The Highlander's Quest: A Sutherland Legacy Novella (The Sutherland Legacy Book 0)

by Eliza Knight

  “I will give it to ye, for the him,” Julia rushed, keeping her gaze steadily on Melia and praying hard the woman didn’t snap her fingers for the ogre to do to the lad what he’d done to Hugh.

  “Good choice.” Melia snapped her fingers at her behemoth, who started to trudge around the pools. “Get her little sheepdog.”

  Well, better that he was headed toward Alistair than anywhere near the boy.

  “I said I would exchange the gem for the king, not that your ogre could come get the gem,” Julia warned. “Bring King David to us. Or let me come get him.”

  Melia shrugged. “Well, if ye want to fight about it, send your own ogre against mine.”

  Julia flicked her gaze toward Alistair, who nodded once and then marched solidly toward the behemoth. With the two of them occupied, she could cross to the lad and get him to safety. Melia was not protected by her henchman anymore, but that didn’t matter, clearly. Somehow, she’d been able to poison the guards and her mother. In all the days she’d been at Eilean Donan, she’d only ever watched Lady Sutherland and Julia train, never participated. But clearly, she’d been a force to be reckoned with. Julia had to be ready.

  The emerald started to glow and grew warm. A sudden jolt of power grabbed hold of her from inside, seeming to have been beckoned by the gem. The man who barreled down on Alistair let out a frightening battle cry. But he did not speak—it was his thoughts. And everything he wanted to do, every move he was going to make was revealed to her.

  “Duck left,” Julia shouted.

  Alistair didn’t understand her at first, and just barely missed the blow to his head from the wastrel.

  “Right!”

  Alistair picked up on what she meant now, moving to the right, ducking beneath the henchman’s arm, spinning, and landing his own blow on the ogre’s back. A very impressive maneuver given his own brawny size.

  “Pivot!” Julia continued to call out orders, and Alistair was definitely in the lead.

  Then she noted that on the opposite bank, Melia was starting to retreat with the lad.

  “Oh, nay, ye will not,” Julia grumbled. She charged across the opposite side of the pools, confident Alistair could hold his own, and so could she.

  Melia took notice of her coming—and pulled a small crossbow from inside her sleeve. So small, Julia had never seen the like.

  “Good night,” Melia said, pulling back the string.

  “Nay!” Julia dodged, but not quick enough. A pinch sank into her thigh, and she grappled for it. A small dart jutted from her leg, like the ones that had been in the warriors on the wall. Searing pain came from the connection point, and then her leg buckled as the muscles went numb. She caught herself, kneeling, and trying to push up, but it seemed like her movements were slow and uncoordinated. No matter how much she thought of pushing herself up, her limbs refused to cooperate.

  Glancing up, she met the wee lad’s gaze and screamed, “Run!” At least her words still worked, even if it was an effort to push them out.

  He was quick to do her bidding, but he ran toward the ogre and Alistair. Julia opened her mouth to tell him to run the other way, to warn Alistair, but her throat was tight and no words came out. Whatever poison had been in the dart was already working its way through her veins.

  She prayed that Alistair took out the ogre before the lad reached him. Prayed that the priestesses could emerge from wherever they’d disappeared to and come protect the king.

  Apologized—for once more, she had failed them all.

  Melia reached her side as Julia fell fully to the ground. She didn’t speak, but that didn’t matter, because Julia could hear her thoughts. And as the vile witch ripped the gold chain from around Julia’s neck, she let slip where she planned to go next.

  7

  “Wake, damn ye!” Alistair shook Julia’s shoulders once more.

  Her body was limp, and her head hung back on her neck as though no bones or muscles had ever had the power to hold it upright.

  His heart was pounding, threatening to crack his ribs. It had been at least an hour since he’d seen her fall. With one blow, he’d knocked the bitch’s henchman into the Fairy Pools. The man had sputtered, kicked, flailed, and then fallen under. He couldn’t swim it was clear. The behemoth had yet to come out of it—meaning he likely wouldn’t.

