Brenda Joyce, Terri Brisbin, Michelle Willingham

by Highlanders - The Warriorand the Rose; The Forbidden Highlander; Rescued by the Highland Warrior

“Not far at all. About a mile farther on that road,” he said, pointing out a smaller path that would lead out of the village, but in a different direction than the main one.

  “Could we walk part of the way? I do not think I could on the back of a horse right now.”

  He glanced overhead to gauge the position of the sun and how much daylight they had left before dusk would fall. There should be plenty of time, so he nodded and held out his hand. Though certain she wanted to rage at him, she accepted his hand in hers and they fell into step with the horse behind them.

  They’d left the village, which was fading from sight behind them, but there was still no sign of the priest’s abode or the small church Lady MacLerie had mentioned was his. It could not be much farther.

  Before they caught sight of anything in the thick forest that surrounded them, the sound of galloping horses grew louder. Someone or several people approached at a fast speed, though only the sound of it echoed yet. James released Elizabeth’s hand and drew the sword he’d placed next to the saddle. He wore a lethal dagger in his boot, if needed, but he hoped this was someone anxious to find the priest. Kin or kith near death and in need of the Last Rites?

  Or not, for now he could see two horsemen riding toward them. Hoping she had not been seen, he pushed her toward the trees.

  “Hide, Elizabeth,” he said, moving away from her to take any attention. “Now, lass. Hide.”

  She hesitated for only a moment before fleeing into a thick stand of bushes just a few paces off the road. Once she hid from sight, James mounted and turned to face the men. From the color of their garments, they were dressed in the Highland manner and wore the MacLerie hunting plaids.

  Fate...and the earl, it would seem, had caught up with them. James held the sword low and ready as the two men slowed and stopped near him.

  “Where is she?” the red-haired one called out. “What have you done with Elizabeth?” Although his understanding and speaking of Gaelic was not the best, he comprehended the questions. Only when the man glared at him did he recognize him from a similar expression that Elizabeth often wore when angry.

  “Dougal?”

  “Aye, Murray. I am Dougal MacLerie. And I ask you again, what have you done to my sister?”

  Before he could answer, another man approached from the other direction and positioned himself to block any attempt at escape. Even if he wanted to try, the man held a bow with an arrow nocked and ready and aimed at him. Hemmed in, he had no place to go. He heard her moving through the bushes just before she appeared at the edge of the road.

  “Dougal! What are you doing?” she called out to her brother first. “Niall! Put down that bow!”

  Elizabeth stood with her hands on her hips and that mutinous expression that mirrored the one her brother yet wore. James noticed that neither answered her or took their eyes off of him. He lowered his sword slightly and waited.

  It was not long in coming. A nod from Dougal sent the man closest to him riding at James. But he was not the target—Elizabeth was, and he was too far from her to stop it. The warrior leaned over and scooped her up, tossing her over his legs in spite of the fight she gave. With one arm across her back to hold her there, the man turned his horse and rode away. She was still screaming—curses now—as they disappeared from sight over the rise in the road.

  She was not in danger, but James was certain he was.

  Dougal and Niall stayed in position, on either side of him, so he could not defend himself or fight one of them without the other being free to attack him. So, he waited to see what they had planned.

  Niall remained some distance away when Dougal launched his attack. Charging him directly, James was forced to turn and ride toward Niall. As he did, Niall aimed the bow and James knew he would be struck in the leg by it. He stopped his horse and jumped from it, using it as cover while Dougal approached, driving his horse away.

  Breathing heavily, James stood in the middle of the road awaiting his fate. Would they kill him now? The murderous look in Dougal’s eyes said aye. Niall seemed to be waiting for Dougal to act, for he never moved from his place or took his aim off his target. James took a deep breath as Dougal charged him now, for there was no hope of outrunning a man on a horse. At the last moment, he ducked low and turned away, but Dougal freed his foot from the stirrup and kicked him to the ground.

