Sated, the pair clung to one another, their breath gradually returning to a normal rhythm.
“You will get me killed,” Stref said kindly, pushing her damp hair from her glowing face. “My enemies would find me unaware and unprepared if they chose to attack whilst you are my distraction.”
Lena gasped and stepped away from him, rushing to pick up the discarded clothes. She looked to the cave opening; half afraid she would see the leering face of Haigh staring back at her. She turned back to Stref with wide-eyed terror.
“We are safe in here,” he assured her, stooping to help her gather up their possessions, “and you will always be safe with me. Today we must journey back to my keep, and then I will deploy my guard to Rwenor. When the holy man can be found, we will wed. Tonight we will come together as man and wife.”
Lena shuddered at his words. Her mind fought with her body’s glow in an internal battle. She so wanted to baulk against this brute, telling him that she was more than able to defend her people, whilst her body thrilled at the night that was to come. She knew that having made an enemy of Haigh, she would need an ally, but her heart still saw the carnage Stref’s men had wrought on her clan.
As if sensing her inner turmoil, Stref leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Our clans will learn to move on from the conflict. They may never forget but they will, in time, be content with the mutual benefits our union will provide.” Stref deepened his kiss, once more igniting a passionate response from Lena. “An added reward is the mutual benefits that we will enjoy,” he added with satisfaction. “Now come and make haste, we have tarried too long in this place. Haigh will soon be upon us, and I wish to avoid a confrontation with him until I am closer to my home soil.”
Just the name of that monster gave Lena a shudder of disgust. She quickly collected the rest of her meagre possessions and made her way towards the waiting horse.
“May I have a bow?” Lena asked as Stref approached. “I could be of use if an enemy approached.”
Stref narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Lena fought to arrange her features in an innocent expression. She had no intention of escape. One angry laird at her heels was more than enough, for now. Anyway, Lena had no wish to be apart from the man who made her senses sing and her womanhood emerge from beneath her masculine disguise.
“Is that how you fled from Haigh?” he growled, his eyes suddenly hooded and wary. “How many times did you have to bed him to gain some trust?”
“How dare you!” Lena screamed, livid at the harsh accusation in his cruelly spoken words. Her hand reached out and struck his face with a force that matched her outrage. “That monster was going to force me…” Lena stopped as the breath caught in her throat as a sob. She turned to mount the horse, determined that Stref Harris would not see her weep.
Silently, Stref pulled himself behind her and urged his horse out into the wood. They rode in silence for several hours until Stref halted the beast close to a fast-flowing river.
“This is the boarder to my lands,” he said sharply. “We will cross here.”
“Here?” Lena looked nervously at the force of the water as it cascaded over a patch of rocks. White foam spat into the air as the mighty current proceeded relentlessly on its journey to the sea.
“Here!” Stref replied.
He dismounted and tied the reins tightly around his wrist. Passing a rope to Lena, he indicated that she do the same behind him. Lena’s rage was pulsing through her body. She hastily tied the knots, muttering under her breath the whole time about arrogant lairds who thought themselves better than everyone else. Assisting her to tie the rope to the saddle, he then glanced at the knots at her wrists. A brief nod of approval was all the encouragement Lena received, and she was grateful for the accompanying noise of the water that made conversation impossible.
Lena moved automatically as the horse obeyed its master’s will and entered the tempestuous river. Stref marched in behind, pulling Lena forward. She was unsure if, left to her own devices, she would have braved the icy-cold depths, but tied onto an obedient horse and a madman, she had no choice.
The cold hit her first. Her breath left her body with a rush. Instinctively, Lena raised her arms to prevent the cold from penetrating further. This caused the rope to pull and the horse to stop in its tracks. Stref turned and glared at her as she lowered her arms back to a position that did not strain the rope. The force of the current pushed Lena’s slight form into the side of the horse. It continued to bombard her, forcing her around the rump of the terrified animal. Lena’s hastily tied knots loosened from her wrist and she felt the strength of the river carry her away from the safety of the horse; from the safety of Stref.
