A Highlander's Gypsy (Highland Temptations Book 2)

by Aileen Adams

  William appeared entirely beside himself, accepting meat and ale with wide eyes and a grateful—if slightly sheepish—smile. He was the one person who stood out, who did not belong. And he knew it, and it left him overwhelmed.

  She chuckled, standing on tiptoe to whisper in his hear. “How does it feel?”

  His eyes met hers, and understanding flickered in them. “Are ye enjoying yourself, then? At my expense?”

  “Perhaps,” she laughed, clapping her hands along with the fast tune. It was so like something Manfri would have played.

  Perhaps he was playing it now, somewhere far away. They would be celebrating the festival, he and Devon and Vano and Llewellyn and all the others. Sabina and Kezia would be dancing, and they would invite her to join them, and they would laugh and drink too much and eat even more than that, all in the name of celebrating the coming winter. The death of the new life brought about by spring.

  Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away with an impatient hand. There was no room for tears. That part of her life was over now, and it as like as not that none of them were enjoying the festival because they were in hiding.

  All because her brother had been too bold.

  The tune changed, and this was one she recognized. One of her favorites. The men playing the instruments shouted to each other, urging the others to play faster, better, with more enthusiasm.

  She could not keep still, and soon she was swaying and clapping harder than before. She would not join the dancing, as she had not been invited, but she did long to.

  “Why do ye not join them?” William asked, and she turned to find him watching her with great interest. His mouth curved in a smile. “Go on, then.”

  “I cannot. I have not been invited to join the circle. It would be quite rude.”

  “I would like to see ye dance,” he admitted, his eyes shining. She told herself it was merely the firelight and nothing more.

  “Aye, I’ll just wager you would.” She smirked, rolling her eyes.

  “Come, come!” One of the wee lads, no more than four or five years, tugged at her tunic. “Come, dance!” He smiled up at her, the rogue, and the dimples which appeared in both cheeks all but melted her heart.

  “Yes, come!” one of the girls beckoned, waving to her from across the fire.

  William gave her a gentle, but firm, shove in their direction. “Are ye frightened?” he teased as she hurried away.

  She removed her tam and tossed it back to him, shaking out her hair as she went. Frightened? No, she was not in the least, and her feet felt nearly as good as new. No, she was concerned. Fretful, perhaps. She knew this would only make her miss the old ways more, and she did not wish to miss them. Not if she could never be part of this again.

  Two of the girls took her hands, one each, and raised their arms above their heads. She had no choice but to join them in this, nor did she have a choice but to twist her hips from one side to the other as they circled the musicians.

  She did not stomp as hard as they did, but she did toss her head and swing her hair, crying out in pure joy and the sheer thrill of feeling as though she was one with the music. With the people. Yes, she was once again with her own kind, and they understood her better than the man watching from beyond the fire ever could.

  Yet she kept looking to him, did she not? Her gaze kept finding his again and again, and his eyes never left her as she moved.

  How she longed to dance with him.

  Breaking free from the girls, she dashed over to him. “Come. Let me show you how it’s done.”

  “Och, nay!” he protested, shaking his head, waving his hands.

  “Are ye frightened?” she teased, laughing to see his cheeks flush at being caught in his own taunts. “It is the simplest thing you’ll ever do, I’d wager.”

  She took his hands, then bent at the waist and leaned to her right. He followed her, leaning left. She leaned left, he leaned right. “Now, move your feet.” She hopped to the right, hopped to the left. “One-two-three and one-two-three…”

  He was roughly as graceful as an ox, and she laughed until tears streamed down her face. To her surprise, he laughed at himself.

  “Ye thought I was frightened? I was merely trying to spare both of us a great deal of embarrassment!” he shouted over the music, and they both laughed again.

  She noticed they were still holding hands, and he noticed at roughly the same time. Their laughter faded until it went silent and there was nothing but the two of them, standing by a fire, staring at one another with their hands clasped and their cheeks flushed and—at least in her case, she was unaware of him—a strange, buzzing sensation moving through her head.

  A flutter in the chest.

  Then, a scream.

  William’s hands tightened, his head snapping about in the direction of the scream. Shana looked as well, but she had no time to see for he was already pulling her away from the fire and away from the camp altogether.

  “What?” she asked before he released one of her hands and clamped his over her mouth, wrapping his other arm around her waist. She struggled to be free, to look behind her as more screams rose up, and the shouts of men, and the sound of crashing and burning and rough, demanding voices hurling insults and curses.

  “Come, come!” he whispered, leading her to where the horses waited. They were frantic, struggling, pulling at their reins, desperate to run away as William and Shana were running away. She wanted to free them all, but there was no time for that.

  No time to help them.

  “What’d ye think yer doin’?” A shadowy figure emerged from behind one of the animals and lunged for them.

  William shoved the man away with his right hand, still holding her against him in his left arm. She screamed when another man wrenched her from William’s grasp, kicking and striking anything she could before landing a solid blow between the wretch’s legs.

