The Highlander’s Defiant Captive: The Lairds Most Likely Book 4

by Anna Campbell

  "Aye, that she did."

  "I aimed for her shoulder."

  "Ye hit her in the shoulder." She paused. "It was a breathtaking bit of shooting, Mackinnon. She was too near the edge. The force of the impact took her over."

  "I was so afraid I’d miss and hit ye instead." Agonizing emotion thickened his voice.

  She smiled with more conviction than last time. "But ye didnae."

  "No, I didnae." He'd thank the Almighty for the rest of his life that despite being in the grip of a dread beyond anything he'd ever known, his hand remained steady and his eye sharp. "Where else did she hurt ye?"

  There was too much blood for just the cut on her arm. He also noted how stiffly she was sitting on the rock.

  "Here." She pointed at her waist.

  "Mhairi, why the devil did ye no’ say something before, ye daft lassie?" God’s teeth, had he ignored a wound that threatened her life in favor of tending a minor cut?

  To his surprise, she lifted her uninjured arm and touched his cheek. "It's just a scratch, I'm sure. I jumped out of the way before she did too much damage."

  Callum closed his eyes. He didn't deserve to receive comfort from her, but the sweetness of her touch seeped into him and turned his blood to syrup.

  A painfully short moment later, she drew her hand away. It was the first time she'd touched him with tenderness. The knowledge cut him far deeper than Sheena's knife had sliced Mhairi's arm.

  He slid his arm around her back, supporting her against him. "Show me."

  Gingerly she lifted up the ragged blouse to reveal the bloodstained shift. Self-hatred knotting his gut, he shifted aside the sodden edges of material covering the wound.

  A knife to the belly was usually a death sentence. At the first sight of the long red mark across her stomach, his head swam. But with brutal determination, he forced himself back to reality.

  And reality was that it was only a scratch, as she’d said. She'd been lucky.

  No, they'd both been lucky.

  Relief thundered through him, more powerful than the Mare’s Tail at full spate. With gentle care, he released her and returned to the burn to rinse out his handkerchief. When he came back, he cleaned the blood away from the graze. She sat uncomplaining in his embrace, although his ministrations must hurt like Hades.

  Once he was done, he sat back and tugged his shirt over his head. "Here, wear this."

  She eyed him doubtfully. "I dinnae need…"

  "Aye, ye do. That tattered rag is soaked through." A tender smile curved his lips. "I'll close my eyes while ye change. Dinnae try and put your sore arm through the sleeve. I’ll help ye once you’ve got the shirt on."

  After a pause, she accepted his shirt. "Thank you."

  True to his word, Callum shut his eyes. He was so attuned to her that even over the waterfall’s rush, he heard the evocative rustle of clothing. Only when Mhairi told him to open his eyes did he realize that he'd held his breath the whole time.

  The shirt was far too big for her, sliding down one shoulder and gaping over her pretty bosom. The looseness would have helped her to get it over her head. Somehow she’d managed to rip off her stained and torn shift as well as her blouse.

  He shouldn’t look at her bosom. If only for the sake of his sanity. But he couldn’t help it.

  Round breasts pressed wantonly against the soft lawn of his shirt, the pink nipples clearly visible, and they jiggled in a most enticing fashion when she moved. The heat sizzling through him made him feel like a barbarian. Mhairi was hurt and vulnerable, and she'd nearly died. Right now, she deserved his care, not his desire.

  He wrenched his gaze from that forbidden, arousing sight and stared blindly across the void where she'd nearly lost her life and where Sheena had met her death. A few deep breaths and some stern words to himself about being a gentleman before he was ready to look at her again. "This is going to hurt."

  For once, she didn’t pretend to a strength she didn’t possess. "Aye."

  He couldn’t get her arm into the sleeve without torturing her. So he slashed at the shirt then gently drew her arm through the hole.

  By the time he’d rigged a makeshift sling with more material from her petticoat, he felt like he’d lived through a hard century. Mhairi was pale and shaking and her lips were white with pain.

  Fearing she might faint, he lashed his arm around her and waited while she regained her breath. Today’s ordeal had strained her to breaking, he could tell. When he held her close, she said not one word of objection.

