by Jo Barrett
Colin opened his mouth to speak, as Fiona rushed into the hall and came to an abrupt halt by his aunt. Her gaze darted to him several times as she whispered rapidly to Elspeth. His stomach roiled as his aunt’s eyes widened and focused on him.
Ignoring his father and Ian’s continued conversation, he got to his feet. “Fiona!”
The lass jerked at his bellow and warily turned to face him.
“What has happened?” he asked, lowering his voice, but it was with great effort. He knew, deep in his heart, that whatever bad news she had to impart, it involved Amelia.
“The lass has left,” Elspeth said, softly patting Fiona’s wringing hands.
Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, he quickly strode from the room toward the stable, hardly noting the men who followed in his wake. He would find her, and when he did he’d flail her hide. The woman had barely beaten death. What could’ve possessed her to leave?
Did she hunt for his cousin, determined to bring her to justice, or was there a more heartrending reason? One he feared may be the true cause. Regardless, he had to find her.
He began saddling his horse and turned to find more than half the garrison, Ian included, doing the same. She’d won them over with her courage, her skills, and her rare smiles. But they all couldn’t go in search of her. They were in the middle of a war. Someone had to stay behind and guard the clan and Castle Arreyder, not to mention he still had a small party searching for Maighread. They were short enough men as it was.
His duty clashed sharply with his desires. He shouldn’t be going at all. He should remain here where he belonged, not traipsing across the countryside looking for a redheaded she-demon from the future. He must be mad.
Elspeth appeared by his father’s side and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “You must go, Colin,” she said softly. “She needs you.”
His gaze shifted to his father. The old man smiled softly and nodded.
With that encouragement, he turned to the men, busily readying their mounts. “I dinnae need a guard.”
Scowls and sputtered arguments surrounded him.
“Love has surely addled what little wits you have, my friend, if you think you shall pass through the gates alone,” Ian said.
“’Tis my concern and doesna involve the whole keep. Least of all, you,” he snapped, his fear for Amelia’s life stealing what little patience he possessed. He should’ve told her of his heart, he should’ve forced the words passed his constricted throat before it was too late.
Ian sighed heavily. “Do you truly wish to argue over this, wasting valuable time?”
Snarling, Colin shook his head with a weary sigh. He’d be a fool to travel alone, but he didn’t wish to have others privy to her no doubt strongly voiced reasons for leaving.
He singled out a select few to accompany him then mounted his horse, praying she was safe. Praying she hadn’t fled because she knew of his heart’s greatest desire and wanted no part of it or him.
****
Tuck had gone from a somewhat unsteady walk to practically dragging her butt along the ground. Maighread’s poison had done one hell of a number on her.
“If I ever get my hands on you,” she snarled, propping her shoulder against a tree.
Thoroughly exhausted from the effort it took just to speak, she slowly sank to the ground. Hating to admit it, she wished she’d waited a couple of days before heading out. But knowing that Aileen was fast on the mend meant the wedding wasn’t far off.
The thought of watching Colin marry sweet, perfect, petite Aileen made her stomach churn. He probably wouldn’t have appreciated her tossing up her cookies in the middle of the ceremony. A chuckle started low in her chest, bubbling up her throat and out into the chilly morning air. What a sight that would’ve been.
In a low formal voice, she said, “And does anyone here object to this union?”
“Raaalph,” she drawled, ending with a snort. Colin would’ve thrown her in the loch for sure.
A blade appeared beneath her chin, stifling her laughter and tensing every muscle in her body.
“’Tis a fine morn for jests, but I’m thinkin’ ‘tis not so fine a day fer ye.”
She didn’t recognize the gruff voice, which instantly made him an enemy, and her the town idiot. How could she let herself get caught off guard so easily?
Damn Maighread and her witch’s brew .
Her mind raced over the situation and how to best handle things, but as weak as she was, her options were extremely limited.
He jerked her to her feet and she swayed with the sudden movement. Her left breast, although hidden well beneath her down vest, pressed against his beefy hand where he gripped her arm.
