by Tarah Scott
Returning to the group of men, she spotted Ian standing near his horse, waiting for her. She made her way toward him.
“Tis much better!” he said, smiling down at her.
Ian hoisted Keira up onto the horse and jumped on the saddle behind her. Cradling her between his thighs, he lightly placed one hand over her stomach and the other on the reins. The close contact made her shift on the saddle but as she tried to move away from him, it only caused him to hold her closer.
As Ian snapped the reins, the horse jolted, causing Keira to wrap her arm over his to prevent herself from falling. Pressing her back against his front had felt too comfortable. She fit perfectly against him and found that she liked the way his arm wrapped around her waist. Keira relaxed her shoulders and leaned against him. Her skin tingled at the feel of his breath on the back of her neck. It caused her stomach to tense and other strange feelings inside her to awaken. Though it was not meant to be a romantic gesture, it was by far the most intimate sensation she had ever felt.
Never had Keira seen such beautiful, picturesque landscape than God’s creation unveiled before her that morning. The early morning sun cast hues of gold on the peaks of the mountains and deep within the valley, fog seeped through the trees like a blanket of white smoke. Lush green trees and shrubs dotted the hills and wild alpine flowers were in full bloom, adding a delightful mixture of color. Thick purple heather swayed harmoniously in the light breeze across the fields and small white sheep could be seen grazing in the distance.
The land surrounding Castle Sinclair could not hold a candle to the beauty before her. Unlike the green rolling hills of the Highlands, Castle Sinclair was settled on rocky flatland on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was built on top of bedrock and sandy soil, making it hard for crops to grow in abundance. Although the estate was along the shore of the North Sea, the ocean was the only beauty that part of the Highlands offered.
As the sun rose in the sky, Keira was grateful the sun-kissed clouds showed promise for a warm and dry day. This time of year sporadic downpours were common and she prayed the rain would stay away just long enough for them to reach their destination. Once they arrived and they returned her to her family, she wouldn’t care if it rained every day for a year.
For what seemed like hours, they rode across the land heading in a southeastern direction. Keira’s toes and legs felt numb from staying atop the horse for as long as she had. She thought to question Ian whether they would break soon, but she dared not anger him. He had kept quiet throughout most of the ride causing her to wonder what he was thinking.
As time passed, boredom set in and her eyes began to feel heavy and started to close. Fighting to stay awake was a losing battle. Her eyes were drifting shut, taking longer and longer to open each time. Within moments, Keira fell fast asleep.
~*~
Ian glanced down at the lass slumped in his arms. With her head turned to one side, resting on his chest, he could see every feature on her face from her small nose to her pink lips. Raising his hand, he gently grazed the side of her cheek; moving his thumb as lightly as a whisper against her soft skin. She felt as soft as a rose petal. Had things been different, he would not have hesitated to make an advance or make his intentions known, but he was not the same man he once was. He could not offer her protection nor could he truly give her his heart. He could never be a husband again, or a father. He had given up that life a long time ago.
Ian’s loyalty to Scotland was his life. And with all the blood he’d spilled, he was a damned to hell. His only salvation was to serve the crown in hopes of redeeming himself for his sins.
Keira stirred in her sleep. Pressing her back against him, she turned slightly and gripped the fabric of his shirt. Her other hand rested firmly on the top of his thigh. At the moment of contact, an explosion of unnerving sensations shot to his groin. With her buttock firmly pressed up against him, Ian felt his pulse quicken. He willed away his wandering thoughts and physical sensations but as she clung to him, his animal instincts growled within him.
Ian craned his neck, trying to avoid the lass who lay asleep in his arms, but he was failing miserably and his groin reminded him of that fact each time her bottom lifted and settled back down on his lap from the motion of the horse under them.
As if the heavens were answering his prayers, a drop of rain fell from the sky, landing on his cheek. Looking up at the darkened, cloudy sky, he realized he had missed the approaching storm, too distracted by the bonny lass. Another drop fell and then another, and before he knew it, the rain fell steadily. Thank God; he could use the distraction!
