"I was worried about you," he breathed into her ear when they broke apart. "When I found your note… I thought you might have… I tracked you from the inn –"
"I'm fine," she said firmly, looking into those blue-gray eyes. "I can handle myself, Kieran. You have to believe that."
"Aye, I do," he said, kissing her again. And maybe it was the exultation of their reunion, maybe it was the joy of finally hearing him apologize for not taking her seriously, maybe it was the giddy adrenaline of being on the hunt again… but as he kissed her, she could feel her body responding as ardently as it ever had to his touch. She wasn't alone, either – she could tell by the way his breath was catching, by the intensity of his kissing, and before she could respond, he'd scooped her up effortlessly in her arms. She uttered a shriek of surprise then giggled breathlessly, burying her face in his throat, feeling him carry her off the road and into the trees, to a secluded place where nobody would find them… and her eyes widened when he pressed her back against a tree, his hands roaming across her body…
Thank God for skirts, she thought dazedly as she felt his hands roam underneath them. Sarah helped as best she could, gathering the skirts and pulling them out of the way, suddenly desperate for his touch, to be as close to him as possible. They were alone here, it was as private as any chamber in the castle… and even if it hadn't been, she couldn't bring herself to stop this runaway train, not when she was so close to having him. She groaned as she felt him enter her, pressing her back against the tree to give him more purchase, grinning a little as the branches shook above them with the force of their lovemaking. She'd never done anything so ridiculous in all her life, but it was unbelievably exciting… and she wasn't at all surprised when she felt her climax beginning to build. He'd proven well and truly over the last few weeks that he was an expert at coaxing pleasure out of her, and even in the wilderness this was no exception…
She cried out when she came, feeling his arms tighten around her as he followed in her wake, groaning against her throat as his body pressed her back against the rough bark of the tree and he spent himself inside her. Breathing hard, dizzy and utterly content, she giggled a little as he lowered her carefully to the ground. The two of them slid to the forest floor together, Kieran's arms around her, pressing kiss after kiss to her face, the rasp of his stubble pleasant against her flushed skin. The cool air of the forest, the utter solitude of their surroundings… for just a moment, she couldn't think of anything else but him.
"I'm glad you came to find me," she said softly, gazing up at him.
He smiled back down at her, his eyes soft with affection. "Aye. So am I."
Chapter 23
Clearing his throat, Kieran reached down to re-buckle his pants, and she hid a grin at the slightly embarrassed expression on his face. They'd lost control of themselves a little there, she realized with a grin, leaning gently against his shoulder. She loved that about him… that wild, intense animal side that came out when they were intimate, the way he'd hold her close as though he needed her to survive… it never failed to send a shiver down her spine. And it felt so incredibly good to have the secret between them finally out – to be on the same page when it came to DeBeers. She knew that with Kieran at her side, she would be able to catch DeBeers once and for all.
"Well then," he said finally when the afterglow had settled a little. "What's the plan, Captain?"
"Oh, I'm the Captain now?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Well then. I heard from a farmer on the road that these bandits have a hideout in a stand of trees at the top of a hill somewhere nearby. My plan was to camp out nearby, wait until I spotted DeBeers, get him alone and drag him back to the castle."
"That is an unbelievably risky and dangerous plan." A grin split his face suddenly, and she blinked in surprise – she'd been certain she was going to get scolded. "And it's exactly what I'd have done. Come on, then. Let's get going. I know the stand of trees the farmer was talking about."
"Not so fast."
Sarah's heart froze in her chest. That hadn't been a familiar voice – it was thick and grating and despite its Scottish accent, definitely didn't come from Kieran beside her. She turned slowly, already dreading what she was going to see… and to her dismay, locked eyes with an armed man. And it wasn't just him. Behind him were maybe half a dozen men, all of them dressed in mismatched armor – and all of them with some kind of weapon in their hands.
