My Hunted Highlander

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  Wynda looked at Blair. “Rae and I discussed this. He wants to stay, for a while. He will watch this shop, while I cook over at my food cart. Is that okay?”

  Blair walked over to Wynda, and brushed her thumb over her tear-stained cheeks. “It was an accident?” When she nodded, Blair said, “I forgive you. Take care, and maybe I’ll see you two again.”

  Blair turned to the stranger. “Rae Wilson?”

  “Aye.”

  “Take care of her.”

  He nodded, and Blair returned to Dorcas’ side. Niall stepped close to the women, and hefted his longbow over one shoulder.

  “Let’s do this,” Blair said.

  Dorcas smiled, pointed to the open page, and began to chant.

  Let sunshine warm a traveler’s trail,

  sending him on faerie’s wings so pale,

  guide him home, so mote it be.

  Dorcas dropped the vials, and the apple and cinnamon-scented liquid splashed Blair’s boots. Niall slipped an arm around her waist, while Blair grabbed for Dorcas Swann’s cloak. A whooshing wind beat against Blair’s ears, and a brilliant light made her shut her eyes.

  The discordant sounds of a lonely bagpiper, tuning up outside their tent, faded, and was replaced with a thunderous boom. She was falling, then tumbling. Falling faster and faster, she no longer felt Niall’s arm around her waist. He was gone.

  CHAPTER 28

  Blair blinked, and opened her eyes. The dizziness she suffered during her fall subsided, and she brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face.

  “I’m a long way from home.” Only minutes ago, she had gazed at a pink and orange sky. Now it was a dull gray, except when streaks of lightning flashed across dark thunderclouds racing overhead. A rumble of thunder made her roll to her side. Dusk was falling fast. Was it due to the storm, or the passage of time? She had no clue.

  Had the spell worked? She couldn’t believe she allowed herself to get caught up in another trip back in time. She had rejoiced at having returned home, but a magical accident had forced her to leave it again. Worse, her son had disappeared. If Dorcas’ spell had worked, he ought to be nearby.

  “Keegan!” Pushing up on her palms, she glanced around at rolling hills, and what looked like an apple orchard. “Okay. The spell worked, somewhat. This is not the valley surrounding the New England Highland Games.”

  Her stomach growled, and she jumped to her feet. Memories of picking apples in the White Mountains, and filling homemade crusts with the apples, filled her head. As she swayed on her feet, she could almost taste the pies, spiced with cinnamon, and nutmeg, that filled her home with their sweet scent.

  Trudging toward the orchard, trying to get out of the wind, she searched for Keegan, but thought about apples. If she bit into a juicy one, and filled her empty stomach, it might help her think straight.

  “I must find Keegan before Angus Sinclair finds him.”

  The bastard would use Keegan to hurt Niall, and she had to prevent that from ever happening again. The wind picked up, rattling the gnarled branches of the fruit trees. Unlike New England’s unseasonably warm weather, it was months past autumn, here. Most of the leaves had dropped to the snow-covered ground.

  “Snow?” She was definitely back in ancient Scotland. Here was the snow she and Niall had trudged through, before Sinclair stole her away. At least she fairly was warm. Her dress had given her little warmth, and she missed her wool cloak. Her boots cut through the snow with ease, but the wind whipped through her hair. She was famished, as well. The trees might still have fruit, so she hurried toward the orchard.

  The wind bit deeper, licking beneath the laced bodice of her thin shirt. She wasn’t dressed appropriately for this kind of weather. Her trews kept gorse nettles and thistles from scratching her legs, but she wished she hadn’t left her sash behind. Her hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders, nearly blinding her with every gust of icy wind.

  After the shock of having landed in thick, dried meadow grass, covered with a few inches of powdery snow, she stopped to get her bearings. When something rustled in the nearby hillock, thick with gorse bushes, she quickly headed toward the open ground beneath the trees. She could climb a tree, if need be. “Another good fortune. Glad I’m wearing pants.”

  The trees appeared tended, and several empty bushel baskets lay piled under one. “I must be near a village, but which way should I go?”

  “Well, well. What be ye doing here?”

  Startled, Blair stubbed her toe on a wayward tree root. Wincing, she stopped in her tracks. A pretty woman stood with her hands on her hips. She was very small, with rosy cheeks, and golden hair, worn in a long braid. Her black eyes were a bit off-putting. She wore a blue peasant blouse tucked into a dark wool skirt, with a short black cape tied at her neck.

  “I…I don’t know. I was with…my son, Keegan. Have you seen a little boy?” Her fear must have shown on her face, because the young woman’s expression softened, and she walked closer.

