Disciplined by the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  “Aye, lass, I agree. But it doesnae matter now, we must be goin’. No one kens about the cabin save Goraidh and us. If we can get past his men here, we will be safe.”

  William was right, of course, they had to get on the road. If only they knew exactly where Thomas’ men were. It should be no trouble at all to get to the meeting point within thirty minutes.

  “Do you trust Gregory?” she asked.

  “Aye, lass I do.” The man had kind eyes, but Emma knew better than to trust a stranger. How could they have not foreseen someone would have seen through their fake names? She was dressed and ready to leave yet could not stop herself from pacing. Her nerves were getting the better of her.

  William walked over to her and took her into his arms. “Lass, doona fash. Goraidh will come through, and we will be able to prove to yer brother that this Belmonte man had a hand in yer father’s death. All will be well.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed William in, his scent becoming as familiar to her as her own skin. Leather, musk, and something uniquely his own. It was an instant comfort to her.

  “Do you promise?” she asked into his chest. He put his hand behind her neck and kissed the top of her forehead. Such a simple display of affection, causing tears to well in her eyes. How long had it been since a man, any man, had shown her such reverence?

  “Aye, lass, I promise.”

  Chapter 17

  William managed to keep Emma hidden as he settled with the innkeeper. Thankfully, they had not been in the village long enough to draw much attention. He could not shake the feeling that the Marston men were close. The sooner he and Emma made it to the horses, the better.

  There were more than ten different villages that hugged the border with England between the Marston lands and the sea. It had to have been more than a coincidence that the men arrived when they did.

  Unless Marston had more men than William knew about, enough to spread them to every border town within the two days’ ride to his lands. Which is exactly what William would have done if their situations were reversed.

  “Lass, let us leave.” He reached out a hand for Emma, who was well cloaked and waiting for him in a shadowed corner of the tavern attached to the Inn.

  With a sudden movement, she pulled him into the corner with her, laying a hand on his lips. She motioned toward the door to the tavern with her eyes, bright with fear. William did not dare turn—he heard the men as they stomped through the door.

  “Who’s in charge of this ruddin’ piss pile?” One of the men shouted through the tavern. William weighed their options. By his count, there were three men of Marston who had just walked into the tavern. One headed toward the barkeep and two were between him, Emma, and the door.

  “That’d be me, friend. What can I get ye gents?” The Innkeeper came out from around the bar. William had given the man a generous amount of coin over the price of the room. They were about to find out if it was enough to buy the man’s silence. He pulled his hair into a tight knot at the nape of his neck and pulled the hood of his cloak up about his face.

  He leaned into Emma, “When the door is clear, I want ye to put yer own hood up, and walk naturally toward it. Do nae look back lass, go straight out and to the left, toward the dock, and ye will find a small alcove. Tuck yerself in there and wait fer me.” He felt a tremor shoot through her. She was scared. He rubbed her arm. “Doona fash lass, all will be well. I promised, remember?”

  “We’re lookin’ for a Scottish fugitive, tall bugger, traveling with a fine lady. You’ve seen anyone like that around these parts?” The leader asked the innkeeper.

  William looked around the room, noticing the other two men had taken seats to the far right of the door and were engrossed in the exchange between their leader and the innkeeper. He motioned for Emma to go.

  He moved between her and the door, and so far none of the men looked their way. As she was about to reach the door, it slowly opened.

  “Can’t say that I have. Nae doona remember anyone comin’ in here with a lass,” the innkeeper replied to the leader of the Marston men.

  William held his breath and leaned deeper into the corner shadow. A fourth man walked in. It was clear by his dress that he was part of the Marston group. If he recognized Emma it would be over.

  “You’d remember, I bet, if I threw some coin your way. All you Scots are the same, looking for a pretty penny to sing, just like a whore.”

  William could barely keep his focus on the conversation. Emma had turned away from the man who had just walked in and sat at the table closest to the door, pulling her cloak more tightly around her face.

  Dammit, I didnae count on another man. There was no way William could take on all four men on his own. He certainly hadn’t given the innkeeper enough coin to fight with him.

  He held his breath, to see if the innkeeper would betray them or not. The fourth man walked up to stand next to the leader. He whispered something in the man’s ear. The leader waved him off.

  “I didn’t think they’d be at the docks, anyway. No, they’d be headed North, if anything.” William let out a small sigh of relief. The cabin was more West than North, at least its location had not yet been compromised, as far as these men knew.

  His eye caught movement from where Emma sat—the lass was up and silently moved out of the tavern door, without being detected. William’s heart slowed in his chest. Now if only he could do the same.

  The innkeeper was still insisting he hadn’t seen them and William made a mental note to come back and give the man even more coin when all this was over. He moved toward the door, his head down. He had affected a slight limp and hunched his shoulders. It wasn’t much but perhaps it would be enough to hold off suspicion if one of the men made a move to speak with him.