Beside her on the forest floor, she felt Kieran's body tense, and his breath hissed between his teeth as he, too, saw the group of men who'd stumbled upon them. They hadn't come from the direction of the road, she realized, frowning – that meant they'd been trekking about in the trees out here. Why on Earth… then a few pieces of information clicked together, and she shut her eyes, suppressing a groan. Of course. They were close to the bandit camp… that meant patrols. They'd been discovered by the very bandits they were doing their best to avoid.
"Oh, there's a face I didn't expect to see," the leader said, his eyes widening as a mocking smile curved his lips upwards. "Kieran MacLeod, as I live and breathe. And disarmed, too! Watch it," he snapped.
Sarah realized that Kieran had been stealthily reaching for his sword – which was lying on the ground by the tree, probably where he'd dropped it while making love to her. She felt a sinking feeling in her gut – a terror that this was all her fault, somehow. Kieran raised his hands obediently, his eyes not leaving the man's face.
"Is that really you, Mulvaney?"
"Aye," the man spat, narrowing his eyes. He was squat and muscular, not nearly as tall as any of the men behind him, but clearly making up for it in strength… and probably tenacity, if the mean squint of his eyes was anything to go by. His pasty complexion was set off by his dull brown hair, which hung around his ears in sore need of a trim, and his hazel eyes were narrowed with evident dislike where they were resting on Kieran.
"After all these years. Still haven't made an honest go of it, then?"
"I'll be asking the questions, I think, seeing as I've got the sword," Mulvaney snarled. "On your feet, you great oaf. Let's get a look at you."
Kieran rose to his feet carefully – and Sarah took the opportunity to get up, too, keeping her eyes on the men in case any of them decided to have a problem with it. Being held at sword point wasn't quite like being held at gunpoint, though she'd had much more experience with the latter – there was something simultaneously more immediate and more visceral about the threat of a sword. A gun was academic – there was no connection between the sleek metal of the barrel and the bullet that threatened to tear you apart. But with a sword, you could really see the blade that would tear your flesh asunder if you made a wrong move. Much more vivid… but at the same time, it offered more opportunities to escape. If they could make a break for it through the trees behind them —
"Don't even think about it," Mulvaney snarled, shaking his sword at her as though he'd read her mind. "No tearing off through the trees. Is this your little slut, MacLeod? She's a bit skinny, isn't she?"
She felt Kieran's anger flare and put a hand on his arm, worried he'd do something rash and get himself injured. She'd heard worse insults from gross men in her time – right now, they just needed to stay calm and in control of the situation. Mulvaney chuckled, shaking his head.
"What do you reckon, boys? Not bad for a hostage, is he? The captain of the Dunscaith guard… reckon the Laird'll give us a king's ransom for him? Or should we just kill him instead? That'd put a stop to all those pesky patrols…"
She felt her heart lurch at that prospect. But she didn't think it was actually a possibility. The uneasy looks the men exchanged behind Mulvaney told her a lot about them. They weren't soldiers – they lacked the simple discipline that she'd observed among Kieran's men, the willingness to do whatever was needed. She had a suspicion growing in the back of her mind that that might be the key to getting out of this… turning the men against each other, or against their leader, or at least sewing enough doubt to cause t
hem confusion…
But that plan fell apart when her eyes fell on one of the taller men standing behind Mulvaney. His face had been in shadow, so she'd skimmed over him when she'd first been looking at the men, but now that she saw him properly, an electric shock went slamming through her as though she'd been struck by lightning. It was him – she'd recognize that smug, irritatingly handsome face anywhere. Sure, he had a scruffy two-month-old beard and his hair was too long, and his clothes were ripped. The sword he was holding looked uncomfortable in his hands, and he had a few wounds on his face that suggested he'd gotten into a few scraps since he'd been here… but she knew who he was.
Damon DeBeers, standing right before her in the forest. She felt her jaw clench in fury at the realization that he was inches away… and she was absolutely powerless to do anything about it.
But she wasn't the only one who'd recognized an old friend. Even as she realized with horror lancing through her that DeBeers was standing right there, she could tell by his expression that he had placed her, too. His eyes were wide and horrified, full of recognition and – she realized with a burst of smug satisfaction – a good dose of fear, too. Good. He ought to be afraid, after everything he'd put her through.
