Highlander's Challenge

by Jo Barrett

  His filthy, quivering fingers slid into hers, and a load of relief relaxed her tense neck muscles. Scaring the bad guys was part of the job, not innocent little kids. She helped him to his feet to the sound of gasps and set him right with his crutch.

  Satisfied the boy was okay, Tuck turned to the other children. “This won’t happen again. Will it,” she said flatly, making certain they knew it was not a question.

  They shook their heads as they stumbled backward, then spun around and broke off in a dead run down the beach.

  “Ye aren’t really a-a-a witch, are ye?” the boy asked, his eyes still wide.

  Tuck shook her head. “Not the last time I looked, no.”

  His face fell and he dropped his chin to his chest. “Oh.” Struggling across the rocky terrain, he turned toward a path up the side of the hill to the keep.

  Not that she expected much, but a “thanks” would’ve been nice. She walked alongside him, curious as to why he seemed disappointed when he’d been so scared of her.

  “You don’t seem too happy about that. Care to tell me why?”

  “I thought if ye were a kind witch, kind enough tae tend Master Southernland, then ye might fix me leg,” he muttered at the ground.

  “I see.” She cupped his bony shoulder. He tensed slightly, but didn’t pull away.

  From what she could tell with a quick glance, he’d been born with a clubfoot. She’d heard of braces and casts on babies to fix the abnormality, but in the boy’s case, surgery was likely what he needed. That was something she couldn’t do.

  “You got a name, kid?”

  “Robby.”

  “Well, Robby, I can’t heal you, but I can help you,” she said.

  He stopped and peered up at her. “How?”

  “Oh, a few little maneuvers, some strengthening of your muscles. Basic stuff really.”

  “I’ll never be strong.” He dropped his chin.

  “Look, you’re tired of getting picked on, right? And you’d like to be able to take care of yourself?” His puzzled expression pulled at her lips and she grinned. “I could teach you how to fight.”

  His dirt smudged brow furrowed. “But ye’re a woman.”

  Tuck rolled her eyes heavenward. “God, they brainwash them young around here.” She looked down at the boy with a heavy sigh. “Do you want to learn or not? The only thing wrong with you, other than lack of faith, is a bad foot. The rest of you seems to be in perfect working order.” She poked and prodded at his muscles, winning a faint giggle from him.

  “But my da says I’ll always be sickly. That I’ll never be—be worth anythin’,” he ended softly.

  Familiar pains pierced her armored heart. “Your father is wrong, Robby. Dead wrong. Now, come on down here where the ground isn’t as rocky and let’s get started,” she said with a jerk of her head.

  He hesitated, not convinced in the least. The spark of hope in his dark eyes overshadowed years of pain and rejection.

  “Hey. It can’t hurt to try, can it?” she asked.

  Slowly, he moved back down the path, closer to the water.

  A glowing warmth spread across her chest, and she welcomed it. She’d never been this mixed up in other people’s lives without a paycheck being involved before. Maybe falling through that hole in time wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  As long as Jenny was okay.

  ****

  “What is that woman doing?” Colin asked no one in particular. Her odd movements which she had Robby mirror were strange and slow.

  He looked to his side and took note of the distinct fear on his men’s faces. If one more man crossed himself…he rubbed his hand down his face. “Stop behaving like a passel of frightened women. She’s no witch.”

  “Even if she be one, she be a kind one, lad,” William said. One of the last of his father’s guard, he was the only one who didn’t seem as concerned about her. Only cautious. “Look you, what she did fer Robby. The lad was gettin’ a sore teasin’, he was.”

  That was better than what Colin had heard since they’d started after her. Perhaps they were making some progress. But he didn’t mistake the fear in some of their eyes as she continued her odd movements at the edge of the water.

  “Go back tae the keep, the lot of you,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Are you sure?” Michael swallowed, his eyes wide and black rimmed.

  She’d broken his nose but good. So much for Elspeth’s opinion on how little the lass would hurt him. Colin almost chuckled.