His eyes widened and he snatched off her cap. “A woman, and a big one, eh, lads?”
A few guffaws echoed around her, and she realized for the first time this cretin wasn’t alone. She cursed Maighread for the hundredth time.
He leaned closer as an evil grin split his lips. “I ne’er been fond of redheads, but then I isna tae particular.”
Pooling her strength, she said, “Sorry to hear that, because I am.” She cleanly knocked his knife from his hand and broke away from his grip with a solid blow to his jaw. In her weakened state, however, she was no match for three men and quickly found herself tied and gagged.
The one who’d held the knife wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I aught tae slice ye open here and now, but I’ve a use fer ye.”
She had a pretty clear idea of what that was, but held in her grimace. Somehow, she had to get herself out of this mess. A mess her stupid heart had gotten her into. She should’ve never let that stubborn, exasperating, overbearing—she sighed—wonderful Highlander get to her. If she’d been thinking with her head instead of her heart, she wouldn’t have taken off before regaining her strength.
If she’d just listened to MacLean for once and stayed in bed where she belonged, she wouldn’t be dangling over some goon’s shoulder, with a filthy rag in her mouth, and a serious case of dry heaves.
Of course when MacLean bellowed like an old bear, as he usually did when imparting his so-called wisdom, she patently ignored his views on what women should and should not do.
But this time, the man had been right, damn him.
****
Locating her trail had been frighteningly easy. It wasn’t like her, but then she was far from well. She refused to admit her lingering weakness from Maighread’s treachery, but Colin knew she’d not fully recovered.
“Her tracks end here, lad,” William said, his voice heavy with concern as he lifted something from the ground.
Colin slid from his horse and instantly realized what had twisted William’s wrinkled brow into a mass of deep crags. It was Amelia’s woven bonnet.
He gently took the cap, holding back the urge to press it to his face as he cried out in anguish. The ground revealed signs of a skirmish, three, maybe four men against one woman.
And Amelia had lost.
The only thing keeping him from falling to his knees with the intense pain squeezing his chest was the absence of blood. She was alive, or was when they’d taken her.
His fingers gripped her bonnet more tightly. Lifting his head, he looked in the direction her abductors had gone. “We go that way.”
He vaulted back upon his mount, turning his pain inward. But when he found the men who dared harm his beloved, they would know more agony than they’d ever dreamed possible.
Ian and his small guard silently followed. A mere hour later, they came upon the band’s camp. Hiding their horses some distance away, they stealthily moved closer on foot, well hidden by the dense brush.
Colin spied Amelia gagged and tied to a tree at the far edge of the clearing. He cast a quick prayer of thanks to the heavens that she was still alive, but her captors would not be for long. Pulling his claymore free, he prepared to rush into their circle and swiftly remove their heads.
A strong hand clamped over his arm.
He snapped his head to the side to see which of his party was fool enough to interfere.
Ian motioned silently toward the wood across from the clearing. Another group of men were closing in on the camp, well in sight of the others. Obviously they were in league with the ones who’d taken Amelia, leaving Colin and his guard outnumbered three to one.
Clenching his teeth hard enough to make his jaw pop, he sheathed his sword. He had to use his head and not let his fury destroy the one person he loved above all others.
The newcomers spread out, posting guards as the one in charge greeted his counterpart in the clearing. He couldn’t hear what was said, but could see clearly that he was not pleased.
The newcomer waved toward Amelia repeatedly, his face red with rage. He pulled his dirk and shoved the other aside and moved toward her.
“See to the others,” Colin hissed as he made his way quickly toward the clearing. He didn’t dare risk waiting to see if his intentions were to cut her free or take her life.
“A fine morn,” Colin called as he entered their small circle. As expected the man stopped his advance on Amelia and turned.
It took all his strength not to look at her, to show the slightest flicker of recognition. He was still too far away to put himself between her and a well-honed dagger.
