A Scot's Surrender Page 6

  Kerian watched as blood trickled down his arm, and he winced at the pain as he bent to pick up the chickens the man had dropped.

  Gritting his teeth, he grabbed them and made his way back toward the house.

  Blood was steadily oozing down his arm, but he ignored it as he entered through the kitchen, dropping the chickens on the cook’s counter.

  Dimly, he was aware his pace was slowing, but he had the sudden urge to see Agnes. To hold her, and tell her he was sorry.

  He made his way up the steps, dragging his feet with him as he went. Where might she be? He hoped not Clarissa and Ewan’s room, though perhaps Ewan could help him. It felt like a long way from there, though.

  Entering into the entryway, he moved toward the grand stair but decided a rest might be in order first as he leaned against the wall.

  He hadn’t even realized the edges of his vision were dimming until Rhona stepped into his field of view.

  “Are ye all right?” she asked, her brow crinkling.

  “I need to see Agnes.” He croaked out, looking down at his arm.

  Her gaze followed and then she gave a cry. “Oh, dear lord. Agnes didn’t shoot you did she?”

  “What?” He tried to laugh, but his mouth didn’t work quite right. “Agnes hurt me? She’s the sweetest woman I know. I am an arse, but she…”

  Rhona gently guided him to the floor. “Of course, you’re right. That girl wouldn’t hurt a mouse. She just looked so upset when she came in.” Then sitting him against the wall, she stood. “You’ll be fine, don’t move and I will be right back.”

  He gave a small nod and closed his eyes. He’d just rest while Rhona got help. Then he’d find Agnes. Because he needed to see her, hold her, and tell her how precious she was.

  Chapter Seven

  Agnes sat with Clarissa as she tearfully confessed to her cousin what Keiran had said. She’d expected Clarissa to look concerned, or perhaps angry, but instead, Clarissa was smiling knowingly. “Why do you look like that?” Agnes finally huffed.

  Clarissa’s grin only widened. “Because,” a little giggle escaped. “I was certain I didn’t want to marry either. And I was certain Ewan’s intentions were those of a rogue.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Agnes sniffed. “I always knew Ewan had honest intentions and feelings. He is a gentleman.”

  “So is Keiran. You don’t see it because your emotions are clouding your judgment. How many times have you been alone with Keiran? Has he done more than give you a kiss? Many men aren’t so reserved, and that includes English gentleman. Keiran has protected you from poachers. He’s shared his past in an attempt to explain why he’s having difficulty opening up. He’s been hurt, Agnes. He’s healing, and he needs more time and patience, but that doesn’t make him less honorable.”

  Ewan entered the room then, a scowl on his face. “It’s very kind of you to give Keiran the benefit of the doubt, mo chridhe, but I am inclined to disagree. He’s been a complete arse.”

  Agnes looked from one to the other. She wanted to believe Clarissa, but the sting of his rejection was too strong. “I believe ye that he is a good man. I do. But I don’t think it’s healing he needs. I just don’t think that he wants to court me. I—”

  But she didn’t finish because a loud knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” Ewan called.

  “My lord, it‘s Laird McKenna. He’s been shot.” The butler’s muffled voice cried through the door.

  “Shot?” She gasped as Ewan strode back to the door, wrenching it open.

  “Send for the doctor if ye haven’t already.” His voice boomed. “Where is he?”

  The butler was hunched over, attempting to catch his breath. “In the entry, my lord.”

  Ewan took off at a near run as the butler looked to her. “He’s asking for you, Miss Faulkenberry.”

  She’d been frozen until that moment, but those words sprang her body into action and she took off behind Ewan. She had to hold up her skirts as she raced after him, heart hammering in her chest. What if he wasn’t all right? As soon as she reached the balcony, she spotted Keiran sitting on the floor, a pool of blood under him. Aunt Rhona was carefully inspecting him.

  “How bad is it?” Ewan picked up speed, heading down the steps two at a time.