  “Hey, there, you, man!” The leader shouted. William suppressed a groan.

  Was nothin’ easy? He kept walking toward the door.

  “I said, hey there, you, man, turn around.” William moved his hand under his cloak to grasp the hilt of his sword. He made no motion that he had heard the man and kept his pace toward the door. He heard the man grumble behind him, and a hand came down on his shoulder.

  “Do you not hear me?” William braced himself to turn to the man, his only attempt would be to immediately run the man through. He didn’t want to shed blood in the tavern. He didn’t want to shed blood at all, but he would be damned if he was going to give Emma up without a fight.

  “Ach, leave the man, he’s as deaf as bluidy stone. He canna hear a cannon fire if it went off right in front of his face. Leave the old fool alone.” The innkeeper was right behind the man. “Let me get ye and yer lads some of our fine Scottish whisky, and we can talk about yer lass. In fact, me memory’s gotten a tad better, it seems. Last night, late, I think a Highlander came through these parts looking for two horses.”

  “See that, men?” The leader’s hand came away from William’s shoulder. “I knew a little extra coin would loosen his tongue. Let’s have that drink. Deaf, you say. Ain’t gonna be no help to us then anyway, sod off.” He felt a kick to the leg he limped on. William gave a cursory grunt, to make the ruse more real, before heading out the door to find Emma.

  “Never did care much for ye English, but let’s see what I can remember,” the innkeeper said. If William could have turned he would have sworn the man wore a smile. He would have to come back and give that innkeeper a small fortune, indeed.

  William said a silent thanks to the friend he had found in this small village.

  The only thing Emma could hear was the thundering of her heart in her ears. Walking out of that Inn with a casual gait had been the hardest and most nerve-wracking thing she had ever done in her life. With every step, the urge to look up had bombarded her mind and the pounding in her chest had tempted her to break out into a full run—but she did not.

  She had forced herself to not listen to her instinct and had heeded William’s orders, to walk naturally, not to look back, go straight out a
nd to the left, toward the dock, find a small alcove. It had not helped, either, that she had not taken a single breath from when she had started walking to when she had cleared the door. Her chest was burning as if hot coals had been shoved down her windpipe.

  A good way from the Inn, Emma dared to gasp in a breath and look up. She spotted the dock and went towards it, searching diligently for the alcove William had told her about. In her haste, her eyes had passed over the little nook twice before she saw it and hurried over.

  With a sigh of relief, she slid inside and squirmed in further. It was a tight fit but she could not allow for even a hint of her cloak to be seen from the roadside. Wedged in as far as she thought was safe, Emma pressed her head back on the rough stone. Thankfully, the hood protected her from feeling the rough coarseness of the rock.

  Her brother’s men had nearly found them—and they were armed. She knew that if they had found William, they would have run him through on the spot. She pressed a hand to her mouth as her stomach rebelled at the very thought. Seeing William get killed would have destroyed her. Her soul would be shattered to pieces.

  Emma twisted her head to the side, trying to see if William was near but she was far too deep in the nook and was terrified to even look outside. So, she waited and counted under her breath. The wait nearly undid her as she kept fretting that William had not made it out.

  Had one of her brother’s men recognized him? Was he captured? Had Thomas gotten his wish to kill William?

  The thoughts were crippling and she tried to hold on to the fleeting shreds of faith that William was all right. Every moment that ticked by felt torturous, scraping at her mind like nails over a brick, and making her worry. If William never showed up and she then learned that he had been captured and killed, her heart would break in two.

  She began uttering a prayer, calling upon God himself to keep William safe, but when the minutes ticked by and the last thread of her faith snapped in half, she began to cry. This was all her fault. If she had not pressed Thomas about William, or asked William to take her away, none of this would have happened.

  Emma pressed a fist to her mouth to keep her sobs from being heard. How could she go on, knowing that she had caused the one man she loved to die? Could she live with the guilt?

  “Lass?”

  At first, she had not heard the whispered word but when it came twice, her head darted up. William had somehow managed to press most of his bulk into the small space and his arm reached out for her. Hurriedly, Emma pressed the back of her hand to her cheeks, trying to mop up the tears there.

  She did not expect William to dry them with his lips. His mouth kissed her worried tears away. “Hush, lass, I’m alright. The innkeeper was a giud man. He told them I was deaf to stop them from botherin’ me. I’m sorry I made ye cry. I had to take another way to come here, a longer one to make sure I wasnae followed.”

  Swallowing hard over a stinging throat, Emma nodded, “Are we leaving now?”

  “Aye,” William said. “But give me a moment to check that it’s all clear.”

  The Liard’s son came out of the alcove and looked side-to-side to make sure no one was nearby. He then gestured to Emma to hurry out and she did. She wanted to ask where they were going but kept silent. One errant word or one misstep could evoke trouble.

