A/N: Greetings, readers! :)
Thanks so much to everyone who has alerted/favorited/reviewed/etc so far! Seriously, I've never gotten so many e-mails in such a short amount of time from this site for a story, lol. Although, updating my other story the same day also helped, haha ;)
Anyway, reviewers to whom I couldn't respond:
Heyaismylife - Thanks for the review! I'm really glad that you are liking it so far :D Don't worry, Brittana will have a bit of time together before Quinn shows up, but you know, not without the plot being thickened! ;) Hehe, anywho, thanks again for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)
BetTheDuckisInTheHat - Thanks for the review! I'm glad you are enjoying it so far and that this chapter doesn't disappoint! :)
This chapter is dedicated to imjustagirl2004 because she was the first to alert, favorite, AND review this story. Triple whammy, lol. ;)
Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! :D
The raven haired woman sprang to her feet and whirled around with the quickness and agility of a cat. Brittany stared at her own dagger, drawn and ready in the other woman's hand.
"I believe that dirk belongs to me," the Highlander stated calmly, not the list bit afraid of the shorter woman standing in front of her, brandishing her dirk.
She waved the weapon at the blonde in a motion that Brittany understood meant that the brunette wanted her to move away from the landing. Brittany didn't move. She didn't want the other woman any more frightened than she already was, but Brittany was about as far away as she could get. The Highlander had come in behind her just in time to see her slip on some of the seashells that cluttered the room. The brunette had been lucky not to crack her head.
"Why don't you put that weapon down," Brittany suggested as she leaned casually against the wall, her voice still calm.
Brittany watched as the shorter woman raised her elbow a fraction, as though ready to strike, and took a step toward the stairs.
Brittany tore her gaze away from the dagger and studied the rest of the other woman. She was the same woman whom the blonde had seen by the tidal pool. The same deep, dark eyes sparkled in the growing firelight. Her angular face, which previously was free from any hint of imperfection, was stained with streaks of dirt, although no less beautiful, Brittany could admit. In the dim light of the room, all Brittany could really see was that the brunette was young, possibly even close to the blonde's own eighteen years. Her long, dark hair was soaked, and a loose braid lay on her back like a thick rope. The woolen dress that she had no doubt spun and woven and sewn herself was also dripping wet. Even still, Brittany could not tear her gaze away from the stunning brunette.
Taken aback by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the mere sight of the shorter woman, Brittany mentally chastised herself for becoming distracted from the situation at hand and reassessed the woman before her. The brunette was a bit of a wee thing, all in all, and Brittany knew that she could overpower her if she really wanted to. But despite the show of bravery, the olive-skinned beauty was shivering and paler than her complexion should allow. Brittany frowned, knowing that because of her the other woman had been forced to stay outside.
"I had no intention of frightening you," the Highlander stated softly, raising both of her hands so that the brunette could see that she was not armed. As the raven-haired islander continued to inch toward the steps, Brittany could see that she wasn't too steady on her feet. The blonde straightened from the wall, concerned about the brunette's wellbeing. The continuing storm was whistling in through the slits of the windows.
"Listen, you rescued me yourself. You know that I was washed ashore. Alone," she emphasized, as though that alone would reassure the shorter woman that she was safe. Brittany watched the brunette shiver and sway on her feet, and continued, keeping her voice soft and gentle, "You'll catch your death in this weather, dressed in those wet clothes."
Suddenly, islander's foot went out from beneath her as she slipped again on the same damn shells, and Brittany rushed from her spot to help her up. Before she could lend a hand to her, however, the brunette rolled to her side and slashed at the blond with the dirk.
"Bloody hell!" Brittany cursed, glancing down at the torn sleeve of her shirt where the dagger had sliced through. The fallen woman had barely missed cutting the blonde's flesh. She was more surprised than angry, but she was beginning to become frustrated that the brunette didn't seem to want to listen to her. "I told you that I mean you no harm," Brittany tried to reason again, her tone strained.
The bonny islander was struggling to her feet, but Brittany was through trying to help her since it was clear she wouldn't accept any aid. Taking one quick step, Brittany kicked the dagger out of her hand. The weapon clattered loudly against the stone wall.