With her mouth too full of water to cry out for help, Lena struggled to pull her arms into the easy stroke she knew herself capable of. The water forced the breath from her body, and pulled her under, continually tormenting her with all of its brutish might. Just ahead, Lena spotted a branch that had fallen into the current. It too was being pounded by the swell. As she sped past, Lena stretched out her hand and grabbed the rough bark. Pulling herself onto the thicker part of the branch, Lena was able to keep her head above the water and survey her surroundings.
Looking back the way she had come, Lena could see Stref almost to the bank. He was facing her and waving his arms franticly in her direction. If she had not been so afraid for her life, she may have seen the humour in the situation. Stref’s gestures certainly had an air of the farcical about them. Following the direction of his arms, Lena could see another, thicker part of the tree. This must have been the trunk and it was still anchored to the bank. Lena knew that she must reach it and then pull herself along the gnarled length to reach dry land. Shivering with a combination of fear and cold, Lena found it hard to release her grip from the security the large branch offered. Letting go would throw her once again on the mercy of the relentless water.
Stref was now making his way along the side of the river, almost drawing level with her position. His face was black with rage and his mouth set in a grim line. With an agility that belied his size, he moved along the trunk, closing the gap between them.
“Swim!” he commanded with a sense of one accustomed to being obeyed.
“I–I–I cannot,” Lena loathed herself for her weakness, but her limbs were frozen and she dared not throw herself back into the rapid flow.
“You must!” Stref growled. “I will reach you. Trust me.”
Lena observed something flicker across Stref’s face. She was sure it was fear, but saw it replaced as quickly as it has come with savage determination. Deciding that trusting him was her only option, Lena prised her hands free and sailed back into the raging water. She pulled her arms as hard as she could; then found herself being heaved from the icy torrent by a firm hand on her upper arm. Lena clung to the solid form of Stref as he hauled her roughly into his embrace. Balanced on the trunk, they stood, motionless in each other’s arms.
“There is no escape,” Stref said harshly. He pushed Lena to an arm’s length of his warmth and guided her along the fallen tree to the firm ground of the riverbank.
Lena felt the rush of cold air as Stref withdrew the heat of his body. She began to shiver uncontrollably, barely managing to stand as they reached the safety of dry land. Instinctively, Stref put his hands out to prevent Lena from falling. The next minute his lips bruised hers with a fierce passion that did not aid the weakness in Lena’s already wobbly legs.
She pushed fruitlessly against his chest, angry that he could accuse her so vehemently one minute, and then seduce her the next. Her body, however, had other ideas, and was soon burning with a desire she could not quash. Her lips moved to the probing rhythm of his own as they slanted together over and over. Lena let out a small mew of ecstasy, which was echoed with the more primal grunt of Stref’s desire.
As his kiss changed from punishing fury to heady desire, Lena leaned in to enjoy the smouldering heat of her mate. His rigid des
ire pushed against her, straining to be released to find its way into her inner core. Lena rocked against him, standing on tiptoes to find the place where his passion met hers.
As quickly as it hard started, the kiss ceased and Lena found herself thrust back once more. Stref eyed her with a narrow stare.
“What manner of witch are you?” he panted. “That you can turn a man’s rage so effortlessly into lust?”
Lena had heard enough. Not only had this brute accused her of a failed escape, but now he insulted her by naming her a witch. She would flog a man for less. Turning on her heel, Lena stalked back along the path to where the large horse waited patiently for its master.
“If you think,” she turned to him and fumed, “that I will come meekly to your keep and marry you, you are deluded. And, for your information,” she added spitefully, “if I had wanted to escape, I would no longer be your prisoner.”
Swinging herself into the saddle, Lena missed the look of admiration that crossed Stref’s face.