~*~
Keira awoke when she felt the tapping sensation of cold water on her cheeks. She quickly bolted upright, straightening her back. All manner of embarrassment came pouring into her mind when she found herself snuggled up against Ian like a wanton whore. She couldn’t imagine what he must think of her, nor did she want to know. In the future, she would have to do whatever it took to prevent herself from falling asleep, no matter how tired she was.
Looking up at the sky, she realized that the clouds had turned grey and covered the sky like a thick blanket.
“I had no’ expected it to rain. ‘Twas so beautiful earlier,” she said, making an attempt to dry her face.
“Aye. That’s the one thing about the Highlands lass. Ye can experience all four seasons in just a matter of a day,” he replied, wrapping a cloak around them both.
Keira gratefully took the cloak and wrapped it over her shoulders, but kept her distance from Ian. She would have protested, but if her choices were between having to travel the rest of the way in drenched clothing or being protected from the rain, she’d gladly choose the latter.
As the rain fell with intensity, the horses slowed their pace. Their hooves began to sink into the sodden ground. The rain hammered down on them like small ice pellets. Keira could feel Ian grip her tighter against him as she started to shiver from the cold. Thankful for the warmth of his chest, she didn’t mind in the least.
“Are ye alright, my lady?”
“Nay, I am no’ alright but little does that matter! Will we be finding shelter soon?” she asked as rain dripped off the ends of her hair.
“If we come across shelter we will stop. Until then, the plaid will have to do.”
They rode for another half hour until they came to a rocky hill with an overhang from a cliff. Ian slowed his horse and called to the others what they had found.
“Is that a shallow cave?” Keira asked.
“Nay! The earth gave way after a heavy rain and created that cavity. ‘Tis no’ what I’d choose for shelter under normal circumstances, but it’s better than riding any further in this pissing rain!”
Ian dismounted before helping Keira down. With her legs sore from riding, she almost lost her balance, and grabbed onto Ian’s forearm for support. It amazed her how strong his arm felt under her fingers, as hard as a rock. His skin was much smoother than she had imagined it would be for a beast like him. He placed a hand on the small curve of her back and gazed down at her. For a brief moment, the atmosphere between them changed, and the air seemed to lighten. She couldn’t decide if it was because of him, or the storm.
Looking up at him, his eyes were the perfect shade of blue, like two perfectly carved sapphires. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. His lips were full and thick like small pillows and she felt the strange desire for him to kiss her. Suddenly as if his arm had become too hot to touch, she released her hand from it. She stepped away, wringing her hands.
She was getting dangerously close to her captor. She should hate him, fear him, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel that way. Not anymore. Though still apprehensive, she was beginning to trust him.
Keira followed Ian, out of the rain, to the earthen shelter. The muscles in her thighs ached as she walked. Stretching them out, she seemed to be the only one affected by the long travel. Her eyes followed the other two men who seemed to ignore her. Both Rylan and Leland stay
ed by their horses, digging in their packs.
Digging in his pack, Leland pulled out a small knife from his bag. Swinging the blade at his side, he looked at her and wickedly grinned. She didn’t know what to make of his actions, but Rylan had already voiced his opinion of her, and his dissatisfaction that Ian had decided to keep her with them. Rylan was a man she would keep her distance from as much as possible. Keira swallowed hard when he looked at her, and she took a step closer to Ian. She had learned to trust him but as for the other two, trust would need to be earned. There was no saying what they would do to her if Ian weren’t there to protect her.
“Ian, we need to find food. I’m hungrier than a wolf,” Leland announced, not lifting his eyes from Keira.
“Aye. I will join ye,” Ian replied. Turning around, he faced Keira. “I need fer ye to stay put. Ye will be safe here.”
“Yer leaving?” she nervously asked.
“Aye, but I will no’ be gone long. Promise me ye will stay!”