"But you cannot expect me to take it kindly when someone steals my dirk and uses it against me," she said as she grabbed the back of the brunette's dress and yanked her slight frame to her feet. She was lighter than Brittany had originally believed. The Highlander turned her around in her arms so that she could take a better look at her face and try to figure out what was going on. The smaller woman had not spoken a single word the entire time. Maybe she didn't understand what Brittany was saying. Deciding that they had just gotten off on the wrong foot, Brittany tried a different approach. "Perhaps we should start from the beginning, lass," she spoke warmly to the brunette as she gazed in the dark pools of her eyes, feeling as though she could easily be engulfed by their depth.
She kicked the blonde in the shin.
"By the devil!" Brittany hissed, but tightened her grip on the other woman's shoulder. "I told you—"
The feisty islander delivered a glancing jab to Brittany's face and tried to push away from her. Angry now, Brittany twisted one of the brunette's arms behind her and pulled her firmly against her own lithe body. The dark eyes were spitting fire at her, and she looked as though she would bite Brittany if she got the chance.
Brittany sighed, tamping down on her temper, and spoke gently once more, hoping to calm the fiery brunette at least a wee bit. "Now, listen, I don't know what has you so—"
Her knee connected solidly and viciously with the Highlander's supple abdomen. Gasping for breath, the force of the blow caused Brittany to release the diminutive woman.
While Brittany caught her breath, she saw the islander dash down the steps and heard the door bang open. Suddenly Brittany had lost all interest in going after her. That lass was a witch, a devil, a madwoman.
Nonetheless, the brunette had managed to drag her out of the water, and Brittany felt a pang of guilt wash over her. No matter how the brunette had just treated her, she couldn't in good conscience allow her to brave the bitter storm alone, especially in her weakened state. The Highlander wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't try to do something to aid the olive-skinned lass.
Grimacing with pain and clutching her stomach, Brittany forced herself upright and took a step. Descending the stairs was slow-going, as she had to stop every few steps in order to keep the bile from rising in her throat when her tender middle was jostled with her movements. When she finally reached the landing, Brittany spotted the leather cloak that still hung on a peg. This was the same one the brunette had been wearing when the Highlander had first seen her.
When Brittany stepped outside, she glanced over to her makeshift shelter by the prior wall. Her fire was starting to burn lower, but the bundle of blankets was still against the wall. The storm continued to lash at the island, and Brittany braced herself against the harsh wind. Brittany let her gaze roam over the ruined buildings and the hills around her. To her left, she saw a dark shadow move quickly over the crest of a hill.
"Wait!" She shouted, setting out after the brunette. The fool! she thought, certain that there were no more buildings on the island. Cold and wet as she already was, and without any kind of shelter, the bonny islander would surely catch her death staying the night out in this weather.
Reaching the top of the hill where she had seen her last, Brittany stared in frustration at the wild and foreign terrain around her. The sound of the storm was matched only by the loud crashing of the surf in the distance. The sleet was stinging her face and she could see very little. Brittany had no idea where the other woman had disappeared to.
"By Saint Andrew, I told you I meant no harm!" she shouted into the night desperately.
Still, Brittany was not ready to give up, even though she couldn't see much beyond her next step. The ground was shiny from the rain. Jumping down from a ledge of stone, Brittany pushed on.
The girl had to be the daughter of the reclusive husband and wife Brittany had heard about. But she recalled hearing that they were very old. The lovely brunette was so young it didn't seem possible for her to have been their child. And then there was the mending Brittany found in the room—the young child's dress and cap. Her curiosity was definitely piqued.
Brittany had no fear of getting lost. She could see the light of her fire reflecting on the walls of the prior buildings. What she needed to be careful of, however, were the bluffs to the west. One missed step there, and she would drop fifty feet into the surf and rocks.
And something told her that her bonny hostess would probably not pull her out again.
Brittany stumbled on a mound of stone and shells. Coming to an abrupt stop, she peered down. Right before her, there were actually two mounds, side by side. Crouching before them, Brittany could see a carefully arranged blanket of shells with large smooth stones piled on top.
Graves. Two of them.
Well, at least Brittany knew where the old couple had ended up.
