My woman?
No, he must not think, thusly. Haven had no place in his life, now or ever. Destiny insisted he marry a Keith for whom he felt nothing in order to bring two clans together. Lady Fia, awaited him at journey’s end. He had nearly convinced himself marriage to such a comely creature would not be too great a sacrifice.
Until I met Lady Haven.
Clan Keith needed a warrior clan to aide them in times of turmoil. Simply announcing their alliance with Clan Gunn would keep their village safe. The bride price had been steep.
As a laird of more than thirty summers, his need for an heir could no longer be denied. At the time he had signed the betrothal contract, the choice had been clear.
“Now my path is curved and muddied.” Kirk sighed. First things first. How to save Haven without putting his men in danger?
He counted mercenaries once his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Kirk was right to send men back to camp to guard the wagons.
The bastard’s missing numbers means men are attempting to steal the treasure while Haven acts as bait.
“Could the woman be part of the deception, my Laird?”
Kirk clamped his teeth together then shook his head at the man who must have read his mind. Haven could not be part of this. Not while suffering such abuse. He held his bow, sword, and dirk, as did others. He snapped his eyes shut, amazed he could no longer picture the face of the golden-haired wench destined to fill his bed and his life. The only face that sprang to mind was a black-haired, loud-mouthed beauty in constant need of rescue.
Movement beside him brought his attention back into focus, reminding him others depended on his next move. Plastered flat as possible under the bushes, he explained his plan and ordered his men to stay hidden.
Kirk stood and called out to the group surrounding his love. When the men turned in his direction with swords drawn, Kirk feared only for Haven’s life. He prayed his men timed their attack well as he strolled into the enemy camp.
Alone.
The man with his hand in Haven’s hair faced him. A single beam of moonlight pierced the canopy of branches and illuminated his face. The Mackenzie smiled. The bastard knew he had the upper hand.
“So, Lord Mackenzie, we meet again, my friend. I should have known ye would be the man I kill this day.”
“Quiet, and do not claim me as friend. If ye make another move ye shall watch yer lover suffer the stroke of my blade to match the scar I gave ye, though, I believe it lends ye an air of intrigue.”
Haven gasped. Kirk squinted through the near-darkness and read the horror reflected in her wide eyes and pale skin. More moonlight filled the small clearing and he watched her eyes glance up and down his body. He had secured his hair with a thin piece of leather. A wide leather belt held his plaid low about his waist. He carried a broadsword in one hand, a dirk in the other.
Seeing her among these heavily armed men made his blood run cold. His concern for her safety must have shown on his face. Several warriors raised their weapons and stepped closer. As he watched, two brutes grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her foreword.
She fumbled to close the front of her gown with tied hands. A dark smudge marred the pale skin beneath her quivering chin. Blood.
“Bastard! Ye cut her.” He spat out the words through clenched teeth and raised both weapons. When a black-gloved hand moved to grab her breast, his roar stilled Mackenzie’s motion.
“Ye disapprove? Ye take from me so I shall take from ye.”
“Make sense, man. I have nothing of yers. Lady Haven is not mine, but she is under our protection.”
“Ha! Ye lie,” Mackenzie said, with a knowing sneer.
Kirk could not meet her gaze. Had she understood his lie? Had Lord Mackenzie discovered the truth of his feelings? Had someone in his camp told him about the strange woman who appeared in the woods one day? Had a spy revealed his growing fondness?
Who else knows she is mine and mine alone?
After a large intake of breath, Kirk set his weapons on the ground. Two of Mackenzie’s men rushed forward. They sliced away his leather cuffs then bound his hands behind his back. The spiky rope bit into his skin while his gaze never left Mackenzie’s black glare.
“Kill him.”
“No!” Haven cried.
The Mackenzie slipped into the forest with her. The mercenary nearest Kirk raised his weapon. Before he could swing the mortal blow, Kirk’s warriors stormed the camp. The night exploded with the clash of steel and the cries of dying men.