  James’s landed facedown in the dirt and before he regained his feet, Dougal was there, sword in hand and murder in his eyes, ready to strike him down with the lethal Highland claymore he carried.

  “Dougal,” Niall said. James had not seen the other man’s approach, but he sat on his horse just a few yards away. “Your orders.”

  “Aye, Niall. I know the earl’s orders.” Dougal spit on the ground then. “He’s to be brought back alive to Lairig Dubh.” Dougal turned toward Niall and tossed the huge sword to him. Niall caught it with ease and nodded to Dougal. “I do not need my sword to show this cur that he should not have involved my sister in his plans.” Dougal climbed down from his horse and handed the reins to Niall, too. “Now, outlander swine, let me show you how a Highlander answers insult.”

  No more words were spoken. Once Dougal launched at him, James could barely think. It felt like the man had eight arms and legs. The blows came from every direction and James recognized the pure fury in the attack. He’d held his own while fighting Tavis, but Tavis did not have righteous anger in his soul as Dougal did.

  * * *

  AFTER THE FIRST punches and kicks, Dougal slowed the attack. No need to rush the punishment this dog would get at his hands. Once Murray’s vision was blocked by the blood pouring from a gash on his head and from the swelling from several of Dougal’s punches to his face, Dougal taunted him. Pushing him down from behind, he ground his face into the dirt of the road and punched him in the back.

  There would be bruises aplenty on the morrow.

  Oh, he was not unscathed but at least he would be standing when this was over. Only when Niall called out his name, did he stop. He trusted his friend to call a halt before the man died. After one more very satisfying punch to his face, Dougal walked away.

  He took the skin of water from his horse and after taking a mouthful of it to rinse out the blood, he dowsed his head and face with some. Then he washed Murray’s blood from his knuckles and hands. Niall brought Murray’s, or rather the earl’s, horse over and together they threw the unconscious man over the saddle, tying his hands and legs to each other under the horse’s belly to keep him in place.

  As they rode to catch up with Shaw and Elizabeth, who would be waiting north of the village, Dougal wondered what the earl would do with the man...and with his sister. It was near full-dark by the time they reached the agreed-to place, but Shaw had a fire built and was waiting for them. They dismounted and walked closer, seeing the cuts and scrapes all over Shaw’s face and neck and hands.

  “What happened?” Dougal asked, glancing around the clearing.

  “Your sister did not wish to leave,” Shaw said, touching one ugly gash on his neck.

  “Where is she?” Dougal could hear noises but could not see Elizabeth.

  “Over there,” Shaw said. “It seemed the best way to keep her and myself safe.” Dougal followed him across the clearing where Shaw led.

  Elizabeth sat at the base of a tree, her hands and feet tied together and rope binding her to the tree. A length of cloth was tied around her face, gagging her mouth, though not stopping her from trying to scream at him. Dougal knelt in front of her and removed the cloth.

  “Are you hurt, Elizabeth? Did he harm you?” He searched her face for any sign of injury from whatever Murray did to her.

  “Shaw did not hurt me, Dougal. I am calmed down now, you can untie me.” She lifted her arms as much as the other ropes allowed, clearly expecting him to cut her free. He did nothing.

  “I meant Murray. His note said he kidnapped you from Lairig Dubh. Did he...?” Dougal paused, thinking of the smell of the shieling. “Did he force himsel
f on you?”

  “You are a fool if you think he forced himself on me, Dougal. I did not think you a fool before.” Her eyes narrowed. “Untie me. Let us go.”

  “I have my orders, from the earl. We are to bring you back to Lairig Dubh.”

  She stared at him then and said nothing.

  “Tell me, Elizabeth,” he insisted. “The earl will want to know what happened.”

  When her chin lifted just a bit and her lower lip edged out, he knew he’d lost this battle. Stubborn to the core, she did as she pleased and answered to no one when she wore this expression. His anger drained from him and, pushing her tangled hair from her eyes, he asked his sister what he needed to know.

  “Are you well, lass? Just tell me that much,” he said quietly so that none of the others heard.