Rolling her eyes, Tuck groaned behind her gag. Had he lost his mind? Not only was he outnumbered, he didn’t even have his claymore drawn.
“Who be ye?” the one who’d grabbed her asked.
The man bearing down on her with the knife, spat out, “Ye dobber, ‘tis Colin MacLean.”
“Aye, that I am, but I dinnae know your name,” Colin replied coolly.
She could see the anger lighting his lion eyes, sensed the intense fury he struggled to contain. Some of which, she surmised was for her, due to her latest blatant refusal to do as he’d ordered.
Okay, so she’d screwed up. She admitted it. But did he have to waltz into enemy territory as if he hadn’t a care in the world? Didn’t the man have a brain in his hard head?
The one with the knife edged toward Colin, a sinister grin on his craggy face. “Ye know who I be, MacLean. But you’ll not be tellin’ another soul.”
Colin laughed. The big dumb ox actually laughed at the man who matched him in size and was already armed.
“Aye,” Colin said, still chortling. “You be a Campbell. ‘Tis a shame you Campbells have tae resort tae kidnapping our women. It doesna take much of a man tae prey on the weak. Then your visage isna a pretty one. Mayhap ‘tis the only way for you tae get yourself a lass.”
His grin broadened as he casually folded his arms across his chest. “Aye, an uglier Campbell I’ve yet tae meet, but I would think you’d find lassies well enough on your own shores. We’ve few beauties tae pick from here as ‘tis.”
What the hell was he—Tuck blinked, then blinked again. He was stalling. She carefully shifted her gaze to the far woods from where he’d appeared. If he had guardsmen with him, they were hiding themselves well.
She sucked in a calming breath, doing her best to ignore the stench from the rag in her mouth. She had to trust him. She did trust him. The man she knew, the man she loved wouldn’t willingly put himself in a losing situation. He would save her life, of that she had no doubt. Then he’d probably lock her up for the next hundred or so years, but she couldn’t blame it for that.
The goons grew weary of his continued babbling and sprang for him, while the one he’d called a Campbell stood by and watched. She winced as Colin took several well-placed blows, but smiled, as best she could under the circumstances, as he laid them out one by one.
Until the one with the knife decided to join in, that is. She screamed through her rag, although ineffectually, but Colin must have heard and spun around to face his new adversary.
She sucked in a disgusting breath as the swipe of the knife missed his throat by mere inches. God, she couldn’t live with herself if he died because of her stupidity.
As they continued kicking up the dirt, Campbell lashed out with his blade and caught him across the upper arm. Blood oozed through the slice in Colin’s shirt, but he paid it little attention.
The ropes cut deeper into Tuck’s wrists as she struggled to free herself, determined to help him. She couldn’t just sit there and watch. She twisted and squirmed, but it was no use. Stars popped in and out of her line of vision with the strain and she fell still, trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t faint, not now.
“’Twould be a great pleasure tae kill you,” Colin growled. He’d managed to get a solid grip around Campbell’s neck and was close to choking him to death.
She took a quick breath of relief that he’d won against this cretin, but what about the other Campbells?
Ian and William strolled into the clearing as big as you please and took a moment to watch the fight.
“Dinnae kill the bastard, lad. He may be of use,” William called.
Ian chuckled and crossed to Tuck. Kneeling beside her, he sliced her bonds and removed her gag. She spat and swiped the back of her hand across her lips. It would take a long time to get that horrid taste out of her mouth.
“What took you so long?” she snapped. “He could’ve been killed waiting on you to show up.”
Ian chuckled softly. “Now, dear heart, we had to take care of the others first. Can I help it if the man refused to wait? He was determined to reach you before anything untoward could happen. ‘Twas difficult enough talking him into letting us accompany him.” He gently clasped her shoulder. “He was afraid, as we all were, for your safety, Amelia.”
She opened her mouth then snapped it closed, completely lost as to what to say. Colin had saved her from a wild boar, offered her a place to stay, tended her when she was sick, and came after her when she pulled one of the biggest blunders of her life. But he’d scared her half to death!
