Terri Brisbin Highlander Bundle

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘Why did you not tell me the truth?’ he asked, kissing his way down her chin to her neck. ‘How? How were you still untouched?’ Rob paused and met her gaze. Pain lay there. Embarrassment. Humiliation. Shame. Then she turned her gaze away.

  ‘Iain did not wish to,’ Lilidh began to explain, but her voice shook and her lips trembled. ‘I displeased him.’

  ‘Did he tell you that?’ he asked, lifting her chin so he could see her eyes. ‘What did he say?’

  She pulled free of him then, turning around, taking a step away and then facing him, as though arguing this through in her head and changing her mind with every thought. He grabbed her shoulders to stop her.

  ‘Just tell me what he said to you.’

  ‘He said nothing. Not a word. He just never touched me. He would come to our bed and sleep and leave in the morning. No matter if I was willing, if I offered...’ She gasped, then looked horrified at what she’d admitted to him. Then she said something that made his blood boil and the urge to kill rise in his veins. ‘My father said I should not expect him to...because of my...injury.’

  ‘Lilidh, listen to me,’ he said softly, easing his grip on her, but drawing her closer. ‘I was a fool to say such things to you. Iain was a fool. Your—’

  He stopped himself before revealing exactly what role her father had played in these matters. Clearly, Connor had overstepped, but Lilidh adored him and would be further devastated to discover his role in these private and humiliating débâcles. Rob would not be the one to ruin that for her after he’d ruined her life already.

  If there was one thing he could do for her before sending her back to her family, it would be to let her know that she was not unwanted or unlovable. Her injury was no worse and better even than many battle injuries he’d seen. The healer never said it would change her life in any way, except for the pain that she would have to endure. So, why did her father use it against her as much as he had?

  She shivered under his hands and Rob knew he should return her to the warmth before the good of walking was undone.

  ‘Come,’ he said, turning her around towards the doorway. ‘Let us—’

  It happened so fast, he had no time to react or resist.

  Lilidh screamed, pushing him away and twisting her body. He felt the piercing, burning pain, but not the weapon or the enemy. Had Lilidh struck him? The force of it threw him against the wall of the tower and his head hit the stones.

  Everything began to swirl around him, the dark, the light, Lilidh, screams, yelling until he could do nothing but follow the darkness down.

  The last thing he did was to grab hold of her cloak.

  ‘She is mine,’ he called out.

  Then...darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lilidh saw it only at the last moment. Too late to keep him from harm. She’d pushed Rob as the bolt whooshed towards them, but not hard or far enough. But the impact took him the rest of the way down and his head hit the wall.

  She screamed for the guards, screamed out his name and then tried to get to him from where she’d fallen. Of all the times for her leg to fail her! Then he grabbed her cloak with his bloody hand. His men reached them then, pulling her to her feet and trying to drag her away from him.

  ‘She is mine,’ Rob rasped out. Then, horribly, he lost consciousness and his hold on her.

  Tomas took charge then, calling out orders to this one and that, and soon she found herself carried over someone’s shoulder down to Rob’s chambers. Rob was half-carried, half-dragged in and placed on the smaller bed that was more easily approached. When she went to try to see to his wound, wherever it was, another guard pulled her away with an order to remain sitting.

  With another bulky man standing between her and Rob, she could see nothing. Several servants arrived, including Beathas, to whom she called out. Everyone ignored her except the guard Ranald, who blocked her from rising from the chair. Tugging her cloak off, she waited for some sign that he was not dead.

  Who had done this? Were they aiming at Rob or at her? Who would have known they would be up on the battlements, or had this been a random attack, one foreshadowing her father’s arrival? She thought on the path of the bolt and where they would have been if she’d not reacted at the last moment. Who was their target?

  ‘It came from the north forest, Tomas.’ She said it loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony of voices and orders echoing in the chamber. ‘Search the north.’

