by Tarah Scott
Was escape possible? Her keen eye sighted thick brush growing from the side of the mountainside large enough to conceal her and the mare. Guilt surfaced. What of Thomas and the strangers? What of them? She would be no help. In fact, she would be a liability. That had been proven on her journey home with Iain MacPherson.
She flicked the reins against the steed’s rump. The mare balked but, with a heavy hand, Victoria drove her through the dense vegetation. The branches thinned, then opened up a few feet from bushes that grew in a tenacious tangle across a rocky wall. Victoria halted, uncertain by the darkness she discerned beyond the foliage. Why wasn’t light showing through the leaves as it had through the bushes she’d seen from the path?
She dismounted and, one hand gripping the reins, parted the branches. A large cavern opened up before her. Dull sunlight filtered through from an opening in the top of the cave. Victoria stared, unable to believe her good fortune. She could remain here until all search parties had given up hope of finding her. The sound of hooves on moist ground broke the spell.
Thomas.
Indecision gripped her. The need for freedom was one thing, being alone in the wilds of Scotland was another. She’d already gotten a taste of the men who roamed the lawless countryside. Dawilneh lay twenty minutes to the north. An easy ride if she was careful. Would they lend aid or hand her over to Iain MacPherson? How long could that devil hold her? How long would Father Brennan allow it? Movement inside the cave snapped her attention to the denser shadows beyond her.
Victoria remained motionless, uncertain what creature was there, yet unwilling to give up her hiding place. A soft whimper startled her. What was this? She eased inside the cave’s mouth and squinted into the depths. Her eyes adjusted and she made out a human form huddled against the back wall. More soft whimpers emanated from the creature, and she realized it was a woman. How was it possible two women had discovered the same hiding place? Dropping the reins, Victoria started forward, but halted when the girl’s whimpers turned to a sob. She hesitated. What had the girl so frightened?
Victoria took one step forward. “Do not fear, lass.
I will not hurt you.”
The girl continued to whimper as she drew nearer. Victoria’s eyes adjusted and she discerned the tartan that hung in shreds about the girl’s shoulders and the arm protruding from a torn sleeve was swollen. Once at her side, Victoria knelt. She bit back a gasp at the sight of the bruising that marred the girl’s cheek and jaw. The lass had been badly beaten, and not so long ago by the look of the matted blood dried on the side of her mouth.
Victoria’s chest tightened. Even in the dim light she could see that one eye was swollen beyond its normal size. It had, indeed, been an animal that had beaten the poor wretch, but none other than the twolegged variety was capable of such inhumanity. Who had done this? Even her captor presented no such threat. Victoria started to ask what had happened, but the sound of approaching horses yanked her attention in the direction of the cave’s opening. She glanced down at the sudden grip on her arm.
“Shh,” she soothed. “I will see who it is.” The girl trembled.
“Nay, child,” Victoria whispered, “do not worry.
I, too, have no wish to be discovered.”
With a firm but gentle touch, she pried the girl’s fingers from her arm, then crept forward, whispering to the mare until she reached the animal. With a firm hand on the horse’s neck, Victoria edged her aside and bent low as she tried to peer out at the men who had stopped beyond their hiding place.
The thick foliage blocked her view, and the Gaelic words spoken by the men left Victoria in the dark. Her heart lurched when her protector’s voice joined the foreign babble. She quelled the urge to jump from the cave. Thomas wasn’t alone. They must wait until he returned—if he returned this way. Fear shot through her. What if the men noticed the cave opening as she had? No, she hadn’t noticed anything strange until she’d pushed her way through the foliage. Still… The conversation ceased and the pounding of horses’ hooves on the soft ground indicated the men were leaving. When Victoria could no longer hear the horses, she returned to where the girl lay shivering in the corner. Victoria lowered herself to the ground, and the girl rested her head on Victoria’s lap. Victoria laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She gave a small cry, and Victoria yanked her hand away.
She cursed her stupidity, then said in a gentle voice, “Lie still, lass.”
The girl did as instructed, allowing Victoria to trace fingers over shoulder and arm for injuries. No broken bones or cuts were discernible, and Victoria released a sigh of relief when it appeared her attackers had inflicted injury more in the way of the back of their hands than with any sort of weapon. She grunted. Given the girl’s size, little else had been needed. Victoria pictured her keeper, sword in hand as it had been the day she’d been attacked, only now pointed at the men who would beat a woman. Seeing them face an opponent their own size would be worth her imprisonment.
* * *
It seemed eons had passed, but Victoria estimated it to be no more than an hour when she decided to venture from the cave. She sent up a prayer of thanks when, despite a limp, the girl was able to stand. Victoria led her to the mouth of the cave where she refused to go any farther.
“They may yet return,” Victoria said. The girl began to trembling again and tried to shrink back into the shadows. “Nay.” Victoria barred her path. “They will find you. Even if they do not, do you wish to die here?” The girl paled. “You must trust me,” Victoria said. “Our safest course is to leave. Now.”
