Highlander Entangled

by Vonda Sinclair

  "Is the water deep?"

  "I'm guessing about four feet at the moment and running swiftly."

  "And is it dark in here?" She liked to visualize places as much as possible since sight had been a part of her life for so long.

  "Aye, but not as pitch-black as the second chamber. The barest hint of light filters in from the channel cut by the water, but 'tis still as dark as deepest gloaming."

  After crawling, her hands felt crusted in mud and dirt. "Could I wash my hands and drink from the river? Is it clean?"

  "Aye. It comes down from the mountain. No one lives up there that I'm aware of."

  He led her forward. When she crouched, he held onto her arisaid lest she lose her balance and fall into the river. After she washed the dirt and mud from her hands and face, she drank several gulps of the icy, fresh-tasting water. Then he helped her stand again.

  "Better?" he asked.

  "Aye." She dried her face and hands on her wool arisaid.

  After washing his hands, he led her away from the river. "We can sit here." He helped lower her to the ground where he'd spread his plaid. "I'm sorry I have no food for you this morn. Ethan was unable to find any."

  "I'm fine. I grew used to not eating as much during the journey."

  "Becoming accustomed to the blindness must have been far harder. How did you do it?"

  "Indeed, but I had no choice. I started listening more and noticing scents." Not long after her injuries, she remembered waking up at times and hearing male voices in the hallway outside the door of her chamber. Fear riveting her, she'd strained her ears to hear what was being said, but couldn't quite make it out. "'Twas a matter of survival."

  Colin sat down beside her. "I'm sorry you had to suffer through that. Blackburn should be horsewhipped."

  She nodded. "I pray you will not feel sorry for me."

  "I don't," Colin assured her. "I admire your strength and determination."

  Her heart swelled with gratitude at his kind words. "'Tis times like this I miss my sight most."

  "During times of danger?"

  "That, too, but… more because I can't see you." She smiled and averted her face, wondering how forthright she could be with him. Very rarely in her life had she been around a man she found compelling and exciting. Should she sit in fear or tell him what she really thought? She had never been one to let fear rule her.

  "You must be a handsome man," she said.

  He chuckled. "I have no inkling whether you would think so or not."

  Her face heated, and she found herself smiling at the sound of his warm laugh. Though he had kissed her the night before, she had not thought to trace her fingers over his face to feel what he looked like. She well knew he didn't have a beard or mustache and that his lips had a sensual shape. But that was the extent of it.

  This seemed a strange and suspended moment in time which was completely different from her normal life. She felt like being even bolder than she usually would be.

  "Can I… find out?" she wondered.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Could I touch your face?"

  He was silent for a long moment, then gruffly said, "Aye, if you wish."

  She hesitated, uncertain as to why he'd paused. What was he thinking? "That is… if you don't mind."

  "Not at all." He sounded more convincing that time.

  On the plaid, she arose to her knees, hoping her hands wouldn't tremble with nerves. She trailed her fingers from his shoulders up his muscular neck and found that his thick hair fell a couple of inches below his collar. "What color is your hair?" she whispered, suddenly feeling the intimacy of the moment.

  "Sandy brown," he murmured.

  "Were you blond as a lad?"

  "Aye."

  "What color are your eyes?"

  "Gray."

  "That sounds like an interesting color." She did not recall seeing a man with gray eyes before. Were they like steel or slate… or silver? "Light or dark?"

  "It depends." The smile came through in his tone.

  Oh, what she wouldn't give to be permitted to look into his eyes for five minutes. This, above all things, made her yearn for sight more than ever before.

  "Close your eyes." She stroked her palms and thumbs over the lower part of his face, feeling his strong, square jaw. His new growth of beard stubble scraped her palms. She was certain it must be light brown, too—appearing, in the sunlight, like flecks of dark gold. Avoiding his tempting lips, she stroked her fingertips over his nose, finding it straight and noble. His skin felt smooth, no scars to be found like on her own face.

  Moving carefully, she stroked the fingertips of both hands over his forehead. "You have a high forehead. You must be highly intelligent."