As Santana worked her way out along the cliff, the wind buffeting the rocks nearly knocked her from the narrow ledge a half dozen times. As she inched across a particularly narrow ledge, her foot slipped on an icy spot. Santana clawed desperately at the slick rocks, managing somehow to stop herself from falling into the frothy sea. A few moments later she had made it to her destination, only to realize that it was all for naught.
The tide was too high. She had never seen the water up so far on the cliff face. The waves were crashing in above the opening to her cave. The footpath on the side of the opening was completely submerged. It was no good; she couldn't get in.
If she had been able to get inside, she knew the honeycomb of caves well. Inside, some of the underground passages climbed upward. Even at the highest surges, there were dry places where she could take shelter. She would be safe.
Desperate to get out of harm's way, Santana considered jumping into the sea and trying to swim in. On many of the lower caves, she had seen the seals forever playing their games and riding the surf into the caverns. But the waves were crashing so violently against the side of the cliffs that she knew the chances of her surviving such a plunge would be very slim.
Resignedly, Santana turned and started clambering back up the rocks the way she came. She was thankful that her miserable physical condition had not affected her state of mind. Banging her head against the rocks or having her body drawn out to sea by the tide was no solution to her predicament. Fighting with the Highlander had given her a temporary surge of strength, but as she finally climbed up over the ledge, she knew she had nothing more left.
The blonde said that she meant no harm. But Emma had warned her about the lies, too.
The stranger was bigger. She was stronger. She was quicker.
She was a Highlander.
That alone gave Santana reason enough to distrust her.
Exhausted, the brunette was barely able to lower herself into a cleft between two rocks. She was still exposed to the sleet and the rain, but at least she was protected from the wind.
Brittany waited for the first light of dawn to brighten the sky before going out searching for her again. Other than finding the graves, no good had come out of the blonde's last attempt. But this time she was determined to find the feisty islander and bring her back. It had been near freezing last night. Brittany hoped she was still alive, though the Highlander was surprised and perplexed that her heart constricted at the thought of something happening to the brunette. Quickly shaking off the feeling, Brittany scanned her surroundings, gauging the weather.
The sleeting rain had stopped, but charred gray clouds continued to lock out the sky. The wind, though, seemed to have picked up even more.
Brittany started out in the same direction she had seen the other woman go the night before. From there, she descended into a valley that cut the island in half, and climbed the next hill. It was the highest point on the island. Standing on top of it, Brittany now had an unobstructed view of everything, including the two piles of rock at either end known as North Ness and South Ness. Her blue eyes took in the turbulent sea to the horizon in every direction. There was no sign of a ship anywhere.
The Isle of May was much longer than it was wide. And Brittany had been right the night before: there were no other buildings. Very few trees even. No place where a stubborn lass could have taken shelter for the night. But she had to be somewhere.
Brittany tried to imagine what she would do in the islander's place. The answer was simple: she would have stayed put and heard the stranger out, not fought the stranger and fled.
Sighing in frustration, the blonde again focused her thoughts on where the brunette could possibly have gone. The east shore consisted of stony slopes descending gradually to the sea's edge. A tidal pool here and there hardly offered anywhere to hide and not much in the way of shelter. The west shore, on the other hand, offered a possibility. Brittany turned her steps in that direction.
Her hopes rose when she reached the high, rugged cliffs with their sharp ledges and deep crevices. Peering over the top, Brittany gazed down the rock face and watched the many seabirds sailing along the line of cliffs, wheeling and occasionally landing on the ledges. They sometimes would disappear from her view. If they were nesting here, Brittany guessed that there could be any number of caves in these rocks.
She could only hope that the islander had found someplace protected from the sleet and the cold during the night.
Brittany started moving northward along the cliffs, looking for a place to climb down safely.
Moments later, Brittany saw amid the distant rocks strands of hair dark as night whipping wildly in the wind. Brittany's heart sped up as she realized that the brunette had spent the entire night nearly exposed in the raging storm. She sent up a prayer for the other woman's safety as the blonde picked up her pace and hurried to the prone islander.
