Enticed by the Highlander: The Moriag Series

by Hildie McQueen

  The strange lightness in his voice made her skin crawl. Breena fought to keep from crumbling to the floor as her knees threatened to give way. “It is not my wish to marry you. I have told you in the past. Allow me to go as I will not be a good wife to you.”

  “You little bitch.” A meaty hand circled her forearm and he yanked her around to face him. “Of course, I will not release you.”

  “Why would you want to marry someone who dislikes you?” Breena finally met his gaze only to see pure hatred. She felt her eyes widen. The man abhorred her.

  Robertson took her chin with the other hand. His fingers dug into her cheeks and she winced. “I prefer it, actually. The things I like to do are not things a man will do to a woman he cares for. You see, I will make you scream in my bed. You will share it not just with me, but with other men. Two or three at a time will take you as I watch. They will make you cry in both pain and passion.”

  All breath left her. “You are mad.”

  “Shut up.” Robertson released her face and pulled her to the table. “Bend over.”

  “No.” She attempted to pull away, but he grabbed her hair and slammed her down onto the table. “Stop. You’re hurting me.” Her voice croaked when he held her around the neck with one hand. With the other he lifted her skirts, baring her bottom.

  “How about a quick lesson in what I do to a woman who dares to defy me?” The sting of his first strike on her bottom was dulled by the anger that coursed through her. At the next two strikes, she began to struggle.

  Robertson laughed. “This is nothing.” He motioned to Ita, who watched with a strange interest. Ita neared and lifted a leather strap from a chair Breena had not noticed before. “I’ll hold her. You will strike her until your arm gets tired. If it’s less than twenty lashes, then I will lash you.”

  The snap of the leather on her already tender skin brought a cry from Breena. Another strike and tears began to fall. Robertson covered her mouth and spoke into her ear. “Once you’re lashed, I will fuck you, Breena. You will not enjoy it as I will not be gentle.”

  He continued to hold her down and spoke to Ita. “Continue.”

  Before the maid could strike again, there was a knock at the door. Robertson groaned. “Go see who it is.” Ita put the strap down and shuffled to the door.

  One of the household staff, a young man, was at the door. His eyes widened at seeing Breena being held down by Robertson, but he looked only to the laird. “Lady Grisella requests your presence for the evening meal, Laird.”

  Robertson released Breena and shoved her away from him. “I will be there shortly. Let your mistress know that Lady Breena will not be eating this evening.”

  Once the door closed, he turned to her. The backhanded slap sent her to the floor. He pulled her to stand by her hair holding it high until she had to stand on her toes and slapped her again. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. “You are a rare beauty, Breena. I don’t believe I will tire of you for years.” His breath fanned her throbbing cheeks. “You will do so many things to please me in the time to come.” He pushed her down to her knees. “Untie your bodice.”

  Her hands trembled as she undid the fastenings. Robertson leaned on the table and watched with fascination. The bastard enjoyed other’s suffering. “Now hold your breasts up.”

  “That’s right.” His breathing hitched when she cupped her breasts. “Pinch the tips.”

  Breena swallowed, doing what he said. He came to her. “No, not like that. Hold them.”

  When she did, he took each nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed until she whimpered. “Like that.” He leaned forward and took one in his mouth, making loud suckling noises while his hand moved between her legs. Once again there was a knock at the door and Robertson cursed. “What is it?”

  A guard entered, his eyes locking to Breena’s exposed breasts before looking to Robertson. “I apologize, Laird. You sent for me?”

  He pulled away and looked down into Breena’s face. “You will learn to enjoy pain with me. Soon you will not be able to enjoy being fucked unless it hurts.”

  Bile came up her throat. Breena got to her feet and pulled her bodice closed, not daring to move away.