  A short laugh escaped him, his breath warming her wrists. "Some would argue that point."

  Smiling, she smoothed her thumbs over his brows, finding them silky. The bone structure of his brows and cheekbones painted a picture in her mind of a man with an incredibly attractive, masculine face. But she would never know for certain if she was right or wrong in her imaginings of him. Her fingers trembled.

  He grasped her hands and placed warm kisses on the back of each. "Is my façade that frightening?"

  "Nay, on the contrary. You are a most handsome man."

  "You exaggerate." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

  Heavens! He took her breath and her mind in one fell swoop. She leaned into him, and he pulled her to sit on his lap. His stubble scratched her chin and her upper lip, but she did not mind. His lips were soft and firm at the same time. Everything about him was amazing and dreamy. She relished the idyllic moment as one that neared perfection.

  "Where are you, bastard?" The yell echoed from one of the first two chambers of the cave.

  She froze as terror chilled her bones. "'Tis Holme."

  ***

  Glaring at the darkened opening of the passage where Red Holme's voice had echoed, Colin helped Kristina sit on the ground. He arose and pulled the foot-long dirk from the scabbard at his belt, then picked up his sword from the ground. The bastard would find him and Kristina soon enough. If the man was alone, Colin should be able to take him down, although he did not intend to be overconfident. Holme might have a man or two with him.

  "Kristina, stay here, in the back corner of the cave," he whispered.

  "Aye."

  What had happened to Colin's men? How had Red Holme gotten back here without Rusty or Warton seeing him? Damnation, he might have killed both of them. Lawrie and Ethan, too. A sinking feeling settled into his gut.

  "I have a knife," Kristina whispered. "He comes near me, I'll stab him. Please have a care."

  "I will." Colin was glad Kristina had a weapon, at least, but he intended to do the man in before he could reach her.

  A dim light glowed from the entrance to this small cavern.

  "He has a lantern," Colin murmured. He'd probably managed to use a flint to light the one that had been snuffed out earlier. Intending to use the element of surprise, Colin picked up a nearby stone.

  Holme's breath whooshed in and out as he crawled closer. The lantern dangling from a hand came into Colin's view, then a head. Colin drew back his arm and threw the stone at the lantern. Rock crashed against metal. Holme dropped the lantern and growled out a curse. Near darkness reigned again, but he could still see a hint of movement.

  Colin heard a swish and was surprised to see a fist-sized rock whizzing from Kristina's direction. She met her target and Holme roared, "You bastard! I'll kill you for that!"

  Colin's chest swelled with pride and admiration for Kristina. With her blindness, how on earth had she managed to strike him? She was a little hellion!

  In the dimness, Colin charged Holme before he could rise to his feet, sword aimed at his neck. Holme rolled aside and the sword tip rang against the stone floor. Colin struck again, hitting metal-studded armor.

  Holme grabbed Colin's ankle and yanked. Everything spun as Colin flipped through
the air and fell to the ground. He landed on his elbow and hip. Pain shot through both joints, but he ignored it as fury and battle lust consumed him.

  Before he could arise, metal clanged against the stone beside him—the tip of Holme's blade stabbing into the cave floor as he tried to strike Colin. Using his dirk, Colin slashed upward, making contact. Holme yelped.

  Colin rolled out of the way and bounded to his feet. He slashed his sword back and forth toward Holme's dull silhouette. Sparks popped off the smashing blades, providing a bit more illumination. This was a horrid place to fight—too dark and enclosed.

  Holme's blade struck Colin's sword arm, forming a shallow but painful gash. "Bastard!" He slashed back, cutting Holme's wrist and eliciting a growl. Twice more their blades clashed and Holme's blade went flying through the air.

  Colin drove his blade toward Holme's gut, but before he could make contact, Holme dodged aside and crouched. Instantly, he launched himself at Colin with a roar, tackling him backward. Colin's back smashed against a large stone. Amid the blinding pain, he lost his grip on the sword, and it clattered away.

