My Notorious Highlander (Highland Adventure 5)

by Sinclair, Vonda

  "Do you think this is going to cause me to want to marry you? Nay, just the opposite."

  "A lot of men kidnap their future wives. It has a long history of success in the Highlands," he said, his grin now smug.

  "Not here. All you want is my dowry, and the land my brother will give you. You don't care one whit about me."

  "Now, you ken that is not true, m'lady. I care a great deal about you," he said in a placating tone.

  She knew he was lying, for he'd only shown up again after he'd gotten wind of her increased dowry. Why had Dirk done that? Did he want her married off so badly to whoever was greediest? That was the same reason Torrin had come. He was land-hungry, too. Although 'haps not as much as MacBain.

  "Come quietly and no one will be harmed." MacBain glanced over his shoulder, toward the castle. "Bring her to the horses," he told the man restraining her.

  MacBain led them between the sand dunes, the high grasses providing extra cover from anyone who might be watching from the castle's battlements.

  She screamed again as loud as possible. "Help! Help me!"

  "Be quiet," MacBain said through clenched teeth. "You leave me no choice." He dragged a handkerchief from inside his doublet.

  "Nay!" She shoved her knee upward into his groin.

  "Umph!" He doubled over clutching at his stones which she had hopefully smashed into dust.

  She tried to twist from the other man's grip, but his hands only tightened on her wrists.

  Raising up, MacBain slapped her hard across the face. "You witch! Don't you ever do that to me again."

  Pain sliced through her cheek. One thing he could be certain of—if he forced her to marry him, she would soon be a widow, for she would kill him.

  "Edward! Help him hold her," he commanded.

  MacBain's two men held her firmly in place while MacBain tied the gag through her mouth. Ugh! It tasted salty with his sweat. Gagging and coughing, she bent forward, hoping she didn't actually vomit.

  "Bring her this way," MacBain said.

  She pretended to comply for a couple of minutes. When she felt her captor's hands loosen a tiny bit around her wrists, she elbowed him in the stomach and yanked her arms. One of her wrists slipped from his grip. She wrenched away from him and ran through the dunes, her feet digging into the soft sand.

  "Capture her!" MacBain ordered.

  Tugging off the disgusting gag and throwing it, she raced through the grasses and gorse bushes, thorns tearing at her clothing and skin, leaving burning scratches. Her right foot sank deep into the sand. She stumbled and fell to her knees.

  Blast!

  "Ha!" One of the men on her heels grasped her arisaid from the back. "Got you, lass."

  She slid her hand to her ankle and pulled the small sgian dubh hidden there from the sheath. She turned and stabbed his shoulder.

  "Ow! Bitch!"

  Two more men joined him, tackling her to the ground, almost crushing her beneath their combined weight. One yanked the knife from her hand.

  "Get off me!"

  "Don't force us to hurt you," MacBain warned, standing somewhere over her while the others held her face-down, the sand cutting into her cheek. She wanted to hurt him. Badly.

  "Release me! I refuse to marry you. You cannot force me."

  "Aye, indeed, I can." He chuckled. "I only need tell the minister we were in a trial marriage which was consummated. You ken how they hate those trial marriages and want them made legal and binding in the eyes of God as soon as possible."

  "That makes no difference." She kicked at one of the men. "No minister would agree that this sort of abuse is allowed."

  "I'm not abusing you. Only disciplining my disobedient wife. You're the one hurting yourself by fighting us. Tie her hands and her ankles and carry her to the horses."

  "What the hell are you doing?" a deep and forceful male voice demanded.

  Who was that? From her position on the ground, Jessie turned her head and looked up at Torrin, standing among the grasses, sword drawn, Iain Stewart beside him.

  Two of the MacBain men drew swords. Considering how well-armed they were, all of them had clearly obtained their swords as they'd exited the portcullis at Dunnakeil.

  "You stay out of this, MacLeod!" MacBain ordered.

  "Nay," he said with deadly calm. "Release her or suffer the consequences."

  MacBain laughed. "You only brought Stewart with you. You're outnumbered."

  "I knew you were a whoreson the moment I saw you," Iain said.

