Page 48 of Highland Hero
“Yes?” Her voice was very faint.
“What happened on your side of the door that ye canna get it open?”
“The…handle…came…off.”
He could barely make out the words. She was probably so numb with cold that she was having trouble talking. He looked at the laird.
“Tell her to hold it in place and nae to let go when she feels it move. ’Tis the only way to force the latch back.”
Rory repeated the words, hoping she’d understand. He thought he heard a muffled “I won’t,” but he wasn’t sure. He made himself count slowly to five to give her time, but it felt as though he were wasting minutes. Then he shoved the handle on his side of the door hard and, holding it tightly in place, he began to turn it. For a moment he didn’t know if it would catch, and then he felt a moment of resistance as it came in contact with the other piece. He pressed his shoulder against the door for extra strength, and the laird did the same. With yet another prayer, he finished turning the handle, and the door swung open with their added weight.
Rory stumbled to catch his balance, managing to right himself as Juliana toppled into his arms. The laird and Calum rushed past him to help Greer and Aileen up, and they bustled them quickly down the stairs.
Juliana looked up at him, her lips bluish and her skin tinged blue, too. She felt as cold as a block of ice, and her gown and hair were dripping wet. “You found…” she managed to say and then slumped against him into oblivion. He panicked for a moment but then felt her breath softly against his neck.
Bending slightly, he scooped her into his arms and swept a kiss across her icy forehead as he turned toward the steps. “Aye, lass. I found ye.”
Rory kicked open the door to Juliana’s bedchamber and strode to the bed, then hesitated before placing her on it. Her clothing was soaking wet and would only dampen the sheets. The gown definitely needed to be removed, and she would not appreciate finding out he’d been the one to undress her, even if she were currently not aware. He looked around and opted for the armchair near the hearth. Pulling it closer to the small fire with his boot, he lowered Juliana into it, then went to the door and shouted for a maid. When he heard no footsteps, he shouted again. Sima would be attending to her daughters, but surely that didn’t require the whole staff.
He waited for what seemed like half an eternity with still no response and then grimaced as he remembered that Invergarry only housed a handful of servants. The rest came up daily from the village or surrounding crofts. With the storm raging, many had stayed home. It was entirely possible that everyone who was here was helping Sima at the moment. Furthermore, the castle was built in anLshape, and the family’s quarters were on the other end, away from the guest chambers, so he could probably bellow like a bull and not be heard.
Turning back into the room, he considered the situation. It wasn’t like he had never undressed a lass before, but the circumstances had been vastly different. For one, the lass was usually conscious. Secondly, the lass was a willing participant. Neither applied to Juliana. Still, he had to do something. The longer she stayed in those wet clothes, the more likely she’d become fevered.
He stoked the fire with two more logs and poked at it until he had a good blaze going, then rose to pull the counterpane and sheets back on the bed. He returned to kneel beside her and remove her sodden slippers and stockings. At any other time he would have appreciated the comely curve of her calf, but now he could only think her legs felt more like cold marble than human flesh. He took a moment to massage her toes, thankful they were not blue. Getting some circulation back was a start.
The gown that Sima had lent her was a simple affair with the laces in front, but the configuration also had his fingers brushing Juliana’s breasts as he loosened the bodice. In spite of trying not to think about female anatomy—her breasts were just the right size to fill his hands—his cock half rose in eager anticipation. For the first time in his life, Rory wondered if men really were complete eejits ruled by the smaller of their heads. That theory became more plausible when he hardened even more as he peeled the gown off Juliana and lifted her against him to push it down her back. Luckily for him she remained unconscious, and he eased her back on the chair while he tugged the gown completely off, leaving her in her chemise. Thankfully, it was a practical one made of heavy muslin that she must have purchased at Fort William and not of thin lawn that would be transparent.
Placing a hand to her side to determine how damp the chemise was, he breathed a sigh of relief that the wool of the gown had kept it from getting wet. What he definitely did not need right now was to see her naked—especially her nipples or the curls at the juncture of her thighs—even if his wayward cock tried to stand at attention.