Chapter Eleven
Rigid and unsated, Stref joined Lena in the saddle, his straining erection pushing awkwardly into her round buttocks. Stref wriggled with discomfort as he reached around the wet woman to retrieve the reins. His mind was full of where he would like to sink his throbbing manhood, and every pore of his being fought against the urge to pull her to the ground and take her there and then. If not for the imminent threat of Haigh and his men, he would have done just that. As it was, they had wasted precious time in the river and his keep was still several leagues away. Focusing his mind on the most mundane of things, Stref managed to control his arousal, although each time his horse struck a bump in the road and Lena’s pert backside rubbed up against him, his mind was flooded with memories of her soft skin and delightful scent.
“Stop moving so much,” he snarled at her from time to time, blaming her for the uneven track. He cursed the witchcraft that had filled him with nothing but thoughts and longings for the Rwenor chief.
Seeing the looming fortress before him, Stref found himself thanking a deity he held no belief in for his arrival home. His plan was to put distance between himself and the female in order to clear his head and execute a plan. Haigh would not rest until he had reclaimed what he thought of as his prize, or, at the very least, had his revenge for the slight. Stref needed to secure his own clan and offer protection to the poorly defended Rwenor. He knew she would be safe within the walls of his keep this time. He would leave his best men to stand guard over her, and then dispatch some trackers to keep their eye on Haigh. He knew just the men that could keep him within their sights without being observed.
A contingent of riders soon appeared to greet their laird with Clyde at the front.
“We feared you lost,” he opened as they rode within earshot of each other. “We fanned out but found no trace of you.”
“As you see, I fared well and return with an item I have acquired from Haigh.” Stref could not stop the proud smile from splitting his face.
“You acquired?” Lena burst out. “Huh!”
“You may notice that my new wife-to-be holds strong opinions and the tongue of a washerwoman.” His grin grew broader.
“Wife-to-be?” echoed Clyde.
“Exactly! Now send a rider to fetch the holy man and have the troop leaders meet me in the hall.”
Stref dug his heel into the sides of the huge animal and galloped towards his keep. His arms wound tightly around Lena as he whispered into her ear, “For the love of your people, you will do exactly as I command. Now smile and look as if you are in love with me.”
He released her and lifted his hand in a friendly wave, drawing the attention of the slowly gathering crowd.
“Tonight, there will be a wedding,” he announced with a booming voice. “We will unite with Rwenor, making us more than a match for the bastard Haigh.”
A ripple of cheering broke out, but it was soon replaced with mumbles of discontent. The ever-present circling eagle causing the people to cast their eyes to the skies in suspicion.
“What of Green Bow?” they called. “He will seek his revenge on us.”
“Green Bow is defeated,” Stref cried jubilantly. “I am the new protector of Rwenor.”
This time the cheers were filled with more enthusiasm.
“Can you call that bird away from here?” Stref muttered.
“I can,” Lena replied sweetly. “He will land right here on my arm.”
Stref cursed the wench for the umpteenth time that day. Was her sole purpose to goad him?
“You will call it down once we have some privacy. It disturbs my clan.”
Lena bowed her head demurely. “As you wish, my Lord,” she said through gritted teeth.
Stref was irked again by her tone. He was sure she should posses more gratitude for his part in her safety. Damn the woman, but he had rescued her twice in the last two days.
Helping her from the horse as they reached the doors to the keep, Stref handed his mount over to an eager stable boy who appeared beside him. He kept his hand firmly on Lena’s elbow, and guided her to the gardens via a side gate.
“This is just the spot where your friend Anna handed me over to Haigh,” Lena said, her voice dripping with contempt.
“Anna?’ he asked.
“Oh yes, Anna,” Lena explained slowly, speaking to him as if he were the village idiot. “What was it she said now about your performance?” lowering her voice to a husky tone Lena mimicked, “‘That brute has none of your expertise.’”
