by Amy Jarecki
On second thought, it was by the grace of God Niall had been there. Ian absolutely could not allow himself carnal knowledge of such a sweet, innocent maid. The fact that he ogled her continually had him practically knotted up with self-loathing, though he couldn’t quite go that far.
The one thing that did have him feeling like an enormous arse was the sight of black smoke billowing from Fladda. Christ. That was enough to snap his eyes away from Merrin’s forbidden fruit.
He yanked his finger from Merrin’s bodice and balled his fist.
Merrin’s breath caught.
Ian looked at her. Damn. Her eyes took on the color of the darkening sky.
She grasped his fist with trembling hands. “Why can I not resist your touch?”
He leaned in, transfixed, mind numb—again. “Mayhap the same reason that I cannot seem to keep me hands to meself.”
She gave him a puzzled stare and then sat up, her eyes bright. “I think we have a common fondness for one another.”
She thinks? Ian grinned. “That we do.” He brushed his finger across her petal-soft cheek. “I cannot believe Ye’re speaking to me at all.”
She fluttered her lashes. Had she no clue what that did to a man? “Why?” she asked.
“I’m the reason ye lost your home.”
Merrin’s smile fell. She reached for her satchel and pulled out a leather bag. “I cannot think about that now.” She untied the bag’s thong and filled her hand with oats. “I’ve got to spread this around to keep the bogles and fairies at bay.”
Ian wanted to shake her. Fairies? Bah. “That’s good food Ye’re wasting.”
She stood and grimaced. “Da will be awful sore if I do no’ do it.” She shoved in her fist for another handful. “Besides, I need something else to keep me mind occupied.”
He knew exactly what she meant. But it didn’t help having her stoop over, giving him an eyeful of shapely hips. In two steps, he could be across the plateau and fill his hands with them.
The dog darted to Merrin’s heels, lapping up the oats as fast as she scattered them. She spun around and thwacked him atop the head. “Gar! ’Tis no’ for you, ye thieving hound.” She pushed him toward Ian and shook her finger. “Ye’ll have your supper with the rest of us, but do no’ eat the oats.”
The dog’s ears flattened. He tucked his tail and plopped on his haunches. Ian ran his hand over Gar’s wiry fur. Whining, the big deerhound leaned into him. Ian had even upset this poor mongrel’s life. Forlorn, they both watched Merrin, wanting things that were forbidden.
Their lot would have been better all around if Rewan had killed Ian in the first place. He watched Merrin kneel down and carefully drizzle her oats, conserving as much of the precious food as possible. Ian couldn’t remember ever feeling this lousy. No one cared whether he lived or died—well, died, mayhap. He’d brought Merrin into this mess and there he sat, the pain in his back sapping his strength, rendering him useless with a sword. He might as well walk up to Rewan with his hands in the air and take his execution like a self-respecting condemned man.
“I wish she’d never found me—let me body wash out to sea,” he mumbled to Gar. “Then none of this would have happened.”
Merrin stopped. “I cannot even think of it,” she whispered. Her shoulders curled over. “That would be even worse…” Her breath caught—she looked at Ian, torment in her eyes. She dropped the bag and pressed her palms to her face.
A sorrowful wail erupted from the depths of her soul. It pierced through Ian’s skin and seized his gut. Merrin doubled over, her body shaking, racked by uncontrollable sobs.
Crying. A woman’s tears made him crumble—and this time he’d caused Merrin’s. He was such an idiot. She’d heard his senseless mumblings. Ian sprang up and closed the distance, then drew Merrin into his arms. “I’m sorry. I was only wallowing in me own self-pity.” He nuzzled into her neck.
Cords stood prone on her neck. Her sobbing turned into stuttered wails. “I…I…dunna ken what will become of me…” Merrin’s mouth drew down with a painful wail that shot an arrow straight through Ian’s heart. Her eyes filled with more anguish than he’d ever seen in one human being.
His heart twisting, Ian kissed her hair and dabbed her eyes with the tips of his fingers. “There, there, Merrin.” Her name rolled off his tongue like butter. He had to stay alive, if only to protect her. God, he couldn’t stand to see her in so much tormented pain. “I promise I’ll help ye. I’ll never see ye abandoned.”
