A Warlord's Prize: A Medieval Highland Romance (Highlander's Honor Book 3)

by Avery Maitland

  It had not been long since he had left her at Narris, but she was eager for him—as he was for her.

  “Y’must promise me ye’ll ne’er do that again,” Lachlann grunted. He reached between them to tease his fingers against her heated core and Cat moved her hips to encourage his caresses.

  “Must I,” she breathed as his thumb pressed against the center of her pleasure and tugged a gasp from her lips. Lachlann groaned softly as she lowered herself down upon him, teasing him with the heat of her slit.

  “Foul temptress,” he muttered and Cat’s soft laugh became a sigh of pleasure as the hard length of his cock slid inside her.

  She rose up on her knees, using Lachlann’s shoulders to aid her balance as her movements found a rhythm.

  “Promise me,” Lachlann groaned. “Promise me ye’ll stay by my side.”

  Cat let her head fall back as she focused on the pleasure coursing through her body. Her husband’s hands were tight on her hips, guiding her movements. She did not want to promise him anything. She would do whatever was necessary to rescue her sister, but she could not lie to him, and she could not promise him anything.

  She leaned forward and kissed him hard as she increased the speed of her movements. Lachlann tightened his grip on her hips and thrust up to meet her. Cat felt the twist of her climax building inside her as they moved together. All at once, Lachlann groaned against her mouth and she felt him tense beneath her hands. She reached between her legs and pressed her fingers against the center of her own pleasure. Her breath caught in her throat as she moved her fingers in quick circles over her slick flesh.

  Lachlann pulled his lips from hers to kiss her throat and she felt his teeth graze over her collarbone.

  His climax came fast and hard, and he held her tightly, impaling her deeply with his cock as she writhed in his grip, her own climax coming slower—enveloping her entirely in shuddering warmth while she clung to her husband’s shoulders.

  Lachlann’s arms came around her, holding her close as their hearts thundered in unison.

  “You didnae promise me,” he whispered.

  “Did I not?” Cat asked as she kissed him.

  Lachlann smiled and pushed a lock of red-gold hair behind her ear. “You did not.”

  “Perhaps I was distracted,” she whispered as she rose up on her knees just a little. Lachlann’s jaw tensed and she felt his cock twitch deep inside her.

  “Perhaps.”

  She smiled at him, teasing him with her body for a moment before she leaned forward to lay against his chest and his arms wrapped around her.

  “What shall I do with you, Wife?” Lachlann whispered in her ear as he pulled her down to lie with him upon the sleeping furs.

  “You shall be very happy,” Cat sighed, suddenly exhausted by everything that had happened. Lachlann chuckled softly and pulled her against his chest. Cat turned her face to the firelight, warm and safe in the circle of her husband’s arms. Tomorrow they would turn south once more, and though she had not been able to promise Lachlann anything—she would keep the promise she had made to her sister.

  Chapter Three

  Though Cat had fallen asleep quickly in her husband’s arms, her dreams were dark. She woke to the sound of horses and men as they moved through the makeshift camp. Alone in the sleeping furs, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes, angry that Lachlann had not woken her when he had risen and still shaken by the remnants of her dreams.

  She had seen Morag, trampled by heavy hooves, lying prone on the muddy ground while rain pelted down from black skies. It had been horrible, and she hoped never to see such a scene with her own waking eyes.

  She rubbed her face and began to roll up the sleeping furs. The men looked ready to depart and her empty stomach rumbled with hunger. How dare he leave her sleeping… She had vowed not to be a burden to their journey, and she would not allow it to happen.

  “Here now,” Lachlann chuckled as he approached her with their horses in tow. “I thought to let you sleep—”

  “I dinnae need it,” she snapped. She lifted the sleeping furs and marched over to her husband and pulled Rose’s reins out of his hand. She tied the mare to a low tree branch and busied herself with securing the sleeping furs to Rose’s saddle.