  “Aye. Get back tae the castle. I’ve had all I care of your blathering about witches and such. I’ll tend tae the woman. It seems she was headed there as well until she met with Robby.” He dismounted and handed the reins to Michael.

  “Mind you be careful, lad,” William said.

  Colin nodded and waved them off. They rode away casting concerned glances over their shoulders. What a sorry bunch they were.

  He looked to the woman by the water and the lad she’d aided. Why was she returning after spouting about nothing but how badly she wanted to leave? And her strange behavior by the spring could not be believed.

  A sick ball formed in the pit of his stomach. Had she intended to meet with an accomplice in the wood, but knew she’d been followed? Was she the true spy? As much as he hated to believe it, the possibility couldn’t be ignored. Yet she’d saved Ian and aided Robby. Fiona thought she was nice, of all things, as did his aunt. Why would she be good to his friend and his clan if she were out to destroy them?

  She ceased her odd movements and handed something to the lad. He hesitantly placed it in his mouth. Barely a moment passed before he was smiling and chattering away.

  The pair started up the path to the castle, her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Colin grinned. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Robby smile quite so brightly before. Whoever she was, whatever her purpose for being there, he couldn’t discount her kindness. Perhaps she was merely caught up in something she didn’t know how to get out of.

  Rubbing his throbbing brow, his heavy feet carried him back through the wood where he met with the path several yards behind them. He would watch and wait, it was his only recourse. He wanted to trust her, but he needed more proof of where her loyalties lay.

  Shouts and screams lifted his head from his perusal of the ground as he passed through the gate into the bailey.

  “Please, Tuck. Dinnae hurt him,” Robby cried.

  “Hurt him? I’d like to kill him!”

  “Nay,” wailed the lad’s mother.

  William, Michael and several others joined Colin as he rushed across the courtyard to the blacksmith’s cottage.

  Standing before the entrance to the forge, Tuck had Malcolm by the throat with one of his beefy arms twisted behind his back.

  “Leave off, ye witch,” Malcolm snarled roughly, struggling for breath.

  Colin couldn’t believe his eyes, but there she stood, grappling with a man more than twice her size.

  And she was winning.

  Trying to urge the lad to stand aside while she wrestled with Malcolm, she didn’t see his meaty fist reach out and snag an iron hanging on a nearby post. She wouldn’t be winning for long.

  Colin stepped in front of Malcolm, instantly noting the sickly sweet smell of drink and plucked the rod from his hand. “Release him,” he ordered.

  “Like hell,” she snarled.

  “Do as I say, woman!”

  With a feral growl, she shoved the man to the ground, and placed her foot firmly on his crotch. “You so much as flick your little finger at your wife or son again, so help me I’ll kill you.” Her tone as icy as a fierce north wind, there was no doubt she meant what she said.

  Malcolm stilled, his gaze narrowing menacingly, but there was a distinct flicker of fear in his eyes.

  No one moved for several heartbeats until she removed her foot and stepped aside, but she didn’t go far. Crossing her arms firmly, her feet squarely planted, she turned
her heated gaze on Colin. No doubt waiting to see what he would do.

  He glanced at the boy, his face wet with tears, then at his mother, her face wet as well. The imprint of a hand burned brightly on her cheek.

  Clenching his jaw, Colin motioned for a pair of his men to lift Malcolm to his feet.

  He stared hard at his blacksmith. “What do you have tae say for yourself, mon?”

  “That she-demon came out of nowhere with her claws. I was protectin’ me family,” he sputtered fiercely.

  Tuck lurched forward. “You lying son-of-a-”

  Colin shot her a look.

  William braved her wrath by gripping her shoulder. “Patience, lass,” he murmured, and she magically fell silent and still.

  Colin looked back to Malcolm. A man whose size rivaled his own. “You’re saying ‘tis her hand that left a mark on Mary’s cheek.”

