Fighting For A Highland Lass (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 3)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Time stood still, an endless space where they were one.

  Anne’s eyes were closed, and once more she was flying, natural and perfect as a ship in a good wind. The feel of him inside her and of his firm, perfect buttocks under her hands was indescribable, and she slipped away, forgetting all the pain and discomfort, all the fear and uncertainty. Only the two of them existed.

  As his ardour increased, she opened her eyes. He was gazing down at her, and suddenly, it seemed as if they were going somewhere together, their movements perfectly synchronised, and she felt the pleasure start to build in her, steadily and without hurry. It was inevitable, and in his eyes, she saw it too. She nodded, and he smiled, as together they began to move faster, all of his strength focused with hers on their joint climax. Their breathing and rhythm matched, and even their heartbeats fell into the same, timeless rhythm.

  Just when it seemed that neither of them could go any further, she felt his thrusts increase in intensity, a sudden wave of pleasure cresting as a great cry rose up from within, and throwing her head back with reckless abandon, she let loose a primal cry from somewhere deep within her animal soul. At the sound of her call, he powered down into one final thrust, holding her there, as a white, almost blinding light blurred across her vision as she felt him surge and flow into her. Pulling him into her more deeply, she could feel herself clench hard, as pulse after pulse gripped her belly and thighs, seeking to pull every last drop of him inside of her.

  When at last they eased away from each other, Anne felt limp, her whole body crackling from head to toe with the aftershock of the earthquake that had rocked her. She reached for words, for breath, for anything, but there was nothing. She gripped him, laying on top of him and hearing his breath coming ragged and heavy. They lay together for a long time.

  Eventually, he found words. Words whispered into her ear through the rush of the pleasure that still pounded through her with every beat of her heart.

  “I love you, Anne,” he whispered. She could not speak. She stretched herself out on him, breathing deeply, and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  In the morning, they woke together, huddled close under the blankets on the soft, fresh-smelling bed. Outside it was just getting light, a cockerel crowing in the distance. At some point in the night, they had got up and made it back to bed, but neither of them remembered doing so. Wordlessly, he leaned over and kissed her, and before they had made any decision, she climbed on top and slipped him inside her again.

  They laughed together, and this time it felt new again. She rode him hard and fast, and it took very little time to reach their climax together. A deep and passionate kiss held them together as she felt the surge inside her again. This time, she rolled over, putting her arms around him and her hand between his legs, not moving, just feeling how it filled her hand with a satisfying weight.

  The second time they woke, it was fully light outside. Someone was knocking at the door. Anne pulled the covers up and called out, “a moment, please!”

  “When ye are ready, come downstairs,” called the familiar voice of the stout woman from the night before. “There’s no one about, and the inn is closed. There’s no danger ye will be seen.”

  With those words, all the perils that the pleasure of the night before had driven away came back to Anne. Thorvald was hauling himself up behind her, and they gazed at each other somberly for a moment as they heard the landlady’s footsteps move away. The danger was not past, however safe they had felt the night before. Tempting as the thought might be, they could not stay here forever, and the people of the inn had something to tell them.

  They dressed in silence. Their clothes were blessedly dry, and this, as well as a draught of cold water and the sensation of being clean and well-rested, lifted both their spirits. Hand-in-hand, they descended the stairs together, entering into the common room of the inn, where Hamish Sinclair straightened up from wiping a table to greet them.

  “Ingrid!” he called once he had greeted them, and the grey-haired woman came through a back door, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Well,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “I trust ye are both feeling better?”

  “We are,” said Anne, glancing up at Thorvald. The woman’s look was too knowing, but he just squeezed Anne’s hand and smiled at their hosts. At Ingrid’s invitation, they sat down at a big table by the window, and Hamish brought a platter of bread, and mugs of weak beer for each of them.

  “I’m glad ye are awake and feeling rested,” he said. “Old Seamus who brought ye in yesterday, he did not give much away, but there’s clearly more tae this than meets the eye. We had a man in yesterday, and he’d been here before. He came through a few nights ago, asking for news of any travellers, and yesterday, he was back again, not an hour after you two were safely in your room upstairs. I’ve never seen anything like him, and I hope never tae see anything like him again, but I’d bet my boots that it is no coincidence that brought the two of you and him tae my door on the same day. Yesterday afternoon, this fellow came back, and he was asking the same questions as before – who’s been through? Any travellers? Anybody unusual? It was just me and old Seamus in at the time, and we didn’t say a word about you two, as ye’d expect. Next he asked how far it is to the castle of the Earl. Well, Earl William’s castle is half a day’s ride south of here, and I told him so. He said he was gentry himself and would go tae the Earl and seek hospitality there, but he didn’t look like any gentleman I’ve ever seen.”

  “What did he look like?” Thorvald asked. When the landlord had described him, Anne and Thorvald looked at each other. The description matched perfectly the terrifying man they had seen riding toward Neil’s castle, not long after their escape.

  “We saw him on the road,” said Anne. “Coming from...”

  She hesitated, looking at the concerned faces of the innkeeper and his wife. Hamish cleared his throat. After a moment, he spoke again.

