Highland Promise by Hannah Howell Read Free Book Online Page A

moment.”
    She noticed how pale he was. His lips were tinged blue with cold, and blood from a graze on his forehead was smearing the side of his face. “Nay, ye do look a wee bit pitiful. Now how do I get your horse to pull us out of this mess?”
    “Just tell him to pull. He will ken what to do.”
    After slipping her arm around his chest, Bethia yelled the command at Connor. It took one more bellow before the horse began to move. Bethia quickly turned onto her back, her body submerged beneath Eric’s. She fought to keep both of their heads above water and to ward off the trecherous debris swirling around them as they were pulled toward the shore.
    Once on the bank, Bethia let the horse drag Eric onto the shore and then removed the rope. As Eric lay gasping for air and shivering, Bethia took a few moments to rub herself dry, dress, and then change James. Collecting what she felt was needed to attend Eric, she hurried back to his side.
    Despite Eric’s dire need to be dry and warm, Bethia found it disturbing to undress the man. He was certainly not looking his best, the cold stealing all of the life from his skin, but he was still fine enough to make her hands tremble slightly as she rubbed him dry. His chest was broad and smooth. A thin line of fair hair started at his navel, dove down to his groin, where it blossomed slightly, then fanned out to lightly coat his long, muscular legs. It annoyed her a little that he even had nice-looking feet.
    “Considering that I am frozen to the verra marrow of my bones, I doubt I look verra monly just now,” Eric said with a rueful glance at his groin, the cold he still felt making his voice tremble.
    Bethia gave him a slightly disgusted look as she started to tug on his dry clothes, then drawled, “Why, nay, sir, ye look as bonny as James. Ne’er kenned a mon could be so cute down there.” Despite her worry for his health, she was almost able to laugh at his shock.
    Eric started to laugh, then winced and clutched at his aching head. “God, woman. Like wee James? Cute? God’s bones,” he said and laughed again, but with a little more care this time. “How ye wound me.”
    “I believe your vanity will survive.” After wrapping him in a blanket, she leaned over him to more closely examine the wound on his head. “’Tisnae deep enough to require any stitches,” she murmured as she wiped the blood off his face with a scrap of cloth.
    “Some hint of mercy at last.”
    Bethia just smiled faintly as she put some salve on his wound, then wrapped a bandage around his head. He had ceased to shiver so bad that his teeth clicked, but he still looked pale. She knew he was very weak too, for although he had tried to help her get him dressed he had been able to do little more than tug down on his jupon a little.
    “Dinnae look so fretful, lass,” he said as he slowly forced his aching body into a seated position.
    “Are ye sure ye can move?” When he stood up and swayed, she quickly put her arm around him to steady him.
    “Enough to get on my horse. We cannae sit here, lass. Those dogs chasing you and the bairn were verra close the last we looked. ’Tis why we crossed here, if ye recall.”
    “Aye, but ye are verra unsteady, Eric.”
    “Just get me in the saddle. I will sit behind you and hang on whilst ye take up the reins.”
    “Will Connor let me?” Bethia asked, eyeing the huge horse warily as she helped Eric stumble over to the animal.
    “Aye, since I will also be on his back.”
    It was not going to be easy to get Eric there, she mused, as they reached the horse. “Just let me gather the bairn and what little I have unpacked,” she said.
    “Do that. I will just slump here against old Connor and prepare myself to be hoisted up into the saddle.”
    There was something very similar to petulance tainting his rich voice and Bethia had to bite back a smile. Eric clearly did not like to be dependent upon a small woman—probably on any woman. She quickly picked up the few