  Two of MacBain's men launched into action, engaging Torrin and Iain in swordplay.

  When both of MacBain's men fell, her captors fled.

  "Where the devil are you going?" MacBain yelled.

  "I'll get them!" Iain chased after the two cowards.

  With her hands and feet tied, Jessie could do naught but roll upon the ground like a worm.

  Torrin charged MacBain and their swords clanged, sparks popping in the gloaming. MacBain yelped, but she couldn't see if he'd been cut. Torrin was the aggressor, driving MacBain back, but he ran to her other side.

  How she wished she could get her wrists untied, or the bindings cut.

  Blades clanged multiple times. Someone cried out. A sword flew over her head, and she glanced back to see what had happened. MacBain fell to the sand and Torrin stood over him, the tip of the sword at his throat. A sudden fear seized her and she felt transported eight years into the past. 'Twas like seeing Torrin's sword just before he'd slit the throat of her foster brother.

  "Don't murder him!" Jessie yelled.

  Torrin sent a quick, dark glance her way then focused on MacBain again. "Should I listen to the lady? Or rid the world of some vermin?"

  MacBain held his hands over his head. "I'll go and… and leave Lady Jessie alone," he proclaimed in a desperate voice.

  "In truth?" Torrin asked. "Or is this just another lie?"

  "I speak the truth. If you let me live, you nor Lady Jessie will ever see me again."

  "If we do see you again, I'll take that as leave to kill you. Get up. We're going back to the castle."

  "What about my men?" He motioned to the two lying on the ground.

  "You'll have to tell the rest of your cowardly men to come back and fetch them… if Iain let them live."

  More of the MacLeods burst through the bushes and grasses, their breathing elevated. "Sorry we didn't arrive sooner, Chief."

  "'Tis all under control," Torrin said. "Gordon and Sim, go find Iain and MacBain's two men. They went that way. Luag, see to those lying on the ground."

  They did their chief's bidding. One of the MacBain men lying on the ground stirred and groaned. Luag announced that the other was dead.

  "Struan, tie MacBain's hands behind his back and take him to the dungeon." Torrin motioned to Gregor, then cut the strips of cloth binding Jessie's wrists and ankles.

  "I thank you," she said, sitting up. She was so grateful for his help, she wanted to embrace him, but she controlled the urge.

  "Are you hurt?" He took her hands and drew her to her feet.

  "Naught but a few bruises and scratches."

  "Aye, you have a dark bruise. Did someone hit you?" He surprised her by touching her face.

  She started to draw away, but the hot, tingly feel of his fingers sliding over her cheek halted her action. "'Tis naught." She feared if she told him MacBain had struck her, Torrin would kill the man before they reached the castle. "I'll survive."

  When he lowered his hand, she was shocked at how much she missed the warmth of his touch.

  Even in the dimness of gloaming, she found it difficult to meet his intense and intimate gaze. She so appreciated his help at this moment she couldn't express it or even comprehend it.

  "I was on the ramparts when I heard you scream," he said. "I was praying it wasn't you, but I suspected MacBain was up to no good."

  She nodded. "I was merely taking a walk on the beach when his men grabbed me."

  "'Tis not safe for you to walk on th
e beach or anywhere alone now."

  "Mo chreach," she muttered under her breath for she loved the outdoors and nature. Walking on the beach was one of the few pleasures left to her. And she refused to allow MacBain to take that away from her.

  "My men will escort them off MacKay lands tomorrow, but who knows if he will return? I believe not a word he says."

  "Nor do I." Her dirk came to mind and she glanced about, but then remembered she'd dropped it on the beach. Had one of the MacBains picked it up? Her sgian dubh should be nearby. Since it was a dark metal, 'twas too dark to see it easily now.

  "What is it?" Torrin asked.

  "I lost my dirk and my sgian dubh."

  "I'll help you find them tomorrow."

  The MacLeods disarmed the MacBains and bundled all the weapons in a large piece of canvas. 'Haps her knives were among them. If not, she'd have to search the dunes and the beach in the morn, with Torrin's help.

  He offered his arm.

