Bedding the Highlander

by Sabrina York

  Killin waved his hand. “Several. Would you care to see another?”

  Kirk gaped at him, and then at Connor, who added, “They are all much the same. Any one will do.”

  “Nae. The Sabin lass, please. And none other.”

  The duke had been very specific.

  Killin’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “Ah, well, then we have a problem.”

  Something lurched in Kirk’s gut. Right. Here it was. Whatever duplicity Killin had planned, it was about to be revealed. Kirk fixed him with a steady, solemn stare. “What?”

  Connor smirked. “Katherine, you see, was no’ eager to be—how did she say it?—treated as chattel.”

  “Aye. She objected to the match.” Laird Killin leaned in and slapped Kirk on the shoulder. “She dinna want to be wed to the Beast of Rannoch.”

  “My brother is no’ a beast.”

  Killin shrugged and feigned an innocent look that fooled no one. “That is no’ what Katherine heard.”

  “Whatever she heard, she heard from you,” Kirk said, practically in a snarl. Honestly, a man would have to be a saint to control his temper with this lot.

  The laird shrugged; his grin was unctuous.

  “Where is she?” Kirk ground out.

  “She’s fled.” Killin waggled his fingers in illustration. Each flutter made Kirk want to flatten his face. They’d come so far, traveled so long…for this.

  “To where?”

  Connor had the audacity to chuckle. “We havena clue. But if you find her…you’re welcome to take her to Rannoch.”

  “And we’re glad to see the back of her.” Killin spat the fatherly sentiment in a string of spittle. “She’s a wild girl. Utterly uncontrollable. No matter what we tried, she would not be disciplined.”

  His words sent a shiver down Kirk’s spine. “Disciplined?”

  “Aye.” Killin frowned at his dowdy daughter. She cringed and sank into herself.

  “Women need to be kept in line,” Connor said. “Especially women like Katherine. If you ever find her, I recommend a leash.”

  All the men in the hall sniggered. But the woman did not. She paled and wavered on her feet. Kirk suspected she might faint at any moment.

  “What say you?” Killin boomed. “Will you take this Catherine in her stead?”

  Kirk turned to the girl; she didn’t even glance at him. Which was probably for the best—he couldn’t have borne it if her expression had been a pleading one, though he doubted it would have been. He couldn’t take her. He was here for Katherine Sabin Killin and Katherine Sabin Killin alone. Who knew what hell he would unleash if he took another lass? Killin would probably claim he had stolen her without his permission.

  “We will return to Rannoch and report to the duke that your daughter has gone missing.”

  Killin’s grin was far too delighted for Kirk to imagine this was anything but what the man had been angling for. Still, Kirk had no choice. It would be up to the duke to deal with Killin now.

  Kirk turned to Brodie. “Are you ready to go?”

  His friend gusted a sigh. “Oh, aye.”

  They turned and headed for the broad doors of the keep. On the one hand, Kirk was relieved for Ben’s sake, but on the other hand, he was frustrated and angry. He had no doubt Killin was lying to him. Perhaps he was keeping Katherine Sabin Killin ensconced somewhere in this castle. Perhaps Killin never had any intention of turning her over.

  This had been a wasted effort.

  Still, Kirk was relieved to mount his stallion, clatter over the bridge, and put Killin Keep behind him.

  If he never met another Killin again, it would be too soon.

  They rode long and hard, even though it had already been a tiring day. Both Kirk and Brodie wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the enemy as possible. When darkness fell, they stopped and made camp on the side of the road.

  Brodie bagged several rabbits and they had a filling, though simple, meal. Then they wrapped themselves in their plaids and tucked in for the night.

  Kirk had a hard time sleeping. He kept replaying the encounter with Killin in his head. Each time, irritation further frayed his nerves.

  At any rate, he was wide awake when he heard it. A riffle, a shuffle, an echoing through the clearing. He glanced at Brodie, whose body formed a shadowed lump on the other side of the fire. The noise hadn’t come from him.

