A Rake at the Highland Court: The Highland Ladies Book Four

by Barclay, Celeste

  They came to a section of the pass where they had to dismount and lead their steeds, and Eoin’s horse Gun Eagal, or Fearless, embarrassed him when the mount was the first to balk about the precarious path, while Twinkle pranced behind Cairstine as though she enjoyed the danger. When they made it to safe ground, Cairstine turned to look at Eoin, offering him a wolfish grin before bursting into laughter. Eoin pursed his lip and shook his head as he stroked the bridge of Gun Eagal’s nose.

  They made camp early that evening, their exhausted horses glad to munch grass and drink from the stream. Eoin built a fire after his men gathered wood and tinder, and he noticed Cairstine speaking with Bram. She nodded and fetched her dirk from her saddle. She moved toward the treeline while Bram went in the opposite direction. Eoin realized Cairstine wasn’t going into the woods for privacy since Bram usually stood on the other side of a tree or bush from her. Eoin rushed to Cairstine’s side.

  “Where’re you going?” Eoin demanded.

  Cairstine looked askance at him. “To hunt.” She waved her dirk between them.

  “Alone,” he accused.

  “No. Bram is going too.”

  “Then why isn’t he with you? You were going into the trees alone.”

  “Only a few feet from him.” Cairstine pointed over Eoin’s shoulder, and he glanced back to see Bram waiting. “We’re setting traps for rabbits and squirrels. We need to set them a ways apart from each other, and we’ll catch something sooner if we divide the task.”

  “You’re not traipsing through the woods alone, Carrie.” Eoin crossed his arms, lifted his chin, and stood to his full height.

  “Oh, stop it. You don’t scare me.” Cairstine dismissed Eoin’s command and made to step around him.

  “I’m serious, Cairrie. I’m coming with you. We’ve crossed into Forbes territory, and we aren’t on good terms with them right now. They’re bound to have seen us and recognized our Gordon plaids. Your men may wear the Grant plaids, but our clans are allies, and you’re traveling with us. That puts you in danger.”

  “I haven’t seen anyone. How could they know we’re traveling through?”

  “They have scouts patrolling their border. I saw their etchings on several tree trunks marking the boundary, and I noticed fresh tracks aboot an hour ago. Please, Cairstine.”

  Cairstine relented without further argument. She understood clan feuds, and she knew her value as a laird’s daughter. She nodded, and they eased into the woods. It wasn’t long before Cairstine had several traps set, using string Eoin was unaware she had. They waited silently until their prey stepped into the trap, and Cairstine snagged the unsuspecting animal's leg when she pulled the noose taut. In less than a quarter hour, Cairstine had a brace of rabbits and three squirrels, and Eoin was impressed. The sun had set, and the gloaming left little light under the dense canopy. Cairstine followed Eoin’s lead, not realizing how far they’d moved into the woods.

  A twig snapped not far behind Cairstine, and she froze. “Eoin,” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her. She hurried to catch up, but she had a hard time seeing his figure as they wound through the trees. Another twig snapped, and Cairstine was certain that was either a very large carnivorous animal or a person. Neither made her feel comfortable. “Eoin,” she called a little louder.

  “Carrie?” his voice floated back to her. “Where are you?”

  “Not far behind you. I think I see you. Wa—” Cairstine’s voice came out strangled on the last sound as what felt like a band of iron wrapped around her waist. She thrashed and bucked as another hand tangled in her hair and yanked her head back.

  “Shut up, Grant bitch,” a steely voice rasped.

  “Eoin!” Cairstine screamed as loudly as she could before her head snapped back even harder and she saw stars, but she didn’t quit her attempt to be heard. “Eoin! Help!”

  “I told ye to shut up, whore. We ken who ye are, and we saw ye traveling alone with those men. We ken ye arenae married to any of them.”

  We. Cairstine fought against the tide of panic that rose from her belly. She forced herself to think, not allowing herself to become overwhelmed and unable to process what was happening. That had happened the last time when a stranger dragged into her woods. Her mind had shut down, and she hadn’t been able to think. They must be the Forbes Eoin warned me about.