  King David had leapt into Alistair’s arms and he hadn’t let go since. Alistair didn’t blame the whelp. He’d been through a hell of a time of it. Though he didn’t look to have been beaten or starved since he was taken, he was shaken, and had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.

  Alistair had seen Melia race away, and he would have gone after her, but leaving Julia in the state she was in, and the king to his own defenses, was not a plan he could be proud of. So off that wretched, vile villainess had run.

  “Her leg,” the king had said. “A dart.”

  Alistair had plucked the poison dart from Julia’s leg, sniffing the metal shaft and wrenching away in disgust. Whatever Melia used to poison Julia had been enough to make her sleep, but not to kill her. Thank God, a small favor he was grateful for.

  “Nurse did that to the men, too,” the king explained. His young, concerned gaze rested on Julia. “Will she wake?”

  Alistair nodded, not wanting to tell the lad how he feared the opposite could be true.

  She was so lifeless, pale, her dark lashes a stark contrast to the milk of her cheeks. Her hand was limp and when he squeezed it, he strained to feel her squeeze back, but there was nothing.

  The king scooted enough away from Alistair to lean over Julia, touching her cheek. “She is bonny. I saw her in a dream.”

  “Ye have met her before?” Alistair figured they must have met at some point, with Julia’s mother being sister to the king.

  “Nay, just in my dream.”

  Alistair frowned. A dream? Was Julia inside everyone’s heads? Impossible. And how serious could he take the words of a lad?

  The king sat back on his heels and plucked at the blades of grass beside him. Alistair was grateful the lad seemed for the moment to be more distracted and less disturbed.

  Just then, Julia’s eyelashes twitched, and her lids fluttered open. She stared up at Alistair in confusion, then bolted upright so fast she hit him square in the forehead, falling back down.

  “Och, why did ye hit me?” she asked.

  Alistair raised a brow and wiped at his painful forehead. The lass had a habit of slamming into him and then wondering why he’d attacked her… He might have laughed if he’d not just been worried about her dying. “Do ye remember what happened?” he asked.

  “She shot me.” Julia jerked upright again, but this time he was able to get out her way in time. “Where is the king—”

  “I am here, my lady,” the wee lad said, taking Julia’s hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  The move was charming and adorable.

  Forgetting the pretense of him being a royal, Julia grabbed him up in her arms and squeezed him to her. “Thank God she didna take ye away.”

  “Thank ye, my lady, and Sir Alistair for rescuing me. Can I go home now?”

  Julia nodded with a laugh, her eyes meeting Alistair’s. The relief he saw in their depths made his own heartbeat slow.

  “We did it,” she murmured.

  “Aye.” He stood and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. She wobbled slightly, and he slipped his arm around her waist to hold her steady.

  “I need water.” Julia licked at her dry lips.

  “I’ve some on my horse.”

  “The pools will do.” She moved to kneel and sip, but Alistair stopped her.

  “I wouldna,” Alistair warned. “Our friend is in there.”

  “Friend?” She passed him a quizzical look.

  “The monk.”

  “Oh.” She eyed the king. “Would ye like to go for a horse ride?”

  “Can I ride on my own?” The l
ad’s face split into a wide grin and he puffed his chest.

  “We’ve only two horses,” Julia said.

  “Ye ride with him, and I’ll ride on my own. I’m quite skilled.” King David knelt and stroked his tiny hands over Merida’s head. “Can I keep her?”

  “How about we let ye ride on your own horse, and I get to keep my dog?” Julia said with a laugh.

  The king smiled brightly. “All right. I suppose I can agree to that.”

  Alistair lifted the lad onto Julia’s horse, and then took her by the hand. She was trembling slightly, the effects of the poison no doubt.

  “’Tis probably best if I ride with ye.” She gave a nervous smile. “I’m afraid I’d be no good with the reins.”

  “It’d be my pleasure to care for ye, lass.” Alistair resisted the urge to pull her to him, to thrust his hands through her still damp hair and breathe in her alluring scent.

  “I am grateful.”