Keira nodded her head. After strapping his sword to his side, Ian pulled out a small dagger from his bag and slipped it inside a sheath that hung off his belt and grabbed the reins of the horse, leading the animal into the woods. Keira watched all three men quietly walk deeper into the woods until the trees seemed to close behind them.
Looking around the surrounding area, Keira took notice of the moss-covered rocks embedded into the hard sandstone. The arch of the overhang, and the way the earth had been naturally carved out beneath it reminded her of a magic doorway. It was like the ones she described in the stories she read to her youngest sister, Abby. Only five summers, Abby loved when Keira told her tales of fairies and mystical creatures. Now she had new stories to tell; ones about giant warriors, thieves, bandits and damsels in distress.
Though this was far from what she would call an adventure, the past two days had been the most extraordinary, yet scary, she had ever experienced.
Chapter 8
Ian watched as the leaves on the bush began to rustle. Stealthily, he drew his dagger out of its sheath, firmly gripping the handle. Like a hawk, he watched his prey. Through the leaves, he could see the fine grey fur on its face as it hid in the branches. Only a twitch of its nose, and a twitch of its ears gave away its location as Ian took a step closer. The small animal buried its back paws into the earth, hunched down readying itself to flee. Now was Ian’s chance.
Like a bird of prey, he swooped down, capturing the frightened hare, which began wriggling violently in Ian’s hands. Ian took his dagger and swiftly ended the poor creature’s life.
One rabbit did not offer much meat but would at least make a small meal for the four of them. He only hoped Leland and Rylan had been more successful. He had sent Rylan on a mission to find a nearby creek or stream to fill their sporrans with water, and sent Leland out to gather more food. Between the three of them they should be able to gather enough game for the rest of the evening and the next morning.
As the blood drained from the hare, Ian wrapped a leather strap around its hind legs and strung it to his horse’s saddle strap.
Clouds waltzed across the sky, chasing the storm away. The rain lightened to just a few sprinkles before stopping completely. Opening his leather satchel, Ian pulled out a fresh, clean tunic and trews. He disrobed and donned the dry clothing, then using his plaid; he wiped the raindrops from his saddle. Placing his wet garb over the back of the horse to dry, he mounted and made his way back to where he left Keira near the cliff, believing Rylan and Leland were not too far behind.
~*~
Keira sat on a rock and waited, resting her head on her hands. The rain had stopped and there was still no sign of Ian and his men. Her stomach ached with hunger, whenever she thought of the food Ian was gathering. She wished there was something she could do to help. She hated being waited on, and she did not want them to feel that they needed to care for her as if she were a child.
Scanning the forest, she spotted several moss-covered oaks trees. At their base, an abundance of wild mushrooms were sticking out of the ground. Unraveling the plaid she held around her shoulders, she stood and headed over to where she saw the mushrooms. These would make a lovely meal, she thought.
One by one, Keira picked a handful of the fungi. As she walked around the trunks of the trees, she spotted several other herbs such as parsley, thyme and wild ramson. Though the smell of the ramson was a bit potent, its onion-garlic taste was quite pleasing when served in a stew.
Celia, the healer at Castle Sinclair, had taught Keira many great things. One of those, of course, was how to identify different herbs and the purpose of each. Her cooking skills, however, she’d learned from Brenna, the castle cook.
Holding the skirt of her dress to form a sort of bowl, she placed her findings into its fold. There was a small part of her that hoped Ian and his men would be pleased. She no longer wanted them to view her as a burden. Leland and Rylan were obviously of that opinion, anyway. Ian was different. He was patient and at least showed her a small measure of kindness.
Once her skirt was full, Keira started to head back to the shelter, when she heard footsteps behind her. Relief that Ian was returning eased her tension and melted away her fear and worry, but as Keira turned it was not Ian who stood in front of her.
Keira swallowed. Dressed in a black tunic, blue and green tartan and a broad sword strapped to his side, the man was definitely not one of Ian’s men. It was his colors that gave him away. He was a Munro. She would have recognized that plaid anywhere. It was one of the few clan colors she was remotely familiar with. She hadn’t even realized they were on Munro land.