  Kirk scanned the clearing. A movement in the darkness captured his attention. His heart slammed in his chest as he caught sight of two hooded figures tiptoeing through the camp.

  Hell.

  Had Killin had them followed? Were these assassins come to slit their throats in the night?

  But the figures didn’t behave like assassins. They behaved like…thieves.

  With a cold clench to his gut, he knew.

  They were being robbed.

  Issuing a warrior’s bellow, he sprang to his feet, launched himself across the clearing, and barreled into the closest villain.

  They fell together to the ground with an oof. Kirk had the presence of mind to realize the thief was slight, almost delicate, and smelled…

  He thrust that thought away and closed his hand around the scoundrel’s neck and squeezed. With the other hand he whipped off the bastard’s hood so he could see his face.

  Just then, the moonlight shafted through the clouds and a beam illuminated their campsite.

  Kirk’s pulse stuttered. His lungs seized.

  Because beneath him, cradling his body with hers, causing an undeniable firmness to arise between them, was the most beautiful thief he’d ever seen.

  Chapter 3

  Good glory, the man was a behemoth. He landed on her with an impact that stole her breath. When Kate looked up into his eyes, she could not snatch it back again. Her lungs locked.

  Those eyes were hard and cold in the misty dawn light. His body was hard, too, but it was not cold. In fact, he seared her skin with his heat, his breath.

  A scorching panic ran through her, a desire to escape from him, to run. But when she wriggled and arched, he only held her tighter. His nostrils flared like those of a wolf scenting its prey.

  “Let me up,” she gasped.

  “I doona think so.” His response was low, a whispered promise or a threat, and was accompanied with the twist of his well-formed lips, something similar to a smirk. He pinned her hands over her head and leaned back to study her.

  His perusal made her go hot, then cold.

  She’d been bullied by men before, many times in her life. Held down and tormented. Threatened.

  She’d never liked it before.

  She had no idea why she did now.

  She had no idea why his perusal made something delicious rise within her and swirl warmly in her belly.

  She had no idea why that thought even flitted through her brain.

  She didn’t like it.

  She didn’t.

  “Get. Off,” she said, trying to make the words sound like a snarl, but even to her ears they sounded breathy and submissive.

  Hence his chuckle. Her irritation swelled.

  A scream sounded to their right where his companion had captured Elise and was dragging her across the clearing.

  Kate’s heart plummeted. She’d hoped one of them would have been victorious. They needed those horses. They’d been traveling by foot and had made little progress. Soon Connor would realize they were gone and send men after them. It was essential they escape Killin lands at once, or all would be lost.

  But perhaps it already was.

  She returned her attention to this man’s harsh, bold features. Was he one of her father’s agents? Had he been sent to find her and Elise? To cart them back to Killin Keep and their doom?

  Ah, but it hardly mattered.

  She would rather die than go back. Die before being sold to the Beast of Rannoch.

  Beyond that, her sister Elise was betrothed to a monster as well. As hideous as Ben Rannoch was, Aiden Ainsley was worse. He�
�d already sent three wives to the hereafter. Elise would not be next. Not if Kate could help it. She was determined to save herself and Elise, no matter what.

  Whoever these men were, she and her sister had to escape from them, and soon. Judging from her experience with the men at Killin Keep, she knew the best way to gain the upper hand was to feign submission.

  It took some effort to arrange her features into those of a meek mouse. She was anything but meek. “Oh,” she offered in a thready voice. “I can’t…I can’t…breathe…” For good measure, she fluttered her lashes, rolled her eyes into the back of her head, and went utterly limp.

  “Shite,” her captor muttered and—thankfully—rolled off her.

  It took everything in her not to clamor for breath and fill her lungs with air. She focused on remaining motionless. When he lifted her hand, she let it fall.

  “Did you kill her?” the other man asked.

  Elise wailed at his words.