  “Clean through the arm. I don’t think it hit a bone, but I can’t be certain.” Rhona glanced up at her and gave her a small smile. “I’m glad you came, Agnes.”

  She couldn’t form words as she raced to up to him, Aunt Rhona gesturing for her to come to his other side.

  Sitting down next to him, she gently took his hand. “Keiran?”

  His eyes fluttered open then. “You came.”

  “Of course I did.” She gave his hand a squeeze, pressing against his side.

  He titled his head to rest against her shoulder. “I missed ye.”

  Her other hand came to his cheek and she cradled it. Trying not to cry, she pressed her lips against his forehead. “You just saw me.”

  “I ken, but I wanted tae tell ye that I never meant to hurt ye.”

  “Shhhh,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter.”

  But his body had gone slack against hers.

  Ewan swooped in, and Agnes tried not to panic. “What’s happening?”

  Aunt Rhona gave her a pat on the knee. “He’s been going in and out.”

  Ewan looked at the wound then. “You’re right. I think it’s a clean flesh wound. Let’s get him upstairs while he’s quiet and get it bandaged until the doctor can arrive.”

  With the help of one of the groomsmen, Ewan managed to carry him up the stairs and settle Keiran into his room.

  “Remove that case from the pillow.” Ewan told Agnes, pointed toward a spare. “I’ll use it to wrap around the wound until I can properly bandage it.”

  Agnes did as she was told, and Ewan cinched the cloth about the wound. He was still unconscious, but she winced on his behalf.

  “Stay with him. I am just going to collect some supplies,” Ewan grunted as he made his way to the door.

  Agnes didn’t bother to respond, instead focusing on Keiran. Moving to the other side of the bed, she gently sat down. She didn’t want to jostle him, but she felt the need to be near him now. Her hip pressed against his, and she took his hand into hers, holding it in his lap.

  She watched his eyes flutter open. “Agnes?”

  “I’m here.” She shifted closer, her other hand brushing his cheek.

  “How did I get up here?” He looked around his room.

  Her hand trailed down his jaw, the masculine stubble making her want to rub her cheek against it. “Ewan and one of the groomsmen brought you up.”

  He grimaced as he looked at his arm. “Bloody hell, that hurts.”

  “It must.” It was so nice to hear him speak normally. Cursing had never sounded so good.

  “After I recover, I’ll tell ye about when I was stabbed with a bayonet.” He gave a grunt as he tried to shift up on his pillow. “This hurts worse.”

  Agnes leaned over then, and dropping his hand, slid her arm under his shoulders. Their chests were practically crushed together as she lifted him to plump the pillow under his head.

  Quick as a snake, his uninjured arm wrapped around her, holding her close to his body. “Don’t leave me, Agnes. Stay with me.”

  She brought her hands to his face again. “I won’t leave you.”

  “Ye promise?”

  “I promise,” she said as she lightly touched her lips to his. Never had she dreamed she would be so bold. But in this moment…it just felt right.

  As she pulled away, he lifted his head to take her lips again. It heated her body, the feel of his lips, but she tamped the excitement back down. He was injured. And with that in mind, she tried to sit back up.

  “Where are ye goin’?” he asked as he held her against him.

  “You’re hurt. I shouldn’t be kissing you.” Raising her eyebrows, she tried once more to ease away, but he still h
eld firm. Even injured he was strong.

  “Kiss me again,” he demanded, and Agnes found herself sinking into his embrace, pressing her lips to his.

  Did a gentleman kiss like this? Because it was divine. He opened her mouth with his lips, and the tip of his tongue touched hers. She gasped and then sank deeper into him. She slid her hands down his neck to support herself on his muscular chest.

  He’d kissed her once before, but that had been chaste compared with this. And this was everything. What other delights did his embrace hold?

  But she didn’t have time to find out as the doorknob rattled. Agnes sat up, only just getting herself upright when Ewan burst back through the door, carrying rags, boiling water and whisky.