CHAPTER 20
Lord Mackenzie retreated from the glade with his arm grasped around his prisoner’s waist and his palm over her mouth, not in fear of the upcoming battle but with excited anticipation.
“Your lover will die. My men will soon relay the good news at our designated meeting spot.” Pulling his trembling prisoner through the cover of gnarled trees and thorny bushes, he laughed at her sobs. His men would keep the bastards busy while he rethought his plans. The near-failure of his well-thought-out trap made him curious.
“How did Kirk know ye were gone from his camp? He found us much too soon. He must have the ears, eyes, and nose of a wolf.”
His captive struggled. “Let me go. I’ll only slow you down.”
He ignored her pleas and dragged her toward their secondary camp. “No, ye come with me, sweet one. I still have delightful plans for ye. We must put distance between yer lover, quick like. His jealousy amazes even me.”
“He doesn’t care what happens to me,” she whispered. She struggled violently until he squeezed her neck.
Pausing to get his bearings, he whispered in her ear. “Careful, love. I might need ye still, though my men have the advantage. Others will decimate those left guarding the wagons. Ye and I have unfinished business, my lovely, but I will not be sampling yer delights. I have eyes only for Lady Fia.”
When they reached the edge of the second clearing, Mackenzie pushed her to her knees. The wild-haired woman panted in the dark. Their run through the forest had added to her disheveled appearance, but her terror-stricken face only added to her attractiveness.
“Listen closely, wench, if ye want to live.”
“I’m listening,” she sputtered.
“Do not utter any more of yer witchery.” At her wide-eyed response, he added, “I heard yer chant. I am familiar with the dark arts. Using it must have aided Kirk. Do not use yer powers against me again.”
“I didn’t—”
“Keep quiet, or my spy will slit all yer friends’ throats, and we shall start with the young red-headed lad.”
* * * * *
Would Mackenzie’s spy really harm Reid? Haven had more immediate problems. The men that waited for them in the secondary camp glared hungrily at her ripped bodice. She might be dead by morning without finding a way to warn Kirk about the spy.
Kirk might already be dead. Mackenzie’s men had surrounded him. She desperately wanted to see what had happened, but the bastard who’d kidnapped her had dragged her away.
Mackenzie untied her hands, gathered her chemise together, and retied the lacings of her vest. When he stepped away, she brushed dirt from her dress and picked twigs out of her loose hair. Then she slipped a hand inside her pockets and clenched her small dagger.
“One word contrary to my wishes and I shall be forced to slit yer throat. Do we understand each other?”
His smile sent her stomach lurching, but she forced a nod. If she feigned cooperation, she might find a way to escape. He gathered his men. Some sneered, and she glared back. She still had her own strengths and her dagger. Did Mackenzie have any idea how swiftly the tables could turn?
With her knife hilt in her palm, plunging its blade into the bastard’s heart no longer seemed unthinkable. Pent-up energy from her kidnapping morphed into rage that simmered beneath the surface. To appear calm, she forced her feet to walk about the camp while the men busied themselves with packing everything up.
Before she could distance herself far from
the group, a hand gripped her around the waist, pulling so fast, into the dark forest filled with trees, she forgot to scream. Locked in the arms of a man as tall and as muscular as Kirk. She froze.
“Kirk?”
“Take care, my lady. Do nothing so rash as to mistake me for my dear cousin. Marcas Mackenzie has little patience, and ye feel too good.”
“Cameron.” Her throat closed up tight and her heart dropped to her toes. Kirk’s cousin had arrived to save her? How did he know where to find her? More troubling was that he sounded as if he knew Mackenzie intimately.
Could he be a conspirator? Such a thought skittered away when the evidence of his desire dug into her buttocks.
Just my luck to jump from the frying pan into the fire.
He silently dragged her to a waiting horse. Cameron climbed into the saddle, reached down, and hoisted her into his lap.
“Hold tight, keep quiet, and ye will see ye lover once more,” he whispered.
As she did as he ordered, a commotion rose from the opposite side of the camp. Yells turned to screams amid the clang of steel and the thuds of fists.