  With her hand in William’s, she did her part to walk as quickly as possible and slid into the shadows of an alley or a house’s awning when William directed her to. She did not see any more of Thomas’ men but she did not allow herself to be comforted. Emma knew that she could only feel safe when they were hidden far away in that cabin Goraidh had told them about.

  Thankfully, they ducked into the forest’s line and under the coverage of the thick leaves without any interruptions. William led her to the meeting place Gregory Mackenzie had told them about. Emma was not used to the woods and tripped many times, on the ends of her cloak, loose rocks, protruding roots, and snagging twigs.

  William was nothing but patient and even with a few breaks for her to breathe, Emma got to the clearing flushed red and out of breath. Gregory was there with the two horses, a large dappled gray and a soft chestnut horse with large brown eyes. Gregory had certainly delivered on his promises.

  Emma consoled herself by saying that the man had time to bring the animals this far and that he knew the woods better then she had. She took in long breaths while William shook the man’s hand.

  “Thank ye, Mackenzie,” William handed him a gold coin. “Ye’ve saved me life by yer warning. I will ne’er forget this boon.”

  “It’s me pleasure, MacNair,” Finley nodded. “Never like the looks of them Englishmen, anyway. I packed a few hunks of bread, some cheese, and a few pieces of dry beef in the saddlebags because I ken ye’d not get to find food for a while. Keep the lass safe, son. It’s hard to find a woman who truly loves you these days.”

  Under cover of her hood, Emma blushed but added her own appreciation, “Thank you, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  The elder nodded. “Well, get ye yer way out of this place before trouble comes back a-knockin'. Me best wishes to ye.”

  With a tip of his hat, Gregory was gone and William led Emma over to the chestnut mare. The horse had such gentle eyes Emma wondered if she had already foaled. Those were the eyes of a mother.

  “Up ye go,” William said, while grasping her waist. Emma grabbed the saddle’s pommel and allowed him to lift her up to stick a foot in the stirrup. From there, she shimmied into the seat and managed to swing a leg over to the other side. Only twice had she ridden astride but she had felt it was much more natural than riding sidesaddle.

  The mare danced a little but Emma held her balance while William secured her small pack on the back of the horse, and hopped nimbly on his mount. “Galashiels is a day and a half ride from here, darlin’. But we will only have to ride hard until we clear this countryside. We can take oor time after, rest and eat.”

  Grasping the reins, Emma nodded, “Alright then, lead the way.”

  The night was coming as the soft dusk was falling over the land. They had crossed through the thick belly of the forest. William could see that Emma was exhausted and was sagging in her saddle. Nudging his horse closer, William reached over and he took the reins from her.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’,” William said while trying to spot a place for them to rest. Shadows were making the boughs of the dipping trees more menacing and the darkness made the hollows between the spaces darker than the abyss.

  The hunter in him knew those were the place animals lurked and so they avoided them. He spotted an old tree with low limbs, thick enough to create shade, or shield them from rain when needed. The night was too thick and William was not going to pass over this opportunity for one he did not see yet.

  Guiding the horses over to it, William swung his leg over and dropped to the ground. His legs were a bit stiff, but then he had been riding nearly all his life, so he soon shook it off. He then went to Emma and gently pried her hands from the reins.

  The poor lass was half asleep and allowed herself to be handled like a young child. William lifted her up and carried her over to the tree. Resting her down, William went back to his pack and tugged out the packet of bread and cheese Gregory had packed.

  They had no blankets so the best they could do was use the blankets for the horses as a bed and use their cloaks as cover. With one eye on Emma propped against the tree’s trunk and the other on his horse as he unsaddled him, William carried the saddle and the blanket over to where Emma rested.

  Laying the saddle on the other side of the trunk, William spread the blanket down, sat, and softly tugged a half-asleep Emma onto his lap. She murmured something indecipherable but William wanted to believe it was his name.

  “Emma, lass, open yer eyes, darlin’,” William coaxed. “Ye need to eat something.

  She pouted and her eyes fluttered but instead of sitting up and heeding to William’s words, Emma burrowed deeper into his chest. William was amused. He
could have let her sleep but that wouldn’t be right. She had to eat something.

  “Emma,” he tried again. “Wake ye up. Ye need somethin’ in that stomach of yers before you go to sleep. I ken yer tired, but going to sleep hungry ain’t gonna do you no good and yer gonna hate yerself in the morning fer it.”

  Emma must have already dozed off but William was not going to let her sleep hungry. Considering his options, William remembered how sensitive her neck had been when he had kissed her there, so he parted her cloak to bare her neck to him. He trailed his callused fingertips down the line to her shoulder and she shivered.

  Grinning that he had gotten a response, William pulled her cloak away and let his fingers stroke harder down her soft, almost like flower petal skin and smiled when she shuddered, but her eyes did not open. William knew she was somewhat sentient and cruelly dug his hands into her sides and tickled her.