  The tears welling in her eyes worried him, but she blinked them away quickly and nodded. Turning away, she would not say anything else. Until she noticed Murray’s body strung over the horse.

  “Dougal, what have you done now?” she said in a tone that nearly shouted at him. “Untie me.” She began to fight the ropes and, with the way Shaw tied his knots, it would only make them tighten more. “I beg you, Dougal. Niall. Shaw.” She looked at each of them. “Let me see to him. Please.”

  Dougal just shook his head and walked away from her. Her reactions to seeing Murray as they’d left him explained much to him—more than he wished to know. Elizabeth had not been kidnapped. She had not been forced. She had been a willing participant in this folly and she would need to pay a steep price for contributing to her loss of honor yet again. The earl would determine that once they got back home.

  And she was mistaken if she thought she gave the orders. With a nod of his head, he directed the others to follow him. In a few minutes, they’d untied Murray, laid him on the ground on the other side of the clearing and bound his hands and feet so he could not move when he did wake. When he glanced in her direction, he found her straining against the ropes to see what they were doing.

  They would stay here for the night. Now that they had Murray, they did not have to rush back to Lairig Dubh.

  Only after he tossed a blanket over Elizabeth and took one for himself, assigning each of his men a guard shift through the night, did he allow himself to feel the exhaustion and the pain that coursed through his body. A few hours of rest and he’d be fine. With a clearer head, he would deal with Elizabeth and her lover in the morn.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALTHOUGH SHE WAS tied to a tree and worried to death about Jamie, Elizabeth did fall asleep several times during that long night. She noticed when Niall changed places with Shaw and then when Dougal took over. She saw the sky begin to lighten as the sun threatened to rise and she watched as the clouds thickened overhead and rolled ominously above them.

  All night long she tried to remember the secret to Shaw’s knots. She’d been successful in loosening them when she was younger and her brother and his friends liked to play tricks on her and the other girls. Fighting them tightened them, so she tried to slide her fingers loose by easing her hands to and fro within the intricate loops. A dagger. What she wouldn’t give for a good, sharp dagger that could cut through the rope and cut off a few dangly bits from her brother’s body, too!

  She should feel embarrassed and humiliated, but instead she felt murderous. Dougal had purposely ordered Shaw to take her away so she could not interfere with his plans to beat Jamie to within an inch of life. The earl would never have made such an order and Elizabeth was certain that that part had been Dougal’s decision.

  Peering across the clearing, she tried to see if Jamie yet slept. His face was bloodied and swollen. He had not moved since they dropped him there. She needed to see to his injuries before Dougal tried to travel back to Lairig Dubh. Elizabeth was concentrating so hard on freeing herself and on seeing how Jamie fared that she never heard Dougal’s approach from behind her.

  “Here,” he said, holding out a skin to her. “Drink.”

  Nothing else. No apologies for tying her to a tree and leaving her all night. She was thirsty enough that she would have taken it from him—until she saw the bloody splashes on his hands and arms.

  Jamie’s blood.

  With the increasing light from the sun, she could see that Jamie must have fought back, for Dougal was a bit bruised about the face. And he grimaced as he leaned over to her.

  Good. She hoped he was suffering for what he’d done.

  “Connor ordered you to beat him?” she asked.

  “Connor ordered me to bring him back alive. I but treated him to the anger of a brother for the mistreatment of his sister.” He held out the skin again.

  “‘Twas not your place to do so, Dougal. I did not need you to avenge my honor.”

  If he had lived in the village during that previous incident, he would have done the same thing. She tried not to be too angry at him for he did not realize he was returning her to face shame once more before the earl and that it would end with her complete disgrace and exile from their family.

  Worse, her parents would bear this shame, too. The earl might be a worldly man and intelligent and willing to forgive a young, stupid and naive girl’s misstep once. But this time would push him into harsher actions against her. The only problem was that she could not explain it to Dougal without first exposing her misjudgment.