  Kate recognized the timbre. Clearly Elise had read Kate’s body language and was playing along.

  Indeed, Elise’s wail rose.

  “I dinna kill her,” the man above Kate snarled, but there was a hint of horror in his tone. Warm fingers touched her neck. Kate attempted not to flinch. Or shiver. Or sigh. His touch shot through her like lightning. “Nae. She’s alive. She’s fainted.”

  The other man snorted and muttered, “Women.” His imprecation was followed by a thud and a low bellow. Satisfaction snaked through Kate. Elise was known to gouge men in tender places when they said such things.

  Kate moaned suddenly, in order to keep her lips from curling into a smile. But that only made the behemoth pin his attention to her once again. His heat touched her as he leaned close. And with it, his scent. It curled through her.

  Something clenched, deep inside her.

  Kate had never cared for the scent of men. All the men she’d ever met stank of whisky and sweat.

  Not this man. There was something musky about his fragrance, something alluring and pleasant. She had the urge to take a deeper whiff, to edge closer. To see if he tasted delicious, too.

  This annoyed her tremendously. She didn’t want to be tempted or distracted. Not in the least. Certainly not in this situation. She lurched up into a sitting position…which was a complete and utter mistake, because the man was hovering over her. She found them chest to chest, forehead to forehead.

  And a sharp pain reverberated through her as their heads connected with a thunk.

  They cried out in tandem and he lurched back.

  Her eyes opened of their own accord and to her horror, she found herself staring, once again, into his wolfish eyes. She was not prepared for the bolt of awareness and attraction that whipped through her body. It was followed quickly by a shard of unwelcome arousal as she took in his handsome features. His high brow, straight nose, perfect lips. The gold-hued bristles on his square jaw. The aggravating curl of glossy blond hair that flopped over one eye.

  Why did he have to be so beautiful?

  “Are you all right?” he asked, rubbing the red spot on his forehead. Her heart skittered at the tender thread in his voice. But he was not a tender man. He couldn’t be.

  Such a creature existed only in fairy tales. Little girls’ dreams. Lies.

  Men were brutal and careless with women. She had never in her life met one who was not.

  “Unhand me,” she demanded, although he was not touching her. At least not with his hands, though his intent focus on her made her feel confined. For good measure, she scuttled away from him.

  She ignored the flash of remorse on his face and looked at Elise to make sure she was all right. They exchanged a glance, an understanding.

  They both knew what had to be done.

  Kate stood slowly and brushed down her skirts. Beneath them, both she and Elise wore purloined breeches. They thought they might cut their hair and travel as men if necessary. Now Kate wished they had done so from the start.

  In a casual motion, she surreptitiously made sure her knife was still in her pocket. She felt much better when her fingers wrapped around its weight.

  The behemoth stood as well.

  Kate shot him a glare and then flinched as she realized exactly how tall he was. Good God. There was no reason for her to lose her senses. Because he was beautiful? Because he was tall? Because his shoulders were broad and his muscles thick and bulging?

  He was her enemy. Every man was.

  “Lass? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  Her mouth opened and closed, but she had no response at the ready. Not even for so simple a query. Not when faced with that rueful expression.

  “I think she’s dazed,” his companion offered. “You knocked her askew.”

  The beautiful man raked his hair and blew out a breath. “I dinna hit her that hard.”

  He had.

  “I thought she was a thief.”

  She had been.

  “She needs to sit. She’s shaking.”

  With surprise, Kate realized she was shaking. How odd. She never shook. She always had control of her reactions. It was a necessity. Growing up in Killin Keep, she’d quickly learned to never let anyone sense weakness.

  She sucked in a deep breath and headed for a log by the fire. When the man took her arm, she yanked it back, but only because his touch made an uncomfortable yearning rise in her belly.

  Surely it wasn’t a yearning to have a man like him? Someone who would protect her and respect her? Such a man did not exist.

