My Highland Laird: Sci-Regency Book 5

by J. L. Langley

  Turning his attention back to the captives, Ciaran inched his way backward.

  The redhead lifted his head without really looking at anything.

  Ciaran froze, his breath caught in his chest, and his stomach clenched. His fingers tingled as if begging to touch, yearning to feel. With great certainty, he realized this was why he was supposed to be here. What made him hesitate about leaving. It was as if destiny were shouting his name alongside the echo of the whistling wind. Being struck by lightning probably felt similar and definitely less scary. Ciaran squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to rid his body of the strange sensations rushing through him. He breathed in and out of his nose as slow as he could, but it didn’t seem to help clear his head. He blinked his eyes back open and peeked around the large rock in front of him.

  The man was absolutely gorgeous. His face was aglow in the firelight, highlighting high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Ciaran couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. Probably blue. A deep placid blue, the color of Loch Sterling in the moonlight. His expression was blank and pensive, as though he were concentrating on something and lost inside his own head. If not for the circumstances, Ciaran would have said he looked as though he were daydreaming.

  A stray lock of red caught the breeze and blew across his eyes. When he lifted his bound hands to bat it away, he turned his head, revealing a dark bruise under his right eye and crusted blood at the corner of his mouth.

  Rage pulsed through Ciaran, making his hands shake. The MacLeans were monsters. Red was half their size. Ciaran fancied he could actually feel the heat of his sword in its scabbard, lying across his back, begging to be introduced to the MacLeans. His mind tumbled with options on how to defeat the MacLeans, but then something touched his calf, pulling him from his fantasy.

  Finally tearing his gaze away from Red, Ciaran glanced back.

  Ram lay on his stomach, glaring at him with impatience.

  Ciaran slinked backward on his elbows and knees until he was far enough away from the edge that he could stand up and walk. It took him a good five minutes to make his way without any noise. A couple of times, he made pebbles scrape and had to slow down. When he finally got to the place where they’d left their horses, Angus, Greer, and Ram were waiting for him. There was a tension among them. They stood with their arms crossed over their chests. At first Ciaran thought the irritation was directed at him, but as soon as Angus opened his mouth, Ciaran realized the tension was between them.

  “We have tae do something. We cannae leave those two. We have tae go back and get more men.”

  Ram shook his head immediately. “That will start an all-out war. A war that we dinna need right now. We already have enough problems. Are ye forgetting the building and the outsiders? Besides, we ken nothing about these people. They could be with the outsiders. Ye saw how they are dressed. They are nae Highlanders.”

  “Nae, I am nae forgetting,” Angus hissed and shook his own head furiously.

  Ciaran met Greer’s stare, but Greer shrugged as if to say whatever you decide and remained quiet, as usual. Ciaran glanced back toward the cliff. Damn it all, they were both right. They could not risk a war with the MacLeans… not yet anyway, but unless he missed his guess, it was only a matter of time. Still… something deep down inside of him, crazy as it was, could not leave. God help him, Red was like a glass of finely aged bourbon—smooth and warm going down, followed by a kick that left a man feeling alive. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Ciaran gave Ram and Angus a smile. “What is that saying? The enemy of my enemy….”

  “Is my friend,” Ram finished. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “Goddammit.”

  Ciaran nodded. Goddammit indeed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “We’re Doomed!!! Please note the capital D and the three exclamation marks.”

  —Timothy on Bannon’s current situation.

  “Bannon?” Something tapped his cheek. “Bannon, can you hear me?”

  Someone jostled his shoulder, making his head spin and his teeth clack. Bile filled his mouth, tickling the back of his throat. “Answer me right—” A loud screech rent the air, and other more masculine voices started talking.

  Voices Bannon didn’t recognize.