  “Tonight you will not have any enjoyment. You will only hurt. Your punishment for attempting to escape.” His hand yanked her against him and pulled her head back until she was forced to look up at him. “We will finish this later.” He kissed her hard until the pain from the cut to her lip made her whimper. Robertson looked to the guard. “Unfortunately, we cannot finish this today. The damn laird’s wife is serving the evening meal too early.” He stalked from the room.

  The guard and Ita escorted her back to the small room near the courtyard. Once alone, she paced the small space, not able to stand still. What awaited her angered more than scared Breena. She vowed the bastard would die for what he did to her. She wasn’t sure how, but one day she’d find a way to kill him.

  Her life with Robertson would be hell. If he took over the region here, it was too far to send word to her family. Not that they would do much to help her. Disheartened, she allowed tears to slide down her face. If only Aiden would come to her. If only she could get word to him about the betrayal, it was possible he’d take her to safety. Yes, even a loveless relationship as a laird’s mistress was far better than what awaited her with Robertson.

  Chapter Six

  Aiden couldn’t forget the look of anger on Breena’s face when she’d been escorted out of the cottage. She believed he’d been the one to tell of her whereabouts. Truthfully, he was surprised she’d not been discovered sooner. In hindsight, he should have carried her back to camp and kept her safe. Leaving her alone was a stupid mistake.

  The large camp they’d set up went almost completely around the village. They erected tents and most of the men patrolled. The younger ones enjoying the attention of the village lasses, who brought food and water to them.

  Most of the local families were relocated to inside the village. As many as possible of their animals were corralled and settled into the Campbell and McNeil courtyards.

  Aiden’s own keep was too far to be of use. Although worried about the intruders destroying his home, he took his small staff to remain at the Gordon’s until after it was deemed safe to return.

  A horn sounded and he went to see what happened. A young man came running to him. “Laird McNeil requests your presence immediately.”

  Once he arrived at the McNeil’s tent, he met Declan just outside. Both looked at each other with the same question. Obviously whatever happened was new. Inside, the Campbell was already in residence. The older man sat with his dog at his feet.

  The McNeil called to one of his guardsmen. “Ensure no one is within earshot. Walk all the way around the tent and if it’s clear, let me know.” They sat in silence until the man stuck his head in.

  “It’s clear. I will continue to go around.”

  “Repeat your message.” The McNeil motioned for a man who stood in the center of the room to speak.

  “Lady Grisella sent me with a message that she received from Lady Breena.” Aiden’s breath halted for a moment at the mention of the name. The man continued. “According to Lady Breena, she overheard warriors speaking when she ran off into the forest. The man in charge of the group who attacked the village was one of Robertson’s men. He also ordered that no one be left alive, but to be struck dead if they could not mount.” The man let out a breath. “I warned our guardsmen before leaving to keep vigil, but to not speak of it.”

  Everyone looked around at each other. Finally, Aiden spoke. “’Tis true. I saw one of the warriors strike his own dead before riding off.”

  “As did I,” Declan added. “What could Robertson hope to gain from attacking us?”

  Anger tensed the McNeil’s jaw. “Robertson is a power hungry man who, no doubt, expected this region to be easy to overtake. He has land in the lowlands, but not much, as it is hard to gain power over the large clans there. I suspect
his plan was to bring this region under attack and then find a way to drive us out.”

  Declan spit on the ground. “He didn’t think we’d unite. Figured we would not come together.”

  The Campbell got to his feet. “Our wives and families are in danger.”

  Aiden looked to the worried man. “He doesn’t suspect we know. If they are planning an attack, I believe his men who are here with us are on orders to strike and kill from within. We must gather them immediately. After, we should send a group to deal with Robertson.”

  “They will attack today. I am sure of it.” Declan Gordon let out a long aggravated breath. “We’ll be prepared. They have no idea how many men we have now. I say keep two hundred here and send one hundred back to the McNeil keep.”

  “He may have sent a spy. Someone could have told him how many we number by now.”

  The laughter from Declan was without humor. “He will not be able to match our numbers. Whether he sends an attack today or not, he will meet his end tonight. He killed many of my people. For that, he will pay.”