  "Can ye ride?" he asked after a long time.

  "I'll have to. I cannae stay up here forever."

  The acid in her tone made him smile. Doughty Mistress Drummond came back to herself, he was delighted to note.

  "I could go back to Achnasheen and arrange a litter." Although heaven knew how a party of men would manage to carry her down that perilous path.

  To his relief, she shook her head. "I'm fine."

  Not really. But she was well enough to go on, and with time, she'd get over her injuries and the day’s mental anguish. She was strong, his Mhairi.

  He didn’t want to let her go, but she no longer needed the support of his arm. Sitting up, he drew a silver flask from his coat pocket. He opened it and passed it across. "Then let’s get ye somewhere dry and warm."

  Before he could stand, she reached out to catch his arm. It seemed she meant to continue the habit of touching him. Too late, too late, his heart mourned.

  "Wait. Ye didnae tell me how ye came to be here. Had ye followed us the whole way?"

  He shook his head. "No."

  "Then how?" He watched understanding seep into her eyes. "Flossie."

  "Aye. Dinnae blame her for breaking your confidence."

  "I’m grateful she did." That familiar wry smile appeared. She was definitely on the mend. "I should have listened to her in the first place. She told me no’ to trust Sheena."

  "But ye were so desperate to get away," he said with a bitterness he had no right to feel. After all, he could hardly accuse Mhairi of deceit. She'd never made any secret of how her captivity chafed at her.

  "Aye." She avoided his eyes and hitched his shirt higher up her shoulder. Even one-sleeved, she looked much better in it than he did, he couldn't help thinking. "I still dinnae ken how ye knew which way to go. Ye cannae have left Achnasheen much after we did."

  While he’d dreaded that he left too late. He’d ridden Kelpie without consideration and care along the rough roads, frantic to find Mhairi before some harm befell her. As it was, he arrived just in time.

  "After Flossie told me you’d gone, Sel the Red confessed the plot."

  It had taken precious time to get the man to break trust with his lover. Too much time. The consequences of arriving even five minutes later would haunt Callum’s nightmares for years to come.

  The recollection of his choking fear fueled a surge of anger. "Why the devil did a clever lassie like you no’ work out that ye were going in completely the wrong direction? Bruard is east, no’ north."

  Her lips turned down. "Sheena told me she followed a drovers’ track that switches back over the hills toward my home." She paused. "There is nae such track, is there?"

  "No." He grabbed her hand, needing the physical assurance that Mhairi was indeed alive and sitting in front of him, not lying dead five hundred feet below the ledge.

  His voice roughened, although he wasn’t angry with her. He reserved his rage for himself. He’d been a poor guardian of the treasure he had in his keeping. His blood turned to ice when he thought how close they'd verged on tragedy. "Without Sel giving up Sheena's plans, I wouldnae have found ye. If you'd gone over the Mare's Tail, it’s likely I’d never have known what happened to ye, although with fine weather, we may have been able to track you over the hills."

  "So ye galloped after me like a knight on a quest." She took a mouthful of whisky and coughed. When she caught her breath again, she stared at him once more. "Ye took your life in your hands doing that.
The ride up here had me shaking in my boots."

  "I could trust Kelpie," he said defensively, although when the track narrowed, he'd rated his survival cheap as he’d forced the mare to maintain the reckless pace.

  Then he realized Mhairi’s remark wasn’t a criticism. She sounded almost…admiring. The poor lass was obviously still in shock.

  She returned his flask. "What are ye going to do with Sel?"

  "I’ve locked the wretch up in the barracks." This time, there was no question where his anger focused. He replaced the flask’s stopper and put it back in his pocket. "Right now, I’m sorry I got rid of the dungeons. I'm ready to hang the bastard from the castle walls and let him die by inches."

  "No, you’re no’."

  He was surprised that she knew him well enough to realize that. "I damn well should be."

  She still held his arm. "When he had the chance, he did the right thing."

  Callum’s lips tightened. "Only because the game was up, and the swine knew it."

