“She means naught to you. Leave her to me.”
“Nay. She will remain in my care until I can return her to the protection of her family.”
“Mayhap she’s a spy, left in our path for a purpose.”
“Mayhap you are as well.” Malcolm’s grip tightened on the reins, and his gelding danced with tension beneath him. “The MacKintosh have naught to hide. We are, and always have been, loyal to king and country.”
“To king and country?” Hugh smirked. “What of our regent, the duke of Albany?”
“What of him? What are you suggesting?” Malcolm suspected Hugh was a spy, but had no proof. Most likely he’d joined their garrison for the sole purpose of selling information to the treacherous Red Comyn, who had their regent’s ear. If it came to it, Malcolm would not regret running Hugh through with his claymore. A Fraser, Hugh had fostered with the MacKintosh. As a youth, he’d been sullen, cruel, and spiteful. As a man, he’d grown even more perverse.
Hugh had come to Moigh Hall a fortnight ago seeking a place in their garrison. If the decision had been his, Malcolm would have sent him on his way.
Drawing his sword, Malcolm edged closer. “Do you challenge my authority or my loyalties? If so, draw your weapon. Let us settle the matter forthwith.”
Hugh glared at him. “I’ll rejoin the rest of the men if that is your command.”
“It is.” Malcolm watched to ensure Hugh didn’t double back, and then he started his search for the woman. He returned to the point where the chase had begun, dismounted and examined the forest floor. A tree-covered hollow caught his eye. The earth and the brush around it had been disturbed. She’d hidden there until Hugh had passed. Canny lass.
He picked up her trail, and it wasn’t long before he caught sight of her, doubled over and gasping for breath. Her paltry bundles lay on the ground beside her. Malcolm secured his horse and stepped through the brush separating them. She whipped around, eyes darting, most likely searching for another escape route. He stood still before her, keeping both hands in plain sight. “I mean you no harm.”
She straightened and glared him down. Her bravado amused him, made him want to laugh, though he wouldn’t. To do so would be a grave insult to her bravery.
“You have no right to interfere with me, and you have no idea what I’ve been through today.” Letting out a shaky huff of air, she lifted her belongings from the ground, gave him her back and walked away.
Malcolm let her get as far as the end of her braid.
She made a growling noise and let her burdens slip from her hands. Grabbing his wrist with one hand, she turned and latched onto his little finger with the other. Bending it back with considerable might, she forced him down.
“Ahhh, by the saints.” Pain and confusion brought him to his knees. He recovered his wits enough to keep hold of her braid, yanking her to the ground with him. When she reached back with one hand to free her hair, he grabbed her arm and bent it up behind her back, gratified when he heard the sharp intake of her breath.
Had he thought her delicate? Nay, he’d misjudged her. She was a wildcat. A cornered wildcat. He tried to raise his hand out of her reach. “Foolish woman, a broken finger is naught to me.”
“Fine, I’ll break it then.” Keeping her tenacious hold, she increased the pressure. “If you mean me no harm, then let me go.”
“Nay.”
“Let. Go.”
“You first.” The rise and fall of her breasts against his chest stirred his blood to a boil. His gaze roamed over her face, settling on the fullness of her lips pursed into a determined pucker. An idea formed in his mind. Raising his eyes to hers, he grinned.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Oh no.”
He covered her lips with his. She gasped, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss and drawing her closer. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and desire surged through his body in a rush so strong, ’twould have brought him to his knees had he not already been on them.
Then she bit him. Damnation!
Never had he been in a more absurd predicament. How the devil had one tiny female managed to best him? Judging by the pain, she had no intention of letting go. So be it. Neither would he. Malcolm bent her arm up behind her a bit more in retaliation for the insult to his pride. She yelped through her clenched teeth, and a twinge of guilt forced him to loosen his hold.
Stalemate.
By God, ’twas a good thing none of his men were here to witness this indignity. She was like no other lady he’d ever met, and he could scarce believe her audacity. What would the earl think if he saw his only heir in such a ridiculous fix?
