MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel Read Free Page B

blankets in here,” he said suspiciously.
    Colin forced his legs to carry him into the cave. He had to blink a few times because it was so dark, but his eyes couldn’t adjust and his head was starting to swim.
    “Why are there food and blankets in here?” the lad asked.
    Colin slowly sank to his knees, his body giving out.
    The lad cursed and tried to catch him, but Colin was too big and the lad too slight, and Colin listed to the side with a groan. The dim cave receded, and he felt himself slipping to the ground, cushioned by the lad’s arm.
    —
    Maggie caught the brunt of Colin’s weight when he collapsed to the ground, with her arm pinned beneath him.
    She looked down on him from her awkward position, kneeling with her arm trapped. She tried to free herself, but he was too heavy.
    She pushed on his shoulder, but that didn’t elicit any response, so she pushed harder. “Bloody hell, ye big
numpty
. Roll.
Over
.” She heaved, putting all of her strength into it. He moved just enough that she could slide her arm out.
    She stood, shaking her hand to get the feeling back as she stared down at him. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with ye now?” she asked into the dark, echoing cave.
    He drew in a deep breath that caused him to cough. It was a wet cough. That wasn’t good, was it? It certainly didn’t sound good. She thought of the prisoners who had caught this sickness and died, and a spurt of fear raced through her. She couldn’t have him dying on her.
    Hands on hips, she looked around the cave. It was too dark to see into the deeper recesses, but closer to the entrance, far enough away not to get wet, was a stack of blankets. Next to that was a stack of dry firewood.
    How had MacLean known of this place? There were so many caves and caverns and hideaways in these mountains that it was too coincidental for him to have happened upon the only one with supplies.
    She mulled that over as she built a small fire. She didn’t make the fire too close to the entrance, for fear of the damn English seeing the smoke, and she was a little concerned about the smoke building in the cave. But one look at MacLean’s shivering body and she knew she had to get him warm. Although he was burning with fever…Maybe getting him warm would harm him more?
    She shrugged, having no idea.
    She placed the blankets close to the fire but far enough away that he wouldn’t burn a limb should he roll, creating a fine, comfortable nest. Now all she had to do was get him there. She looked from the fire to MacLean and back to the fire.
    He was lying right where he fell. His arms were crumpled beneath him, his cheek pressed into the dirt floor, his mouth open. She grimaced and set to work rolling him toward the blankets.
    He was a heavy one. Not fat. Muscular. Lots and lots of muscles. He groaned once or twice, and she cursed him with each groan. “If ye had no’ collapsed where ye stood, I wouldn’t be rolling ye now, would I?”
    She pushed on his back with all her effort and he rolled over, his face squished into the floor. Quickly, she moved to the other side of him, took a good grip on his shoulders, and pulled him toward her.
    He rolled easier this time, right into her shins, causing her to plop onto her arse with a muttered curse. “Hell and damnation, man, can ye no’ help me out?”
    He didn’t move, and he certainly didn’t answer.
    A few more pushes, pulls, and yanks, and he was somewhat on the blankets. “Good enough,” she said with a deep breath as she brushed her hands together.
    He was on his back, one hand on his stomach, the other flung out to the side. His legs were parted. Using the toe of her boot, she nudged his legs until they were straight. Now he looked like a corpse all laid out for a viewing before the burial.
    “Good Lord, Maggie, quit thinking such dreadful thoughts,” she muttered.
    She unfolded the last blanket and draped it over him. It fell across his face and she yanked it off, thoughts of him in