The girl slumped against her, and Victoria urged her to lean against the wall while she led the horse to her. Victoria steadied the mare, but try as the girl might she hadn’t the strength to pull herself into the saddle. With an injured arm, she couldn’t grasp the pommel, and her leg had little strength for lifting even her small weight. Left with no choice, they struggled through the foliage to the mouth of the cave. Victoria parted the bushes and scanned the area for anything that might do as a makeshift stool. She spied a fallen log. Gathering the girl close, Victoria helped her to the log. The mare proved cooperative and they were both soon mounted, the girl in front of Victoria.
Victoria flicked the reins against the flank of their steed and the horse bolted forward.
A few minutes after they set out, the sound of hoof beats came from the direction they were headed. Victoria yanked back on the reins. The horse snorted and danced about as Victoria rounded her in a circle, seeking any form of refuge. Her companion began to whimper and struggled to dismount.
“Calm yourself,” Victoria ordered. She gripped the pommel, which pinned the girl and steadied her own hand. Victoria spurred the mare into action. East, around the men, instead of north where Fauldun Castle lay.
A moment later, the sound of a warrior’s cry filled the air. Victoria leaned forward, covering the body of her companion. The deafening sound of hooves surrounded them and a line of men appeared. Victoria yanked back on the reins. The horse squealed and would have reared but for her keeping their weight forward on the steed’s powerful neck, urging her back onto all fours.
A haze of plaid confronted Victoria, followed by a wave of dizziness at recognition of the soft MacPherson colors she had longed to escape only a few hours ago. Iain MacPherson came to a skidding halt beside her. Her gaze flew to his and a stillness gripped the onlookers. She realized that he, along with everyone else, knew she had run away. Even his appalled expression when his stare took in the young woman cradled in her arms did nothing to soften the steel in his voice when he addressed her.
“What has happened?”
The simple words nearly finished Victoria’s assent into the abyss she teetered on. Iain appeared unmoved by her stuttered explanation, and his gaze once again settled on the girl. Victoria felt the last of her courage falter and tears mingled with her words, bringing Iain’s attention back onto her. He motioned for one of the warriors to take the woman from Victoria, but the girl sh
rank from the man’s touch.
“You need not worry,” Victoria whispered. “He will not hurt you. It is best you ride with him.”
Still she resisted. Iain urged his stallion closer and, at the brush of his thigh against her legs, the girl’s fear transformed into weeping. He leaned forward as if to forcibly take her from Victoria, and Victoria steadied the horse’s reins when the animal scooted back at the intrusion of his stallion. She shot Iain a beseeching look. He swore, but turned his horse from hers with a hard yank on the reins and gave the command to ride.
* * *
Standing in the modest bedchamber, Iain shifted his attention between the woman who sat on the edge of the bed a foot from him and the woman who now lay sleeping as a result of one of Rachel’s potions. The girl’s light brown hair, washed and brushed, lay against crisp white sheets. Her torn garments had been replaced with a simple night shift. The steady rise and fall of her breasts beneath the covers gave evidence of the strong spirit that commanded the battered body. Iain’s chest tightened. His woman could have fallen prey to the men who committed this atrocity had he not found her when he did.
Thomas’s discourse with the Robertsons when he encountered them hadn’t revealed their real reason for being on MacPherson land. As the MacPhersons enjoyed little trouble from their southern neighbors, and because Thomas had been frantic to locate his charge, he hadn’t questioned the explanation that they were just riding through. But there was little doubt they were responsible for the girl’s condition.
With her asleep, Iain’s patience came to an end. He nudged the lass, but she waved him off. When he nudged her again, she shook her head, and he leaned down saying, “Do not test me. I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”
With a sigh, she rose. When they reached the great hall, she started toward the dining table, but Iain took her hand and led her outside. Her hesitation became resistance when he started across the courtyard.
“Release me.” She tried to tug free of his grasp.
Ignoring her, Iain dragged her along behind him. She dug her heels into the ground, pulling even harder. Iain whirled, hauled her over his shoulder, and continued forward.
“How dare you!” She pounded her fists against his back.
Iain passed a group of warriors, who laughed. She ceased beating him and lifted herself just enough so that it was clear she was looking in the direction of the laughter. Her body clenched and she growled. When he entered the grove, she began flailing her legs about in an attempt to kick him. Iain clamped down on her legs.
“You will pay for this, you brute.” She wriggled in a vain attempt to free herself.
Iain broke out of the grove and started down the open path that led to her cottage.
“Mamma, look,” a little girl called from a cottage porch.
His charge stilled.
A woman appeared in the door. “Sweet God in heaven.” The woman grabbed her daughter, yanked her back into the cottage, and slammed the door shut.
More laughter rang out in the wake of Iain’s path until they disappeared into the privacy of her cottage. He tossed her onto the bed. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off by coming down on top of her.
“I warned you,” he whispered in a harsh breath. “Now, little bird, how do you plan on escaping the wrath of your keeper?”
Her cheeks colored. “I—I was not trying to escape.”
The desire to believe her did nothing to quash the tide of emotion that heaved through his chest. “You would have me believe such drivel?”
“I have never lied to you. Had I resolved to escape, I would not deny it.” Iain raised a brow.
“Do not worry, Lord Keeper,” she flashed a reckless smile, “you will someday understand I speak the truth.”