  Then, a terrible thing happened—the door opened and a tearful, sobbing Lady Tyra came running in, with several maids following. Sparing a fleeting glance in her direction, Tyra ran to Rob’s side—and no one stopped her. She was his betrothed, after all, with more standing here than Lilidh had. And, as the future lady here, respect paid to her now would be a well-spent thing.

  ‘Rob! Rob! Speak to me,’ she cried out, falling to her knees at his side. ‘Beathas, where was he struck?’

  Clearly she’d been abed when the news arrived to her, for she wore only a shift with a bed robe over it. Her hair flowed around her like a fiery curtain as she moved, the flames in the hearth reflecting off the red and gold hues in her hair.

  Before Beathas or anyone could answer her, a loud curse rent the chamber. ‘Dear God, get off me!’

  Lilidh pushed up from the seat, only to be held there. Rob was alive! From the complaining and cursing, he was more angry than hurt at this point. She peeked around Ranald’s girth and saw him climbing up from the bed. He said something more quietly to Tyra, who left the chamber more quietly than she’d entered.

  No matter how much she’d like to ascribe good intentions to the lady’s actions—as Rob’s betrothed she should—something about Tyra made Lilidh suspicious. Though her brother Symon was odious and dangerous, Tyra reminded Lilidh of a serpent, hiding in the tall grass, waiting to strike. Chills tore through her as the lady walked past her to leave the chamber. The dead blue eyes that stared at her in that moment frightened her more than Symon had or could.

  Ranald moved aside—Rob’s command to do so was shouted loudly enough for her to hear—and then she could finally see him. Other than the blood on his hand—well, and the bolt still sticking out of his side—he seemed more angry than hurt.

  ‘Rob,’ she said, ‘you are hurt.’ Beathas reached for him, but he waved her off.

  ‘I should be dead,’ he replied and everyone in the chamber went silent. ‘If you had not pushed me, I would be dead.’

  She could not respond then, so many emotions racing through her mind and heart. He would have died. Tears burned her eyes and throat then, but she refused to let them fall. Whatever was between them was not for others to see.

  ‘I but tripped,’ she said, trying to sound calm and uncaring.

  He stared at her as he allowed Tomas and Beathas to remove his leather jacket and shirt to find the head of the bolt. She dared not look away, even when Beathas grabbed it and pulled it free of his flesh. She may have gasped. She may have startled. She did not look away.

  Tomas left Rob and came to her side then, forcing her attentions to him. ‘Lady, you saw it come from the north?’ he asked, crouching down to speak to her quietly.

  ‘Aye, Tomas. When I glanced up, I saw it against the moon in that last second. From the north.’

  ‘Look at this, Ranald. Tomas,’ Rob said. ‘The markings on this.’ Rob held the bloodied bolt out to them. ‘I have seen this man’s work before.’

  She waited to learn more, but he sent the men off with whispered orders as he allowed Beathas to bandage the wound. Then he dismissed the healer and the last of the servants and Lilidh knew he would leave, too.

  ‘Perhaps they were aiming for me?’ she said, trying to lighten the horrible tension within her. He could have died—should have, if the shooter’s aim had been better or if she had not intervened.

  ‘I doubt it, Lilidh,’ he said, walking to her as he pulled a new shirt on and tied the laces. Grabbing his jacket, he faced her. ‘The man who made that bolt i
s from Lairig Dubh.’

  She lost her footing and fell to the chair, shaking her head as she landed. ‘That is not possible, Rob. They would not—’

  ‘Not what, Lilidh? Try to kill me and head off any meaningful resistance on their arrival? Send some watchers with orders to take a shot if they got the opportunity? Tell me, since you know your father’s methods so well, would he not order such a thing?’

  His voice was calm, almost too calm, as he made his accusation and it frightened her. But something kept rolling over and over in her mind. ‘If I had not pushed you out of the way, that bolt would have hit me.’