She grasped his fingers and held them tightly under her chin. A lone tear slid down her cheek as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh, Ian. Ye promise? I can cook and clean for ye. Ye will no’ ever regret having me whilst I’m in your care.”
Ian squeezed her in his embrace. Her breathing still shuddered. “Easy now. Ye’ve nothing to worry about.” He smoothed his hand over her thick tresses. “Everything will be all right. Ye’ll see.”
Ian closed his eyes. He’d just promised he’d not abandon her. He prayed he could keep that vow. So many odds were against him. He could be dead by sunrise. But on one thing he was firm—whilst he breathed, he would see to her safety. He could not leave Merrin or Niall to fend for themselves now their home was burned. Once he found a place where they could build anew, he’d see them settled and then he’d be on his way. He’d ensure they would never pay for his sins again.
Merrin leaned into him, inhaling a deep, trembling breath. Her gentle hands found their way around Ian’s back. She pressed her breasts against him—those full, alluring breasts that forever teased him above her bodice. She smelled of peat smoke and wildflowers. Ian slid his hands down her spine to the feminine curves at her waist. Hungry desire radiated throughout his body—over every inch of flesh and deep inside. Longing inflamed his heart and shot straight to his groin.
Merrin possessed every desirable trait in a woman. Forget the tears, all she had to do was meet his gaze and he’d give her the world. He wanted to show her pleasure, take her to places of passion and watch her blossom as she experienced all that womanhood had to offer.
His hand slid to her buttock.
Merrin moaned and pressed against his rock-hard erection.
Ian filled his hand with female flesh, so soft, so pliable his knees shuddered. He loved how her hips flared from her tiny waist. He loved the delectable breasts that pushed against him. His pulse quickened as he swirled his tongued down her long, slender neck.
Gar stirred and whined behind them.
“Remove your hands from me daughter.”
Niall’s words crept across Ian’s nape like a slithering garter snake. God, could he be any more of an idiot? Telling Merrin that he’d always be there for her, and now caught with his lips racing down the lass’s neck and his fingers kneading her arse? Releasing his hands, Ian forced a smile and chuckled.
Merrin stepped back and beckoned Gar to her side with a snap of her fingers.
Niall sauntered toward them, thin-lipped, eyes narrowed. “I leave the two of ye alone for a shake of a lamb’s tail, and ye wind up in each other’s arms?”
Ian bit the inside of his cheek. He deserved all Niall could dish out and more. He’d just taken advantage of the poor lass—even gave her false hope. “I…”
Merrin fisted her hips. “For goodness’ sakes, Da, he was only lending me a shoulder to cry on.”
Niall shot a suspecting glance between them.
Ian spread his palms, feigning his most innocent face—the one he always had used on his mother. “Merrin just lost everything. But Ye’re right, I shouldn’t take such liberties. ’Twill no’ happen again, sir.”
Merrin’s elbow darted into Ian’s ribs. Ian gave her a quick grimace. What else could he have said to calm the old man’s ire? But Niall was more than right. Ian couldn’t be trusted to be alone with his daughter. She posed more temptation than Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Niall fished in his satchel and retrieved the leftovers from last night’s feast of boiled chicken. “We’ll
eat this—cannot take a chance on building a fire with Rewan and his men so close on our heels.”
“Agreed.” Ian sat beside him. “Did ye find the petty morel?”
“Aye, and spread the brambles over the path—covered our tracks as well.”
Ian tore off a piece of breast and offered it to Merrin. “Excellent.”
She smiled and plucked the meat from his fingers. “I hope ye washed your hands, Da.”
“Of course I did. Who taught ye the healer’s trade?”
Merrin took a bite, then tossed a morsel of meat to Gar. “Will the poison kill them if they’re hit with a heavy dose?”
Niall reclined against a large rock. “Not likely, unless there’s a sensitivity. But it will make a man sick and sleepy for a time.”
“How long?” Ian asked.
Niall un-stoppered his flask. “A day, two at most.” He took a swig of whisky and passed it to Ian.