  He dropped to the ground with a howl, rolling onto his side with his hands cupping the area she’d just smashed. Rather than leave him there, she raised her foot and slammed her heel against his face once, twice, until bones crunched and his groans bubbled around the blood in his mouth.

  A fight went on behind her, William and the man who’d stopped them, with her turning in time to see the burly man throw William against a tree. He groaned but rolled away in time, avoiding a blow to his face.

  He grabbed the man by the back of his neck and threw him to the ground, kicking him solidly in the stomach before looking around for Shana. “Get the horse!” he commanded just as the man on the ground tripped him up.

  “William!” she gasped, looking both to him and behind her to where the camp was now nothing more than flames and fading screams.

  “The horse!” he barked, shoving his attacked away from him and leaping to his feet again.

  She looked around, frantically searching for their horse in particular. She found him slightly away from the others, just as panicked as they. “There, there,” she whispered, hands trembling too hard to untie the reins at first. Only when she smelled smoke and heard running footsteps coming their way did she steady up and free the beast.

  William joined her, his dirk dripping blood, and she did not need to ask how the fight had ended.

  “We must help them!” She sobbed as the screams rang out again, filling her ears, splitting her head. But William’s arm was around her, and he was throwing her over the saddle and leading both her and the sable horse away at a run.

  “Get up! Sit up!” he barked, looking back at her over his shoulder. “Hurry!”

  She did the best she could as the horse bounced her with each uneven step as they raced out of the woods. It was so dark. She gripped the pommel with her left hand and swung her right leg around, the horse bouncing her again and causing her to bite her tongue. The pain and surprise were so great she nearly slipped off.

  But she tried again, this time managing to get one leg on either side of the horse. He looked back in time to see her sit up, and
when she had adjusted herself, he tossed her the reins and mounted behind her.

  “Go!” he ordered once his weight settled in at her back, and she did not have time to spare one last look toward what they were leaving behind.

  There was simply no choice but to run hard and fast, breaking out onto the road and turning the horse northward.

  We left them. We left them. We left them. It repeated in her head with each strike of hoof against the ground, on and on as they rode through the darkness lit only by the sliver of a moon.

  17

  Every part of William’s body ached.

  Blood ran down the side of his head.

  The blood of two men was still fresh on his dirk.

  And the lass who’d almost been taken from him expertly rode his horse at breakneck speed, carrying them both far from the scene of horror.

  Only when the poor beast’s breathing became labored did William close his hands around her arms. “All right, then,” he called out into her ear. “All right. We must stop for a while.”

  It was as if she could not hear him. Or chose not to.

  “Lass!” he shouted, perhaps louder than he wished to, but there had to be something that could get through to her. Gentleness certainly wouldn’t. “Tara. We must stop!” He took her hands in his, then moved them forward until it was he who gripped the reins, and he drew them in until they’d slowed to a trot.

  She was in shock, sitting completely still, eyes wide. She’d never seen anything like what they’d just left.

  Neither had he, and until then he thought he’d seen everything.

  He directed the panting beast into the woods and between towering spruce trees, their scent mixing with that of blood to create a strange new odor he feared he would never be rid of. Just as he would never be rid of the horror he’d just witnessed.

  They were not soldiers. That much was clear. The men had not worn uniforms and were not trained fighters. They were nothing more than mercenaries, just like the man he’d killed days ago, only they were the worst sort.

  He had seen what two of them were doing to one of those poor, defenseless women at the edge of the camp. He would never be able to forget it.

  And he had left her. He’d left all of them. The knowing of it settled in his heart and turned it to stone. He had left them, all of them. Yes, their men had been armed, but what had become of them? They’d either been fighting or been killed in the fight, or in the fire which had spread as tents were knocked into the flames in the center of the camp.

  They were mercenaries, those men, which told William one thing, they’d been looking for her.

  She likely knew it.

  And knowing her as he did, she was blaming herself. As if she had any control over what a passel of gold-hungry men were capable of.

  They reached a river. He did not know which. He might have been in a small amount of shock himself, or else he’d taken a harder blow to the head than he’d thought. Regardless, it wasn’t easy to think straight. He stopped the horse and dismounted quickly as the poor, exhausted thing lowered its nuzzle to the water and drank deeply.

  “Come,” he murmured, handling her as gently as he could, his already sore muscles straining as he lowered her from the saddle. She knelt at the riverbank and splashed water onto her face, where tears had already streaked through the dirt.

  He knelt beside her, careful to watch her from the corner of his eye while he washed his hands, his face, his dirk. The bleeding had slowed to nothing more than a slow trickle, it seemed, and a gentle examination with his fingertips told him he had a gash just above his ear.

  “Allow me.” The first words she’d spoken since they left the camp.

  He turned his head, allowing her to look at the damage done to him.

  “It isn’t deep. The salve ought to help, if there is any left.”

  “There is.” He found the correct pack and pulled it out, and she dabbed it over his ear. As she worked, he dared ask, “Were ye injured?”