  “D’ye need somethin’ tae eat?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. I’ll eat on the road. The men seem as though they’re ready tae ride. I’m ready.”

  “As you say,” Lachlann replied. Cat could hear the amusement in his voice, but chose to ignore it. She was still foggy with sleep, but there was no sense in wasting time. She would not have anyone, especially Graham Eliott complaining that she had held up their departure.

  She needed no special treatment.

  “Where’re we goin’?” she asked suddenly.

  “South,” Lachlann replied.

  “I know ye’re goin’ south,” Cat snapped. “But where? Surely y’know where that bastard is hidin’ by now!”

  Lachlann gripped her by the shoulder and spun her around to face him. He stared into her eyes and Cat could not look away, held captive by the intensity of his stare. “Aye,” he said softly. “He’s hiding in Oban. Wi’all his men.”

  “And Morag,” Cat whispered.

  Lachlann nodded shortly. “We cannae be certain of that, but it seems likely if that is his camp, that she would be there. Unless—”

  “There is no ‘unless,’” Cat interrupted. His eyebrow rose at the sharpness of her tone, but she did not care. “That bastard Manus has her, and we’re going tae get her back.”

  Lachlann’s hands were gentle on her arms. “Of course we will.” The men were breaking down the camp now, pouring water on the cooking fires and scattering the wet ashes. “Go and wash your face, woman. We’ll be away soon.”

  “Aye,” she muttered as he placed a kiss upon her forehead.

  “And see that ye smile a little,” he chuckled. Cat made a face at him and walked quickly to where buckets of water had been placed for washing and cooking. She managed to find one that was still clean and cold from the stream that rushed through the woods.

  “Smile,” she muttered bitterly as she dipped her hands into the bucket and rubbed the cold water over her face. She would smile again when Morag was safe and Manus Camran was dead.

  * * *

  The ride south was hard and fast, but Cat could ride as hard as any man, and Rose seemed to enjoy the freedom of their swift pace. Lachlann seemed surprised at his wife’s enthusiasm, and Cat’s heart felt a little lighter even as her stomach twisted in anticipation as the road finally led them out of the woods and into a wide plain that stretched out toward the sea coast.

  Oban was not far away, and Cat could almost smell the tang of salt spray on the air. By now, Manus would be wondering if the dead men Lachlann had left in the woods had been delayed. Her husband had not told her his plans, but she noticed that none of the men who accompanied him were wearing their Mackay colors, and were armed with rougher weapons than she was used to seeing on his escort.

  They were riding too fast for her to ask the questions that burned in the back of her mind, but Oban was growing closer with every beat of the horse’s hooves, and her fear and anxiety only grew.

  She had never given thought to the possibility that Morag could be anything but alive—but her dream had been too real to ignore. She should have thrown salt against the bad omen, or burned a bundle of herbs to chase away whatever bad luck remained before the sun had risen, but she had not had time, nor the ability, to do either.

  Whatever will be, it shall be well. All will be well. Lachlann promised. She had promised.

  They did not slow their pace for several days and stopped only to make camp for each night as the sun sank below the hills. Cat fought against exhaustion time and time again but refused to let Lachlann force the men to stop before the clouded skies above them were stained red.

  She could feel how close they were to their journey’s end, and when Lachlann gave the order f
or the men to slow their pace, she felt furious tears fill her eyes.

  She drew up beside her husband, cheeks hot with anticipation. “Why’re we stopping?”

  Lachlann looked up at the darkening sky and then back at her with an incredulous expression on his face. “What d’ye mean?”

  “We’re so close… I can smell the sea—”

  “All the more reason tae stop,” he said as he swung down from the saddle. “The trees,” he called out to his men. “We’ll take shelter away from the road.”

  Cat slid down from her saddle and put herself and her mount in his path. “We must go on!”

  “No, we must not,” he said firmly. “I’ll not be chargin’ intae Manus Camran’s camp with no plans and no cover.”

