Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

  They were not yet out of danger. He couldn’t even be sure they would be safe on the mainland. The Norse boats were surely quicker than their small vessel and more heavily manned. Once they realised the lady of the keep was gone, they might look for her.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. How exactly had he become embroiled in all this? Oh, aye, his wee sister of course. A lady he could never deny. Under pressure from her brother by marriage to gather men and rescue his betrothed, she had asked for his aid. Ach, but Laird Gillean would never risk his own life for a lass, Finn thought bitterly. Originally the laird had planned to fetch Lady Katelyn off the isle himself but when it became apparent the Norse invasion was imminent, he was conveniently called away on business, leaving Lorna with few men to carry out such a duty. But how could a brother ignore the imploring missive of a sister?

  He swivelled to glance over their precious bundle. The lass cowered and looked at him as if he were some strange creature. It was to be expected. No doubt her mind was somewhat addled after her experience. She clearly had no knowledge of warfare and no woman should have to go through near ravishment. Finn curled his fist at the memory of seeing that rancid excuse for a warrior mounting her. Ach, but at least he had the satisfaction of having drawn the man’s blood. Never again would he touch any of the fine Scottish lassies.

  About to turn and take his seat, a movement caught his eye. He lunged forward as Katelyn stood and took a step over the side of the boat. They were still practically on the shore so she landed in the soft sand with ease, just out of Finn’s reach, water lapping at her thighs.

  Calling her name, he leaned over the edge and cursed as the vessel rocked. The foolish lass was going to get them wet and not all the men were able to swim. Regardless of the depth, if there was a strong tide they’d be pulled out to sea. She darted a fearful glance at him and gripped her skirts. He saw the desire to run but why?

  He readied himself to leap over but a sharp wave caught the boat, tossing him into the hull. Grumbling, he came to his feet once more only to see Lady Katelyn had vanished. He looked to the other men in the boat but they were still readying their oars and getting set for their journey.

  “Curse ye, ye fools. The lady has gone overboard!”

  The men swivelled, shouts of dismay falling from their lips and Finn shook his head. Shrugging out of his furs, he leaped nimbly over the side. The water bit at his feet through his leather boots and sloshed wildly around his legs. The push and pull of the waves tugged at him as they lapped at the island. With her heavy skirts, it was no wonder she had gone under.

  He swung his gaze around, grateful the night had not yet swallowed them. A flash of green a few feet in front of him caught his eye. Hair swirling about her, gown waving like seaweed in the wash, she floated on the surface—knocked senseless.

  “Damnation!”

  With several strong strides, he caught up with her. The tide drew her away but it was not strong enough to defeat him. The sea now up to his hips, he dragged Katelyn into his arms. By God, her gown weighed her down. Even for a man of his strength, he felt as though he were carrying a heavy sack of grain rather than a sylph of a woman.

  Wading to the boat, he hefted her out of the water and passed her to Logan. The man shook his head. “Sorry, Finn. We were concentrating on not getting tossed about in the wash. ‘Tisnae easy holding such a small vessel steady.”

  “Aye, have no fear. ‘Twas my fault. The lass has clearly had a shock and I should have been watching her more closely.”

  Logan laid her in the bow while Finn clambered in. He knelt by the lass and glanced up at Logan.

  “She must have taken a hit to the head.”

  “Aye, likely against the boat. Must have hit hard to render her senseless.”

  Finn nodded. “Let us get on our way. We can do no good for her here.”

  “Aye,” Logan agreed and backed away to help row the boat from the shoreline.

  Leaning over her, Finn studied the gash on her forehead with a grimace. Poor lass. She’d have a mighty fine headache when she awoke. The steady rise and fall of her breasts against the soaked green wool assured him no permanent damage had been done.

  “Ye’ll have to get her out of those wet garments,” Logan called out behind him.

  Finn clenched his teeth. “Aye, thank ye, Logan. I’m aware o’ that.”