  “Is he awake?” Ewan asked, barely glancing their way. It was a good thing, too. Because her cheeks were flaming with embarrassment and…desire.

  “Yes,” Keiran answered. “Let’s get this over with.

  With a nod, Ewan set to work cleaning the wound. “Agnes, hold him still.”

  She blinked, attempting to figure out how she might accomplish such a feat. He was so much larger than her. But she barely had time to consider her options when Keiran pulled her back down against his chest. “I’m ready,” he growled.

  Ewan bathed the wound in the hottest water Keiran could stand, and then he dumped whisky on it.

  She felt Keiran jerk under her. His muscles tensed and his arm locked around her waist, but he didn’t move. She titled her head up to look into his eyes. “You’re doing wonderfully,” she murmured. “Just a little longer.”

  His gaze held hers with an intensity that she hadn’t thought possible. But he said little as Ewan wrapped the wound in clean bandaging. She lost track of time as she looked into his eyes. Keiran was so strong, brave, handsome. For a moment, she wondered what else she could possibly want in a man.

  Only one thing came to mind. It’d be nice if he wanted her in return. Not sometimes, but always. The rest of her worries melted away as she looked at him like this.

  “I’m done,” Ewan announced.

  Agnes sat up again and Keiran resisted for a moment before he let her rise. Stay, he mouthed.

  And so she did.

  Servants, Ewan, her mother, her aunt, and the doctor were in and out of the room as day passed into night. Keiran looked more strained with each passing hour, and her worry grew.

  But Agnes stayed.

  She ate a late supper of mutton stew as the visitors quieted. She’d had a dish brought for Keiran as well, and she insisted that he eat. “It will help your strength,” she urged.

  “I’m sure ye’re right,” his eyes were closed, his features pinched. “But I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad of a wound. I think I just overdid it, running up here. Lost too much blood.”

  Agnes brought the plate over and began feeding him some bits of stew. As he ate, some of his color returned and she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll have to leave soon.”

  “I want ye to stay.” His hand shot out to hold her hip. She had to marvel at his strength even when wounded.

  “I can’t, Keiran.” She fed him another bite of stew. “It’s not like the inn. Everyone will know. And my mother will insist that Ewan force you…” She stopped, swallowing.

  He grimaced. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, Agnes.” Then he opened his eyes to look into hers.

  Her heart gave a flutter. “I’m sure I can find someone to sit with you.”

  “I don’t want to be without you.” He winced in pain and her heart jumped within her chest.

  “What if we have to marry?” she whispered as though just saying the words loud would make them come true.

  Keiran took a breath. She was right. In a house this full, her absence would be noted and her mother would be within her rights to demand they wed. Ewan would take great delight in seeing the sentence carried out.

  Well, it would be a sentence for Agnes anyway.

  He’d be the luckiest man alive.

  She fed him another bite of stew, which he ate, smiling to himself. He’d honestly been laying it on a little thick but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Having Agnes fawn over him was a treat he didn’t want to pass up. It did, however, fill his thoughts with images of what a life with Agnes would be like.

  He’d been doing that a great deal of late. Currently, he was thinking of her pressed against him, safe and warm, through the long Scottish winter.

  “Go back tae yer room.” He found himself dropping his voice low to match hers. “When everyone’s asleep, come back.”

  “Keiran,” her voice rang with a warning he didn’t want to hear.

  It was dastardly, but he knew how caring Agnes was, and he used it against her. He felt a twinge of guilt but he ignored it. When would he have a chance like this again? “What if infection breaks out? I don’t want to be alone.”

  He heard her huff, and he knew that he had her. He suppressed a grin, it would give away the game. “All right. But you have to promise ye’ll behave.”

  “I promise.” He meant it. He didn’t intend to do anything untoward. He simply wanted to hold her, touch the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin. It would give his dreams so much more depth when she was gone again.