  He blinked then and ran his hands through his hair as he did when something bothered or bewildered him. Staring up at the ceiling as though he could see through the roof to the battlements, he stood silent for several seconds, thinking about her words. When he turned back to face her, Rob’s expression was more puzzled than before.

  ‘Who then, Lilidh? Who would try to kill you with a bolt from your clan’s fletcher?’

  It did not take much thinking to come up with the name of someone who would benefit from either death—Symon.

  ‘Who else?’ she asked. Rob did not look as though he wanted to believe it.

  ‘How would he get that?’ he asked. Before she could suggest a way, he answered himself. ‘From your travelling party. From those guarding and escorting you.’

  ‘After he killed them,’ she added. ‘If we had not moved, that could have killed both of us.’

  Their deaths together would have taken care of so many problems. Symon could have claimed that since a MacLerie bolt killed them both, the Mathesons were not responsible for her death. Since every indication had been made that they were willing to negotiate to a peaceful conclusion, the MacLerie’s bolt was the act of war. And Rob’s death would clear the way for Symon to be laird.

  Dastardly planning, but cunning.

  ‘I am surprised you pushed me away while you still suspected me of receiving that letter from your mother and denying it.’

  Lilidh shook her head. She’d forgotten what they’d been discussing when the bolt flew towards them. And there was no way she could allow the man she loved to remain in harm’s way.

  The gravity of that realisation and the closeness to death for both of them hit her hard then. The tears flowed then, freely, as she ran the couple of paces between them and launched herself into his arms. Unable to be gentle, she held him close and sobbed. He could have died.

  He would have died.

  Rob held her and let her sob out the fear that he saw take hold of her. Not unlike the nervousness that could happen after a battle was done and the danger gone, he’d seen it taking control of her as they talked about who could be responsible for this attack. Smoothing back her hair and ignoring the burning pain in his side, he held her and let her calm down before trying to do anything else.

  She had saved his life. He had no doubt of it. Though he did have misgivings over her being the target, she was correct that, had it hit them directly, there was little chance they would have survived. Her death alone would cause the Mathesons more trouble, but their deaths together by a MacLerie bolt could have ended this encounter—not happily for either clan, but without other lives being lost. His death? Well, the case could be made to Connor that retribution had been paid for Rob’s kidnapping of Lilidh and, with her safe return, the situation would have ended.

  Lilidh quieted in his arms, so he eased himself away from her and lifted her face to his. The worry and fear in her eyes had not lessened, but the tears had.

  ‘I must go now,’ he said, waiting for her to relinquish her grasp on him. ‘I will return, Lilidh.’

  ‘Have a care, Rob,’ she whispered.

  He kissed her and would have kept kissing her had she not stepped back from him. He walked to the door and lifted the latch. Before leaving, he warned her, ‘Speak to no one about what happened. Do not share our suspicions with anyone, Lilidh.’

  At her nod, he left, pausing in the corridor to catch his breath. He’d faced death or danger many times before in his life, fighting with Connor or lately in

  skirmishes with his clan, but never had he faced it in his own home. Pressing on the bandage and tightening the buckles of his jacket to keep the pressure on his side, he made his way down to the yard where his men waited on his orders.

  * * *

  Several hours passed as his men searched the nearby forest for any indication that a MacLerie force or spies had arrived on his lands. Finding none, he secured the gates and set more soldiers to watch from along the walls and the gates. Dougal, along with Symon, had been sent out earlier along with others to patrol the village and farms and would not return until the morrow.

  Had Symon been behind this attack? Dougal would never have let him return without sending word to Rob, so he doubted he had sent the bolt flying. But that did not mean he did not arrange for it to be done.

  He had been walking the battlements each night since the day Lilidh had been brought here—at first alone and then more recently with her. Anyone who lived in the keep would have seen them there. Before going inside, he examined the battlements from the ground and then from the wall that encircled the keep and yard.

  If he was right, a MacLerie did not shoot the bolt at all.