“Cease your talk, woman!” Stref had heard enough. He was angry at himself for not picking up on Anna’s guilt sooner. Her actions could have caused Lena severe harm, and his blood boiled at the prospect of what the filthy bastard had planned to do to her. “Now call your bird,” he added with a husky tone, filled with emotions that were confusing him.
Lena let out a long, low whistle and raised her arm towards the sky.
“Step back,” she ordered and something in her voice made Stref obey at once.
A majestic creature descended from the sky, settling on Lena’s outstretched arm. Stref moved, ready to assist, but Lena spoke low. “Stay still.”
Cooing to the animal, Lena raised her eyebrows to Stref. “Come slowly up and raise your arm,” she instructed.
Doing as she asked, Lena moved her arm parallel to his and gently tipped the bird onto Stref’s arm. The weight struck him first. It was as heavy as a small hound and its claws dug painfully into his exposed flesh. All the time, Lena spoke caressing platitudes into the feathered head. The bird made soft sounds in response, opening its beak as if to receive a treat.
“I have nothing, my old friend,” she laughed lightly.
Stref caught his breath at the sound of her laugh. It had a musical lilt and he found himself hoping he might hear it more often. He also found himself wildly jealous that the bird was the one receiving such intimate attention from its beautiful mistress.
“Take it out to the courtyard,” Lena suggested. “Let your people see that you have the trust of Rwenor.”
Stref marvelled again, this time at the astute mind of his betrothed. Holding the bird would convince his clan that he had mastered Green Bow. Once again the Lord Harris found himself thanking an unseen force; this time for his good fortune in acquiring such a mate.
The bird did what it may have taken Stref Harris weeks to do. One look at the symbol of Green Bow perched happily on the arm of their laird caused much merriment and rejoicing. None noticed the proximity of the woman who was soon to be their lady, or the soothing words she spoke to the golden eagle as it sat proudly on display.
As the crowd dispersed to prepare for the imminent nuptials, Stref ordered a young maid to take Lena to her room and draw her a bath. The maid led the way and Stref watched the retreating back of his betrothed, trying not to let his mind dwell on how she may look naked and soaping herself in the old tin bath that would be filled before the fire.
As a precaution, Stref also
ordered a pair of young guards to stand outside the chamber. He added a strict instruction that they were not, under any circumstances, to intrude on the lady and gave them a graphic example of what would happen to them if they did. He also ordered that no other was to enter the room. Stref cursed the fact that he had business to attend as he would have much rather attended the lady in the bath himself. As the thought made his groins swell again, he laughed ruefully at the discomfort the slip of a lass had caused his manhood in the last few hours. He only hoped that he would find his release in the marital bed.
Entering the hall, Stref paused only to ensure the traitorous Anna had been removed from the premises. He was assured that she had last been seen making her sorry way west to reunite with her laird. Stref dared not think about the homecoming she would receive at his cruel hands. Stref urged his thoughts to return to the matters in hand. His few key advisors were gathered around the large fireplace that dominated the meagre room, providing warmth and a homeliness to the otherwise sparse, stone space. Stretching his hands towards the dancing flames, Stref called for a tankard of the strong mead that flowed as easily as water in his home. He found that nothing else warmed his insides after days sleeping outdoors than the brewed beverage. Its taste was his reminder of home.
“So this time you have angered the cruellest and terrifying laird in the Highlands,” Clyde opened with a wry smile.
“It happens that I am the most terrifying laird in the Highlands, and Haigh has angered me by stealing my prisoner,” he began, returning the grin; then added, “who is now my betrothed.”
The other men shot awkward glances at each other, which did not go unnoticed by their laird.
“Something to add?” he boomed at them, looking from one to another with a dark scowl.
“This wedding, is it really necessary?” Clyde spoke at last.
“If we want to make an alliance with Rwenor, yes.”
“What is stopping us just defeating them,” Clyde persisted. “It has worked for us for generations.”
Captured by a Laird Page 8