  Where am I? What…? Oh no! The crash, the escape…. The fall! “Louie?” That screech had been Louie! Nausea clawed its way up Bannon’s throat along with the knowledge there were people around him. He blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to come into focus. How long had he been out? Geez, he felt as though he’d fallen off a mountain. Which, technically, he had. His stomach finally had enough. Bile rose in his throat, and he propped himself up on his elbow and vomited with a body-wrenching clench that made sure he realized where every single pain he had was located.

  The rocks around him came into view along with stretched-out shadows and several pairs of boots. One pair he could see quite clearly—short brown boots made out of some sort of rough animal hide—right underneath his nose. There was light. The torches. The brutes that had taken them hostage!

  Something hard tapped under his chin. “On ye feet, outsider.” The voice was guttural, harsh, and unfamiliar.

  Bannon looked up a glinting length of steel, realizing it was a sword under his chin. Galaxy, what was it with these savages pointing swords at him? He’d had quite enough. His gut clenched again, threatening a repeat of its previous evacuation. When he was finally able to focus on something other than the blade at his throat, he saw long, hairy legs, a dirty skirt, some sort of hairy pouch, a dark cloak, and broad shoulders under a dingy, sodden shirt.

  A grizzly bear of a man, with ratty brown-and-gray hair and even rattier beard, glared down at him. He looked like the villain right out of a fairy-tale illustration only…. Ewww… I’d need a lot of yellow ochre to paint that nose. It was big and bulbous. His beady eyes weren’t much better. They hinted at a mean spirit, like Percy’s eyes, but there was something different about this man. He held himself straighter than the rest, with an aura of power about him.

  All around Big Nose, the men who’d captured them clustered. Some held torches, others just stared. Where were their horses?

  Bannon swallowed hard and pushed himself to a sitting position, being careful of the sword at his throat. How long had he been unconscious? He glanced around, trying to find Louie, and located her to his left. The somewhat sympathetic man who’d been walking with them held her in front of him with one meaty paw clamped around her shoulder.

  Her eyes widened, and she locked gazes with him. Fear came off her in waves, and with the light, at least there was color in her cheeks now. And to think, it only took him falling off a mountain to revive her. It really was a miracle they were alive, and now it looked as though they needed another miracle to stay that way. Something told him this barbarian leader was not as restrained as his men.

  Two men came forward, hooked Bannon under the arms, and hauled him to his feet. His vision wavered, threatening to black out again, but he fought it. Something told him if he lost consciousness, he’d never wake again, either from the concussion or from having his throat slit. He wasn’t sure which. Only his pride kept him from begging mercy.

  Once he was on his feet, he took a deep shuddering breath and shrugged out of the men’s hold only to have the tip of a sword pressed to his chest again. His legs threatened to buckle, but his will was stronger than his muscles… just barely. Bannon stepped back, and gravel crunched beneath his feet. They were still on the mountain, though on a more level spot. The rocks around them were bigger, and the torches gave the gray slate a warm glow. It was like being alone in a vacuum. The storm had made everything quiet, and he could only see his immediate area. They were on a relatively flat spot in the mountains that spread out, wider than the rest. Gray rock, pebbles, and mud was all he could see. Utter blackness surrounded him outside the perimeter of the torches.

  One of the men who’d manhandled him to his feet shoved his shoulder forward. “Move, outsider. Wher
e are t’ rest of ye warriors? Are ye here tae spy?” The tip of the sword stabbed him, drawing blood through the thin lawn shirt.

  “We don’t have any warriors, you heathens!” Louie shouted.

  Great. Let’s antagonize the hostile men with big shiny weapons.

  Bannon ignored Timothy’s sarcasm and glared at Louie, hoping for once she’d shut up.

  The man with the sword looked over Bannon at their leader. “The lieutenant commander said tae look oot fer spies.”

  Lieutenant commander? Galaxy help them, this was bad. Did these men work with the IN? Bannon lifted his chin and met the swordsman’s gaze. “I’m Ban—”

  The sword pommel shot upward, hitting him under the chin.

  He saw stars, his knees gave out, and he went down hard, his hands slipping in the contents his stomach had cast up. Eww….