She was lying curled up tightly in a shallow cleft between two rocks. For one dreadful moment Brittany thought that she might be dead. Brittany quickly knelt beside her and pushed her long, thick hair to the side before placing a firm, but soft hand to the side of her throat. Her skin was icy cold, but Brittany's heart leapt in her chest when she could feel a faint pulse. Not wasting another moment, Brittany pulled her out of the hole and rolled the brunette into her pale arms. The islander mumbled something unintelligible and tried to push the blonde away.
"It's all right," Brittany mumbled, trying to calm the semi-conscious woman in her arms, her usual blunt tone taking on a softer timbre. "I'm taking you back to your house."
The brunette made another feeble attempt to push away from Brittany again, but she was clearly exhausted. She ceased her struggle and slumped limply against the Highlander. Lifting her in her arms, Brittany rose slowly to her feet.
"But I am warning you, lass. No more attacking me with my own weapon. No kicking. No fighting. No more attempts to overcome me, when I mean you know harm," Brittany told the islander sternly, although the blonde was more than slightly in awe of the raven-haired woman's spirit, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself. The islander was slight of build in comparison to the blonde, but Brittany had not forgotten the courage she had shown in facing the towering Highlander the previous night. "And no running away, either," she added, not wanting to have to go searching for the brunette once more, especially not if she became ill from her struggle last night.
She mumbled something again and tucked her hand inside Brittany's shirt, sending a shiver up the blonde's spine. Her fingers were like ice.
"I don't know how long we are going to be together like this, but you had better get used to having me around," Brittany murmured as she got used to the brunette's fingers on her bare skin.
Stirring slightly, the islander wrapped her arms tightly around Brittany's neck and pressed her face to the exposed skin of her neck, catching Brittany off guard. Her cheek is as soft as cold silk, she found herself thinking, a strange warmth slowly flooding through her.
"And I'll do my best…to get used to you, too," she finished, tightening her arms around the brunette snuggled into her chest.
Santana tried to burrow deeper into the ground, but something was stopping her. The wind was stronger and colder. Something was pulling at her. She was so cold. She had to push herself in deeper to stay warm. It was right there, so near. She couldn't bear being separated from it, but she was being pulled away. She held on tighter.
"You need to let go, lass."
She shook her head. The soft words were spoken very close to her ear. It was a woman's voice. It was the Highlander's voice. Santana tried to bury herself deeper beneath the stones. She had to hide from the stranger.
"I cannot be much help with you wrapped around me like this," came the Highlander's amused voice.
Wrapped around me. Wrapped around me. Santana didn't know what she was talking about. She was wrapped around a piece of rock. An admittedly supple rock. She clutched more tightly. She was growing warmer. If she could just hold on tightly enough…
"Not that I'm complaining," the Highlander continued in the same tone. "But you're cold and wet and…and I suppose we need to get you out of these clothes before you come down with a fever of some kind."
Wrapped around me. The words were finally sinking in. Santana forced her eyes open and found herself looking at the soft, smooth muscles of a woman's neck. She lifted her head off a lean shoulder and looked into eyes the color of a turbulent blue sea. The blonde's face was so close to hers. Hazy and confused, Santana studied every aspect of her attractive face. At the same time, she became aware that her feet were not touching the ground. Her weight was being supported by a pair of strong arms. An unfamiliar warmth seeped through her, and her gaze fell on the blonde's pink mouth. A hint of a smile tugged at the thin lips.
"So, you've finally decided to come around," the Highlander teased, smirking slightly at the brunette in her arms.
"You…are n-not…g-getting me out of these c-c-clothes," Santana said through clattering teeth. She knew what sailors like this Highlander wanted, and she wasn't about to give it to her. Not willingly.
The blonde's expression sobered in an instant, all teasing gone from her striking face. "I'm afraid you have left me no choice."
Santana started struggling in the blonde's arms, her voice getting stronger, but no less broken due her shivering body. "L-let…me…g-go. Let…me…go!"
Immediately, the Highlander dropped her onto her bedding, extracting a sharp cry in return as she fell. Santana scowled up at her.