  “I’m going tae speak plainly tae ye,” he said. “When Seamus brought ye in, he said ye were fisherfolk who had been blown astray from Orkney and capsized. Well, I don’t doubt that he just repeated what he’d been told, but I’ve been putting the pieces together, and if I can do so, he will have too. Harrow is a small place, and ye won’t be able tae stay hidden for long.”

  The innkeeper began to mark the points off on his fingers.

  “First,” he said, “Seamus said ye were man and wife. Well, ye certainly behave so, and yet ye have no wedding rings. Ye are both young, so the marriage must have been recent, and yet we have heard nothing of either of yer names here in Harrow, and we hear all the news, big and small, from the islands. Second, the seas are all wrong for that tale. The wind was westerly all day yesterday. No fishing boat would have blown this far south. If ye had blown out of control yesterday, ye would have hit Norway before ye hit Harrow.”

  Thorvald seemed about to speak, but Anne squeezed his hand, and he kept silent.

  “Thirdly,” the landlord said, looking apologetically at Anne, “and this is the big one. Well, look at ye! Ye are dressed in good leather armour, made for fighting, not for fishing, and ye carry a fine sword and a dagger at yer belt. I’m sorry, but nobody ever heads out for a day’s fishing armed tae the teeth as ye are.”

  Anne’s face showed such chagrin that the landlord smiled at her.

  “Come now,” he said, “ye were tired, and it’s a good enough tale at short notice, though it doesn’t hold up in detail. But here’s what I’m thinking. We in Harrow have long heard rumours about what lies along the east road. The earl’s men go there occasionally, it’s true, but no man from this village would ever venture that way. It’s well known that bandits occupy the castle on the cliff that’s two day’s walk from here, and it’s rumoured that it’s Neil Gow himself who is in charge of them. Now my guess is this. You two are prisoners of Neil’s and ye have escaped from him, fleeing from the castle, or perhaps stealing a boat and getting away. I don’t ask ye tae
tell me more...”

  “I was kidnapped,” Thorvald broke in. “Neil’s men came and raided our village, and I was taken. Anne here helped me escape.”

  The landlord’s eyes widened.

  “The raid on Skylness?” he said, “that was Neil Gow, and ye were kidnapped? Man, I hadn’t made the connection. Yes, we heard about the raid, alright. But why, lad? What did the pirate want with ye?”

  “I have no idea,” said Thorvald glumly. “Right now, I just want to get back tae my home, and take Anne with me, tae find out if my people are all right, and tae try tae find out what this was all about. My life has been turned upside down, Hamish, and I just want tae get home.”

  “Well, well, that’s fair enough,” said the innkeeper. “I will help ye if I can. But I warn ye that this fellow, this giant who is after ye, he will be back, and whether he is with the pirates or working on his own, he means ye no good. If ye say ye saw him on the road three nights back, and he was heading toward the castle, well, I dare not assume that he is not involved in this dark business in some way. Aye, we must find ye a boat tae take ye back tae Orkney, and as soon as possible.”

  They sat in silence for a little while, chewing over what they had heard. Thorvald and Anne held hands, her hand on his knee under the table. Hamish and Ingrid were looking at each other and seemed to be conferring without speaking. Eventually, Hamish took a deep breath to speak, but before he could, there was a rap at the door, and a voice outside, calling words they could not make out.

  Anne and Thorvald instinctively moved away from the window, but Ingrid stepped forward, looking out.

  “Is it the giant again?” asked Hamish with fear in his voice

  “No, no, it’s not him,” Ingrid replied. “I can’t quite see...”

  The door handle jiggled and rattled as someone outside tried it. There was a pause, and then the person outside gave it a harder rattle than before. To the horror of all inside, the flimsy latch jumped out of its fixing, and the door abruptly opened. A gust of cold air billowed into the warm room, and a slight figure stepped through the door. Thorvald exclaimed in surprise and delight, and left Anne’s side, walking forward with his arms outstretched.

  The newcomer glanced around, and his eyes fixed on Thorvald.

  “Father Hallam!” said Thorvald warmly, “what an unexpected surprise!”

  “Oh, God be praised!” cried the little priest, rushing forward to grab the young man in a fervent embrace. “I have found ye! At last, I have found ye!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Father Hallam often came tae the village of Skylness tae visit us, from the Cathedral up in Kirkwall,” Thorvald explained to the others, once Hallam had sat in a chair and got over his shock. He drank from a mug of weak beer and ate a little bread, one hand playing with the silver chain and crucifix around his neck.

  “But what are ye doing here, Father?” Thorvald asked. “Ye say ye have been looking for me?”

  “I... yes. On the orders of Benedict, who will soon be invested as the new Bishop of Orkney.”

  “The old Bishop is dead, then?”

  “Well, yes... did you not know? But of course,” he said with a shaky laugh. “How could you? Dear God, you don’t know what any of this is about, do you? Tell me, who are these people? Can they be trusted?”

  Thorvald, a little shocked by the direct question, introduced Anne as his wife-to-be. The priest’s eyebrows rose, and he seemed to turn a shade paler if that were possible. Thorvald introduced Ingrid and Hamish, and Hallam nodded.