  Louie gasped. “You bastard.”

  There were signs of a struggle, then the sound of skin hitting skin.

  Bannon glanced over at Louie and found her limp in the man’s arms. Rage coursed through him, and he clenched his fist. His aches and pains gave way to a rush of adrenaline, at least momentarily. Bannon bounded up and charged forward but was intercepted before he got to Louie. Struggling momentarily with the men who grabbed him, he shouted, “Leave her alone! The rest of our men will come for us, and if you harm her, they will kill you.”

  Louie looked at him with wide eyes.

  Bannon stared hard and finally stopped struggling against his captors. They were holding him as though he were no more than a gnat. He met Louie’s gaze, willing her not to contradict him. Something told him that if these men thought they were alone, their lives would be forfeit, and from the way they leered at Louie, they’d suffer greatly before then. He turned his face back up to the ugly bastard in charge. “We’ll cooperate, just don’t hurt her.”

  “Ye’re damned right ye’ll cooperate. Why are ye here? Are ye tryin’ tae stop the base from being built? How many survived ye ship crash?”

  Oh bother. This was bad. Bannon didn’t know much about the IN situation here on Skye, but he knew the diplomatic mission was to try and stop their presence. It would seem they were too late. He should have paid a lot more attention to dinner conversation with his family.

  “Nae? Ye arenae saying, outsider?” the leader asked with a snarl. “Verra well, we’ll take ye back tae the base, and the lieutenant commander can ask ye hisself.”

  Bannon was really getting tired of being called an outsider with such disgust. They didn’t even pronounce it right. They said ootsider. “Two hundred.” Galaxy, he hoped that was enough. Enough to make these men wary and to buy him some time.

  The head arse in charge furrowed his brow. Either he didn’t like the idea of two hundred men, or he couldn’t count that high. Bannon was betting on the latter.

  The oaf turned to the man beside him, who was just as disgusting but more fit. “Tie them up. We heid out at first light.”

  A shiver snaked down Bannon’s spine, and a sense of foreboding swirled within him. Galaxy help them, they were not only going to die, but if the IN found out they were here, their families and everyone back on Regelence could be in danger. The momentary escape from reality due to Louie being hit faded, and his mind raced, trying to figure a way out of this. He needed a miracle. His best bet was to play along until he could get free.

  Grabbed from behind, his shoulders were wrenched up and his wrists tied painfully tight. He had no way to wiggle free of these ropes. Panic seized him, and the blood rushed from his head, leaving him cold in the face and light-headed.

  Come on, Bannon, don’t give in to a fit of vapors. You’re better than that. We can get free. We have to.

  He didn’t believe Timothy for one minute, and the weird flush was not receding. He tried to look up and blink away the odd sensation, but his body had had enough. Bending at the waist, he vomited all over the leader’s rough hide boots.

  § § § §

  Bannon glanced down at his tied hands resting in his lap and grinned. Thank galaxy for bird-witted chawbacons. Every society had them, and Bannon had been lucky that Skye’s cockleheads were the ones holding him prisoner. The old “I have to go” ploy was not only good for stalling when one was forced to attend a ball they did not want to go to, but apparently it worked for thwarting bad guys too. Once the men had settled down to eat their dried meat, cheese, and bread—the savages hadn’t even offered him and Louie any—Bannon tried to think of any reason for them to untie him, so he’d finally settled on the excuse of relieving himself. And it worked! He’d been hoping only to get the ropes looser, but they’d tied his hands in front. He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  Bannon’s stomach growled as he watched one of the men shovel a piece of cheese past the scraggly mess that passed for a beard and mustache. Arsehat! Not only were the MacLeans—he’d heard one of the barbarians talking—horrible hosts and not feeding him, they were basically ignoring him and Louie as well. Which meant Bannon had a lot of time to think. Unfortunately his mind kept drifting back to his empty stomach and aching limbs. “Hey, Louie,” he whispered.