  Deciding to prove or disprove his suspicion before sharing it with Tomas or Dougal, Rob called for a bow from one of the guards, nocked an arrow and took aim at the battlements. Waiting until the guards moved out of his range, he then let the arrow fly. It hit nearly the same spot where he’d stood earlier.

  A MacLerie had not shot at him—a Matheson had.

  Worse, the shot had been taken from on top of his own walls.

  Rob returned the bow without saying a word to anyone. They had a traitor in their midst. He called the commanders of those who guarded the walls together and asked about who had been on duty earlier. By the time he discovered who it was, he also learned that the man had gone out to search the forest and not returned.

  No one could say they knew the man. He’d arrived in the last days, when the farmers and villagers had, spoken to few and served on the wall this night for the first time. Since, by Rob’s own orders, all able-bodied men would work where and as they could to help protect the keep, he had no doubt that this man slipped in with the others and waited to carry out his purpose. And then he left, possibly before even knowing if he’d been successful in his attempt.

  He doubled the number of guards on the wall and ordered them repositioned, so that every man would be in view of others and no hiding places were possible. Then Rob ordered the entire keep searched for any man who could not be vouched for by two others. Returning to his chambers, he understood that there was little chance of finding an accomplice now.

  And more than that bothered him. A traitor might be known to all of them and be hiding in plain sight of all of them. Worse, would the first one leave without knowing if he’d been successful unless there was someone else waiting to try again? Or was his true intention not to kill Rob and Lilidh, but only scare them?

  Rob sent word to all the elders that they would meet on the morrow and then he climbed the stair to his chambers. Between the wound, hitting his head and then spending hours searching in the forest and the keep, exhaustion built within him. A few hours’ rest and he would face all the final tasks needed before the

  MacLeries arrived. And he had no doubt that their arrival would come soon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The fire was banked and the room silent when he opened the door. Moving as quietly as he could across the unfamiliar chamber, he found his way to the bed and began to undress. Lilidh lay unmoving, on the side she favoured, facing the hearth.

  The wound stung now in spite of the bandage and that it had stopped bleeding some time ago. The metal bolt had luckily skidded across his rib and not penetrated deeply, so he would face mostly this nuisance pain. It was not large enough to cause him to worry about long-lasting ef
fects. He pulled his shirt over his head, hissing against the sudden pull. Dropping his plaid, he realised he’d not barred the door, or put his sword and dagger by the bed.

  Rob reached the door and lifted the wooden bar into place. Other nights, he’d not felt the need to use it, but now, well, now was different. He reached for his sword and dagger, left in his belt and scabbard, when she spoke.

  ‘Do you need those with the door barred?’ she asked.

  He watched as she slipped from the bed and walked across the chamber, her limp much less pronounced than it had been just days ago. The shift she wore hid few of her curves as she passed by the hearth and in front of a lantern left lit there.

  ‘Yes. Tonight I take no chances,’ he replied, pulling both blades free of their scabbards and walking to the bedside. Positioning them where he could reach them quickly, the sword on the floor, the dagger beneath the mattress, he turned back to her.

  ‘Do you have a lump on your head from your fall?’ she asked. ‘You seemed to wake quickly enough, but I do not think Beathas had time to thoroughly examine the rest of you.’

  He must be losing his mind or be so exhausted that he heard something very suggestive in the tone of her voice. When she walked towards him and began touching the bandage, his body reacted on its own to her soft probing caresses. Rob took in and let out a breath before answering.

  ‘I think your father was correct about one thing—I have a hard head.’

  ‘Let me check. I have some experience with injuries like this,’ she said. Pointing to the chair, she directed him to sit as she moved behind him. He sat down, his cock hard and expectant, but she either took no notice or said nothing on purpose.

  Her fingers gently moved over his scalp, sliding through his hair, moving over the bones and checking the skin as she did. And the result of her stroking was to arouse him even more. The exhaustion that had sent him to seek his rest vanished under her touch. Now she stood in front of him, her breasts only inches away from his face, leaving him with the growing urge to touch them, to taste her.