“Aye?”
A disquieting frown appeared on her face.
“Am I to understand you will one day succeed in escaping?” he asked.
“I have no intention of remaining your prisoner, and when that time comes…”
“Your words imply I will catch you.” He leaned closer and added, “Just as I did today.”
“Nay.”
Iain lifted a brow. “Why not save yourself the trouble and admit the truth? You want to stay.”
She began to struggle. Her thrashing ended, however, when Iain met the thrust of her hips with a slow movement against her as he had wanted to the day he stole her from the abbey. She must have understood the connection, for she said, “Are you to finish the job, then?”
Anger pricked at the implication that he would take her as any barbarian would, though, in truth, he wanted to. “Finish what I began? I suppose so.”
Her expression moved from surprise to fear, then her eyes narrowed. “Father Brennan warned you.”
“And I warned you about thinking you could defy me. It would seem I have been too lenient.”
“Would you prefer I left that poor girl where I found her?” Victoria cut in.
“Leave her?” His gut tightened. “You should not have been there in the first place. Do you realize the danger?” But he knew she did. He remembered the stark fear on her face.
“What would you have had me do?” she demanded. “If I had shown myself, we both would have been discovered.”
“The point is not your courage, but that you ran off in the first place. It could have been you.” The last came out in a whisper.
Strong fingers gripped his shoulders as she brought her face to within a hair’s breadth of his. “I care nothing for what you say. I would not have left her there.” She emphasized every syllable, leaving him with no doubt that any threat he made would mean little in light of her conviction.
“You will learn to care, my lass,” he promised. “There is plenty of time yet for that, especially since you will not again leave the safety of the keep.”
Her grip on him tightened. “Get—” she grunted with the effort of pushing him away from her, “— off—me.”
She gave a mighty push and Iain rolled away, ending in a sitting position. She reared onto her knees and swung at him, but halted mid-stroke.
Iain lifted a corner of his mouth. “I see you are quite capable of learning, little bird.”
Her slim fingers curved into a fist and Iain nodded with understanding. “Here.” He made a fist and hit himself on the shoulder. “If you think you can do any better than you did yesterday, go ahead, love. I will not do a thing.” She glared and he smiled slowly. “I see. You would rather give me a good knock on the head. Try, if you like.”
“Does your thick skull comprehend I have done nothing wrong?” she asked in a calmer manner than he expected.
He studied her. “You are sure?”
“I know my own mind.”
Iain gave a single nod. “As you say, then.” He rose and began straightening the sash that had slipped from his shoulder. “Never let it be said I questioned the word of a lady.”
Her gaze sharpened. “The matter is finished?”
He looked up from the sash. “I never said that.”
“Sweet Jesu, but you are a contrary man. Which is it to be, Lord Keeper?”
“You need not worry, lass, you swear you have done nothing wrong.”
“But you just said—”
“Aye,” he interrupted. “It is not you I will deal with, but the one I entrusted you to.”
Iain remained motionless as she crawled across the bed toward him, still on her knees. She stopped in front of him.
“You do not mean Thomas?”
“I do.”
“But he has done no wrong.”
“But he did.”
“What?”
“Tell me,” Iain said, “how is it you escaped him?”
She flushed. “We—I—I simply—he did no—” she faltered, then there was silence.
With a finger under her chin, Iain tilted her bowed head upward. “This is no light matter. Our fate often lies in the hands of those we trust. Today, it wa
s Thomas who held your life.” He stroked her cheek with a thumb. “Do you think I would have a hair on your head harmed?”
She tried to look away, but he held her, forcing her to face him.
“Can you deny there is fault to be found?”
“But Thomas only allowed me free rein.”
“Ah.” Iain released her. “Then his fault was in trusting you.”
“I will not remain your prisoner,” she insisted.
“What if we had not found you when we did?
Nay!” he said when she opened her mouth to reply. “Consider before you speak. You know full well I am asking you what would happen had you been discovered by the men who beat that girl.”
“You think to keep me prisoner by convincing me there is no safety outside these walls?”
Iain snorted. “What I expect is for you to use some sense.” He started to say more but a knock on the door stopped him. He stepped to the door and swung it open. A grim-faced MacPherson stood in the doorway.
“The Robertsons have come calling, Laird,” was all he said.
Iain nodded, then turned and strode back to where Victoria stood. Her face had paled. “They cannot harm you.” He paused. “Or her, for that matter. Oh, and lass, once you resolve to escape,” he tapped her forehead with a finger, “you will then try in earnest?” With that, he left.
Across the compound, he met Thomas. “What have they to say?” Iain asked.
“They want the woman.”
“Did they offer an explanation for her condition?”
“Aye,” Thomas replied. “They say she is a murderess.”
Iain halted. “Murderess?” “Her betrothed,” Thomas added.
“Sweet Christ,” Iain said under his breath. “What in the name of the devil have we gotten ourselves into?”
Chapter Eleven
Iain finished the last drop of ale and set the mug on the table as the postern door opened and Kevin Roberston entered the great hall. One look at him, hand on the hilt of his sword, confirmed the matter went far beyond a murder between lovers.