  He ran his gaze over her. Damn his luck. He’d undressed many a fine woman but none had ever been out cold and an unwilling partner. No doubt the lady would be deeply ashamed he’d done as much. But he could hardly leave her to die from exposure. If anything, his sister would have his head.

  Fingers tentatively prying at the front of her bodice, he forced his gaze onto the wood just behind her head. But the wet fabric proved too hard to tug apart so he pressed his hands to her back and lifted her lifeless form. Icy skin and sumptuous curves flattened briefly to his chest as he fumbled with the ties at the back of her gown. By God, when had he ever blundered like a whelp when undressing a woman? But he had to admit, though he’d had little time to admire her and the swelling on her face did not reveal her features properly, the flash of creamy skin was tempting enough. In other circumstances—and had she been anyone other than a lady in distress—he’d have enjoyed such a sight.

  He had her face pressed into his neck as he pulled her gown from her. Soft skin under his fingertips forced his breath to stilt. Only the grunts of men rowing reminded him he was meant to be helping the lass and not enjoying the moment.

  Katelyn’s chemise and gown came away in one go and he peered behind him, narrowing his eyes at the men. “Keep yer eyes away,” he warned, “or I’ll be having yer heads.”

  A rumble of chuckles rippled from them but they kept their gazes ahead while he pried the garments from her shoulders. He laid her down, fumbling for his fur to cover her. Unfortunately he failed to keep his gaze from straying briefly to her curves, so pale and lush in the dimming light. Finn thrust the furs over her as his body tightened. Working beneath the pelt, he hauled her gown down her stomach and hips. It should have made it easier—he didn’t have to resist temptation to stare at her—but it made him all the more aware of her shapely hips and delicate thighs. Gaze lifted to the heavens, he gritted his teeth, tugged the gown the rest of the way off and slung it aside.

  He eyed her for a moment, breath held in his chest as he studied the dark hair as black as night splayed across the wood. Milky skin contrasted with the brown of the pelt. A more tempting sight he had never seen. And there was something familiar about her. Something that tugged at his gut. He’d never met Lady Katelyn and yet her fragrance and slightly husky voice, and mayhap even her body played in his mind, as though she were an old lover.

  Rolling his eyes at himself, Finn tucked the fur around her. It had simply been too long since he’d had a satisfying tumble. From the time when his dream lass had begun to plague him, no other woman had been able to match her. Mayhap that was what struck him as familiar about this lass. Though the woman in his dreams always appeared hazy, he knew she had hair like a raven.

  Ach, he needed to turn his thoughts away from tumbling lassies and concentrate on the task at hand—ensuring they made it safely to his sister’s keep. He sank heavily onto a seat and dragged off his boots, grunting with dissatisfaction as he tipped the water out of them. He drew off his trews, grateful to be rid of the clinging wet fabric and motioned for Logan to hand him his plaid and the rest of his garments. He changed while they started away from the coast. His heart still beat rapidly, aware the enemy might be upon them soon. Or was it from the memory of her skin beneath his fingers? They still tingled.

  A shuffle and a tiny moan drew his attention. She clutched the pelt around her and fought to sit. “Pray, dinnae harm me. I will do whatever ye wish.”

  Finn stood sharply, prepared for her to fall into a swoon once more. He propped his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow. Ach, but the lass was more confused than he’d realised. He’d been abrupt with
her to be sure, but surely she understood he was here to help. Finn peered at his precious cargo and noted the woman’s shuddering. Curses, where were his manners? The actions of the Viking—and himself—had no doubt terrified the woman. Fiery bloodlust that had pushed him to run her attacker through now simmered to a gentle burn and remorse struck him.

  “I’ve no intention of harming ye.” Tension made the statement come out sharper than he’d planned but he’d not expected to have to disguise himself and rescue her mid-siege. When he’d agreed to rescue the lady from the Isle of Bute, he’d intended to reach her before the Norse invaders arrived.

  Unfortunately inclement weather and strong winds had brought the attackers across the sea sooner than they’d anticipated. Still, once they made it to his sister’s castle all would be well. As long as they survived the journey to the mainland and to Kilcree, he could consider this a successful rescue.