“Balfour aids us and will give his life to keep ye safe. As will I, dear lady.”
He grabbed her chin, twisted her head, and brought her lips to his. Cameron’s mouth claimed hers with a passionate kiss while the horse spun away from Mackenzie’s camp. She tried to wrestle her lips from Cameron’s hungry mouth, but he was strong and relentless. The horse had moved only a few yards when the whistle of an arrow split the night, and found its mark.
* * * * *
“Please, Lady Fia, do not do this. ‘Tis dangerous for two women to travel outside the keep at night!”
Her maid’s whispered words echoed in her tower chamber. Nothing Rose said would persuade her from her path. “Rose, ye will do as I say, or stay here. We will take care. If ye shared the love in my heart, then ye might understand.”
“Why must we hasten tonight?”
“Ye read the message. Laird Kirkwall Gunn is within a day’s ride. My guardian shall seal my future once the marriage takes place. If the bride is not to be found, there shall be no marriage.”
“But—”
“I will not marry a man I do not love. Not when the man of my dreams still breathes.”
“Please, let me speak my mind, then I will do anything ye say this night.” The older woman locked eyes in the mirror with Fia’s as she began to braid her hair into one long, gold plait. “Love is a wondrous thing. I still ache when I think back to my young man.”
Lady Fia listened in silence. Her maid had lost her love in a clan uprising. Though five years had passed, pain echoed in Rose’s voice.
“I would not have ye suffer as I have. If the man ye love is truly worthy of ye, I beg ye to ask yerself this: Why has he not asked for yer hand? This Gunn clan’s laird comes to us from many hills and forests beyond the moor. He brings riches and power to help our clan. Yer sire—bless his soul—smiles down upon us because of yer sacrifice.”
“Am I to sacrifice my happiness to fill our coffers? My uncle, adamant that my future is his to command, shall learn I meant each word I threatened the day he signed the betrothal agreement. The same day he neglected to ask my consent. Help me?”
“As I said, dear lady, command me.”
“To escape the keep unobserved will be an achievement in itself. If thwarted, my uncle will have no choice but to lock me in my room until the marriage ceremony.”
“I pray luck be on our side this night,” Rose whispered.
Fia shivered at the look of hopelessness reflected in the mirror, but she would prevail. For thirty years, Laird Kirkwall Gunn had squandered his youth. Now, he expected Fia to give up hers.
“Nay. If the man of my heart cannot see fit to fight for my love, I will take my future into my own two hands. May the consequences be damned.”
* * * * *
Haven’s mind twisted and turned to come up with a plan to rid herself of her captor. She had trusted Cameron. He’d arrived to save her and to return her to Kirk. An arrow ended such high hopes.
When Mackenzie scooped her from the back of Cameron’s agitated horse, she’d gotten a glimpse of Cameron’s prone form. He’d fallen from the saddle and landed face first in the grass. The feathery tufts atop an arrow’s shaft protruded from his back. In the almost total darkness of the forest, she couldn’t tell if he still breathed.
Mounted in front of Lord Mackenzie, she watched as several mercenaries rolled over the body of a very large warrior. In the dark, she couldn’t tell who it was. Then she recalled Cameron’s words.
“Is Balfour—”
“Dead? Yes, he has earned a final rest this night and took three of my warriors with him.”
Tears threatened to blind her, so she inhaled through clenched teeth and fought the urge to cry. She would not give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing he had such power over her.
His men followed as they rode out of the woods onto a road. A dark village loomed ahead.
Was Cameron dead? Had he sacrificed himself for her? She resolved to escape. But, how could she make Lord Mackenzie lower his guard?
“We will find food and drink, as well as a room, at the pub,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he expected her to respond with gratitude. “In front of townspeople, ye shall pretend to enjoy my company. If ye do, I shall leave ye unharmed.”
His lies dribbled from his tongue like honey, but stung like salt on an open wound. She stared straight ahead, toward their destination. Her loose hair, blowing into his face, probably irritated her captor. The thought lightened her mood. A great warrior like Kirk never traveled without an army of men. He must have escaped. Then why were Balfour and Cameron alone?