  Malcolm shifted uneasily, his gaze darting to his wife’s homely face. His lips twitched nervously before he spoke. “She had no right tae interfere! What I do in me own home isna her business.”

  “Nay, it isna,” Colin said.

  A small smile of relief eased over his blacksmith’s burly face, while Tuck turned a furious shade of red.

  Colin leaned in closer to him, ignoring the foul stench of the man. “But ‘tis mine. If you ever lift a hand against her or Robby again, you’ll answer tae me.”

  Malcolm swallowed hard. “Aye.”

  Colin nodded to his men. “Help Malcolm clear his head, lads.”

  “Aye, with pleasure,” Michael said, and escorted him to the trough. Several of them happily dunked his head in the water and held it there for a very long time.

  Turning to Mary and her son, Colin said, “Come tae me, if you have a need.”

  Tearfully, she nodded, while Robby swiped his face dry. “Soon I’ll be able tae protect her,” the boy swore, his watery gaze cutting to Tuck.

  Placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, Colin said, “Aye, that you will. A braw lad you’ll be when you’re grown, but until that time, you come tae me, you ken?”

  Robby sniffled with a nod.

  Turning, Colin tossed aside the iron and snatched Tuck by the arm, ignoring her squeak of surprise. He started off across the courtyard toward the keep, dragging her behind him. Storming into the lass’s bedchamber, he flung her across the room.

  “Have you lost what little wits you have left, woman?” he bellowed and slammed the door behind him.

  Tuck quickly regained her balance. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

  Red-hot talons of fury gripped him fiercely as he imagined what Malcolm could have done to her. “You could’ve been killed!”

  “For the love of—” She snatched his dirk from his belt before he could blink and waved it beneath his nose. “You see this? I’ve killed with something much more lethal,” she said coldly. “I’ve lived in places so hard, so filthy, they make your dungeon look like a palace.”

  She let the blade fly, impaling it into the door. “I was trained to fight, MacLean. Not to play nursemaid to some man. One who cares about nothing but his stomach or whether or not his shirts are clean. A man who’d rather get drunk and slap his daughter around, than face a single day sober.” Her breath quickened and her eyes became glassy. “A man who doesn’t give a shit about anything but himself.”

  She swallowed hard while blinking away her burgeoning tears. “You either accept me for what I am or leave me the hell alone,” she hissed and spun away.

  He stood silent for several minutes, hating the sharp twinge in his chest. Facing Malcolm had brought a flood of painful memories to the surface for the lass. Things he wished he could undo.

  Blast her! Why couldn’t she be like other women? Why did she have to reach inside him to places he strived to ignore? Why did he have to want her so much?

  He paced and growled, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms, but he knew it would not remain a solace act for long. His desire for her was too strong.

  Pausing in his fury, he asked, “Why did you come back? And I’ll have the truth.”

  “Because I felt like it.”

  He gripped her firmly by the shoulders. “Damn it, woman! You traipsed around the wood for hours. Did your plans tae secretly meet fail because you knew I was following?”

  She growled low, the deep pain he’d seen in her eyes and heard in her voice were gone. “It’s the same old song with you. You’re just too stubborn to admit you’re wrong.”

  Swiftly rotating her arms, she knocked his hands free of her shoulders. “And don’t think that because I let you drag me in here like some conquering warlord, that I’m afraid of you. I could put you on your back without stirring a breeze.”

  He leaned closer. “No woman could put me on my back unless that was where I wished tae be with her riding astride,” he said lowly.

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks colored. So her armor was not so thick after all. The lass had a soft underbelly, but he truly wished he hadn’t spoken of such things. The words brought to life too many tantalizing images.

  “No woman would want you,” she spat, and turned away.

  He snagged her by the arm and spun her around. She countered by grabbing his wrist and pulled, attempting to throw him off balance so she could jerk free, but he was too quick for her. Snatching her good wrist, he shoved her hand behind her back and leaned against her, imprisoning her in his arms. The moment he felt her toned shapely body pressed against him, he was lost. He could think of nothing, but how much he wanted to taste her.

