Page 8 of His Runaway Bride
Chapter 4: Between Heaven and Hell
The first sensationthat crept into Ewan's consciousness was warmth and the most exquisite scent he'd ever encountered: honeysuckle and herbs, with undertones of something uniquely feminine.
Heaven, he thought drowsily.I must have died and gone to heaven.
A soft voice drifted through the golden haze of his awareness, melodic and desperate in prayer."Please, dinnae let this man die.I ken I've been willful and disobedient, but surely that's no cause to make me a murderess at my tender age.And it would be such a waste, truly: he seems a good sort of man, even if he is my unwanted betrothed.The clans would go to war, and all because I cannot control myself when startled."
Despite the throbbing in his skull, Ewan found his lips twitching with amusement.
"And his poor clan," the voice continued with growing desperation."What will become of them?How am I to explain to the cruel Connor MacNeil that I've accidentally murdered his brother with a pipe?He'll think me a witch, then Clan MacNeil will seek vengeance upon my father.Who has a bad heart, as ye very well ken.He will no doubt die because of me."
As awareness gradually returned, Ewan became conscious of other sensations: the soft press of a woman's thigh beneath his head, providing the most comfortable pillow he'd ever known.Silken strands of hair fell across his cheek, and the gentle dabbing of a cool, damp cloth against his forehead brought blessed relief.
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Good grief, he realized with a start.The daft lass has her bosom pressed against my face.
The thought sent an entirely inappropriate surge of heat through his body.This was hardly the time or place for such reactions, yet he found himself acutely aware of every point of contact between them.
Memory returned like cold water thrown in his face.This was no angel ministering to him: this was Lileas MacDonald, the woman who had tried to brain him with a copper pipe moments ago.Yet here she was, cradling his head in her lap with infinite gentleness, her voice thick with genuine concern as she prayed for his recovery.
His eyes snapped open to find himself staring up into a face of genuine concern and startling beauty.Her dark hair had come completely loose and now fell in waves around them both like a silken canopy.
"And he has such bonnie green eyes," she was saying, apparently unaware that those very eyes were now fixed upon her face."It would be a shame to close them forever when they've barely had a chance to see the world properly.Why, I'd wager he's no more than thirty winters, although he does look somewhat haggard and aged."
"My eyes," Ewan growled, his voice rough with pain, "are working perfectly well, thank ye.And I am only nine and twenty!"
Lileas's reaction was immediate and unfortunate.With a cry of pure joy she leaped to her feet, exclaiming, "Oh, blessed saints, ye're alive!I thought for certain I'd killed ye!"
The sudden removal of his cushion sent Ewan's head crashing back against the stone floor with another sickening thud.
"Bloody hell!"he roared, his vision exploding in stars for the second time in as many minutes.
"Oh no, I've done it again!I'm so very sorry.Here, let me help ye sit up."
She slipped her arms beneath his shoulders and helped him rise to a sitting position against the wall.Her movements were gentle but efficient, and as she supported his weight, Ewan caught another intoxicating scent and found himself wondering how someone who worked with copper pipes could smell like a summer garden.
"There now," she murmured, her voice soft with contrition."Just lean back against the wall and try not to move too quickly."
"How many fingers am I holding up?"she asked anxiously, thrusting her hand before his face.
Ewan blinked, focusing on her upraised fingers.They were long and elegant, he noticed, with ink stains."Two.And if ye make me hit my head again, lass, I swear I'll—"
His threat was cut short by the sound of running footsteps approaching, followed by the cottage door flying open with such force it rattled on its hinges.A figure burst through the entrance like an avenging angel, her brown habit billowing behind her as she wielded a wicked-looking quarterstaff with the skill and confidence of a seasoned warrior.