"You…didn't have…to drop me!" She huffed, rubbing her backside to ease the pain caused by her short fall. Separated from the blonde's warmth, Santana felt the chills again wash through her. The skin on her face was stiff. Her eyes felt puffy and dry. She tried to tug a blanket from beneath her and pull it over her, but her hands hardly responded. She could not move her fingers. She watched the Highlander move away from her to the hearth. Squatting, she started building a fire. Helpless in light of her useless limbs, Santana put her head down on the covering and pulled her knees to her chest. She was so tired. She felt like crying, but fought back the impulse. Now was not the time to break down, especially not in front of the intimidating, albeit bonny, blonde Highlander in front of her. Instead, Santana gathered her strength and spoke, trying in vain to control her shivering. "'Tis…c-cold in…h-here. 'Tis very…c-c-cold."
"You'll be warm soon," was all the blonde said in reply as she put another piece of wood on the fire. In a moment, the flames were napping and hissing, and the Highlander rose and turned, stepping toward her. She crouched down beside Santana and tucked the edges of the blanket around her legs, concern evident in her blue eyes. "I am glad that you at least understand what I am saying." The blonde's strong fingers started removing her roughly made shoes.
Santana was too weak to protest. As she pulled them off, Santana realized that she had no feeling in her toes. It must have been colder last night than she had previously believed.
"I am Brittany Pierce," the Highlander spoke, warmth present in her previously direct and somewhat cold voice. "Do you have a name?"
Santana could do nothing other than stare at her tan feet, mesmerized, as Brittany's lithe, slender hands cupped them. The blonde made quick work, softly yet firmly rubbing Santana's frigid feet. Santana sighed at the exquisite feel of Brittany's hands on her feet as she warmed them, and almost protested when the blonde released her feet when they were no longer cold to the touch.
"We'll worry about your name later," Brittany said once it was clear Santana was not going to answer. The blonde looked about the room. "We need to get you out of those wet clothes." She reached for another blanket that was lying at the foot of Santana's bedding and tucked it around the brunette's bare feet. "Do you think you can manage it by yourself?" the Highlander asked, and Santana could have sworn she noticed a faint coloring rise in the blonde's otherwise pale cheeks.
Santana nodded weakly. But the loud chatter of her teeth was making it impossible for her to peak clearly. "D-d-dry…clothes," she managed to choke out.
"Where?" The blonde looked about her and then followed the direction of Santana's gaze to the ladder and the opening above. She nodded when the blonde pointed to it.
Leaving her, Brittany crossed the room and climbed up through the hole to the area beneath eh roof.
Staring dully at her long legs as she disappeared into the eaves, Santana realized that she no longer feared her. The woman didn't have to come after her. She didn't have to bring her back. But she had. Santana managed to undo the laces of her dress in the front. Her fingers were clumsy and her skin actually hurt as she peeled away the soaked layers and crawled under the blanket. She felt the intense weariness again weighing her down. And it was so cold. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget about everything.
Pulling her knees tightly against her chest, she closed her eyes.
Thin shafts of light from a number of breaks in the roof cut through the dim haze. Crouching beside the opening she had climbed through, Brittany glanced about with bewilderment at the large open space. Yesterday she had thought it was just a room used for storage when she had peered in. Now it occurred to her that the loft was a veritable treasure trove…if one considered junk to be treasure.
But it was also the most organized midden she had ever laid eyes on.
Brittany couldn't stand up all the way beneath the low, sloping roof, and as she moved carefully in the dim light, she ducked under ropes that had been strung form one end wall to the other.
Hundreds of cast-off items, if not more, were stacked on the floor in orderly rows. A cracked flute. A rusted helmet of a design she had never seen. A pilgrim's bottle that looked usable. A mortar without a pestle. Some kind of clan banner with all the colors bleached out. A rusted chainmail shirt. Most looked like things that might have been washed ashore from sinking ships.
Brittany suddenly remembered the shivering young woman below and left her perusal of this room for another time.
Against one of the end walls, the blonde spied neatly folded piles of what looked to be ancient wool blankets beside a worn sea chest. A couple of moth-eaten woolen cloaks sat on the chest. Laying them aside, Brittany pushed open the large chest and stared.