  She had her head resting on his shoulder and rolled it upward to look at him through a veil of dark hair.

  He brought his hands up and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “We need to go make sure there is nothing at the crash site that can identify us or Regelence,” he whispered.

  She snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re tied up.”

  Bannon beamed at her, then brought his wrists up in front of her face and wiggled his fingers.

  For the first time all evening, she grinned, and relief hit Bannon so hard, he fancied he actually felt lighter. They were going to be okay. Somehow, someway, they’d make it. Now if the MacLeans would just go to sleep. Oh no! There might be a flaw in his plan. “You don’t suppose they will stay awake to guard us, do you?”

  Louie shrugged, and he felt it against his side. “We’ll pretend to be asleep.”

  Well, that was better than nothing. Who knew, maybe it would work. Pretending to have to relieve himself had. He supposed he’d fight if he had to. Glancing around, Bannon searched for a weapon close by. Several of the men had dirks.

  We should shove those knives up their—

  With a mental groan, Bannon cut Timothy off before he got going. If they were going to successfully escape, he needed his concentration.

  His stomach growled again, which was not good for scheming.

  The MacLeans all had swords, but he wasn’t at all positive he could lift the blasted things; they were bigger than he was.

  Wouldn’t take much strength to run them through and take some of their food and shove it up—

  “Bannon….” This time it was Louie who interrupted Timothy.

  “Yeah?”

  “What about Captain Kindros?”

  “What about her?”

  Louie rolled her head up to stare at him again, giving him the are you jesting with me look. “They are not going to be back for several days at least. So what do we do once we go to the site and destroy things? And how do we keep the IN from finding out about Captain Kindros helping us? We cannot dismantle the pieces of shuttle that survived. Don’t you think the IN will wonder why she is here? If they truly are here already, it will seem odd that she’s visiting this planet and that she sent a shuttle to the surface.”

  Well, hell. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “We’ll play it by ear. We have to get away first.” The very thought made his blood run cold. He was not used to playing hero. Antihero or someone in need of a hero was usually more his speed. But there was nothing for it. The only other option was to die, or worse, put his family and friends in danger. “Captain Kindros will come up with something. Admiral Hawkins will cover for her.” He hoped.

  Closing her eyes, Louie rolled her head, giving him a kiss on the shoulder through the thin lawn shirt.

  Tipping his head forward, he kissed her on the top of the head
and sat back and waited. He stared up at the sky, saying a silent prayer that his plan would work, then rested his eyes, feigning sleep.

  After what seemed like hours, the camp finally quieted down. Only the crackle of fire and snores echoed through the cliffs, along with the occasional flatulence. Bannon grimaced. The sooner he got away from these barbarians, the better. The wind had calmed to a steady breeze, blowing against his left side. On his right, the heat of Louie’s body warmed him. He listened some more, then cautiously cracked one eye open.

  The fire was so low it was nearly out, but he could discern the MacLeans littering the plateau like fallen leaves with no rhyme or reason. Odd. He’d have thought they’d sleep in some sort of strategic way, with their backs to one another or something. Opening his eyes more fully, he turned his head, looking about. The moon filtering through the clouds and the last of the fire gave enough light for him to confirm that they were all asleep. He wished he’d thought to count them earlier, but there was nothing for it now. He nudged Louie.

  Her eyes opened immediately with no vestiges of sleep in them. Lifting up, she scooted forward and away from him, presenting her tied wrists.

  Bannon worked quickly on getting the knots untied; it was not easy, even with his hands in front of him, but he managed.

  After stretching her arms out and rolling her shoulder a few times, Louie set to work on his knots.

  As soon as they came free, Bannon took a deep breath, held it, and got to his feet. When no one shouted or rushed forward, he exhaled and offered Louie a hand.

  She picked up her skirts and wadded them in her hand above her knees, and they made their way back toward the place where Bannon had nearly fallen off the mountain.