  Alistair lifted her onto the horse, forcing himself to ignore the way her curves felt beneath his hands. He swung up behind her, whistled to her hound and then directed the king to guide the mount beside him.

  “We must go to Eilean Donan,” Julia said, a tremor racking her body. “Melia is headed there. And my mother…”

  “How do ye know?” He reached for the water skin. “Drink.”

  “I heard her.” Julia tipped the skin back and drank deeply, gulping.

  Alistair nodded. “Ye can hear people’s thoughts.” He tensed when she nodded back. Aye, he’d been able to surmise as much, even if he’d been fighting it for days. But having her confess that it was indeed true affected him more than he realized it would. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt… betrayed. “Why did ye not tell me?”

  “It is new,” she said softly. “I had hoped it would go away.”

  “New? How new?”

  She shuddered again, and he tucked her closer against him.

  “I started to hear some things before I came to Dunfermline. Just whispers, and then they grew stronger.”

  “Can ye hear me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Ye lie.”

  “Nay.”

  Alistair gritted his teeth.

  “When we arrive at Eilean Donan, I will have my father send his army with ye to Dunfermline with the king,” she said, her voice resigned.

  “And ye will accompany me.”

  She shook her head. “Nay. I have proven I am not cut out for the life my mother so nobly led.”

  “What are ye talking about?”

  “I lost the king at Dunfermline within hours of arriving, and I could have lost him again by the pools when Melia shot me.” She touched her neck. “I lost the gem the priestesses gave to me for safekeeping. I have destroyed Scotland.”

  Alistair decided that whatever poison had been on the dart still flowed in her veins, for she wasn’t making much sense. “Sleep now, I’ll wake ye when we stop to rest.”

  “If I sleep… I canna protect the king.”

  “Let me help.” But he needn’t have argued, for she was already softly snoring in his arms.

  Alistair listened to the wee king chatter as they rode for several hours. Even when they stopped, and he laid Julia, still asleep, on the soft grass, the lad continued to talk about everything. The water, the clouds, the dog, his father, the castle, an insect. The lad was a never-ending stream of words.

  Merida curled up beside her mistress, resting her head on the lass’ chest and moaning woefully. Even in her sleep, Julia wanted to care for the animal. She lifted a limp hand and pressed it to the back of the dog’s soft neck.

  Alistair wanted to be angry that she’d lied to him about hearing his thoughts—even if she admitted to hearing others. But he was finding it hard to hold that grudge. He was finding it hard to think anything but good things about her. She might see herself as a failure, but he saw her as a great heroine. Without her, he wasn’t sure they would have found the king. He just had to convince her of that somehow.

  When Julia awoke, they were near the shore of Loch Alsh. The sky was gray and hazy with the setting sun.

  “How long did I sleep?” She pushed up on an elbow and glanced around at the makeshift camp Alistair had prepared for them.

  Alistair grinned. “Welcome back. Ye’ve slept for a few hours. How do ye feel?”

  Thank goodness it wasn’t longer. Even still, a few hours was more time they didn’t have. “Much better now.” She glanced at King David. He looked a lot less weary, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were gone. Alistair had been taking good care of the boy.

  “Good, ye look better as well. The coloring has returned to your face.” Alistair smiled at her kindly.

  King David grinned from ear to ear and launched himself into her lap. “Ye’re awake! My protector!”

  She wanted to correct him, but the smile on his face was too precious, so instead she ruffled his hair. “I’m glad to see ye’re well, Your Highness.”

  The lad giggled.

  “We’ll rest here for the night,” Alistair said, “then figure out a way to cross in the morning.”

  Julia nodded and sat up a little straighter, setting the king down beside her.

  “Are ye hungry?” the wee lad asked.

  “Famished.” Her belly rumbled in reply, and the king laughed.

  “Did ye hear that?” he asked her, as though she might not have.

  Julia tickled him. “Better feed me, else I grow a taste for royal bones!”

  “Hurry, Sir Alistair! Feed her!”

  Alistair passed her a chunk of jerky and a bannock cake. “I regret we’ve nothing tastier.”