  The spatter of the sea tickled his face and he glanced at the steadily disappearing shoreline. The journey to the mainland was a short one but these seas were unpredictable and they were losing light. If they were unlucky, they could be dashed upon the rocks as they came to shore or tossed from their boat.

  Gingerly, he stepped forward. She yelped and tucked herself up into as tiny a shape as possible. Finn shook his head to himself. The poor lass. He crouched beside her. The swelling on her face disguised her features but her long dark hair spilled around her shoulders, like raven’s wings. A pang of something struck him sharp in the gut. Mayhap it was anger at her treatment, mayhap it was something else. He refused to dwell on it.

  Shuffling closer, Finn inched his fingers under hers and brought her hand to his lips. He smirked. Too late to be playing the gentleman but he would try. Her tiny gasp as he brushed his lips over her cold, slender fingers did something to his chest. It felt as if someone danced a merry jig over his heart. He wanted to hear the sound again. But when he moved nearer still, her eyes widened and she released a long breath as her body fell limp. He barely caught her as she swooned sideways. With a muttered curse, he laid her back down and tucked her in once more.

  Finn stared at the woman, retreated and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Christ, her ordeal had taken its toll more than he realised. He glanced at Logan, who rowed just behind him, and Logan shrugged. This was unchartered territory for them.

  Finn eased himself to his feet and brushed his hands down his plaid. Just went to show how much he knew about lasses.

  “How goes it?” Logan asked.

  Finn turned to the dark-haired man—and his sister’s most trusted aide. “She is fatigued mostly I think. We should allow her to rest now. We still have many miles to cross.”

  “This was a fool’s errand, Finn. Yer lucky ye werenae spotted and killed.”

  “Ach, I’ve been told time and again I could pass for a Norseman. ‘Twas time to put such looks to use.”

  “Aye, but going in on yer own... Yer sister would have had my head had ye come to harm.” Logan pulled a strong stroke, as if expelling his anger over such a thought.

  “Alas none of ye have the looks of anyone but a highlander. And all is well.” He slapped a hand to Logan’s shoulder.

  “’Twas a near thing, Finn, and ye know it.”

  “Dinnae dwell on what could have happened, Logan. We have done well here this night.” Finn let slip a smile. Since the death of Lorna’s husband, Logan had practically taken on the role of laird, not that his sister acknowledged it. Yet he still worried for everyone under his care. Particularly Lorna.

  As did they all. His headstrong sister had determinedly continued to run the keep without a man at her side. Thankfully Lorna had the wit of any man and more backbone than most, and though her husband’s brother was not a man of much character, he would protect the keep in which she resided.

  Finn eyed their progress with satisfaction. The seas remained calm and no unusual weather looked to be headed in their direction. Now their only worry was the lack of light. The moon shone weakly down on them but would not provide enough light for a safe landing if they made it to the wrong part of the shore.

  Finn glanced at Katelyn and noted she shook in her slumber. From cold or fear? He hesitated before coming down beside her. Something about this woman made him uncertain of himself, something he had not felt for a long time. But he refused to see a lass suffer. Dropping fully to his knees, he shuffled closer and pressed a tentative finger to her forehead. She did not awaken and her skin froze his fingertips. He stifled the uncomfortable sensation deep in his chest and flexed a hand.

  Gaze averted, he moved close to Katelyn and flattened his palm against the rise of one breast. Though her skin still chilled his hand, a rising heat rushed through him. Underneath the silky skin lay the steady beat of her heart and he allowed his shoulders to relax. She needed rest, nothing more. After such an experience he should not be surprised but she’d shown such courage and determination in trying to escape him and her attacker, he had not thought she’d fall back into a swoon.

  Lining himself up with her, he scooted close until her fur wrapped legs were aligned with the crook of his thighs. When he peered up, he saw Logan raise an eyebrow but the man said nothing. Finn draped an arm over the pelt and settled against the uncomfortable wood of the boat.