  "Damnation!" Colin shoved at Holme, then slashed his forearm with the dirk. Yelling, Holme knocked the blade from his hand, dragged him up and punched his jaw, knocking Colin backward. Unable to stop the fall, Colin splashed into the icy river and his head struck a stone, triggering devastating pain. "Nay!" he yelled before the rushing water engulfed him and carried him downward. In the shock of it, he forgot to hold his breath. Cold water filled his lungs.

  Chapter Seven

  "Colin!" Kristina yelled. "What happened?"

  A laugh sounded, but 'twas not Colin's. Chills of terror consumed her as she absorbed Red Holme's hateful, gloating laugh.

  "Your lover hit his head on a rock and washed down the river," he crowed with glee.

  "Nay!" Crushing despair enveloped her. "Colin!" she screamed.

  "'Tis too late now. He cannot hear you. If he's not already dead, he will be soon."

  Dear God, please don't let it be so. She clasped another stone in her hand and hid it beneath her leg. In her other hand, she held the small dagger. She would stab this beast for what he'd done to Colin.

  "Come, sweet lass," Holme cajoled. "Come quietly and I will not hurt you."

  Sharp claws of hatred and anguish scraped along her nerves. "Stay away from me, you bastard!"

  He laughed. "And what will you do if I don't? You can't even see me. How will you defend yourself?"

  She would kill him! She wanted to shout it, but kept her mouth shut tight instead. She had to use the element of surprise.

  "Show me your hands," he said.

  She remained still, her hands hidden behind her skirts.

  "I'm holding a sword stained with your lover's blood. I could easily kill you with it. You wouldn't see it coming. Would you like to join him in his watery grave?"

  Rage burned in her gut. "I hate you! Whoreson!"

  Holme cackled again.

  Please let Colin be alive, please, please, please.

  "Show me your hands!" Holme demanded.

  Leaving her weapons hidden beneath her skirts, she brought her empty hands out.

  "Stand up," he said.

  She moved her hands beneath her legs again, preparing to push herself up, but she grasped her knife and the stone. She then pretended weakness as if she couldn’t gain her feet.

  Holme grasped her elbow and painfully yanked her upward. "Hurry. We're leaving."

  She swung her arm around, aiming the rock at his head. It made contact, but not hard enough.

  "Bitch!" His hand struck her forearm hard, sending intense pain through it, and she lost her grip on the stone.

  He yanked her close and smooshed his mouth against hers. She turned her face away and thrust the knife toward his abdomen. It made contact with something. Leather armor? She pulled her hand back and stabbed again, lower. He growled against her ear, grasped her hand, then yanked the knife from it.

  "You will pay me recompense for that, over and over. And I will enjoy every minute of it." He yanked her to him, lifting her. She hiked her knee upward, smashing it into his groin.

  He growled and hissed through clenched teeth. "Damn you, wench!" He held her tightly under one vise-like arm, nearly squeezing the breath from her. Her heart pounded hard as she tried to free herself, but his strength made him immovable.

  Holding both her wrists in one of his hands, he wrapped a cord around them and tied it. He pushed her facedown on the dirt floor, grit and small stones biting into her cheek. While he bound her ankles, she screamed, kicked and fought with all her might, but she could not overcome his brute strength. Next, he tied a gag in her mouth, but this did not stop her from screaming and yelling, although the sounds came out muffled.

  He crawled backward through the narrow cave passage, dragging her by her feet, a few inches at a time. By the time they emerged into the second cavern, her skirts were around her waist, but she didn't think he could see her. Colin had said this chamber was especially dark.

  Dear Colin, please be all right.

  Holme picked her up and carried her across this chamber of the cave, then again dragged her along the slightly taller passage. She heard no one. Were any of Colin's men around? She again attempted to scream and yell, but the only sounds she could utter were loud moans. Not loud enough to carry very far.

  Holme picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and slapped her derriere. "Be quiet."

  She wanted to call him every vile name she could think of.