  Besides, she didn’t know this man. He was a danger. She would do well to part ways with him as soon as she and Elise could arrange it.

  Chapter 4

  Elise plopped down next to her on the log and wrapped an arm around her. “Are you all right, my wee Annie?” Katherine tendered a small smile at the nickname her sister had for her. “Did he crush you, that great hairy beast?”

  Katherine glanced at him, that great hairy beast. A shiver scudded through her at the memory of his body on top of hers. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “As soon as I can breathe.”

  “I dinna mean to crush you,” the behemoth muttered. He turned to the other man and barked, “Brodie, get them water.”

  Brodie scuttled off. No one spoke until he returned. Elise and Kate took a sip of water and a moment to find their bearings. They surveyed their options for escape. They both knew what they had to do. They would brandish their weapons, taking the men by surprise, so they could flee with the mounts they so desperately needed.

  Whether or not they would succeed was at question.

  In Kate’s experience, the best way to take a man by surprise—especially warrior types, like these—was to lull them into a false sense of superiority.

  Kate shot a speaking glance at Elise and her sister nodded. They both turned to the looming men and fluttered their lashes.

  “Please, sir,” Elise said in an imploring tone. “Do you have anything to eat? We are verra hungry.”

  Brodie’s brow furrowed. “How long has it been since you ate?”

  The sisters exchanged a pathetic look and Elise murmured, “Days.”

  The beautiful beast nodded to Brodie—who turned away to rifle through their bags for something to eat—and then he hunched down to look Kate in the eye. It was discomfiting, but Kate found if she didn’t meet his gaze, his attention was easier to bear. “Why did you try to steal our horses?” he asked in a soft tone.

  Elise blew out a breath. “We needed them.”

  “Why?”

  When neither of them answered, he repeated the query with more intensity.

  Brodie returned with two oatcakes, but held them for ransom of their answer. Kate’s stomach growled and she frowned at him.

  His response was a shrug and a repeated, “Why did you try to steal our horses?”

  Damn, he was insistent.

  Elise put out a lip. She was very good at a wretched expression. “We need to reach Inverness as soon as possible. ’Tis a matte
r of life and death.”

  In fact, they had no intention of going as far as Inverness, but this was the story they had decided to tell, should they have need of it. One could not simply tell the truth. Not to strangers.

  His brow quirked and Kate found herself staring at it. How could such a thing be so fascinating? “Inverness?” he asked. “That is verra far.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So you decided to steal our horses?”

  Elise fluttered her lashes more. “We are verra sorry for that.” She flicked a glance at the oatcakes. “Please, sir. We are so hungry.”

  The big hairy beastie man gusted a sigh and nodded to Brodie, who handed them the cakes. They wolfed them down and then had more water. The cakes were hardly delicious, but at least they were filling.

  They had not lied about their hunger.

  They’d been on the run for three days and their purloined mutton and cheese had long ago disappeared.

  The men watched as they devoured the food, and then Brodie sighed. “Well, Kirk, what are we going to do with them?”

  Kate flinched. She tried not to, but she could only imagine the punishment these men might devise.

  “Take them with us.”

  She froze. Her jaw dropped. “What?” she yelped before she had a chance to swallow the word.

  He snagged her gaze and did not let it go. Was it possible he was even larger than he’d seemed before? Perhaps she was shrinking.

  “We’re heading north. We canna take you as far as Inverness, but you are welcome to ride with us for now.”

  Kate glanced at the horses. She initially thought she and Elise could manage to sit on one of the horses, and the men the other, so they could escape them easily. But then she realized these men were far too large to share a horse. No doubt they intended that one woman would ride with each man. Her nose wrinkled in displeasure at the thought.

  Kirk caught her moue, and his expression darkened. “I assure you, we willna harm you.”

  That was not her concern—not with her blade close at hand—but she didn’t let on. She shot a questioning glance at Elise. Her sister shrugged.

  “We both have sisters,” Brodie said with a broad smile that appeared forced.