  “Ye Forbes willna fair well if ye harm me. Ye’ll have the Gordons and the Grants on yer arses. And with us come the Sutherlands, Setons, Burnetts. And Campbells,” She threw in the last clan since she knew they were allied with the Gordons and the most powerful clan in Scotland besides the Douglases. She abandoned her courtly speech, knowing it would only intensify their disdain. She couldn’t see anyone else, but she sensed they lurked nearby. “Let me go, and I willna tell a soul. I’ll say I fell.”

  The laughter came from more than just the man who held her immobile. It confirmed her suspicions, and it made her want to retch. She heard men crashing through the trees and knew Eoin and the guards were on their way, but she had no way to know which side outnumbered the other or if they were evenly matched.

  “Dinna come any nearer, or I will gut the whore,” the stranger called out. He released her hair and produced a dirk that he held to her throat.

  “Ye willna do that as there isnae any ransom for a dead woman,” Eoin called as he crept forward until he saw Cairstine. In the dark, it brought him nearly close enough to reach out to her. His heart pounded and rage unlike any he had experienced in battle simmered below the surface. He fought to keep control, knowing unleashing his temper would be a disadvantage and possibly deadly for Cairstine. “If it’s coin ye want for being on yer land, then ye will have it.”

  “What’s to keep us from stealing it from ye?” the leader asked as more men materialized on both sides.

  “The knowledge that stealing from the Gordons has already been a death sentence for more than a few men in yer clan. How do ye think ma father will react when he hears aboot this? This isnae the same as stealing a few heads of sheep. Harm the lady, and it’s the same as harming me. Who will you call upon to save yer arses? The Mackays?” Eoin scoffed. “Too far away. The Frasers? Willna care. The Mackintoshes? Too weak. And who do ye think the Campbells will side with on this? Do ye want a clan war, Domnall?”

  The man holding Cairstine growled and cursed.

  “Och aye, even in the dark I recognize ye, ye sack of shite,” Eoin went on. “Let the lass go, and I willna rain holy terror down on ye and yers. Harm another hair on her head, and yer wife will be a widow and yer bairns will grow up without a father.” An arrow whizzed by Domnall’s head, and Cairstine had never been more grateful for being short. “I didna miss. That is yer only warning.”

  Everything seemed to come to a standstill. No animals moved, the breeze ceased, and the heavy breathing of the Gordon and Grant men faded. Cairstine dared not breathe until at last she couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Och, too late.” Eoin called.

  Arrows whizzed through the air from the ghostly warriors who came to her defense. The moans of the wounded disrupted the previous silence. Cairstine stomped on Domnall’s foot as she dug her nails into the hand that pressed the blade to her throat. Domnall grunted, but it was the distraction Eoin needed to pull Cairstine away and begin his attack. Eoin slashed his sword at each of Domnall’s arms, injuring him but not striking a lethal blow. Domnall had no chance to draw his sword before Eoin kicked him in his kneecap, and he collapsed to the ground. Eoin had no intention of killing Domnall, but he ensured the man wouldn’t fight again for a long while.

  “Cairstine?” Eoin called out to her.

  “I’m right behind you,” she answered. Eoin spun around and found Cairstine standing within arm's reach. He pulled her into his embrace, and he sighed when she returned it, pressing the full length of her body against his. He expected her to tremble or to cry, but she seemed more collected than he felt. “I’m all right, Eo. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t have a chance to. He just
threatened me. Really, I’m all right.”

  Cairstine felt and heard Eoin’s rapid heartbeat, and his hold on her was nearly too tight, but she didn’t want him to let go. She rested her head against his chest, but their embrace didn’t last.

  “How vera sweet. Yer whore wants to thank ye. Maybe ye’d let us watch,” Domnall spat as he struggled to his feet.

  “Bram!” Eoin bellowed, and the man materialized like a wraith. “Take Cairstine back to camp.”

  Cairstine wanted to remain, but she didn’t argue with Eoin. She followed Bram, but she’d passed only one tree before she heard the sound of a fist hitting bone, and the muttered curses spewed from Domnall’s mouth before Eoin landed another punch.

  “It’s best if ye dinna listen, lass,” Bram wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her back to the camp.