  “Aye!” all the lairds cried out.

  Robertson’s men were brought to the tent and confronted. Not one put up much resistance at the lairds’ requests to lay down their swords. Most, it seemed, were not loyal to Robertson, but forced by circumstance. Soon, they learned of the man’s cruelty and abuse of the men and their families. Robertson took everything from his people and the only way they could provide for their families was to work for Robertson.

  The men were eager to rid themselves of the man, but were reluctant when faced with the possibility of their loved ones suffering the consequences.

  “Side with us,” Aiden told their leader. “You will see we are large in numbers and strong in strength.”

  Robertson’s ten men rode along with the lairds to a hilltop. From there, the view of over three hundred was astounding. “You see, we will not have a problem defeating your laird. However I ask that you remain behind with some of our guards to protect the village.” They agreed, understanding they were not to be fully trusted. The men thanked the lairds before riding back with double the number of local men to guard the village.

  In the distance, a horseman rode fast towards them. It was a messenger from the McNeil keep. The guard rode to them and bowed his head. “Laird. All is well at the keep. At the end of the evening meal, Robertson’s men will be taken prisoner. They will be killed if they resist. There are another ten and twenty in the forest to the south. They head here.”

  “Send word to not kill those at the keep. We have learned most of the men do not have a choice in serving Robertson,” the McNeil commanded. He looked to Aiden and then to the Campbell and Gordon Lairds. “I believe the time is at hand. We must ride forth before the sun falls.”

  The battle did not last long. The men who fought for Robertson lay down their swords at seeing the sheer number of men they were against. Some were swords for hire and others from the lowlands.

  Inside the McNeil’s keep, Robertson was held by guards, his hands bound, in the center of the courtyard. The large man began yelling obscenities as soon as Aiden and the McNeil arrived. “Release me at once. What is the meaning of this? A small laird like you cannot stand against my men. They will retaliate if you harm me. You have no reason to do this. I am your guest.”

  McNeil neared. “The men who attacked are from your lands. They confessed to it prior to meeting their death.”

  There was a gleam of hope in Robertson’s eye. “Of course they would lay blame on me. Men will say anything to save their hides. I’m sure they were not my men, but spies who followed me here to kill me and any friend of mine. A result of a clash between clans.” His bulging eyes went to each of their faces. “Now release me and my men and we will be on our way.”

  “I’m afraid that is not possible.” Aiden neared and held up a missive with Robertson’s seal upon it. “One of them kept this.”

  “To make it seem as if I am truly at fault. Don’t you see?” The man began to pant, his face gleaming with sweat. He looked to McNeil. “You have known me for years. What would I have to gain from attacking you? If I wanted to do so, it would be easy. I have many men.”

  They pulled the man to the gates where he could see across the field. The hundreds of warriors remained on horseback and his eyes widened. His mouth fell open. “I didn’t know you were so many,” he finally said. When the Campbell neared atop his steed, Robertson’s legs buckled at the sight of the most powerful clans in the country.

  Laird Campbell looked down on the hapless man. “Today you die. No one crosses a Campbell and no one kills my people. The McNeils, Gordons, and Stuarts are my people here.”

  Robertson’s angry eyes bore into Aiden. “If you harm me, you declare war. The Robertsons are many.”

  “I find it doubtful anyone will miss you.” Aiden drew his sword and slashed the man’s throat. “To hell with ye, Robertson.”

  The man’s mouth gaped, his eyes rounded and he flopped to the side.

  “Well done,” the Campbell pronounced. “I will leave Robertson’s men to you to deal with. If they wish to return to their homes, they may. Those who prefer to remain could, perhaps, be given land.” He met Aiden’s gaze. “Take the land between our keeps to the west until reaching the river’s edge. I’m sure some of them will want to settle and start a new life. They will be under your lairdship.”