  "I'll manage on my own," she said, dismissing his offer of help through the dunes, grasses and bushes. It wasn't that she didn't want to touch him—she certainly did. But she was already anxious and on-edge, and he would only make her more so. She was too aware of him and his lean, iron-hard strength. Every time she was near him, her heart pounded harder and her hands grew jittery. What was wrong with her?

  They made their way back to the castle, Jessie trying not to touch Torrin or bump into him. But she felt his attention on her. As they walked single file through the bushes, he glanced back at her several times. Making sure she was safe? His attentive protectiveness confused and perplexed her. Was he truly such a good man? Or was he pretending so she'd let down her guard? She didn't see how he could be a good man after the ruthless way he'd killed Lyall Keith. Though he had let Gregor MacBain live when she'd asked it of him.

  As they entered the bailey, she saw by the light of the torches that her clothing was ripped from the thorns and her skirts and sleeves filthy with sand. Her face was also likely dirty. Placing her hand against it, she felt the grit of sand and tried to brush it away.

  Concerned clansmen and women inquired whether she was injured, as did Iain, Aiden, Uncle Conall, and several others.

  "Nay. I thank you but I am well," she assured them.

  Once in the great hall, Torrin asked her, "Could I speak to you in private?"

  Och, nay. What now? She did not wish to spend any more time alone with him. Already her nerves were frayed, and it had less to do with the kidnapping attempt than with her rescuer. "Might I change clothes first? I'm filthy."

  "Aye, of course." He didn't appear any worse for wear and certainly not as if he'd been in a skirmish. He bowed, then she hastened toward the stairs.

  Once Jessie had given herself a sponge bath and her maid, Dolina, had helped her dress in clean clothing and straightened her hair, she descended the steps again.

  What on earth could Torrin wish to speak to her about in private? They had been alone, for the most part, on their way back to the castle. Why hadn't he talked to her then? This must be something more important.

  When she entered the great hall, he rose from the bench where he'd been sitting, talking to his friend, and approached her. His penetrating gaze swept over her quickly, then came to rest on her eyes. "You look lovely, and except for that bruise, not like you were attacked less than an hour ago."

  Her face and chest heated. "I thank you."

  "Is there a private place we might talk?"

  "Aye, the library," she said, taking a lit candle from a nearby table and leading the way into her brother's official meeting room, off to the side of the great hall. She lit the candelabra on the table while he closed the door.

  She faced him, realizing she should offer him a seat, but she didn't feel like sitting herself. And if he was going to talk about marriage again, she wanted to be able to make a quick escape.

  "I want to thank you again for rescuing me," she said. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along."

  He gave a brief bow. "There's no need to thank me. I only wish I could've reached you sooner."

  "You arrived just in time. 'Tis all that matters."

  "I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly. But I must ask… why you said what you did when I bested MacBain?" His expression shifted to that dangerous one she'd witnessed on a few occasions, though never directed at her.

  "What do you mean?" She searched his face, trying to figure out what he was talking about and why he was almost angry about it.

  "Don't murder him. That's what you said when I was holding the blade to MacBain's throat."

  "Oh." Jessie drew in a deep breath, her stomach twisting and tying in knots as she tried to compose a reasonable excuse in her head. "I… I simply didn't want any more death. MacBain is a chief and if you were to kill him, there would be consequences. The MacBain clan would no doubt attack the MacKays in revenge."

  Torrin crossed his arms over his broad chest, eying her with needle-sharp interest. "Why did you use the word murder instead of kill?"

  Chapter Five

  Jessie watched Torrin cautiously, scarcely able to breathe, her heart thundering in her ears. Why had she let him stand between herself and the library door? Mo chreach. She glanced down, remembering she had not yet retrieved her dirk, and she only had two blades on her person at the moment. One was strapped high on her thigh, and a smaller one was sewn into the hem of her arisaid. She could not get to either of them easily.

  But deep down she believed Torrin wouldn't hurt her, no matter what she might say. He'd rescued her from MacBain, after all. Could she tell him she knew he'd killed her foster brother all those years ago? Could she ask him why? Or would it be a grand mistake? Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to be courageous.