  “I’m nae going to kill ye, ye filthy bastard, but I will make ye suffer,” Eoin pledged as he drove his fist into Domnall’s gut yet again. His other fist landed a satisfying punch to his jaw, and from the crunching sounds, Eoin was confident he’d broken the other man’s jaw. If he hadn’t, the uppercut he landed next surely did. “Ye never should have touched her. Nae even dreamed of it. Dinna doubt for a moment that I willna cut off yer cock and bollocks and shove them down yer throat. I’d say until ye gag on them, but they arenae big enough to do the trick.” Eoin’s knee landed in Domnall’s groin. He let Domnall fall to the ground where Cairstine’s attacker curled into a ball, writhing in pain.

  “Nay mon reacts like this if he isnae tupping the bitch,” Domnall mumbled in between wheezes.

  “Ye dinna ken any decent men to ken this is exactly how a mon with honor protects any woman.” Eoin’s booted foot landed against Domnall’s ribs. “Keep talking, and I will change ma mind. I will kill ye and leave ye to the wolves.”

  Domnall Forbes saw his life flash before his eyes just before Eoin’s boot plowed into his face. He had no choice but to be silent as everything went black around him. Eoin was grateful for the blessed silence as his control had evaporated just before his foot connected with Domnall’s face. He would have killed him and not experienced a moment’s remorse. Instead, he ordered two of his men to carry Domnall to their horses.

  Eoin’s order had been to wound or maim the Forbes men, and they had succeeded. The barrage of arrows killed only one of the two dozen men. The rest suffered wounds that weren’t fatal. The men Eoin had set on watch discovered the Forbes’ horses before the Forbes leader attacked Cairstine. They’d already pilfered the bows and were on their way back to camp. As soon as they heard Cairstine’s scream, they tossed the bows and quivers to their fellow guardsmen, and the lot rushed through the woods on the defensive. It was the only bit of luck Eoin had in a dreadful situation. Without the bows and arrows, they wouldn’t have so easily defeated the attackers since the Forbes outnumbered the Grants and Gordons four to one. When he’d spotted Cairstine being held at knifepoint, he’d wanted to rage like an angry bull, but he wasn’t willing to further endanger her. He walked in a large circle until he felt calm enough to return to camp.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cairstine’s eyes were riveted to the trees as she waited for Eoin to emerge. Bram had directed her to sit on a log near the fire, but when she spotted Eoin, she dashed toward him. His arms opened to her, and once more she launched herself into his embrace. She clung to him, relieved he returned in one piece without a visible nick or scratch. Eoin’s hands ran over her body, checking for injuries he hadn’t had time to look for when he pulled her away from Domnall.

  “I’m truly unharmed, Eoin. I promise. What aboot you?”

  “He never had a chance to touch me. Let me see your throat.” Eoin led them to the fire, where he turned Cairstine so the light shone on her neck. There was a tiny mark where the tip pressed against her skin, but there was no injury. He ran his thumb over the spot as his palm cradled her neck and his fingers rubbed away the tension. Eoin confessed, “I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”

  “Frightened? You sounded calm and in control.”

  “I felt aught but. When I couldn’t see you, then heard your scream, I feared my heart would stop. Then finding you in Domnall’s grip, I’ve never wanted to kill someone more. The control I’ve always had before battle never happened. If I hadn’t been so concerned that charging Domnall would’ve gotten you killed, I would’ve plowed into him and beaten him until he drew his last breath.”

  “I was scared too, but I knew you’d come for me. I forced myself not to panic and to think of what you would tell me to do.”

  “I’m proud of you, Cairrie.” Eoin pulled her in for a kiss but stopped himself, remembering they were in the middle of a camp bustling with even more people than normal. The guardsmen had rounded up several of the Forbes patrol, awaiting Eoin’s orders. He glanced in the horses’ direction and spotted a conscious Domnall sitting bound against a tree. “Bind the others to trees. In the morn, strip them bare. Let them figure out how to untie themselves, or let another patrol rescue them. Domnall, you wanted to humiliate Lady Cairstine. Now it’s your turn to be humiliated. You’d better hope the worst that happens is a squirrel licking your bollocks.”

  The Grants and Gordons chuckled while Cairstine blushed. Eoin led Cairstine to a place near the fire where she couldn’t see the Forbes men, but Eoin could watch them from the corner of his eye. He fetched one of his spare Gordon plaids and wrapped it around her shoulders. Neither of them dared admit what it normally meant for a woman to wear a man’s plaid, especially a man from another clan. They both knew Eoin could have fetched her other Grant plaid if he’d wanted, but both were content with how things were.