  “This will do just fine.” She bit into the jerky, sighing at finally having something to eat. The mirth left her and she gave Alistair a sober look. “Has there been any sign of Melia?”

  “None that we have seen, nor your hound.”

  Julia hoped she’d heard the woman’s thoughts correctly, hoped that she was still headed to Eilean Donan, where she’d been headed before. Julia had lied when she’d told Alistair that she couldn’t hear his thoughts. And she felt extremely guilty for deceiving him. She should tell him the truth. Should try to figure out a way to block his thoughts from her own.

  “I have a confession,” she said, after they tucked the king into a warm plaid for the night with Merida curled by his side.

  “Aye?”

  “I lied.” She settled on the plaid beside Alistair, legs crossed and leaning back on her elbows.

  Alistair, who had been sitting in a similar position, rolled to his side, also propped on his elbow, and gazed intently into her eyes. “I know.”

  She let out a sigh. “How?”

  “Ye might be able to read thoughts, but I can read your body language.”

  “I might have guessed.”

  Alistair shrugged. “’Tis no matter.”

  “Well, in any case, I owe ye my thanks. As soon as we arrive and the king has had a chance to rest, ye’re welcome to go about your way.”

  “I canna. We are a team, ye and I. I canna imagine being without ye. Ye’ve grown on me.” His green eyes slid toward hers and she felt herself blushing.

  It was an effort to block his thoughts, but one she was learning to master quicker than she supposed.

  “Not because I can tell ye which way to duck or swing?” she teased.

  He grinned, emotion in the depths of his gaze that touched her deep in her heart. “Nay, love. Though I now understand why ye blushed every time I thought of your lovely breasts.”

  Julia playfully slapped him on the arm. “Ye’re incorrigible.”

  “‘Haps, but I canna tell a lie. They really are lovely.”

  With that, he placed a hand on her waist, and tugged her close. When he kissed her this time, there was nothing of the biting urgency of before, but it was still filled with an intense passion. A hunger that quivered and trembled beneath the surface, trying to break free, but held back by chains.

 
Warmth filled her, wrapped around her at the touch of his lips and the enfolding of his embrace. Julia entwined her arms around his neck and scooted closer, her hip touching his. Then he was pushing her down to the plaid, his body half covering hers as his tongue took possession of her mouth.

  She sighed against him, her fingers tugging at the wild, dark locks that had come free from the confines of the leather strap he tied them with each morning. So soft against her skin. She massaged his scalp, lifting her knee to rest it against his, slowly opening herself up to him more than she knew she should.

  Everything about kissing him felt good. Nay, not just good, incredible. Fascinating. Enchanting. She wanted more of everything. Julia matched the stroking of his tongue with her own, crushed her breasts to his chest, and marveled at the tingly tightness of her nipples and the sparks of pleasure that were firing between her legs.

  Alistair groaned against her mouth, the vibration sending a jolt of lust racing in her veins. To make it all the more potent, she could hear everything he was thinking.

  Delicious.

  So hot, warm, supple.

  God, I want to part her legs and put my cock—

  Julia gasped, arching her back, wanting him to put it wherever he was about to think of before the desire for him to do so knocked his thoughts from her brain. Nay, she couldn’t invade his thoughts, had to control it, even as she felt herself swiftly unraveling.

  “Wait,” she murmured. “We canna.” Och, but they were the ugliest words she’d ever uttered, because she very much wanted him, all of him.

  “I know,” he groaned, stilling above her.

  Their chests pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. She flattened her hand on his chest, wanting to dig her fingers into the sinew, to stroke up to his shoulders and pull him down against her again. To say the hell with it, and let him have her.

  Alistair tugged her lip between his teeth, his eyes looking into hers, with the dusky light darkening them from green to black. Then he sighed as he rested his forehead against hers, his breaths coming heavy and in tune with her own. She wanted so badly to be closer, to be one with him, but given their young charge slept just a few feet away, and that Alistair’s kisses had already distracted her enough, Julia knew that would be a bad idea.