“Wouldn’t it make more sense to stay away from each other?”
“Rumor says that you and I--”
“I don’t put much faith in silly rumors. If I dance only with Rae, maybe…” The words died in her throat. His eyes were no longer green. They had turned black as night, and his jaw muscles clenched with unbridled rage. When his gaze swept to the side, and he glared at a pair of young men who walked too close to her, she sighed.
Her sigh must have caught his attention, because his eyes flicked back toward her, looking slightly less intimidating. When his attention returned to the dancers, and she was sure he wasn’t looking her way, she tiptoed along the back of the tent, until she found an open flap.
As she stepped outside, cool night air washed over her. Goose bumps tingled down her arms, and the perspiration between her breasts cooled her skin. A crisp breeze, scenting the air with the promise of a coming winter, wafted over her. The din was less powerful outside the tent, with only the muted sounds of the music worsening her headache.
Laughter and bagpipes were things normal people enjoyed, but the explosive power of hundreds of auras made her dizzy. No one, not even Dorcas Swann, had any idea what her cursed life was like.
Still feeling sorry for her predicament, a sudden uneasiness crept over her. “Maybe Gavin is right. I should stay near him.”
Inhaling the scent of smoke and whisky coming from somewhere nearby, its strong odor pressed her to head inside. Before she could move, an eerie voice from out of the darkness, made her freeze.
“Ah, the lovely lass has come to honor me with her presence, and without an escort. How auspicious an omen.”
CHAPTER 20
A cool breeze washed over Angus Sinclair the moment he lowered his hooded plaid, and leaned close to his son’s pretty whore. Brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, he smiled at his good fortune. The normal night sounds of the Scottish Highlands had given way to the clamor of bagpipes, drums, and gay laughter, but he was far from home. He'd stumbled across the huge tent after finding Jaden-Tog by an outdoor table, guzzling ale. The capture was swift, and no harm had come to the traitorous imp.
Yet.
Now, another captive had fallen into his grasp, assuring his success in bringing his young son back into the fold. Such a lovely captive, as well. She smelled wonderful, like flowers of the Highland moor.
“No wonder my son has fallen under yer spell.”Angus had not brought his mercenaries on this trip. There was no need to let them learn all his secrets. A few trusted men, as far as a warrior who fights for coin can be trusted, were privy to his decision to visit a witch. Lana Sinclair was easily swayed, and had helped to speed him on his way to this future world.
“What the heck are you doing here?”
Angus glared at the woman who had walked into his trap. Jenny Morgan glared back at him.
She is a beauty, especially in a gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. The urge to peel the blue silk from her shoulders, releasing the creamy flesh, barely hidden below the neckline, was intoxicating.
“I understand why my youngest is so infatuated, spell or no’, for I presume ye practice witchery.”
“I am not a witch.”
He scoffed at her statement. Women always lied, and those practicing witchery were the worst. With magic of his own, provided by Lana, he was not afraid of this woman. Reaching out, he grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her into his embrace. Her eyes widened. She squirmed, but did not scream.
“How did you get here? How the heck did you find us?”
“My spy learned ye had left Castle Ruadh in the company of Dorcas Swann.” The old hag sold potions and herbs, but was rumored to be a powerful witch. Fortune had smiled upon him, when he had stumbled across the witch whose bed his older son Niall once warmed. At the outset, Lana Sinclair was not eager to help him, but a few of his men persuaded her, by wielding their blades close to her luscious lips, and cheeks.
Lana was a whore, as all women are, and vanity was a strong reason to assist a man on a mission. After she had conjured a spell to allow him to travel through time, he sensed she had also whispered a curse.
Once he dealt with the young woman in front of him, he would see to his son, Gavin. How dare he act as laird? He was not fit to sit in the chieftain’s chair. Though driven from his castle, Angus had sworn to return, and make them all pay. Gavin would listen to him now, since his lover was in his grasp.
“Ye and I shall leave this place. Come along quietly, and I shall see that no harm comes to ye,” he lied.