"Damon DeBeers!" she snapped, unable to bring herself to let another second go by without drawing Kieran's attention to her quarry. "Fancy seeing you here, you loathsome piece of human garbage."
There was a ringing silence in the clearing. Mulvaney's gaggle of men looked absolutely thunderstruck – they were exchanging glances with each other, peering over their shoulders at DeBeers, clearly torn between amusement and consternation at their comrade being called out like this. He looked shocked and more than a little angry that she'd dared to insult him in front of his new friends, but she could feel Kieran beside her turning his attention to the tall man and felt a burst of relief to have him at her side. Now that he knew who they were dealing with, maybe they had a shot.
"Why, if it isn't Miss Sarah Elway," DeBeers drawled, that posh English accent sounding thoroughly out of place amidst the Scottish men around him. "Fancy meeting you here."
"You're not getting away with any of your crimes, DeBeers," she said, voice low and flat, channeling all the rage and frustration she'd felt over the last few months into her eyes and hoping he felt the heat of it as he sneered back at her. "If it takes me the rest of my life, you'll see justice."
A rumble of laughter went up among the men at that, but she didn't back down. DeBeers took a few steps forward to Mulvaney's side. The leader of the group shot him a sideways look, clearly a little annoyed that his own confrontation with Kieran had been so thoroughly sidelined by the revelation that Sarah knew DeBeers.
"The rest of your life, hmm? I think I can manage another few minutes, somehow," he said idly, drawing an appreciative laugh from the crowd.
Kieran tensed beside her, his eyes narrowing when she glanced up at him. She could tell how angry he was – how willing he would be to rip DeBeers limb from limb right here and now.
But that would be too quick a death, as far as she was concerned.
"Oh, how rude of me," DeBeers said suddenly, turning to Mulvaney with a silly little bow that made Sarah wrinkle her nose. "I've completely forgotten to make introductions. Might I introduce Mulvaney? Our dashing leader is the captain of our merry band of rogues… and as honest and stalwart a leader as I've ever met."
Mulvaney didn't look especially thrilled by this, but he nodded a gruff greeting, his sword still pointed directly at Kieran's throat.
"This hulking brute I suppose you've met, Captain Mulvaney," DeBeers continued, eyeballing Kieran with evident disdain. "But the unpleasant woman beside him is none other than Sarah Elway. Haven't I mentioned her? She's the one who chased me all over Europe. Pathetic, really, but I do take pity on her. After all, who wouldn't fall in love with this face?"
Her temper flared. "I'm not in love with you, you spineless wretch. You're a thief and a murderer."
"Oh, am I? What evidence do you have of that?"
"There's the company you keep, for a start," Kieran pointed out unexpectedly, nodding toward Mulvaney and his men. "This man's been causing trouble around Skye since he was a teenager."
"You're the one who's in trouble, MacLeod, now shut your face," Mulvaney snapped. "We'll deal with all this back at the camp."
Sarah bit her lip as the men organized themselves into a loose marching formation with their prisoners in the middle. DeBeers took it upon himself to take Kieran's sword, making a point of fixing it to his belt. It was far too large for him and made him look ridiculous… but knowing that Kieran was unarmed was a worry. The long knife was still in her satchel, safe and untouched – she had a feeling they hadn't seen it under her cloak, or they'd have taken the whole bag from her. It was something, at least. They began to walk through the forest, Kieran a silent, moody presence at her side. She just hoped he wasn't giving up. They could get out of this still – she knew it.
The situation wasn't ideal. But looking on the bright side – she knew exactly where DeBeers was. Step one of the plan complete. Step two was just going to look a little different, that was all.
Chapter 24
They kept trekking through the forest… and before too long, a plan was beginning to form in Sarah's mind. First, she started limping, complaining that she'd twisted her ankle back in the clearing that the guards had found them in. Kieran shot her a curious look, well aware that no such thing had happened – but he didn't contradict her, a twinkle in his eye revealing that he was willing to wait and see what she was up to. After a few minutes of complaints, Mulvaney, exasperated, brought the group to a halt, spinning to glare at her.
