My Highland Lover Read Free Page B

silence of the room was the rhythmic thump and grind of stone against stone and the crackling flames eating the wood in the hearth.
    Gray shuddered.
Lore a’mighty. I hate the sound of fire.
“Have ye gone deaf or have ye decided to ignore when yer chieftain speaks?”
    The stooped old man brought the herbal concoction closer to his nose. He squinted down into the bowl, barely shook his head, then leaned once again into the grinding motion. When Tamhas still failed to respond, Gray strode to the door of the cramped dwelling and threw it open wide to the cold, clear night. He needed air, fresh, clean air to wash away the disturbing vision wrought by Tamhas’s strange incense and the smoke-filled chamber.
    “Return to the bench, m’chieftain, so I might treat yer wounds.”
    The old man’s words reawakened the throbbing pain burning down one side of Gray’s back. “Uncover the window first. I canna stomach more of yer wicked smoke.” Gray remained rooted in the open doorway. The muted greens and grays of the night-shrouded Highlands rolled out before him.
    Gray glanced back over one shoulder at the old man still standing behind the bench. Perhaps he shouldha sought his answers from the only thing soothing his soul of late. His beloved Highlands wouldha come far closer to revealing the fiend seeking the end of his clan than the damned old man with his magic and strange smoke. “I need clean air, old man. Either throw open the shutter or step outside to treat m’wounds. Yer wretched cave seeks t’smother me.”
    “As ye wish.” A muffled thud sounded, followed by a beam of golden light pouring from the small round portal carved into the hillside.
    “Come, m’chieftain,” Tamhas called again. “Once the poultice draws the pain from yer burns, the smoke will no longer offend ye.”
    Gray slowly turned back into the room. The low ceiling of the domesticated cave nearly brushed the top of his head. The hovel was so small that if Gray swung his sword in a circle, the tip of the blade would surely carve a line in each of the walls. A shiver burned through the blistered skin covering more than half his back and spreading down one side. Gray flinched. The pain of raw, stinging flesh nay bothered him nearly as much as the sensation of walking into a tomb. How could Tamhas endure such a place?
    As he straddled the bench in front of the hearth, Gray turned to one side, keeping his face away from the fire. Never again did he desire to see the strange monster lurking among those coals. Gray leaned forward and gripped the rough-hewn edges of the large wooden bench and scanned the contents of the room. “Why do ye stay in this cave when I swore ye could have yer choice of towers in the keep?”
    Tamhas hugged the oversized mortar to his chest, still stirring the oily substance as he hitched his way across the cluttered room. “I told ye I have no desire to live in an infested keep.” Tamhas squinted down into the bowl, frowned, then rapped the pestle hard against one side of the mortar. He raised the pestle again, then nodded with satisfaction at the contents. “Once ye rid the place of its vermin, I shall be honored to claim a tower.”
    What the hell was the man talking about? There were no vermin in the keep. Gray shook his head. “Yer daft, old man. I admit there might be a wee mouse or two but ye can hardly claim the place infested.”
    “Aye. Well…” Tamhas paused as he scooped up a handful of the muddy brown mixture and worked the concoction between his knobby fingers. “Once ye rid the place of the wicked Aileas, I shall deem the infestation under control.” Tamhas motioned toward the length of the bench in front of Gray. “Stretch forward, m’chieftain so I might heal ye.”
    Aileas again. Gray clenched his teeth as he leaned over the bench. Gripping the thickness of the plank tighter, he locked his elbows. Aileas’s cold, haughty face appeared as soon as he closed his eyes. What the hell had Father