  “You must forgive the question, but I ask again, Thorvald, do you trust them with your life?”

  “I already have. These three people have saved my life, more than once now.”

  Hallam nodded.

  “Well, so be it,” he said and looked around at the circle of intent faces before turning and fixing his attention of Thorvald.

  “My boy,” he said, “you are hunted. Sir Magnus Bain, a dubious nobleman of violent and terrifying reputation, is in league with the pirate captain Neil Gow-Sinclair. It is he who paid the pirate to kidnap you and get you away from Orkney, and now he is here, on the mainland. I have seen him on the road, though he did not see me. He hunts you now, I have no doubt.”

  “This Bain,” put in the innkeeper, “he is a huge man, with a great red beard?”

  “You have seen him?” said Hallam.

  “He was in here just yesterday afternoon,” replied Hamish. “We sent him on to Earl William.”

  “The Earl of Caithness?” said Hallam in horror. “What could he possibly want there?”

  Hamish Sinclair shrugged elaborately.

  “Who knows?”

  “But what’s it all about, Father Hallam?” asked Thorvald impatiently. “What have I tae do with any of this? What do these people want with me? I’m just a fisher lad from a tiny village, for God’s sake!”

  Hallam reached over the table and touched Thorvald’s hand.

  “I’m afraid you’re not, my boy,” he said gently.

  “Wh... what do ye mean?” asked Thorvald. He looked confused and scared. The priest closed his eyes for a moment as if seeking strength from somewhere within himself. He took a deep breath.

  “Ye are the Bishop’s heir, Thorvald,” he said simply. “Ye are the heir tae a great fortune. In fact, ye are heir tae a fortune so great that nobody but the old Bishop himself knows the full scale of it. Lands, titles, wealth... I don’t actually know fully. The Bishop confided in me, but he did not tell me all. It’s enough wealth and land in Orkney that ye could reach out and take power at a stroke. A huge prize. And there are those in the islands who covet that power, who would do anything to stop it falling into any hands but their own. Sir Magnus Bain, for one, and perhaps others.”

  Thorvald was sitting back in his chair, stunned as if he had been punched.

  “The Bishop’s... heir... but does that mean... my father...?”

  “Your father was Bishop Rognvald of Orkney. He could not acknowledge you while he was alive, for fear of the great scandal it would cause, but he watched over you from afar, and now has chosen to acknowledge you from beyond the grave, reaching out his hand to give you this great gift.”

  “I... I don’t know what tae say....” said Thorvald. He was torn between grief and anger, betrayal and elation. He had never known his father. He would never know his father. The Bishop of Orkney. He had seen him once, from a distance. They had gone to Kirkwall for a grand service, Thorvald could not remember the occasion. It had been winter, and the seas were very rough, so they had walked, not just him and his family, but their whole village, trudging for two days through the sleet and the wind to see the magnificent Cathedral. Thorvald had a vague memory of a fat man in an elaborate hat, booming out profound words which he did not understand over the heads of a great crowd of cold, impoverished folk. Then they had all walked the two days back again. Had that been his father? Maybe on some level, he thought, but not where it really mattered.

  “My... my mother?” he asked in a cracking voice.

  “A Norwegian noblewoman,” said Hallam. “She is long dead.”

  Thorvald felt like he had fallen from a height. It reminded him of the moment he had leapt from the cliff with Anne. He felt as if he had left his guts on the clifftop above him, a horrible feeling of vertigo. He glanced at Anne. She sat stolidly by him, offering no meaningless words, just holding his hand close to her body.

  After a few long moments, he found his voice again.

  “A father,” he said huskily, “a parent... is one who raises a child. One who teaches and comforts, one who is there when the child needs someone. Joan Fisher is my mother, and Tom Fisher of Skylness is my father, in every way that matters. Not some man I have never met, or some woman I never even knew existed until a moment ago. And this inheritance? Well, so far it has caused my village tae be raided, and me tae be kidnapped and hunted, and my life tae be threatened time and again, and my hand tae take the life of another man, as I hop
ed I would never have tae do. Father Hallam, if it weren’t for Anne here... well, I wouldn’t have met her but for the inheritance and the kidnapping, so, well... I suppose it is worth it, after all.”

  He turned to Anne and looked at her questioningly. For the first time since Father Hallam had entered the room, she spoke.

  “I would not have it any other way, Thorvald.”

  “There is a story here, I can tell,” said Hallam, smiling at them. Rather a condescending smile, Anne thought. She was far from sure whether she liked this man or not. Thorvald certainly seemed to trust him, but Anne trusted her own judgement, and something about him rang wrong against her gut instinct. It made sense, she supposed, the tale he told of the inheritance. It was undoubtedly a grand prize. If this Sir Magnus had designs on power in the islands, then it stood to reason that he should pay Neil to kidnap the lad and get him out of the way. Perhaps he had been heading to the castle to rendezvous with Neil, and take Thorvald away as a prisoner? Well, they had escaped that trap at least, she thought wearily.