  "Sheena used him for her own purposes. A hanging seems too harsh."

  "He betrayed me."

  "Aye."

  He sighed. "But I told him he could take his choice – double guard duty for the next month or banishment from Achnasheen. He was grateful to take the guard duty. He’s gey crestfallen."

  "Sheena's death will hit him hard. He’ll blame me for that, I'm guessing."

  "If he says one word against ye and I hear about, it's expulsion without mercy."

  She continued to study him, her deep blue eyes serious and searching. "You're a good man, Mackinnon."

  Astonishment crashed through him. "Ye sound like you mean that."

  When she smiled, there were no shadows. By God, what he'd give to kiss her, but she was hurt and she'd been afraid, although she didn't look afraid now. "I do."

  "More whisky?"

  She shook her head. He was sorry to stand up and break the sweet contact of her hand on his arm. It was a sign of how she’d suffered, that she seemed to forget that she still touched him.

  Callum wished to heaven he could forget. But it was impossible when heat pooled under her fingers and set his blood pounding with impossible hope.

  "I’ll take ye home."

  "Aye," she said softly, and for one dazed moment the glow in her eyes held him transfixed. Then he recalled bleak reality and turned away to catch Kelpie's rein.

  After he picked up his flintlock and tied the two stocky ponies to his saddle, he brought the mare over to Mhairi. He held out a hand. "Tell me if ye need to rest or if the pain gets too bad."

  "I will."

  Despite everything, his lips twitched. "Which means ye probably willnae."

  She hated to admit any weakness. Her pride was remarkable.

  With a readiness that ripped at his aching heart, she accepted his hand. She’d been uncharacteristically tractable since he’d saved her. This docility was proof of how the threat to her life had beaten the fight out of her. Briefly he closed his eyes and forced away the nauseating memory of her struggling with an armed assailant above a drop of hundreds of feet.

  Nor did she stiffen when he lifted her onto Kelpie's back. Because he was watching her so closely, he caught her hiding a wince, despite his best efforts to be gentle. Reminder that she'd been hurt while in his care. And not for the first time, by God. Acrid remorse tightened his gut.

  Callum mounted behind her and curled his arms around her to hold her safe. He was as careful as if he cradled Venetian glass in his arms.

  "This is like old times," she said dryly.

  "You're a wee bit more cooperative now than ye were when I brought you to Achnasheen, lassie," he said, aiming for a light tone. He failed. He'd come too close to losing her for teasing to sound convincing.

  "Aye, I am at that," she said softly.

  Callum could hardly believe it when she rested against him as soft as a kitten. Her scent rose around him, sparked a million wanton fantasies. He drew a deep breath. Flowers, a trace of sweat, a hint of fresh water and whisky. And the essence of Mhairi.

  Only a layer of frail lawn separated her skin from his. The thought proved too much temptation. It was time they left.

  He guided Kelpie onto the steep, winding path. The horse had dashed up this precipitous slope with a valor that earned her his lifelong gratitude. Now there was no particular rush, so the mare could make the journey toward Callum’s doom at a kinder pace. Even if he wanted to make haste, the ponies couldn’t keep up with Kelpie in full flight.

  "Rest now. You're safe," he said softly, daring to place a kiss on Mhairi’s ruffled auburn hair.

  "I know," she murmured. It seemed at last she'd learned to trust him a little.

  He wished to God he deserved it.

  Chapter 19

  Exhausted with the onslaught of powerful emotions and the long travel through the night, Mhairi lapsed into a fitful doze as she rested in the Mackinnon’s arms. Her wounds troubled her, but his ministrations had gone a long way toward soothing the discomfort. The memory of his gentleness made her heart clench tight. He'd been so distressed to see her in danger and in pain. It made her feel cherished in a way she'd never known before. His care was the physical manifestation of his stirring words to his clan, proclaiming his loyalty to her.

  It took far too long to realize that there was something wrong about the route they followed. This wasn’t the same path she’d taken with Sheena.

  She twisted her head to see where the sun was. "Did ye no’ say Sheena took me due north from Achnasheen?"