On top, an ornately wrought golden cross, encrusted with bright jewels, caught her attention. The piece was magnificent. She picked it up and looked at it. The cross hung from a short gold chain. The length of it was suitable only for a child. Brittany remembered the pieces of mending she had seen downstairs before. Carefully replacing the cross, the blonde eyed a young girl's dainty shoes. Next to them lay two small combs. There were other items in the chest, although she still couldn't make any sense of it all, but her thoughts were once again drawn to the wet lass in the room beneath her. She left everything as she had found it and closed the chest.
Looking around, the Highlander spotted two woman's dresses hanging from a couple of pegs. Brittany grabbed for one of them and started for the ladder before pausing. Going back, she took a few of the woolen blankets and one of the cloaks, too.
The fire had taken the worst of the chill off the chamber by the time the blonde had descended.
"I hope this will do. 'Twas no easy task finding it up there amid the…" Her words trailed off. Wet clothes had been cast off beside the bed, and the young woman seemed to be sound asleep. She looked beautiful in the golden light of the fire. Snapping out of her slight trance, Brittany looked at the brunette's now only slightly shivering form and frowned. She was well aware of what too many hours in the cold could do to a person. Brittany stocked the hearth with more driftwood and moved again to the brunette's side. She laid her hand across the darker woman's forehead. She was still very cold, and her breathing struck Brittany as shallow and labored.
"You can put these other dress on yourself…whenever you are ready," she spoke softly, resisting the surprising urge to brush her lips across the brunette's temple. Brittany spread the extra blankets on top of her and placed the dry dress within her reach.
Brittany pushed the wet strands of hair out of her face and, for the first time, really looked at her. Dark long lashes lay peacefully against radiant olive skin. The blonde gazed deeply at the perfect symmetry of eyes that she remembered were so large and dark. She had a straight nose and full lips. With her thick, dark waves of hair flowing down over her shoulders, Brittany could imagine that she would look like a mermaid. She was young and very beautiful, and Brittany couldn't understand for the life of her what the brunette was doing on this island.
Brittany saw her shiver again. Gently she reached out and stroked the smooth skin of her face to make certain that she was warming up. The brunette rolled onto her side and clasped her pale hand between her own tan ones and laid her cheek on it. The simple gesture made Brittany smile and her heart flutter wonderfully in her chest.
"I so wish I knew your name, lass," she breathed out longingly, reveling in the feel of her hand pressed firmly against the islander's cheek.
"So c-c-cold…" the brunette whispered weakly in her sleep, trying to tug Brittany's warm hand beneath the blanket.
Blue eyes widening, Brittany immediately disengaged her hand from the young woman and instead tucked the covers more tightly around her.
"I am a woman, my bonny islander, but there are limits even to a woman's restraint," she mumbled, her heart beating a fast-paced rhythm in her chest.
The brunette's shivering was getting worse instead of better, Brittany noticed suddenly. The Highlander leaned over and pushed her closer to the wall. Then, with a deep sigh of resignation, Brittany lay down on top of the blankets and nestled her right side against the brunette's front.
"I do not know if you'll get any heat from my body this way, but this is as much help as I am willing to be," Brittany said. She crossed her arms over her chest, wary of the strong temptation she had to wrap them around the brunette to lend the sleeping woman as much of her warmth as she could, and stared at the blackened ceiling above.
Then she tucked her cold nose into the crook of the blonde's neck, sending a delightful, though foreign, shiver straight to Brittany's heart, breaking her stubborn resolve.
Brittany rolled toward her and drew the bundled woman tightly to her somewhat larger frame, enveloping the islander in her warmth. Wrapped around the smaller woman, Brittany relaxed, listening to the brunette's uneven, though less ragged, breaths, and fitting herself even more closely to the sleeping woman, succumbed to sleep herself.
A/N: Ooo, the attraction is there (like always, lol), but what will happen next? What about Quinn? Is she out there, searching for her sister already? Find out this and more next time!
***P.S. Important note for readers of A Dangerous Masquerade! I have received quite a few requests for an epilogue, and so have decided to write one. It's still in the formulation stages, but I am working on it. It should be a couple weeks or so before I can give you anything worth reading, though, so do please be patient. :) K, that's all***
Thanks for reading, and I'll be back with chapter 3 in a week! :D