  Aiden’s throat constricted at the Campbell’s announcement. The growth of his holdings, as well as settling of new families, was a gift beyond price. He lowered to one knee. “I am forever in your debt.”

  The Campbell waved it away as if it were nothing. “You have served our region well for years. All of us have relied on knowing a warrior lived amongst us for protection.”

  He’d not realized how often, indeed, either the McNeil or the Campbell had asked favors of him and his small group of men in patrolling their lands. He’d chased off many would-be robbers and attackers, over the years. Never considered how much they depended on him for such. If anything, serving the powerful lairds had helped him keep from long days without anything to do. He and his men had, indeed, been busier than he’d realized.

  He went to his horse. It was time to check on the men who traveled with Robertson. There were over forty of them. He wondered how many would choose to remain.

  Chapter Seven

  When Breena stretched upon awakening, she was glad not to be sore any longer. It had been four days since Robertson was killed. Although she’d been living at the McNeil’s, soon she would have to decide what to do. They’d been kind and not asked her plans. No doubt, assuming she’d return to her family as soon as she was able to travel. Breena had remained secluded in the chamber, not wanting to appear at dinner with a swollen and bruised face.

  It would be rude to put off appearing at dinner any longer. Although the swelling was down and the purpling on the sides of her face remained, her face was healed.

  Ita left to return to her family. Breena had insisted she do so with two guardsmen who wished to return. Ita had asked to remain as her personal maid and, although she felt bad for the maid, Breena did not trust her any longer.

  Breena had seen a gleam of something disturbing in Ita’s eyes when the maid held the leather strap. Perhaps as Robertson had said, Ita was now used to the infliction of pain in a way that was not natural.

  She’d given Ita a good amount of money to help her live until she found other employment. It was the least Breena could do for her. There was no telling how much Ita had suffered after so many years with Robertson.

  She sighed, not looking forward to getting up and appearing at the meal. Once she faced Laird McNeil, she’d be forced to discuss her plans. At the moment, she hoped to regain her dowry funds and settle in Moriag. In truth, the prospect of returning home was not an option. Her parents did not want her and she would not take a chance they’d marry her off yet again.

  After a knock on the door, a maid entered. “Lady McGalen
, you have a visitor. He is downstairs in the study.”

  “Who is it?” Breena couldn’t imagine anyone coming to speak to her.

  “Laird Stuart.”

  “Assist me to dress, please.”

  Why would Aiden Stuart come and see her? Did they plan to punish her, thinking she was aware of Robertson’s plans all along? She hurried to dress. The sooner she explained the situation, the better.

  Moments later, she took a fortifying breath and entered the study. Aiden stood near the window. Wearing his tartan over his britches, he looked more handsome than she remembered. His red hair was pulled back into a queue with a thin leather strap. His broadsword on his side, he looked every inch a Highland warrior. “Hello, Breena.”

  His deep voice washed over her like a soothing rain.

  She gave a short bow of her head. “Laird. I see you are well after the fighting. I trust you were not injured.”

  The two-toned gaze met with hers and the corner of his lips lifted. She swallowed at remembering his lips on her skin. “Not a scratch anywhere on my body.”

  She refused to think of his bare skin. Instead, she let out a breath and narrowed her gaze at him. “You turned me into Robertson that day. Why?”

  A brow lift was her only reply. A maid entered with a tray and two glasses upon it. “Mead, milady?” The girl brought her a glass and Breena took it.

  After the maid left, Breena took a sip of the sweet liquid and lifted her eyes to Aiden. “Why?”

  He moved closer until she thought he’d touch her. The distance was so close between them, his heated breath caressed her cheek. “It was stupid of me to leave you alone. I should have taken you with me. When I returned for you, Robertson’s men were already there.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She took a step away and turned, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I am so very tired of being taken for a fool.”

  He walked around her until coming face to face again. “What will you do? The McNeil is prepared to send you back to your clan. With escort, of course.”