  "Aye, she did." Pressed so close to his bare chest, with only the thin layer of his shirt between them, she felt as much as heard that baritone rumble behind her.

  "Achnasheen is on the coast. By my calculation, we're heading south-east and further into the hills."

  "Of course we are."

  She frowned. "But if we keep going, that will take us to Bruard."

  There was a pause before he responded in a low voice. "I told ye I was taking you home, lassie."

  A dismay of appalling and astonishing degree slammed through her, stole her breath. It took her a second before she could speak. "I thought ye meant Achnasheen."

  Another shock. When had she started to consider the Mackinnon stronghold her home? She'd despised every gray stone in its walls when she'd arrived there less than a week ago.

  His voice remained somber as he replied. "I'm taking ye back to your father. Ye should beat your kinsmen home by a good few hours."

  "But…" Her mind reeled. This didn't make any sense at all. "Ye swore you'd never let me go."

  With a heavy sigh, he drew the big gray horse to a stop on the brow of the hill. As she looked ahead, she realized that they already approached Drummond territory. If Black Callum rode much further, he wouldn't be safe from her clan's hunger for vengeance.

  "Aye, I swore a lot of things." He sounded grim and defeated, in a way she'd never heard before.

  She’d longed to see the arrogance knocked out of him. Now she did, and she hated it.

  Her throat was so tight, it was difficult to force the question out. "Do ye no’ want peace in the glens anymore? I thought ending the feud was your purpose in life."

  To her surprise, he dismounted and stepped forward to hold Kelpie's rein. The expression on his face confirmed the desolation she heard in his voice. "It was."

  Mhairi noticed his use of the past tense. "So what's changed?"

  She missed his arms around her. More, she missed knowing he wanted her. Which was mad when she’d just risked her life to get away from him.

  He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair, leaving it ruffled around his shoulders. Usually he wore it clubbed back, but today it fell about his face in raven waves. He’d left Achnasheen too quickly to worry about tying it back, she guessed.

  Her fingers curled in Kelpie's mane as she fought the urge to reach out and touch his hair. She knew how cool and soft it was. After days of battling the Mackinnon at close quarters,
she was far too familiar with how it felt to touch him. The firm, smooth skin. The hard, capable hands.

  The knuckles on the hard, capable hand he laced through Kelpie's bridle were white with tension. "I've changed."

  The stark words crashed down between them, sharp and wounding as a mighty claymore. She swallowed to moisten a mouth that went dry with dread and crippling anguish. "Ye dinnae want to wed me?"

  He made a low growl deep in his throat and swung away, releasing Kelpie who shifted with an uneasy whicker. The tension flaring between the humans on this bare brae upset the horse.

  Mhairi tightened her grip on Kelpie’s mane to keep her balance and stared at those rigid shoulders in front of her. It was plain to see how tightly he held himself.

  Her mouth went even drier as she contemplated the magnificent sight he made, wearing only his kilt and with his black hair loose down his ruler-straight bare back. Away from that perceptive dark gaze, she was free to feast her eyes on this superb example of the male animal.

  She'd always thought Black Callum handsome, right from the very first when his handsomeness hadn’t stopped her from wanting to kill him. When had those good looks started to intrigue instead of threaten?

  "Mackinnon?" she said when he didn't answer.

  He still didn’t answer.

  She shifted clumsily, clinging to the saddle with her good hand. With her arm in a sling, negotiating her way off this oversized beast was no simple thing. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't stifle a whimper as an unwise stretch jarred her wounded arm.

  Black Callum whipped around and covered the distance between them in a couple of strides. "What the devil are ye doing, ye daft female?"

  His hand closed around her waist. His touch conveyed neither tenderness nor desire, but despite that, it blasted through her like a clap of thunder. When he set her on her feet and released her, she missed that touch the moment it left her.

  "I'm trying to talk to ye," she said.

  "Why?" he asked in angry bewilderment. "Shouldn't ye instead be dancing with joy to ken that you're going back to your kin? You've just spent half the night trying to get away from me. God’s blood, you wanted to get away from me since the moment I snatched ye. You're bloody contrary to want to stop and have a wee discussion about my decision now."