A rumble began deep in his chest, erupting in loud, raucous laughter that shocked the tiny warrior. He fell backward, taking her with him until he lay flat on his back with her on top. Miracle of miracles, she let go of his lip and his finger as she tried to wriggle away. He encircled her waist with his arms and trapped her legs between his. Placing her palms on the ground, she raised herself up and stared down at him as though he’d completely lost his wits.
No doubt he had.
It would not take this braw lass long to attempt escape again. He rolled them over and straddled her. Malcolm took a leather thong out of his sporran and bound her wrists. “You have naught to fear,” he told her in a soothing tone. “Though I doubt you lend any credence to my words, I mean only to offer you aid.”
“Right.” She lifted her tied wrists, her eyes flashing. “How is this supposed to aid me?”
“Ah, lass,” he said, hefting her off the ground, “in less than a day, you’ve rendered me senseless, brought me to my knees and drawn blood.” He winked at her. “The binding is to aid me.”
She huffed, and then her expressions shifted. “I did do all that, didn’t I? My uncles and cousins would be proud.”
She surprised him at every turn, and her bemused expression had him laughing out loud again. “If you’re any indication, they must be a bloodthirsty lot.”
“They are.” She glared as if challenging him to disagree.
He held her with one arm while retrieving his mount. Still chuckling, he placed her astride his horse, careful to keep the reins out of her reach. Malcolm gathered her things, secured the smaller case behind his saddle and dumped the larger sack on her lap. Even with her hands bound ’twould be best to keep them occupied. He swung up behind her and turned his mount toward the road.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To a place of safety.”
“Where are we now?”
“We’re on MacKintosh land.”
“MacKintosh. Is that Irish or Scottish?”
Malcolm frowned at her odd questions. Mayhap she’d been set upon by brigands and had suffered a blow to the head. “You’re in Scotland. Wheesht now, lest any more trouble lurking about the forest should find me.”
She gasped and placed her bound hands on her pack in a possessive gesture. There was no mistaking the signs she was exhausted, near tears and trying hard not to show it. He always traveled light out of deference for the horses, and with the earl of Douglas’s missive to deliver, the need for haste was great.
How had she happened to be alone on that particular stretch of road at the very moment he traveled by? Who was she? What would his family and clan make of her? Each question raised another until his head throbbed.
Tomorrow was soon enough to demand answers, and his father would insist on questioning her himself. For now, he would leave her be.
CHAPTER TWO
The sun had set, and even though the woman shivered from the chill night air, she continued to lean as far from him in the saddle as possible. Malcolm removed the wool from his shoulder and draped it over her small frame. She flung it back in his face.
Several times she slipped into sleep, jerking upright when her body began to slide off his horse. Her stubborn refusal to take the succor he offered frustrated him. He left her to struggle—until he could no longer bear her discomfort.
Malc
olm waited for her to fall asleep again, and then he drew her back. Holding her steady, he wrapped her in the wool of his plaid. The fullness of her breasts resting on his forearm sent his pulse racing. Her hair smelled like sunshine and wildflowers. Pulling her snug against his body, he cradled her head against one shoulder and inhaled her sweet feminine scent, taking it deep into his lungs. Sighing, she settled herself without waking. He reveled in the feel of her in his arms and let his horse plod along at a snail’s pace.
The scent of roasting meat and the warm glow of the campfire throwing shadows against the pines led Malcolm to the campsite. He gave a soft whistle, and the youngest of their party hastened to him. “Galen, take her.” Malcolm eased the woman into the other man’s arms before dismounting. He prepared a place for her to sleep, and Galen laid her down on the thick sheepskin, covering her in wool. Malcolm gestured toward the others, and they walked away, careful not to disturb her.
Taking a seat by the fire, Malcolm was relieved to see Hugh already wrapped in his plaid for the night some distance away. His men sent curious glances his way as he rubbed the dried blood from his injury.
“What happened to your lip?” Robley handed him a large piece of roasted venison.