  He carried her out into the fresh air that smelled of pines. She heard no sounds other than the wind hissing through pine needles, distant bird calls, and a few rocks clattering beneath his feet.

  She beat her bound fists against his back, but he kept walking, very briskly, and it seemed he was climbing a hill or mountain. Every time she hit his back, he gave her arse another stinging slap. Tears of frustration dripping from her eyes, she dropped still.

  Where was Colin? Had he drowned? Dear God, please keep Colin alive and protect him!

  ***

  "Rusty! Come quick!" Warton's gruff voice yelled the words as Colin became aware. He felt like a numb block of ice being dragged by the arms, face down. He couldn't draw breath.

  He gasped violently.

  Water gushed up from his lungs and poured out his mouth. His body convulsed into a coughing fit.

  Warton lowered him to the ground. "What happened, sir?"

  Shivering, Colin coughed a few more times and gulped great breaths of air into his stinging lungs. Kristina popped into his mind, and fear for her racked his body.

  "Kristina!" he roared then shoved to his feet. "Holme is in the cave with her."

  "Damnation!" Warton's eyes widened. "Can you walk?"

  "Aye. Go! We must stop him from capturing her!"

  Warton ran up the hill, yelling for Rusty and the others. Colin followed but after a few yards started coughing again. Stopping, hands on his knees, he rested for a moment, breathing deep. Thank the saints Warton had pulled him from the river. After gaining enough breath, he climbed the hill, although at a slower pace than Warton.

  At the cave, he went inside, finding Warton waiting by the passage. "Ethan is checking the other two chambers."

  Colin bent and progressed through the passage to the second chamber. 'Twas still near dark as midnight in here. "Kristina?" he yelled.

  He heard Ethan crawling along the narrower passage from the third chamber, weapons clanging against the stone. "No one is in there, sir."

  "Hell! He took her."

  "I found your plaid and weapons." Ethan handed him the items.

  "I'm glad. I'll need them." It sickened him anew that Kristina couldn't use his plaid at the moment. Was she cold? In pain? Had Holme hurt her?

  They quickly made their way back to the mouth of the cave. Colin sheathed his weapons and belted his plaid into place. 'Twas filthy with the dirt from the cave, but he didn't care.

  "Holme wo
uldn't have thrown her in the river, would he?" Warton asked. "I didn't see her."

  Colin shook his head. "Nay. The bastard's abducted her."

  "Up here!" Rusty called from near the top of the rocky hill. "I heard the lady trying to cry out."

  "Damnation. That bastard best not hurt her," Colin growled.

  They ran up the hill toward Rusty, and Lawrie joined them.

  "What did you hear?" Colin asked.

  He pointed. "I was a short distance down there when I heard a moaning sound from up here and rocks clattering. I followed the sound, but didn't see her."

  "Holme must have gone that way." Colin nodded toward the east. "If he was carrying her, he wouldn't have been able to scale this cliff. Look for tracks. He'll probably go through the pass, and then he'll be harder to find."

  ***

  Bound, gagged and infuriated, Kristina could do nothing to free herself. Holme's hard shoulder dug into her stomach. He'd climbed uphill for a long while but now he ran down what felt like a slight slope. All she heard was his boots pounding the ground and his harsh breaths.

  After a few minutes, he paused to rest, still breathing hard. He cursed, then muttered, "Where the hell is he?"

  Holme walked briskly for what seemed a half hour. Sometimes she felt the warmth of the sun on her back. Other times the air smelled like dampness and pines. Now and then she heard streams flowing.

  "Scroggie?" Holme growled. "Dobson? Damnation! Where are they?"

  Mayhap Holme was lost and separated from his cohorts in this unfamiliar wood. And maybe he would walk in circles until Colin and his men found them.

  Thinking of Colin was the only thing that kept her sane. She felt as if Holme had been carrying her for hours. Why couldn't he simply grow tired and put her down somewhere? If only she could get some relief from his shoulder rammed against her stomach.

  A horse nickered nearby. Who might have a horse and could they help her? Hope swelled within her, and she tried to yell out again.