The liquid slid down his gullet with the welcomed burning sensation to which he’d become accustomed over the years. It warmed his insides. A day or two would give them a chance to flee, but Rewan would quickly be on their heels—and the blasted poison had to work. They needed to find horses or a boat…and most definitely a miracle.
***
Ian shivered. Droplets splattered on his face. Had the fever returned? A warm tongue slurped his ear. The stench of wet dog invaded his nostrils.
Ian swiped a hand across his ear and his eyes flew open. “What the devil, Gar?” The dog lay beside him, slapping his tail against Ian’s thigh. Wet. Ian had no fever—everything was soaked clean through. If there was one thing Ian could count on in the Hebrides, it was rain.
Thick mist curled around him, translucent white in color. It must be dawn. Ian looked to his right. Niall’s snore caught in the back of the healer’s throat and garbled there as if it were alive. Next to the old man, Merrin curled with her backside touching her father, his thin plaid over their shoulders. Ian moaned. He’d give his morning meal to have Merrin press her bottom against him like that.
Stretching, Ian sat up. The wound in his back stabbed at him, complaining from the moss-covered rock he’d used as a bed. He flexed his arms and his elbows cracked. The rain had left him stiff, sore and miserable. Niall’s idea of sanctuary lacked every comfort known to man. Today, Ian would scout around and see if he could find a place that would keep them out of the weather at the very least.
Ian grasped the back of his neck and rolled his head. From the creaks and pops, it was stiffer than his arms.
With a low growl, Gar sprang to his feet. Ian reached out to grab him, but Gar lunged forward with ferocious snarls and barks. Ian started to stand, but stopped on his knees. If Rewan was there, the henchman would see Ian if he stood. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword, dropped to his belly and slithered to the edge of the crag.
“Gar, come behind,” he said in a commanding whisper.
The dog obeyed. Unfortunately, the damage was done. Anyone within a mile would have heard him.
Slowly, Ian slipped his head over the rock’s edge and peered down. Below the mist coming through the trees like ghosts, Rewan’s men crept forward, swords drawn. Worse, every eye was focused on the bloody Castle of the Fairies. Any fae magic Niall conjured up must have vanished. They’d completely exhausted their fairy welcome.
And why the hell was Rewan up before dawn? Didn’t the bastard sleep? Ian had no time to ponder answers to his questions. He shoved back from the ridge. Merrin and Niall crouched together, staring at him expectantly.
Ian swallowed. “If they didn’t know where we were hiding, they do now.”
Niall glared. “That bloody dog.”
Ian scooted beside them and kept his voice to an intense whisper. “We’ve little time. With any luck, the trap of brambles will slow them down. But I hold no illusions it will stop them completely. We must scuttle down the far side.”
“Are you mad?” Niall’s face turned tomato red. “’Tis as steep as kilt rock.”
Ian thrust his finger toward the dirt. “’Tis that or face Rewan’s men in the wet on this stony crag right here.”
Merrin grabbed Gar’s collar and pulled the soggy deerhound against her body. “Will they kill us?”
“No doubt they will.” Ian looked Niall in the eye. “Take Merrin and go now. Slide down on your arse and ye’ll live.”
Ian reached for the bow and single arrow. If he hadn’t been so friendly with Merrin last night, he would have made a couple more. Bloody lovesick laddie, would he ever learn? Probably not before he met his end.
Merrin grasped his arm. “Ye’re no’ planning to stay here and fight?”
“That’s exactly what I should be doing.” Ian inclined his head to the back of the crag. “I’ll do what I can to stall them. Then I’ll follow. Now go.”
She gave him a squeeze. “Do no’ forget your promise.”
Ian clipped a nod. Of course he wouldn’t forget. He was making promises he knew he couldn’t keep, but by his oath he’d do his best to honor them while he still breathed.
He watched Niall and Merrin disappear over the edge of the cliff while he collected a pile of stones. Gar paced back and forth and finally took a leap. Ian pulled a leather slingshot out of his sporran. He hadn’t used it in years, but at one time he’d been accurate. He prayed he hadn’t lost his skill.