  “What d’ye plan tae do then? Disguise yer’self and sneak amongst his followers in the dead of night and hope that no one recognizes Graham Eliott’s ugly face?”

  She was angry, but Lachlann chuckled at her vehement exclamation.

  “We cannae go on wi’out a plan,” he repeated himself. “And I willnae do it on an empty stomach, or swaying in the saddle from exhaustion.”

  Cat eyes him critically. He did not appear to be exhausted, but even if what he had said was for her benefit, she would be thankful for some sleep.

  She sighed heavily. “I cannot convince you otherwise.”

  “Not unless you have a better plan?”

  She made a face at him. “No, I do not. If there was a way of having one of yer men go ahead of us… If he could join their ranks and tell us what Manus has arranged—”

  “We didnae plan for that,” he said.

  “Then what did ye plan for?” she asked hotly.

  “To go on to Argyll and try to warn Nathan McArthur about what awaits him in Oban,” Lachlann replied quickly.

  Cat stared at him in disbelief. “You would not have rescued my sister?”

  Lachlann held out his hands to her, his expression pained. “We would have gone to Oban with men behind us—an army—then we would challenge Manus head on and squash this pointless rebellion.”

  Furious, Cat pushed away from her husband and grabbed hold of Rose’s saddle, determined to ride on to Oban. But Lachlann’s hand flashed out to catch the mare's bridle and held her fast. “Where d’ye think ye’re goin’?”

  His question was playful, but Cat could see the tightness in his jaw and it only made her angrier.

  “I’m goin’ tae Oban,” she snapped. “If you willnae do anythin’ for Morag, I’ll do it myself.”

  “Dinnae make me pull you off that horse.”

  Cat glared down at her husband. “I’d like tae see ye try.” She pulled the long knife from under her thigh and gripped the hilt tightly. Lachlann’s eyes narrowed, but he did not flinch even as she aimed the sharp point of the weapon at his throat.

  “Wife…”

  “Let go of my horse,” she said tersely.

  At the edge of the forest, one of Lachlann’s men whistled sharply.

  “They’ve found a place for us to camp for the night,” he said. “Come and warm yer’self by the fire and have some food before moon rises. We’ll talk of plans in the mornin’.”

  “Y’mean ye’ll tell me what yer plans are, and I’m tae follow along without argument?” she challenged him.

  Lachlann’s lips pressed into a thin line and his jaw tensed briefly. “No,” he replied. “I know ye dinnae want tae leave yer sister with that bastard any longer than necessary.”

  “Aye. I’m goin’ now.”

  Lachlann released his hold on Rose’s bridle, and hope flared in Cat’s chest for just a moment before she realized what was happening. Lachlann moved swiftly to pry the knife from her grasp and it fell to the grass at his feet. She let out an angry cry, but Lachlann reached up and grasped her waist, pulling her from the saddle even as she tried to press her heels into the mare’s flanks.

  Rose, well-trained and difficult to spook, did not move while her mistress was manhandled and Cat squirmed against her husband’s grip. She was desperately angry, but her despair and frustration at being so close to Morag and yet so impossibly far away overwhelmed her. She knew that it was foolish to go on alone, but she could not admit it, even to herself, and especially not to the man who held her pinned against his chest.

  “Let me go,” she demanded. She struck his chest with her fist and he chuckled at her efforts.

  “If I let ye go, will ye stay, or will I have tae chase ye through the heather in front of all these men?”

  Cat glared at her husband and then looked over her shoulder. Lachlann’s men had all come out of the woods to watch their leader wrestle with his wayward wife and her cheeks flamed with angry embarrassment. “I’ll stay,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Lachlann raised an eyebrow, as though he did not quite believe her, and then set her gently upon the ground. She pushed him away and retrieved her knife from where it had fallen in the grass. “But in the mornin’ we’re ridin’ fer Oban. Ye can send some of the men south to Argyll if ye like, but I have to get Morag away from that bastard.”