“She bit me.” Recalling their absurd battle, he laughed. His men looked at him in shock, causing him to laugh all the more. “Aye, ’tis truth.” Malcolm saw no need to elaborate and settled into his meal.
“How did your lip happen to be between her teeth?” Robley asked, his smile full of mischief.
“I kissed her.”
“You kissed her?” Liam glanced toward the sleeping form of their mysterious guest. “As she fled?”
Malcolm leaned forward and signaled for them to do likewise. He chuckled again, and in quiet tones he told them the story in full, embellishing nothing. Finally, he explained, “I hoped the kiss would startle her into loosening her hold.” He rubbed his injured lower lip. “I underestimated my opponent. Let that be a lesson for us all.” He grinned as they mulled it over.
“She’s no’ even as big around as one of your thighs,” Angus murmured. “’Tis hardly credible.”
“She had you on your knees?” Robley snorted. “I’d have paid a small fortune to have witnessed the feat.”
“’Twould be worth a small fortune to know who she is and how she happened to be alone on our road,” Liam added. The others nodded.
Malcolm sent Angus and Galen off to their rest and asked his cousins to stay. Staring into the fire, he picked up a stick and idly drew circles in the dirt while reflecting upon all that had occurred.
“What are your thoughts, Malcolm?” Liam asked.
“Until we know who the lass is and where she belongs, ’twould be wise to keep an eye on her.” Malcolm looked from Liam to Robley. “Spread the word amongst those we trust that she’s under my protection. You know my concerns regarding Hugh, and ’tis likely she has trouble following close upon her heels.”
Malcolm shook his head. “She speaks the words of the Sassenach, but not in a way we’ve ever heard them spoken. Her accent is unfamiliar. The gown she wears is rich. She’s a gently bred lady for certes. Her hands are soft and without callus.” He frowned. “Except for the tips of her fingers on one hand. ’Tis curious.”
“Curious indeed,” Liam teased. “You examined the tips of her fingers?”
“Aye,” Malcolm grinned sheepishly, “while I bound her wrists to keep her from injuring me further. Robley, you and I will guard her tonight.” Malcolm threw the stick onto the dying fire and stood to stretch his weary muscles. “Liam, you have first watch. Wake Galen for the second. We’ve a hard ride ahead of us if we wish to make Moigh Hall by Sext. Let us get some rest.”
Alethia woke at dawn to find herself wedged between the massive backs of two men. They were like walls radiating heat and smelling of horse, wood smoke and sweat. One of them belonged to Malcolm, the Alpha-Jerk.
Her wrists were still bound. Not a good sign. Her throat closed up, making it hard to breathe. Who were these men, and what did they intend to do with her? What the hell am I supposed to do, and how the hell am I going to get back home? Stuffing her panic back into the jack-in-the-box from which it sprang, she forced herself to calm down. She needed a plan.
Alethia fished the pendant out from under her chemise. Giselle had used the necklace to send her here, so there had to be a way to use it to get back. She studied the knotted effigy and wondered how to make it work. Holding the charm tight, she closed her eyes and clicked her heels together three times, muttering, “I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.” Her body tensed, and she waited for something to happen. Nothing did.
Maybe if she replayed everything Giselle had said, she might find a clue. Someone was in danger. Who? Giselle would do anything to help them, and Alethia had untapped gifts and could survive anywhere.
If Giselle would do anything to help, then why wasn’t she the one wedged in the middle of this barbarian sandwich? Why me?
Alethia glanced at Malcolm’s back, and their battle from the previous day flashed through her mind. When he’d sat astride her on the ground, she’d felt his heat clear through her gown. The intimacy had been unsettling, his kiss even more so. He was huge and physically powerful, and the way he smelled might as well be labeled eau de testosterone.
She needed to get away. Alethia studied the knot on the leather cord binding her wrists. Bringing it to her teeth, she started to work it loose. Once her hands were free, she’d wiggle out from between the two men, grab her stuff and try to find the road. It had been rutted and worn, signs it was well traveled. Another group would happen along soon, and hopefully there’d be women in the party.