  “I am well.” Her voice was flat, toneless.

  “Lass…”

  “I asked you to call me Tara,” she snapped.

  “All right. Tara. I dinna believe ye. Remember—”

  “What is it you wish me to say?” Now, emotion all but choked her as she spoke in broken sobs. “We left them! We left them there to burn or bleed, and we ran away! We even left the horses!”

  She doubled over, elbows on her thighs, head tucked down, hands clasped over the back of her neck. Her shoulders and back heaved as she sobbed mightily. When he tried to touch her, she shook him off.

  “Don’t touch me, please. Don’t!” she managed to cry.

  He did not, settling for sitting back and cursing himself instead. He should have continued on rather than deciding to find the source of the smoke. What had he been thinking of? Any contact with outsiders could result in a tragedy such as this.

  The mercenaries would have found the camp whether or not he and the lass were there.

  But she would not have known of it, which was all he cared about at that moment.

  He knew it was wrong. That he ought to also care about the generous people they’d left behind. People who had taken a chance on welcoming them, even against their better judgment. Look how they had been rewarded.

  He recalled the dimpled lad who’d urged her to dance, and his heart clenched.

  “How?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How could they do it?”

  “I dinna know,” he admitted. “I could never do such a thing. Not ever. It takes a certain sort of animal to bring so much misery to others.”

  She sat up, rubbing her arms. He pulled out the cloak Davina had given her—yet another generous gift, and draped it over her shoulders. “I cannot understand it. They were looking for me. Were they not?”

  He sighed and wished she would not ask him. “Aye. I suppose they were. They would have looked for ye there whether ye were there or not, mind.”

  This did not seem to matter. All she knew was they’d been looking for her and had punished others in her place. “And that man. You killed him.”

  “I killed them both—him and the one ye fought.”

  “Both?”

  “I couldna have either of them telling the others two of us had escaped, could I? As it is, there is still a chance one of them saw us, but I was not much of a mind to stay around and find out. We had to take that chance and run.”

  “It’s glad I am you killed them,” she snarled, staring out over the water. The intensity of her gaze, of her voice, the blankness of her face disturbed him. Pure hatred.

  “I feel the same,” he confessed. “They deserved it.”

  “But…” She turned to him, her eyes looking through him but not seeing him. It unnerved him greatly, but he did not dare look away. “But, we still left the others. Who is to say what they did? How could we leave?”

  “Lass—Tara,” he corrected, “we had no choice. Ye had no choice. If ye wished to live, ye had to go. And I had to be the one to take ye, for ‘tis I who’ve been with ye all along. I would not wish to leave ye on your own now for anything in the world, for now, we know what waits out there for ye. Do ye believe ye could fight all of them off on your own?” Perish the thought of her so much as trying.

  “Of course not.” She had that much sense left, at least.

  “And had anything happened to me—had I fought another man, and another, until finally they exhausted me and managed to take ye—we both know what would have happened. What your fate would be.”

  “I know.” She brought to mind someone dead inside. Hollow. Resigned to the truth and unable to care much. She would care later, he knew, once the rest of her shock wore off and she was able to feel again. She would care very much.

  “I had to make a decision in a moment’s time. Like that.” He snapped his fingers. “It was either ye or the rest of them. I made my choice, and it was the only choice I could make, and I would not take it back if given another chance. I would
choose ye, again and again. Ye need never fear.”

  Her chin quivered. Her eyes welled. “But the children.” She covered her face with her hands.

  This time, when he wrapped an arm about her shoulders, she did not push him away. Instead, she laid her head upon his chest and wept until her tears soaked his tunic.

  “We might as well stay here for the night,” he suggested once she’d quieted. “Ye need to sleep, and I need to rest my aching body. The man was not much of a fighter, but he was quite eager to try.”

  She said not a word, choosing instead to go about the business of unsaddling the horse and spreading the blankets without raising a fuss. She worked quickly, efficiently, and without looking his way once.

  Whether she blamed him for being unable to do more or for insisting they investigate the camp was unclear. He only knew she blamed him.

  And she was not alone in that.

  18

  Shana woke to the unpleasant sensation of rain hitting her face.

  “Ah, no,” she muttered, groaning as she pushed herself up on one elbow. Sure enough, clouds had covered the sky while they slept and were now emptying themselves over the world.

  “What else do we need?” William grunted to the sky before sitting up, wincing as he did. She winced, too, upon seeing him in better light than she had before they’d gone to sleep.

  There was a rather ugly bruise beneath his left eye, just beside the place where he’d been cut. That looked better than it had before, at any rate, though it had oozed blood during the night which had crusted in his hair and over his ear.

  “I must look a fright,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his stubble. His knuckles still bore traces of blood even after he’d washed his hands at least twice in the river.

  Suddenly, the rain went from a drizzle to a downpour, and an icy one at that. They gathered the blankets and scurried under a spruce with long, low branches which managed to catch most of the rain before William then tended to the horse, leading him to a drier spot.