When she opened her mouth to scream, he clapped a hand over her lips and nose. She struggled for air, and when he dragged her, she resisted, her fingers clawing at his burnt cheek.
“Ye bitch! Doono’ try my patience.”
He tightened his grip around her middle, crushing her breasts to his side. She stiffened, as he dragged her toward the forest trail, and she pulled his hand off her mouth.
“Gavin is nearby, and he will kill you, old man.”
The potion Lana had given him had started the smoke in the trees, but it proved too powerful to control. He had nearly smothered the three of them. Unused to sorcery, and not wanting Gavin to die, he would not resort to using the other potions. Not until he was assured he had total control, or when he was losing a battle. The witch in front of him would assist him, or die.
“Gavin is my son, and he will learn to honor his father. He dare not attempt to destroy me. I have been spying on ye since ye headed inside that tent, but I doono’ see him, witch. Did ye poison him?” As he dragged her along the darkened trail, he listened for signs that someone followed.
“What? No! I would never harm Gavin, and I am no witch.”
“My son erred. He should have been protecting his woman, and no’ be dancing with other lasses. It shall be his downfall, and ye will learn that he is not nearly as powerful as his sire.”
Moonlight illuminated the trail in several sections, giving Angus all the light he needed to find his way back to where he had tied up Jaden-Tog. The brownie was a pain in his arse, and had turned against him. The imp would be useful, or he would die, along with this wench. They made progress through the dark forest, until she bit his hand.
“Ouch!” Angus wrenched his hand from her mouth, shook it, but felt no dripping blood. Nightfall made their trek slower than he would like, and he could barely see his own hand.
“Ye shall pay for that, bitch.”
“You will pay for kidnapping me. Gavin is right on our heels. He’ll take his dirk and stab you through the heart.” She struggled, and landed a kick to his shin.
Although older than most warriors, and a little thick around the middle, he had kept himself in shape these past few weeks. Living in the woods, and constantly hiding from warriors bent on revenge, had helped his burn to heal. The scarred skin remained, and the pain had subsided, but now he sported more bruises, because of her.
“Ye best not attack me, as Isobel MacHamish did. I will no’ stand for it.”
“Izzy was a hero.” She spit in his face.
Tightening his grip, he turned his thoughts to his castle. Once he had defeated his son and had reclaimed the lairdship, he would make them all pay.
“Let me go!”
“Aye. Scream and yell. I hope my love-struck son follows us. The lad must learn that I am his chieftain, and he is my subject. He will fall in line, or see ye dead. Which do ye think he shall choose?”
The wench laughed. “Love-struck? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She mumbled something that sounded like a Sassenach curse, but he had no time to listen. He squeezed his hand around her neck to keep her from struggling, and dragged her farther along the forest trail. He had left the brownie tied to a pine tree near a waterfall.
For a moment, he thought of Niall. Was his oldest boy truly dead? Had his own men caused his fall from the cliff? That was the tale shared by Lana, before his men had made use of her. She had no reason t
o lie. If Niall truly felt anything for the young witch, and returned hale and hearty, he would soon learn that anything he loved would feel pain and sorrow.
Until he swore his allegiance to me.
If Niall had died, swept beneath the waves at the bottom of the cliff, so be it. Another reason not to kill Gavin.
“Ye be lovers, ‘tis the rumor, so I came here to capture his prize.”
“I am no man’s prize!” She squirmed harder, but he would not let her go.
“I shall give the lad another chance. The mist dinno’ work to stop ye, earlier, nor did the young man with the odd weapon.”
“You caused the smoke? We almost choked to death, and the pizza guy tried to shoot me!”
“Like I said, ‘twas an accident.” Would his son believe him? “I have more potions. As long as ye obey me, ye shall come to no harm.”
“Obey you? Never in a million years, you wretched pile of--”
He slapped her, then turned toward the tree where he had left his satchel, and the trussed-up brownie. If the wench, the brownie, and Gavin did not kneel before him and swear allegiance, he would use the potions.
“What other potions do you plan to use on us? Gavin is going to be so pissed.”
Her struggling made his groin tighten. She was all luscious curves, and sweet-smelling flowers. Her soft white skin tempted him, and his hand slid toward her right breast.