The knot slipped from between her teeth as she pulled. Her hands jerked forward, hitting Malcolm between the shoulder blades. She froze, held her breath and waited. When he didn’t move, she let her breath out slowly, brought the knot back to her mouth and resumed tugging.
Malcolm twisted around and stared down at her. Eyes the most vivid blue she’d ever seen fixed on the leather between her teeth. Busted. Alethia struggled to sit up, managing to at last, and held out her bound wrists. “Don’t you think this is a tad unnecessary? I know I do.”
“I canna say.” He rubbed his injured lower lip and arched an eyebrow. “Can you keep your hands from me?”
Alethia saw the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, and her face grew hot. She didn’t see anything funny about her predicament. She turned away to stare into the forest, biting her lip to keep from tearing up. This pretending to be brave business was hard work.
He rose, pulling her up with him, and cut the leather binding her wrists with a small dagger he pulled from his belt. Malcolm walked over to her violin and duffel and hoisted them to his shoulder. “I’ll hold onto these whilst you make your morning ablutions. The burn leads to a small falls offering privacy.”
“What’s a burn?” She rubbed her wrists and noticed Malcolm’s companions watching their exchange with avid interest.
“The wee river.” Malcolm jutted his chin toward the stream bordering the campsite. “What do you call such?”
“A stream,” Alethia muttered before she fled the camp and followed the burn into the forest. She took care of her body’s immediate needs in the brush, then found the place Malcolm had mentioned. If she hadn’t been so upset, she would’ve loved the small waterfall surrounded by thick pines, hemlock and juniper. The sound of the rushing water soothed her tattered nerves, and the fresh, tangy scent reminded her of home. Her heart ached with longing. She had to find a way to get back where she belonged, but how? How does one travel through time?
Alethia searched the shadows to make sure she was alone, took a drink, and then stripped for a hasty shower. Stepping under the falls, she gasped as the ice-cold water sluiced over her body. Once she was done washing, she moved to stand on the moss-covered boulder where she’d laid her clothes. Swiping the water from her skin with the palms of her hands, she heard a t
wig snap. She snatched her chemise from the ground and tugged it over her head, tying the strings in front with trembling fingers.
Hugh stepped out from the brush. “I do beg your pardon, my lady. I did not realize anyone was here.”
Deceitfulness pulsed off him like a strobe light. The lecherous perv had probably watched her bathe. Adrenaline surged through her body, sending her heart racing. “No harm done.” Every instinct she had screamed fight or flight. Mostly flight.
“’Tis clear some misfortune has befallen you. You’re far from home and your kinfolk.” Hugh blocked the path back to camp. “’Tis no’ safe for a woman to travel alone and unprotected. Might I offer my services?” He brought his right hand up to cover his heart, while his eyes raked over her with a lascivious glint. “I’d be more than willing to act as your protector until such time that you can be restored to the loving bosom of your family.”
Hugh’s once-over made her want to bathe all over again, and he oozed malevolence. She grabbed her gown and struggled into it, doing up the laces as quickly as she could. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll certainly give it some thought.” Not on your life! But she couldn’t say that. He had the upper hand and knew it. Best not provoke him in any way.
“If I might be so bold, who do you belong to? Will there be a ransom offered for your safe return, I wonder?”
Stepping into her leather slippers, she searched for a deer path along the banks of the stream. Wait. Given her earlier dash for freedom, he probably hoped she’d head deeper into the forest. Best to work her way back toward camp. “I belong to myself. There’s no ransom.”
Hugh chuckled low in his throat. “A lady of gentle breeding, obviously of noble birth, and you claim to belong only to yourself? How delightfully mysterious. No one searches for you, my lady?”
Alethia sucked in a breath as she realized her mistake. If she had no one, belonged nowhere, he’d have no reason not to harm her. “I mean—”
“I understand your meaning well enough. No doubt you are fleeing from someone. Poor lass. Did your father marry you off to some wealthy old goat you find repugnant?”
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 2