  Because this might be his one opportunity to be with her like this. Well, his only opportunity that he’d take advantage of. Memories of their night in the inn filtered through his thoughts. He’d slept on the floor while she’d been in the bed.

  He’d been reliving the night in the inn for months. Remembering the swell of her hip under his hand, the softness of her cheek. Add to that the kiss a few days ago and a night that she lay pressed against him, he might be able to sustain himself with those memories.

  She left his room with a backward glance, and he said nothing. Mainly because he didn’t want to undo her commitment, and his words usually just upset her. With good reason.

  His kisses, however…but he stopped himself. Best not to think of those now. It would undo his commitment to behave in as gentlemanly a fashion as this situation permitted.

  He grinned. When they didn’t talk, they got along perfectly. Agnes was so innocent. Talking of gentleman and chivalry, he would not inform her that all men were deviants when it came to beautiful misses like herself. Not all men were scarred like him; that was where he was different.

  But again, not something he’d explain to Agnes. Except, when he kissed her, he forgot how naive she was because she kissed like a woman of passion that made him burn with desire.

  Stop thinking, he chastised himself. Remember her innocence. Her desire for a knight in shining armor. A man who saved women on the side of the road and slept amongst the thieves.

  An hour passed before he heard the door creak open. Turning his head, he watched Agnes as she inched the door closed.

  She was in a night shift and dressing gown, her hair in a simple braid. His manhood hardened to see her in such. Which was ridiculous because other than a pretty pair of ankles, she was completely covered. But she wouldn’t feel that way. She’d be soft against him, so inviting.

  He hardened further and gritted his teeth. It was going to be a long night if he couldn’t get these wayward thoughts to heel.

  The door finally snapped closed and Agnes crept to the chair next to the fire.

  No, that wouldn’t do at all. Keiran wanted to feel her. “Come over here, lass.”

  She stopped and turned toward him. “You’re awake.”

  “Aye,” he answered as he pulled down the bedding for her to join him.

  “I’ll sleep in the chair.” She gestured in the direction of the wingback pulled near the fire, and even in the darkness he could see that she trembled. Was she cold or afraid? Either way, Agnes being pressed against his side was the answer. He was sure of it. But she moved away from his and sat in the chair. “I wouldn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

  “Ye’ll not disturb me, lass.” He pulled the blankets down farther in silent command.


  But still she hesitated. “You need your rest.”

  “I’m feeling chilled. A fever perhaps?” he patted the bed. “Come keep me warm.” He was going to burn in hell for lying to her like this.

  She crossed and stoked the fire, and Keiran worried for a moment that he’d gone too far when he’d cried infection. But he desperately wanted to be close to her.

  His blood surged with triumph when she crossed the room and came to the bed, slipping her feet under the covers, and pulling them up to her chest. She didn’t take off her dressing gown, which made him grimace but a look of concern crossed her face as she brought up her hand to check his forehead. “You feel cool enough.”

  He turned to face her so her lips were only a breath away from his. “Take off yer dressing gown. Ye’ll get too hot.”

  If he’d been hard before, he was aching now with her pressed against him as she was.

  Sitting up, she slipped off the garment and let it fall to the floor as she settled back in.

  He slid his arm around her shoulders so her head might lie on his chest. When she brought up her hand to rest on his abdomen, it was his turn to tremble.

  It felt so perfect. He never wanted to leave.

  Chapter Eight

  Agnes struggled to remember a time when she’d been more content. Or excited. She’d never sleep like this. He was warmth and muscle under her touch, heating her in all the right ways.

  With her ear still resting against his chest and her body fit snuggled against his side, she angled her face up to his. Before she could hold it back, she let her thoughts slip out. “I don’t know how I’ll sleep alone for the rest of the winter. This is so much nicer.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, and she felt it before she heard it, which was somehow deeply satisfying. “Aye, it is.”

  “You really think you’ll never marry?” she asked. “You’ll spend every winter alone?”