“I have some that can throw ye into unconsciousness. Easier to carry ye back to my time, or have my way with ye now.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I shall see how much my son feels for ye,” he whispered.
If she kept struggling, he might trip over a root, or her gown. He paused behind a large tree, hidden from anyone who followed. Drawing his dirk from the sheath at his hip, he settled the blade beneath her chin. The sharp steel tip nudged her chin upward, and he stared into her eyes. They widened in terror, glistening beneath a stray beam of moonlight. A heartbeat later, she glared back at him with anger mixed with a strength he had only witnessed in the eyes of women of the Highlands.
“Gavin has chosen a fearless Highland wench. If he gives way, and follows me into battle, I might allow him to wed ye. Yer bairns would grow into mighty warriors, and our clan will rule northern Scotland, for centuries.”
“You’re delusional. He's not going to marry me. He doesn't want to further the Sinclair line. I heard him say this, when he mumbled in his sleep, and…” A dusky pink washed over the woman’s cheeks.
“So…my son has taken ye to his bed.” Angus groped a breast, and laughed when she gasped.
Her shock at his rude touching turned into a shriek, followed by another kick. Her boot landed on his bruised shin. Pain erupted along his entire leg, and he dropped her onto the forest floor. She rolled away from him, and staggered to her feet, but she caught the toe of her boot in the hem of her gown.
When she fell over the pine tree’s roots, he kicked her in the ribs. Moans added to the shocked shrieks of the brownie, tied above her. Another kick turned her onto her back, and her gown fluttered in the wind, rising to her knees. His groin tightened at the site of so much naked flesh.
“Lower your dress, lass, or the Sinclair will have his way with ye. I am helpless, and cannot save ye,” Jaden-Tog cried.
Angus backhanded the brownie, and laughed as the imp’s head slammed sideways against the pine tree. “Ye will no’ help this wench. If I wish to rut with her, no one can stop me.”
Gavin’s whore rolled away, and managed to get to her feet. “Don't even think about it. What do you want from me?”
A slow smile pulled at his mouth, as he walked closer, and pointed his dirk a hand’s breadth from her chest. “I would like to spread yer legs and show ye what a true man can give ye, but yer my bait. Gavin will come for ye, and then he and I shall discuss yer future. Do ye want to be the bride of the next laird of Tulac Castle? 'Tis an honor, and a privilege.”
She shook her head, but she glanced back down the trail. With her attention drawn elsewhere, he slashed at the front of her gown with his the tip of his blade. The fabric parted from the tops of her creamy breasts to her navel.
She shrieked, and grabbed the slashed edges, in a feeble attempt to cover her beautiful breasts. The sight of all her womanly bits made him hard as stone.
“Ye bastard,” the brownie cried.
“The imp and I are of an accord, sire. ‘Tis not how a man treats a woman, in this time.”
Angus spun, his dirk raised. Gavin stood at the edge of the trail, just beyond stray beams of moonlight. His son was darkness itself, and a shiver of fear coursed down Angus’s spine, until he noticed Gavin’s weapon was still sheathed at his hip.
“Ye must care for the wench, son.” Moving between the two lovers, he pointed his dirk at Gavin, as he held back a sneer. He wanted Gavin as an ally. “I was no’ going to hurt her, son. I wanted to inspect her assets. Rumor has it, ye plan to take her to wife. Have I not the right to make sure any future generations are born to the right woman?”
Seeming to ignore his question, Gavin glanced past him. “Lass, are ye well?”
Angus stepped back, and grabbed her elbow. He wrestled with her, until her back was to his chest, and she faced Gavin. He sensed the moment she felt his stiffening erection.
Still clutching the parted pieces of her ripped gown, she tried to wiggle free. Holding his dirk with one hand, the other slid inside her ripped gown and latched on to a firm, young breast.
“Please, no! Gavin, help me!”
Ignoring the wench, Angus locked his gaze on the rage in Gavin’s glare. When her heel slammed into his bollocks, the pain sent him pitching backwards. Clutching her, they spun around, and fell in a heap. With the wench on top of him, and he attempting to protect his groin, the dirk narrowly missed piercing her stomach.
