Highland Hero by Hannah Howell

Author:Hannah Howell [Howell, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-09-27T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

A low, steady rumble stirred Kenneth from his sleep. As he woke, memories of his rescue flooded his mind. He clearly saw the lovely young woman and her tiny brown companion and felt a lingering ache from the pain caused by their administrations. They had carried him up some narrow, winding stairs, placed him on a soft bed, sponged him down, and stitched his wounds. There was also a confused tangle of partial memories, but he shook them aside for he could make no sense of them. He slid his hand over the bandage on the right side of his waist and on his right leg. He was warm, comfortable, and despite the lingering pain, felt confident he would heal.

He opened his eyes and gave a soft cry of surprise. A huge gray cat was staring him in the face, its green eyes almost level with his. The source of the low rumble, he mused, as he cautiously lifted his hand and scratched the animal’s ears. He smiled at the look of pleasure on the animal’s face and at how the noise it made grew increasingly louder. It was unusual for a cat to be so friendly, so clean, and so well fed, and the animals were rarely allowed access to the bedchambers. Recalling the strange pair who had rescued him, he decided he should not be surprised that an animal most people scorned or feared would be made a pet.

“Slayer doesnae usually approve of people so quickly,” said a soft, husky voice from the foot of the bed.

Kenneth started slightly, wondering how she could have entered the room so quietly. “Slayer?”

“Aye. Nary a mouse nor a rat dares poke its pointed wee nose onto my lands.” She idly scratched the cat’s ears when it moved to sit in front of her, rubbing its head against her stomach. “Ye are in the bed he has claimed as his own. Each morning the sun comes in that window to your right and shines o’er the bed. He warms himself in its light until it moves on.”

“Ah, so that is why he was so friendly to me.”

“Nay, not completely. He is most particular about the ones he chooses as his friends.” She moved to the side of the bed and lightly felt his forehead and cheeks, relieved to find no hint of a fever. “How do ye feel?”

“I am still a wee bit weak, but I feel confident that I will heal. I do feel verra rested.”

“Ye should. Ye have slept for nigh on three days.” She smiled faintly at his shock. “I gave ye some herbal drinks to make ye rest. That is why ye slept for so long. I believe most strongly that sleep is the best cure for most illnesses and wounds.”

“Aye. I believe so as weel. That does explain the pieces of memories I can make no sense of. A glimpse of a face or a few words, no more.”

“Ye did rouse a bit now and again.”

“I owe ye my life.

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