Furious, she got to her feet then quickly gripped the small tree before toppling back to the ground. Swallowing hard against the sudden wave of dizziness, she turned and stomped up to Colin as best she could. Although she would much rather act like one of those ridiculous females and throw herself into his arms. But instead, she resorted to poking him in the chest.
“Have you lost your mind? Do you have a death wish or something? You couldn’t wait a few more minutes?”
Hearing her barbs, knowing she was alive and well, the vise around Colin’s chest eased. He ached to hold her, to tell her of his heart, but the daft female wouldn’t let him get a word in.
“You had to risk your stubborn fool neck against four armed men,” she continued, struggling to tear the lower half of his sleeve.
He ripped the cloth away, noting her pale face, but grinned as he caught sight of the emerald flames sparking in her eyes. She had a glorious temper.
Quickly wrapping the piece of cloth around his wound, she tied it off firmly. “What if your guard hadn’t won? What then? We’d both be dead, you big dummy.”
His smile quickly waned. She’d nearly lost her life with her foolishness, but had she fled because of him? Would she reject him once he laid his heart bare to her?
The tightness returned to his chest tenfold, spurring his anger. “I dinnae see what you’re harping about. You’re safe, are you not? And what in bleedin’ hell were you thinking? You shouldna be out of your sick bed, you daft female.”
Dropping her hands, she swayed yet managed to glare at him. “I don’t need an overgrown nursemaid.”
He leaned closer, his fury matching hers. “Nay, you need a keeper.”
Her eyes rolling, she said, “Once—an ogre, always—an ogre.” She fell against him in a dead faint.
“Blast you, lass. You’ll be the end of me yet,” he muttered against her curls as he lifted her into his arms.
His horse appeared by his side, a worried frown marring young Michael’s features where he stood holding the reins.
“She’s weak, lad. But I’ve no doubt she’ll be fine.” He knew he
spoke the truth. Her fire, her courage, her infernal stubbornness would see her through the remnants of Maighread’s poison.
Nudging his horse onward, Colin relished the feel of her in his arms. Every breath she took, deep and steady, every beat of her heart, strong and sure. Aye, his love would recover, but would he, if once she was well and truly healed she still wished to leave him?
Chapter Twenty-one
Tuck awoke to the sounds of a busy day below in the bailey coming through her open window. The soft feather mattress cradled her in a comfortable embrace, and she hesitated before opening her eyes. She simply felt too relaxed and didn’t want to lose the rare feeling.
Well, the dreams she’d had weren’t bad either. She’d latched on to the foggy but wonderful memories of being held in Colin’s arms on their journey back to Castle Arreyder, keeping away any nightmares of her recent ordeal. The dinner Elspeth had fed her with a fussing Fiona by her side the evening before had done wonders as well. She felt almost like her old self.
Giving way to her need to rise, she stretched like a contented cat. She paused at the sight of her wrists wrapped in cloth. Well, maybe not completely her old self, but close enough. All she needed now was a good breakfast and some fresh air.
She chuckled softly at the noonday sun. Perhaps a good lunch instead. No wonder she felt so rested and hungry. She’d slept for nearly eighteen hours.
Elspeth bustled in, fussing and fuming at her as she climbed from the bed and dressed.
“After what happened tae you yestreen, you’ve no business getting out of bed.”
“I know you mean well, Elspeth, but I can’t just lie around. I’m fine, really. I know what I did was wrong. I should’ve at least waited for…” she sniffed the air and grinned, “…some of your delicious potato bannocks. Not to mention your wedding. Congratulations, Elspeth. I’m happy for you. Tomorrow’s the big day, I hear.”
“Dinnae you be trying tae change the subject. You’re not well.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I promise to take it easy.” In her own way, of course. She took Elspeth by the shoulders and guided her toward the door. “Now don’t you have some wedding preparations to take care of?”