He carried her to the bed and laid her on it, then pulled the covers up. He stood there for a moment, not liking how cold she still felt. She needed heated bricks in the bed to raise her body temperature, but his shouting for help earlier hadn’t brought anyone here, and heating those bricks would take some time if they were to last long enough to be effective.
He was plenty warm. Near sweating from the fire and the clothing he wore. His body heat could warm her faster than waiting for bricks. He hesitated, though. Given how Juliana had reacted to sharing the bed—ornotsharing it—at the inn in Spean, she would not take kindly to sharingthisbed. Kindlywould be an understatement, he thought wryly. Without a doubt, Juliana would be furious. He could almost see her eyes sparking and her red hair blazing in anger. He could also hear her tirade, some of which he didn’t think ladies even knew.
But…she had not regained consciousness, so she might never know, although the fact that she had not awoken also bothered him. Had the freezing weather affected her brain? He touched her forehead, which was still nearly as cold as when he’d carried her in. That decided him.
Kicking off his boots, he stripped his shirt and vest and then stopped at his breeches. Taking them off would be dangerous. She certainly wouldn’t understand, and having them off would only make his damn desire harder to control. Better to stay half-dressed for both their sakes.
Lifting the cover, he slipped beneath the sheets, then turned Juliana so her back was against his bare chest. He encircled her waist, drawing her close. The undersides of her breasts fell softly on his arm, and he bit back a groan. This was going to be pure hell, and he’d take his leave just as soon as she felt warm enough.
He just prayed Juliana would not wake until then.
…
Juliana drifted, her body floating free in the snowy cold. There was no feeling anywhere. She was weightless, rising and falling whichever way the wind swept her. There was nothing. Nothing but swirling whiteness around her.
And then, suddenly, something solid restricted her movements, and for a moment she wanted to struggle against whatever was keeping her from her peaceful oblivion, but it took too much effort to push against her bonds. She just wanted to go back to that placid, serene place…
Her mind gradually sensed that something had changed, but she was too exhausted to try and decipher what was happening. It was easier to stay in that faraway place instead of trying to think.
Slowly, she became aware that the cold no longer surrounded her. She could feel her limbs again, as though they had been detached and were only now returning to her body. There was the most delicious feeling of warmth in her toes, as though they were stuck in woolen socks that had been placed near a fire. Except the socks were moving, circling, pressing, and kneading… How could that be? Silly socks. She must be dreaming.
Yes, she was dreaming. Now she felt hands brush her breasts. That really was something she shouldn’t be dreaming about at all. She needed to swat them away. She tried to raise her arm, but it felt too heavy to move. And…well, the sensation wasn’t all that bad. It felt rather good. The hands moved down her arms, baring her skin in gentle strokes. A rather nice sensation, too. Maybe she should let it continue…mmm.
She felt her body shift. This time it didn’t feel weightless as she flopped forward over something solid. Now those hands were sliding down her back, causing odd little tingles along their path. Something heavy was being stripped away, leaving her feeling free once more as she leaned back, wanting to burrow into the depths of wherever she was. She had never dreamed like this before.
And then she felt herself lifted. She struggled to open her eyes, but all she could manage was a flutter. Her mind stirred, flustered. Was that Rory’s face she’d seen? She tried once more to open her eyes, but it was too hard. What in the world would Rory be doing in her dream? Her foggy mind tried to reason through it. He’d be horrified if he thought she wasdreamingof him. Another thought broke through as her thinking started to clear. Maybe her mind was putting him there to spoil her dream, which she probably shouldn’t be having. That was more likely. At least it washerdream and he’d never know.
She retreated into near oblivion again as she sank into a soft mattress. Maybe she was dreaming this, too. What she needed was sleep. She’d almost fallen asleep while she was floating in the swirling whiteness…only this was much warmer.