  His lips met hers—hard. He wildly feasted on her mouth as a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat. She answered the call, pressing against him with just as much force, just as much hunger. It stirred his blood to know that she too suffered the same pains as he, the same yearnings.

  His hand slid down her back to the odd trews she wore, relishing the way they molded to her firm, round bottom. Cupping her sculpted flesh, he pressed her firmly against his aching shaft. He had to have her. Now.

  The sound of metal clashing against metal drifted in through the open window. His responsibilities, his duty came rushing back to him. He jerked his head up, away from the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted, and released her.

  She stumbled backward, her eyes wide, her lips red and swollen from his kiss.

  The woman had driven him completely mad! How could he have allowed it? The clan needed him. He had his duty to see to, and it had nothing to do with this woman. This woman who made him lose control. She was dangerous.

  He stormed across the chamber and yanked the blade from the door. “Dinnae venture beyond the walls again.” He slammed out of the room before he tested what remained of his strength.

  Tuck lifted trembling fingers to her lips as she teetered back against the wall. She blinked several times, but the sensation of being zapped with a stun gun wouldn’t go away. Never had a kiss been so potent.

  His tongue had speared her mouth, and she tasted his strength, his power, his passion. An eruption of sensations, the likes of which she’d never known, had exploded inside her. It was all she could do not to collapse against him in ecstasy.

  For the first time in her life she wondered what it would be like to surrender.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Picking up the book of poetry, Tuck began to read to Elspeth, as was becoming their habit. MacLean always seemed to know when to appear and take his seat across from her.

  They’d avoided any and all conversation since the kiss several days before, and often managed to stay out of each other’s way for the majority of the day. But he always came to the solar in the evenings. At least he managed to show up without Maighread following on his heels like a puppy.

  Tuck would read from the book of poems, and he would close his eyes and drift off to sleep. She enjoyed watching him then, relishing the freedom of just looking at him. She often wondered if it was the only time he knew any peace.

  Her instincts had been right about h
im. He cared for each and every one of the people on MacLean land; his words to Robby and his mother were proof of that. She suspected he would stand up for anyone anywhere unjustly accused as well. He was the sort of a man a woman could depend on—one she could trust. A concept foreign to her until now.

  She closed the book of poems, wishing there were more books in English to keep her mind off of Colin.

  “Thank you, dear,” Elspeth said, and rose.

  Tuck gently set the book aside, and followed as she did every night.

  She sucked in a breath at the feel of MacLean’s hand on her arm as she passed him.

  “Stay,” he said lowly.

  “I’ll go see tae Douglas,” Elspeth said, and slipped from the room leaving her alone with him.

  She looked down at his hand and followed the tan skin up his arm to his face. His eyes were mere slits, but they saw everything.

  Confused by her feelings for this man, which seemed to be growing and changing with every passing day, she wasn’t sure that spending time alone with him was wise.

  He lifted his lids, catching her in his steady gaze. “Please.”

  Twice, he’d said please, not something he did on a regular basis, she was certain. With a nod, she returned to her chair. There was something different about him since that kiss. Or perhaps she’d been the one to change.

  “Thank you for reading tae Elspeth. I know she takes great pleasure in it,” he said.

  “I enjoy doing it for her.”

  He nodded and looked into the fire. “Do you write as well?”

  “Yes. I can write, read, add, subtract—a great many things you’d think were uncommon or impossible for a woman.”

  His lips curled up at one corner. “Somehow, I dinnae doubt what you say. For the most part.”

  She relaxed back into her chair, confused by his partial admission. He must have finally resolved himself to her at least being different.

  He returned his gaze to the fire. “I’ve had the same thoughts as you, regarding the men below and their purpose here. There is more going on, as you say, than the obvious.” He paused a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts before continuing. “I believe someone is trying tae start a war between the MacLeans and the MacKenzies tae weaken our numbers.”