She flew off Angus, and into Gavin’s arms. As Gavin set her on her feet, she collapsed to the forest floor. Angus raised his weapon to protect himself from his son's fury. A growl was followed by the whisper of a short sword, slipping from its leather sheath. Angus rolled toward the pine tree, and the brownie kicked him in the face.
This is not going well.
Rolling to his stomach, his satchel was suddenly within reach. Grabbing the leather strap, he fumbled in its dark depths guided only by feel, and fingered a bulbous-shaped potion bottle. At the same time that he slammed the bottle against the tree trunk, and brilliant light enveloped him, Gavin's dirk pierced his shoulder.
The last sound ringing in Angus’ ears was his own scream.
***
“Lass, are ye well?” Gavin asked Jenny. Her limp body, beneath a wayward strand of moonlight, was cause for concern. She was breathing, and the only blood marring the forest floor belonged to his sire. The man had disappeared in a beam of light so intense, little black spots danced in Gavin’s vision.
When he had come across his father, with Jenny’s breast visible beneath her ruined gown, his heart had caught in his throat. Retaliation sprang to mind. The urge to cast a spell and kill his sire had risen so fast, it had terrified him. Angus Sinclair deserved to die, but the only thing holding Gavin back was the possibility of injuring Jenny. Tamping down his rage, he helped Jenny to her feet.
“Thanks. I'm fine. I'm glad he's gone. I heard the stories about your father, but I've never known anyone who oozed evil, like him.”
Gavin’s hands shook, and he was thankful she did not sense his evil side that had reared its ugly head. “Aye, ‘tis why Niall and I were reluctant to follow him.”
“His threats against you turned my stomach, and when he pressed his…”
“His dirk?” As moonlight passed above, her cheeks blazed red, and he wondered why she looked embarrassed. She clutched her dress together, but the milky swells of her breasts were visible.
“Not his dirk, idiot. The man can still get it up, if you catch my drift.” Jenny headed to a large pine tree, and a lump lashed to its trunk.
When it raised its head, Gavin recognized the brownie. Angus obviously had captured him. “Jaden-Tog, are ye no longer my sire’s ally?”
“Nay, young laird.”
This was good news. His sire, unfortunately, had disappeared in a flash of magic. How he acquired the potion, was a mystery.
Freed by Jenny, the brownie slid to the ground. “Thank ye, lass. Sorry Angus threatened ye. The man is a lusty bastard.”
Lusty?
When Gavin realized what his father had pressed against Jenny's buttocks, rage swept through him, and he let loose several Gaelic curses. Trees rustled as a magical wind battered them, its smoky breath replacing the cool night air.
“Calm down, warrior. Yer lady is well, and we must return to the others. There is safety in numbers, aye? How did Angus capture the wench?”
“Who are you calling a wench?” Jenny had finished untying the brownie, and now stood with hands fisted on her rounded hips. In doing so, her gown unfolded like the petals of a chamomile flower, revealing her breasts and flat stomach.
Gavin stared, his heart raced, and his fingers flexed at his side. He would not touch her, not after his sire had treated her with disrespect. Instead, he marched to the tree, grabbed a discarded length of rope, and circled her with it.
“What do you plan to do with that?” Grabbing the torn fabric together with one hand, she raised her other hand to push him away, but paused. She seemed to realize he wanted to help. He tied the rope around her, just beneath her breasts, and it pulled the gown’s torn ends together. When finished, he gripped her by her shoulders.
“I followed ye, love, after I had ordered ye to stay by my side. Why did ye no’ obey me?”
Her eyes grew wide, and glistened with unshed tears.
She has the prettiest eyes.
Shoving aside such poetic thoughts, Gavin stepped back. She was embarrassed and frightened, and he stood there berating her. He yearned to gather her to his chest, wrap his arms around her loveliness, and kiss her until dawn. His groin tightened, so he stepped back farther, and let the night’s shadows swallow him.
My Dark Highlander Page 18