Ian again peered over the ledge. In minutes, the men would hit the brambles—close enough for an arrow and a rock. Fortunately, the path up the Castle of the Fairies tapered into a narrow passage—a fat man wouldn’t make it through. One or two fallen men would block it—for a time. At least Merrin and Niall would have a fair chance at escape.
Ian took shallow breaths while he waited—his heart thundering in his ears like it did before a battle. The first man howled when he hit the brambles. Ian stood with the bow and let the arrow fly into the heart of the second warrior. Snatching up the slingshot, he loaded a rock. With two swings around his head, he released. He didn’t wait to see if he hit his mark. He loaded another rock, and another. The men below bellowed with pain. Ian couldn’t tell who’d been hit and who’d been snagged by poison brambles, but their bodies were embroiled in mayhem.
Ian grabbed the sword and slid it into the scabbard on his back. He ran to the nether ridge and took a blind leap. Midair, he marked his landing spot—a thick clump of moss. He prayed he wouldn’t meet solid rock beneath.
His knees jarred hard, but stars crossed his vision when his back absorbed the shock. His wound must have opened and torn a gargantuan hole. At least that was what Ian imagined as his feet pummeled down the steep slope.
Either he was functioning on raw fear, or his strength was coming back despite the odds. He raced for the trees, running every bit as fast as he had the night Rewan MacLeod shot him in the back.
Before he reached Merrin, the earsplitting blast of a musket boomed behind him. Ian didn’t turn around, fully aware he was out of range. Rewan’s gun had fired a warning. One that ran cold through Ian’s blood.
Chapter Thirteen
Merrin came to a skidding stop after the musket blast echoed through the air. “Ian!” Her heart raced.
Niall grasped her hand and tugged. “Ye cannot worry about him now.” Her father’s quick inhales wheezed. “We must continue on.”
Gar trotted in a circle and yelped.
“And your bloody dog needs to keep his mouth shut.”
“Wheesht, Gar.” Merrin clamped her fingers around his collar and they carried on their steady trot along a narrow game trail. Her feet stung with savage blisters. “Do ye ken where we’re going?”
“Southwest.”
“Is there anything there?”
“Just hills, lochs and valleys.”
Merrin threw a quick glance over her shoulder. The grassy landscape was sparsely forested. Hills sprang up in every direction. Ian was nowhere in sight. Had he been shot? Sucking in a gasp of air, she willed herself not to consider it.
<
br /> Perspiration beaded her forehead, yet her body shivered from the cold, damp clothes sticking to her flesh. She swiped her arm across her face. Her legs burned from so much abuse.
Gar yanked on her hand and whined. “No, ye must come.”
But the dog insisted. Straightening his legs, he dug in his paws and resisted her pull on his collar. Merrin hesitated and Gar tugged her back along the trail with soft whimpers, as if he knew he shouldn’t bark. Merrin followed a few paces and cast her gaze to the top of the hill behind. Ian barreled into view with a noticeable limp.
She clasped her hands over her heart and raced to him, her heavy muscles suddenly feather light, blisters forgotten.
Ian covered twice the distance and opened his arms.
“I heard the musket shot.” Merrin’s toe caught on a rock and she stumbled into him. His arms flung around her with a soft grunt. “Are ye hurt?”
“Nay.” Ian ran his fingers up her back then grasped her shoulders. Holding her at arm’s length, he looked past her ear and tilted his chin up.
Niall’s watching.
Ian’s handsome gaze switched back to hers. “We need to keep moving—find a place where we can build a fire and dry our clothing.”
Too relieved and overwhelmed to reply, she nodded and motioned for Gar to follow.
Ian took her hand and led her down the hill. Niall waited with his fists on his hips. “Did we stop them?”
“Aye, but I dunna ken for how long.”
Niall pulled Merrin to his side. “Mayhap we have a day, two at most.”
Ian scratched his head. His gazed shifted between the two. “We’re on MacDonald land. We’ll find no sympathy here. I want to head southwest. We’ll surely find sanctuary at Eilean Donan Castle.”
“’Tis a MacKenzie keep, no?”