"You're not a valuable enough hostage to be worth all this bother, woman," he warned her, his hazel eyes narrowed. "I'd find a way to keep walking without all that noise or it'll be an unmarked grave here in the forest for you."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Kieran rumbled. "The Laird himself takes a keen interest in Sarah here. She's a dear friend and confidant to his wife."
"Is that so?" Mulvaney's eyes glittered.
But Sarah was noticing something interesting going on behind him. His men were exchanging glances… but they didn't look happy to hear that Sarah was a valuable hostage. Quite the opposite. It was fear on their faces, and she overheard one of them mutter something to his friend about drawing the Laird's attention.
"I have no interest in your banditry," she said levelly, glaring at Mulvaney – though her words were intended for DeBeers alone. "Release us – and give DeBeers over to our custody – and we'll let you go back to your little nest unharmed. The Laird doesn't need to hear about it."
"She wants me bad, I'm afraid," DeBeers said with mock dismay, drawing a laugh from Mulvaney – though she could see the men behind him were stony-faced. "Imagine following me all the way across the world… look, Sarah, I might have tossed you a roll in the hay out of pity if you hadn't embarrassed yourself this much."
"All I want is justice," she said calmly.
"And how exactly do you propose to drag me back to –" he hesitated briefly, glancing around at the men "— our home? There's no way back, or you'd have taken it yourself. No court, no judges, no prison to lock me up in… just what are you trying to achieve, here?"
"No court?" Kieran broke in, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you think? The Laird himself is very curious to hear about all your crimes. It's his justice I'd be worrying about if I were you. And if I were you… well, I'd be very worried indeed. The Laird takes the word of Miss Elway here very seriously indeed, and he's heard all about your exploits. The jewels. The women you've killed."
DeBeers' eyes narrowed as he realized that Sarah must have shared details of his crimes… and she felt a rush of gratitude to Kieran for remembering what she'd told him. But before she could press the advantage, one of Mulvaney's men interrupted, a blond man with a pointed beard who couldn't have been much older than twenty.
"Mulvaney," he
said, voice low. "Do we really want special attention from the Laird?"
"Keep out of this, you nitwit," DeBeers said, narrowing his eyes at the young man.
"Mind how you speak to my men," Mulvaney growled.
"Men? Brendan's still wet behind the ears. He's barely a boy, let alone a man," DeBeers laughed, heedless of the anger on Brendan's face. "You'd really trust this lily-livered coward's word over mine?"
"I've fought beside Brendan," Mulvaney said, glaring at DeBeers, clearly not impressed by his bragging. "All I've got to go on with you is a bunch of stories. Most of which sound entirely made-up, I might add."
"Don't be a fool –" DeBeers started. But before he could finish, Brendan had shoved him hard, pushing him back and away from Mulvaney, who simply looked on with a raised eyebrow. "Oh. Is that how it's going to be, is it?"
"Aye, I think so," Brendan snarled.
Sarah knew the look of a man who was fed up with DeBeers – she'd seen that exact look on her own face in the mirror multiple times. And as much as she'd wanted the satisfaction of bringing him down herself, she couldn't help but feel a smug burst of satisfaction at the fear in his eyes when he looked at Brendan. He drew Kieran's sword from the scabbard at his side and pointed it at Brendan, clearly trying to look imposing. But Sarah, even in a few weeks of sword fighting lessons, could see he had no idea what he was doing with the weapon… even as she watched, his hand started shaking under the weight of the weapon. He was trying to hold it like a fencing sword, but it was a two-handed weapon, not designed for that kind of maneuvering… not that DeBeers seemed to understand that.
"Back down, you dog," DeBeers snarled.
Brendan all but rolled his eyes. Effortlessly, he dodged around the sword as DeBeers tried and failed to clumsily swipe at him with it. Suddenly, there was a short sword in his hand… and before anyone could react, he'd driven it into DeBeers' stomach to the hilt. Grunting, he yanked it out, slick with blood – and with a surprised and pained yelp, Damon DeBeers dropped to the ground, clutching at his belly.
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