  "Because… I know. I saw what you did," she said, watching Torrin's face closely.

  He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "Eight years ago in Caithness. On Keith lands."

  Torrin's eyes narrowed upon her, giving her that lethal look. "What did you see?"

  She swallowed hard and forced herself not to retreat a few steps like she wanted. He must not know how much she feared him. "I saw you murder Lyall Keith."

  Torrin shook his head, his eyes reflecting sadness instead of anger or guilt. "I didn't murder him," he said in a calm tone. "He'd raped and murdered my sister. 'Twas justice."

  Disbelief struck Jessie, knocking her back a step. "What? Lyall did that?"

  "Aye. Besides, he had a sword. 'Twas a fair fight."

  His unruffled composure confused her, turned everything she knew on its head. Was he telling the truth?

  "Did you know him well, then?" Torrin asked.

  "He was my foster brother. I fostered with the Keiths for several years. And afterward, I went back to visit often."

  "Saints," Torrin hissed. "All I know about him is he was a rapist and a murderer, and my sister wasn't the only one to suffer at his hand."

  How could this be possible? She had always thought Lyall kind and trustworthy. "Maybe there was a mistake. How do you ken 'twas him?"

  "'Twas no mistake. My sister lived for two days after the bastard raped and beat her. Allina had several injuries and lost a great deal of blood." Pain glinted in Torrin's eyes. "She told us who did it. We'd both met Lyall Keith a week or so before. You see, I'd taken her to stay with our aunt near Lairg. Keith was staying there, too, along with several others. Allina had a mare she was mad about, and she'd gone out to the stables one evening to give her an apple. That's when the Keith bastard and his friend captured her." Anger glinting in his eyes, Torrin shook his head. "When I went back to bring her home, they said she'd disappeared and had been gone all night and half the day. I took a search party out looking for her. We found her knocked out and almost dead in the nearby wood. She was covered in blood and bruises. She was so pale," Torrin said in a near whisper and closed his eyes briefly, no doubt seeing her and reliving the horror of the moment.

&n
bsp; Held within the grips of shock and Torrin's palpable emotions, Jessie held her breath.

  "We took her back to my aunt's home where she awakened for a short time and told us who'd done this to her," he continued. "We also found a button from the bastard's doublet there in the wood with her, carved with the Keith crest. How I wish I'd come a day earlier so I could've stopped them," Torrin growled through clenched teeth. "I would've torn them limb from limb."

  When she imagined the pain and terror his sister must have endured, tears filled Jessie's eyes. And to see his raw pain clawed at her own emotions.

  "I am sorry. I didn't know," she whispered.

  "Nay. How could you?" he asked in a calmer tone. "I didn't want to kill him. 'Twas what had to be done. The clan and my father expected it. Demanded it. As the future chief, I felt it was my responsibility. Sometimes the only law or justice in the Highlands is our own. If we'd taken it to the authorities, 'twould have been a dead woman's word against the Keith chief's son. Who do you think they would've believed?"

  Jessie nodded, knowing that without a living witness to the crime, Lyall would've likely gotten away with the murder. But clans didn't allow such injustice. They took the law and revenge into their own hands. An eye for an eye.

  "As I'm sure you recall, we had a skirmish," Torrin said. "He had a weapon and 'twas a fair fight. I'm not to blame for him being a bad swordsman."

  Jessie wiped at her eyes. "You're right." Still, she couldn't fathom Lyall doing something so brutal as raping and killing a young woman. Jessie hadn't known him at all.

  "Where were you?" Torrin asked.

  "In the oak tree. I was fond of climbing trees."

  His expression lightened. "How old were you then?"

  Her face heated. "Sixteen." Too old to be climbing trees, but she loved them so much she did it anyway.

  He gave a curious frown. "You didn't report us?"

  "I didn't know who you were. I told them what you looked like but I didn't know which clan you were from."

  "Well, we were careful to hide our identities and our trail. Will you report us now?"

  "Nay." She knew the answer without thinking about it. "If Lyall truly did what you said, then he got no worse than he deserved."