  It wasn’t long before Bram returned with the animals Cairstine dropped during the attack. Another guard fried bannocks while the meat cooked. Cairstine didn’t settle for the night with a full belly, but she was fuller than she had been any of her nights at Dundee Priory. Exhaustion swept her into sleep, but it was restless. She dreamed of Eoin standing at the steps of a kirk waiting for her, but when she approached, a faceless man stepped in front of her. Eoin tried to fight his way to her, but she ran. In her dream state she couldn’t tell where she was running to, but it seemed an endless effort, with Eoin nowhere in sight. That dream melted into another where they were alone in a chamber she didn’t recognize, and she wore little but a thin chemise. Eoin wore his plaid, but she couldn’t see his leine. He encouraged her to come closer, and when she obliged, they began kissing. The next image flashed to them naked on the bed together, but when Eoin rolled her onto her back and moved on top, he transformed into the faceless man again who pinned her to the bed. She thrashed and fought, but she couldn’t push the weight of her attacker off. She cried out, but no one came until suddenly she was awake and disoriented.

  Eoin watched Cairstine stir in her sleep and suspected she was having a nightmare. It tempted him to wake her, but he wasn’t certain whether that was the right choice once she settled and seemed to slip back into a deep sleep. As he watched her, longing and regret radiated from his heart into every nerve until it was all he could feel. He was slowly driving himself mad with want each time he held Cairstine and kissed her. It was senseless to continue since nothing would come of it, and one or both of them was likely to wind up with a broken heart, but she was like a lodestone and he had no strength to fight her magnetism. As his mind drifted, he noticed Cairstine shifted restlessly, the new nightmare worse than the first. He bolted from his bedroll when she screamed and thrashed. He gripped her shoulders and shook her as gently as he could as he called her name until it permeated the abyss her mind had slipped into. She sat up and jerked awake.

  “You were having a nightmare, Cairrie.”

  “I know. Two of them. They were horrible,” she shook her head as she wiped the sweat from her brow and the tears that trickled from the corner of her eyes.

  “What happened?” Eoin murmured. But Cairstine couldn’t bring her eyes to meet his, shaking her head. “I d
on’t want to talk aboot it.”

  “Was it what happened before? Were you remembering?” Eoin prodded.

  “No. It wasn’t a memory. It was all made up, but it doesn’t matter because it was a terrible dream that will never come true.” Cairstine reached for the waterskin attached to her saddle that sat behind her. She drew a long sip before replacing the cap. “I want to go back to sleep.”

  Eoin nodded as she lay back down. He drew her plaid over her shoulder and cast a last glance at her before he returned to his own bedroll. Now that his worry had subsided, his longing and regret returned with a vengeance. He longed to move his bedroll beside hers, wrapping his arms around her and protecting Cairstine from the rest of the world. He longed to comfort her, and he longed for her to be the last thing he saw each night and the first that he gazed upon each morning.

  Eoin regretted that it would never come to pass. He regretted that his desire for a family still outweighed his ability to accept Cairstine’s refusal ever to couple with a man. He regretted that he’d allowed himself to have more than one taste of his own forbidden fruit. When he finally slipped into slumber, chasing Cairstine filled his dreams, but she was always just beyond his reach. Their fingertips even grazed a time or two. He ran for what seemed like forever, but never did he catch her. Both of them arose the next morning feeling worse than before they’d gone to bed.

  * * *

  The sixth morning of their journey dawned too soon for either Cairstine’s or Eoin’s taste. It was the last day they would travel together. They would leave the Cairngorms behind them and arrive at Freuchie Castle before the sun set. The Gordons had another day and a half of riding to take them home to Huntly Castle. All the members of their party were ready to make their way home to their beds, their families, and proper meals. But Cairstine was the least enthusiastic. She looked forward to being with her mother and sister, and even Fingal. But she dreaded the confrontation that awaited her. There was little doubt that the abbot’s messenger had arrived at Freuchie by now, and it surprised Cairstine that they hadn’t met her father on the trail. She was certain he would soon ride out to retrieve his wayward daughter.