walk, or would you like me tae carry you?”
    His touch made her pulse speed up and her legs grew weak. Why did he affect her so? “I—I’m fine,” she stammered, then stiffened in his arms.
    “About last night,” he blurted out. “I must ask your forgiveness.”
    “Forgiveness?”
    “I am sorry for kissing you and assure you it willna happen again.”
    He said the words with such conviction, it served to further reinforce her belief that he had no interest in her on a personal level. Then why did her heart race and her breath catch ever time he got close?
    “Dinna give it a second thought. A bheil an t-acras ort?"
    He tossed his head back and laughed at her question. “According to my brothers, I am always hungry. Come, and we’ll enjoy the meal you’ve prepared.”
    With him steadfast at her side, she hobbled to the stool beside the table and sat while he dished out the food, then placed it before her.
    “I havena had bannock or sweet rolls in many months.” Alasdair tore off another piece and offered it to Lauren.
    He dug into his meal with gusto. The man obviously enjoyed his food. Yet, while he had a very large-boned build, he was extremely well muscled and carried no extra weight. Again, she found herself admiring his fine physique and the way the fire lit up his rugged, chiseled features. The more time they spent together, the fonder she became of her benefactor. She’d miss him when she left and wondered if they’d met under other