The Munros and Sinclairs were allies. This knowledge brought relief. She could ask him to take her to her father and she could escape Ian and his men.
“Ye startled me,” she said, dumping the contents from her skirt into a pile onto the ground. “Thank God ye arrived when ye did. I am Lady Keira Sinclair, daughter of Laird Magnus Sinclair. I have been held against my will and I wish to leave this place at once.”
The Munro warrior narrowed his eyes as he scanned the trees looking for her assailants. But he stood and said nothing. Surely, he would want to make haste.
“I dinna think ye understand. My captors will return soon. Tis best we leave at once! My father is a good friend of yer Laird. I am certain ye will be compensated for my rescue.”
The man turned toward her, one brow raised at the mention of a reward. Puzzled by his silence, Keira felt uneasy and his reaction made her wary of him. Had she said too much? Was he going to help her? Her gazed locked on his.
Licking his dry, parched lips, his eyes lowered, and he looked at her intensely as if he was trying to take her all in. His gaze made her uncomfortable. It took only moments for alarms to go off in her head like church bells. Cold sweat caused a chill down her spine, and hairs stood straight up from the goosebumps on her arms. Keira took an apprehensive step back causing him to mimic her movement, but he took a step toward her, maintaining the distance between them.
“I dinna think we will be going anywhere, lassie,” he said, a taunt in his deep voice.
With sly movements, he unsheathed his sword, laid it upon the ground and began unlatching his belt from around his waist. The moment it dropped to the ground, Keira pivoted and ran in a sprint, but it wasn’t fast enough. She felt a tight squeeze on her arm as the man grabbed her, tossing her to the ground. Keira screamed out for help but was rendered helpless as he climbed on top of her and covered her mouth with his hand. With his other hand, he lifted her skirt and began unlacing his trews.
Keira fought underneath him like a cat that’d been thrown into a watering trough, as he pressed his hard shaft against her thigh. Bile rose in her throat. Continuing to wrestle, she fought with every bit of strength she could muster.
“Get off her,” Ian roared, his voice resonating around her.
Ian lunged. The two men rolled on the ground, fists swinging. Kicking Ian hard in the gut, the Munro warrior regained his
balance, stood and ran for his sword. Ian pulled himself to his knees. Unsheathing his own sword, he raised to his feet. His blade collided with his opponent’s as they swung their weapons, each man grunting at the force of the impact. Raising his sword up high, Ian’s blade sliced through the air making contact with the man’s right arm, disarming him. Hitting what Ian felt must have been bone; he pulled the blade back toward him, opening a deep gash in the man’s flesh. Blood seeped through the Munro’s linen shirt until his sleeve was soaked in bright red blood. But the wound Ian inflicted was not meant to kill him; only render the other man useless.
From a distance, Keira had seen her clansmen battle while on the training fields, but it was nothing compared to watching a real battle play out before her eyes. The anger, the blood, and the murderous atmosphere stimulated every nerve in her body, making her tremble. Panic began to set in. Ian was going to kill him, she was certain of it. She had never seen death before. Not even when her own mother died.
Her eyes were fixed on Ian. He was a born swordsman, and must have spent countless hours honing his skill. He held his claymore above his head with ease as if it weighed no more than a feather. Keira found herself concerned for his welfare, though she knew he was capable. Ian, she imagined, could take on an army, much less just one Munro warrior. But still, the thought of Ian getting hurt caused her chest to tighten and heart to ache.
~*~
The moment Ian saw the man assaulting Keira, fury raced through him like a bolt of lightning. As they fought, Ian gripped his sword tighter, ready to end this man’s life. The warrior lifted his left hand and instinctively covered the wound Ian had inflicted. His reaction gave Ian an open strike. With full force, Ian rammed his sword into the man’s shoulder. He howled in pain. To Ian it was the satisfying shriek of victory.