  She could not bear to have her brother look at her with disappointment in his gaze. That she would not do.

  “Drink and I’ll take you so you can see to you needs. You must have to...” He motioned off to the ground, where he and the other men could so easily see to theirs.

  “I would see to Jamie, Dougal. Please.”

  They had reached a point familiar to both of them. Their innately stubborn natures brought them to it many, many times and it became a joke of a sort between them. Who would give in this time? If she did, would it soften his refusal to let her help Jamie? She must take the chance, for his sake.

  She held out her hands and he placed the skin in them, pulling the stopper free. Elizabeth lifted it up and drank slowly. After a few mouthfuls, she handed it back to him. He sealed it and slung it over his shoulder. When she held out her hands to him, he loosened the knots and the ropes dropped off.

  It only took a moment to free her feet, but she wobbled as she tried to stand. Dougal grabbed her by the arm and waited until she got her feet beneath her. He tugged her in the other direction from where she wanted to go and walked with her into the trees, looking for a place to use. When they were behind enough trees so she would not be seen, he released her.

  “I will wait here. Go, see to your needs.”

  She did not take long, once her legs stopped burning from lack of movement, she finished her task and returned to her brother. He walked next to her on the way back to the clearing, allowing her to walk without holding her. So, when they reached the others, she paused and waited, hoping he would let her go to Jamie. He took her by the arm and she thought he meant to tie her up again, but they walked on past the tree and across the clearing to where he lay.

  Elizabeth tried not to cry before them, but the tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw the damage her brother had wrought on Jamie.

  There was a deep gash that began on his forehead and ran into his hair, which still bled. His left eye was swollen shut and his jaw was mottled with bruises. His lip was split in the center and dried blood covered his face and neck. From the strange way his fingers fell, she thought he might have broken two or three of them on his left hand. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees and wail like a bean-shithe singing her song of death. Elizabeth took a deep breath and told Dougal what she needed.

  Though he stood there silently watching her, he nodded and left, returning a few minutes later with water, her other shift to use for bandages and some whiskey for cleaning the wounds and helping with his pain. She proceeded to clean the wounds she could find, even tearing open the bloodied shirt to find more bruises and cuts on
his chest. His head and face were the worst and she thought the gash was deep enough to need stitches—stitches she did not have.

  It took her some time and all the while the three men stood off a bit watching and saying nothing. Did they hear her prayers as she whispered them to the Almighty? Elizabeth had helped her mother tend the sick but this was beyond that. What worried her the most was that through it all, through the poking and prodding and cleaning, Jamie never moved or made a sound.

  She called Niall over when she needed help wrapping the long strips of linen, torn from her shift, around his chest to support what she thought might be broken or badly bruised ribs. Finally finished, she gathered up the cloths she’d used and handed the water skin back to Dougal.

  “The rains are coming again and he will need shelter, Dougal. At least until he wakes.” She tried to soften her voice so it did not sound like an order, but she knew it did. And she did not care. “If he wakes.”

  All three men paled at her words. Dougal took them aside to talk amongst themselves and she knelt at Jamie’s side, holding his battered hand in hers. Niall walked away first and then Dougal returned to her.

  “Niall is going to the village. There was an unused cottage there and he will make arrangements. Since these people pay their rents to the MacLerie, it should be easy to arrange.”

  “My thanks, Dougal,” she said. Then she watched as he frowned and stared at her as though trying to decipher a puzzle.

  He did not try to move her from her place next to Jamie, so she remained there, watching him closely for any sign of waking. Each hour that passed with him asleep brought the danger closer. He could not die because of her. Because of her brother’s need to settle a score. Because of her past indiscretions.

  Some time passed and Elizabeth’s stomach grumbled, reminding her of how much time had passed since her last meal. Though she did not want to leave his side, she climbed to her feet and walked to where they’d piled all the bags from the horses. Finding the right sack, she found the leftover oatcakes, quail, cheese and bread. She kept one oatcake and gave the rest to Dougal and Shaw.