The band of dirty, weary men brought their mounts to a stop outside an old building in what appeared to be a small, dark village. Muttering voices mingled with horses’ whinnies. Mackenzie said something to his men, too low and sharp for her to catch. Pulled from the saddle, Haven landed on her sore feet. Mackenzie pushed her through the main door.
With barely a glance, the proprietor hollered into what she assumed was the kitchen. A serving girl rushed into what appeared to be a dining hall to the table Mackenzie commandeered. He pushed Haven onto the bench against the back wall and sat down beside her, thigh to thigh. The server’s right eyebrow arched. Haven kept her temper in check and sat in silence.
“Supper for me and my men, and a room for the night,” he demanded. After he tossed the girl several coins, he rested against the rough wood wall. A sputtering candle flickered in the middle of the table. A fire roared inside a stone hearth along an adjacent wall.
Perspiration bloomed between her breasts from the oppressive heat. Mackenzie’s meaty hand settled lower, and gripped her thigh. When she shoved it away, he laughed.
Larger candles dripped from wrought iron wall sconces. The scent of charred meat drifted past. Unfamiliar aromas made her empty stomach rumble. Her back stiffened when his soft chuckle erupted close to her ear.
The serving girl returned with tankards and bread. Mackenzie continued to laugh as he tore off a piece of bread. Until Haven found the opportunity to escape, she’d eat his food and drink his foul-tasting ale. She didn’t dare let him get her upstairs. Haven wasn’t naïve. He might profess his love for another, but he was still a man. Cal proved that. He had a wife. And a son. Yet he seduced her right out of her cotton panties.
Haven pushed away the hurt. Kirk might come to her rescue. Maybe someone here would help her. She scrutinized the pub’s mixture of lowlifes and peasants while she chewed her lower lip.
“Dear lady, do not harm such pretty lips. Kirkwall would never forgive me.”
“You care what Kirk thinks?”
“I would offer him one last kiss upon his lover’s lips before I send him to hell, but I doubt he survived. Remember, we left him trussed and helpless.”
“If you are so sure he’s dead, why do you stink with fear?”
Ignoring her taunt, he gulped his ale. Several minutes passed. Her eyes drifted closed as weariness and the loss of adrenaline caught up with her.
“I will seek out my love and drag her away to bliss.”
Haven’s eyes fluttered open and she glanced at his face. Though shrouded in darkness and low candlelight, he appeared moved to tears. He was in love with someone and Kirk—”
“Wait a minute. Are you in love with the woman Kirk is going to marry?”
“That marriage shall not occur.” When he pounded his fist on the scarred wooden table and yelled for more ale, she shrunk back.
Ironically, Kirk and Mackenzie fought over the same woman. She had nothing to do with any of this. She sipped from her tankard and glanced down at her dress. With wild, tangled hair and no money, not one person would dare come to her aid. But, she had to try to get loose and make her way back to Kirk. She had to tell him about Cameron and Balfour. She had plenty to share with the man. Such as kisses.
“One can dream,” she sighed.
“Tell me of yer dreams, witch,” Mackenzie said, then winked at the serving girl who dropped plates of something hot and brown on the table. Her low bodice seemed to get his attention.
If she could convince Mackenzie that she sat with him because she wanted to, maybe he’d loosen his hold. Turning the tables on him was risky. It might backfire. However, if Haven could convince him that she liked his company, and not Kirk’s, she might find time to slip away.
“Let your eyes wander, my Lord, but keep your hands on me,” she purred. Rewarded by his look of interest, she smiled and continued her lies. “You promised to let me go if I cooperate, am I right?”
An icy smile lightened his face. “Dear lady, do I detect a change in attitude for my benefit? Or yers?”
“See? You addressed me in an honorable fashion. When you call me wench or witch, it hurts. As long as I am not forced into a relationship, as that bastard Kirk attempted, I see nothing to prevent us from becoming more friendly.” Haven leaned close to his body.
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 151