  A mumble dropped from her lips and he lifted his head to see her eyelids flutter. She made no attempt to wriggle from his hold so he dropped his head and held her tight. Katelyn must have been very cold not to fight him on this. She’d already shown such determination. He couldn’t fight the grin of admiration spreading across his face. What a lass.

  “Forgive me, my lady, ye need body warmth.”

  She responded with a small sigh, one that had his gut twisting and his body responding to her once more. Ach, but he was in a precarious position. Let her freeze to death or risk frightening her further with his inappropriate behaviour.

  “All will be well, lass,” he soothed. Her body relaxed further into him and his grin expanded. “We’ll have ye to safety soon, never fear. Finn mac Chaluim willnae let any harm come to ye, I swear it.”

  The sound of gentle breaths somehow broke through the slosh of waves and creak of wood. He nodded with satisfaction. Aye, he must have assured her now. With luck, she’d be singing his praises to Lorna and the lassies always loved a hero.

  Chapter Two

  A strange squeak echoed through Catriona’s head. An ache pounded in her skull and each squeak made it worse. Why in God’s name was her bed making such a sound? She wriggled but found herself pinned, a substantial weight holding her down by her stomach. She grumbled and twisted again but to no avail. Then she became aware of a heavy puff across her neck. She stiffened.

  Male breaths.

  She wrenched open her eyes and the throb in her head increased. Dark damp wood surrounded her. A brown fur covered her body and... and a large arm encircled her waist. Breaths growing rapid, she fought the rising surge of panic and forced herself to consider her surroundings properly. The day had turned to night at some point and only slivers of moonlight seeped into the small boat. She could not view the men rowing without drawing attention to herself but she heard the odd low mutter between them and the splash of their oars.

  Whoever had her restrained was a large man. Was it the Viking who had taken her? His thighs pressed up against the back of hers and his head rested near her neck—intimately. Her chin wobbled as the haze in her mind cleared. Her clothing was gone. Only the pelt separated her naked body from the warrior. Had he undressed her? Or…or done something else to her? A sound of anguish scrabbled up her throat and she fastened a hand over her mouth.

  Catriona considered her body. Aside from the ache in her head and cheek from where the other man had hit her, she did not hurt anywhere else. It was unlikely he had ravished her. Something to be grateful for at least. But now what? She was naked, most likely in the middle of the ocean and trapped in the hold of a vicious warrior.
She’d seen the way he’d run that Norse invader through. If he would do that to his own people, what would he do to her?

  It was odd for even though she’d studied him momentarily, his eyes had reflected warmth, so very unlike that of the man who’d tried to rape her. No doubt that man would have killed her once he’d had his way. This man, however, had done nothing yet.

  Yet.

  Just because he had kind blue eyes and an oddly comforting way of holding her, did not mean he wasn’t as vicious as the rest of the Norsemen. Enough tales of their barbarity circulated the castle prior to their invasion. He probably didn’t want to ruin her so he could sell her off.

  Catriona chewed her lip and concentrated on the waves splashing the hull. Visions of the man against her, his clammy hands pawing her thighs kept threatening to invade her mind. The last thing she needed was her thoughts to be further muddled. And the thought that confused her most? Why did this man’s hands upon her—albeit with the furs as a barrier—not send revulsion through her?

  A shout brought her kidnapper to his feet and Catriona bunched the furs in one hand, tightening them around her. The boat rocked wildly as the waves swelled beneath them and surf spattered over the boat. Here the scent of salt and seaweed hung strong in the air. They were near the coast, but surely not Norway? She would have known had she been sleeping for that long.

  Scooting into a sitting position, she arranged the pelt around her bare legs and peered over the edge of the vessel. Sure enough a beach loomed. Moonlight picked out the hills above them, dusting their tips with silver streams. Catriona scowled and gripped the wood with her free hand. It was the mainland. She knew this place. They must have taken the shortest crossing from Bute to Scotland. But why kidnap her only to bring her to the mainland?