  “Oh aye?”

  “Aye,” she said with determination. She slid the knife back into its scabbard and snatched the reins out of her husband’s hand.

  They walked side by side with their mounts toward the forest, and Lachlann’s men melted away into the trees, disappointed at not being given more of a show.

  “Will ye’ever stop pulling knives on me, woman?” Lachlann asked quietly.

  “I havenae decided yet.”

  Lachlann chuckled and slid his arm around her waist to pull her against him. “I wouldnae have ye any other way, Lass,” he said as he kissed her quickly. Cat made a face at him, but did not flinch away from his touch.

  They were so close to Morag—she had to cling to the hope that her sister was still alive, and that they were not too late.

  * * *

  ***

  Exhausted from the day’s exertions and anxiety, Cat barely ate, and was asleep almost as soon as she was rolled in the sleeping furs.

  She woke before dawn and frowned as she realized she was alone again. Lachlann had risen already, and she wondered if he would ever wake her before doing so.

  “We’ve followed the stream,” he said. “I’ll have the men bring washing water.”

  Cat pushed herself up and stretched. “Dinnae make them cater tae me. I’ll go myself.”

  Lachlann looked as though he wanted to argue with her, and she held her breath as he reached down to grip her hand. But he merely squeezed it lightly and pulled her to her feet.

  He kissed her gently. “Aye. Go.”

  She smiled briefly and walked away from the clearing and deeper into the forest. The sound of the stream filled her ears and she smiled as the water came into view. It has been too long since she had taken a decent bath, and this would not be anything close to a decent bath—but it was a start.

  She stepped down to the river bank and crouched in the loose gravel. She dipped a length of linen into the water and pressed it to her face. The chill of the water made her gasp just a little, but it helped push away the fog of sleep. Today they would ride into Oban… But she had not yet had a promise from her husband’s lips or heard him give the order for such an endeavor.

  She would have to convince him. Beg him. Threaten him… whatever was required.

  A crack in the forest behind her made Cat’s heart leap into her throat. She half-rose from the bank and scanned the glade, but the forest was quiet in the early morning light. A bush rustled and she held her breath, her fingers scrabbling at her waist for her knife.

  The bushes moved again and she flinched, her throat tightened with fear as a small shape burst forth from the shrubbery.

  She let out a snort of laughter at the cause of her fear.

  The small brown creature’s nose twitched and she slid the knife back into her belt.

  A rabbit. She had been startled by a rabbit.

  She picked up th
e linen once more and bent toward the water.

  Chapter Four

  Lachlann had only just begun to saddle the horses when Cat’s scream of fear echoed through the woods.

  He drew his sword and with a cry of rage he ran toward the forest. He could hear his men crashing through the underbrush behind him, but it faded away as his wife screamed again.

  She was calling for him.

  Calling his name.

  Her voice was full of fear and he pushed himself harder. She stood by the stream, her dress pulled down to expose her shoulder, but with no marks upon her. She held her long knife out in front of her, her eyes focused on something in the water.

  He jumped down to the riverbed and resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “There.”

  Cat’s voice was choked and strange and Lachlann’s eyes followed the tip of her sword to where it pointed.

  A dark figure sprawled in the stream, its clothing was dark, and strands of hair were stirred by the current. He laid a calming hand upon Cat’s shoulder and then stepped into the cold rush of water and approached the body slowly.

  “Careful,” Cat whispered.

  Lachlann looked at her quizzically.

  “What if he’s one of Manus’ men? He could be dangerous!”

  “He’s lying face down in the water… if he’s dangerous—”

  As if on cue, the man’s arm moved in the water, bracing against the rocks as he pushed his torso up out of the current.

  Water streamed from his dark hair, and Lachlann could see the bruises and cuts on his face as he tried to push himself to his knees.

  Behind him, Cat let out a choked gasp and Lachlann gritted his teeth as he leveled his blade at the stranger.