  “I have no’ seen a child, so we must search, and quickly. There be things in these woods. Bad things. Dangerous things.”

  Her words did nothing to allay Blair’s fears. She saw no sign of Niall, either. Without a weapon, and a plan, maybe this young woman could be some help.

  “I’m Blair, and you are?”

  “Cinnie. I was…am a servant at Castle Ruadh, over that hill,” she said, pointing east.

  Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Blair could smell the tang of the sea. “This is Scotland?”

  Cinnie’s eyes widened. “Are ye one of me father’s time traveling witches?”

  How could Blair answer such a question? “Who is your father?”

  “Ye dinno’ answer me question, but ye doono’ have the look of a sorceress about ye.” Cinnie picked up a half-filled basket and picked fruit from the lower branches.

  “I need to find Keegan, or I would help you.” The urge to take an apple and sink her teeth into it, gnawed at her stomach.

  Cinnie picked several apples in silence, then turned to Blair. “If ye help me fill this basket, I will help ye scout around for the bairn.”

  Her words sounded reasonable. Blair nodded as she reached high overhead. She plucked a ripe apple, then another. Tossing them into Cinnie’s basket, they made quick work. With the basket nearly overflowing, Cinnie settled it on her hip, and walked east.

  “Come, my lady.”

  Blair thought to correct her, but if a servant believed she was a lady, even one wearing leather trews, who was she to argue? All she could do was follow the young woman, while she called Keegan’s name. “Have you seen anyone out here this morning? Keegan and I weren’t traveling alone.”

  Cinnie shook her head, then stared up at Blair. “Yer accent. ‘Tis familiar to me. Lord Mackenzie has several guests at the castle who talk like ye. Do ye know of whom I speak?”

  “Nope. Never made it to the castle. Niall and I…”

  Cinnie squeaked, and dropped her basket. “Ye know of Niall Sinclair? The true laird?”

  Blair saw no reason to lie, so she nodded, then bent and gathered up the fallen fruit.

  Cinnie glared at her. “And his sire?”

  Was that fear on her face? The young woman knelt, helping her gather the spilled apples. She returned the basket to Cinnie, who watched her warily.

  “My thanks, but ye dinno’ answer my question.”

  “He escaped. We followed him, and Niall wounded him, and we think he headed…here.”

  Cinnie turned on her heel and walked away, fast.

  The orchard faded behind them, replaced by a trail edged with thistles and rowan trees. The darkening sky worried her, because Keegan hated thunderstorms. Blair tossed one apple in the air, the one she hadn’t the heart to return to the basket. The apple’s skin snapped as her teeth sank into the white flesh. Juice dribbled down her chin, and the tartness of the fruit surprised her. If she made these into apple pies, she’d have to add a lot of sugar.

  Once her stom
ach was satisfied, she tossed the core into the bushes. She kept her eyes glancing side to side, hoping beyond hope that Keegan and Niall were together, and safe. Keeping Cinnie in sight, she followed at a slight distance. For a small woman carrying a heavy burden, Cinnie was fast.

  “Ye best hurry, my lady. The afternoon grows late, and the coming deluge shall drown ye!”

  As the first drops splattered on Blair’s cheeks, the truth in Cinnie’s words was evident. The growing storm’s fat drops were cold as ice, and dampened her shirt and head. Blair ran.

  Cinnie disappeared beyond a small hill, and Blair hurried her pace. The thunderclouds swirled lower, and the wind nearly knocked her off her feet. The smell of the sea was thick with salt, and the muted crashing of waves meant the ocean was close. When she topped the hill, the sea lay before her in all its savage glory.

  She blinked away raindrops from her lashes, even as the rain turned to tiny snowflakes. Her gaze snapped to the red sandstone walls of a huge square castle surrounded by a long bailey wall. The flakes grew fat and thick as dandelion spores, so she didn’t notice where Cinnie had gone. Her attention locked on the safety of the castle walls, dead ahead.

  “Castle Ruadh?” Blair took off down the hill and headed for the open portcullis. As she neared, several shouts from above made her slide to a stop. The rain-slicked ground had other plans, and she slid feet first beneath the falling jagged teeth of the iron portcullis, and into the castle’s inner bailey. Before she could raise her head, several sword tips pressed against her chest and stomach. Blair relaxed into the mud, closed her eyes beneath the drifting flakes of snow, and awaited her fate.

  ***

  Niall struggled at his bound arms, as his captors’ attention turned toward a disturbance at the side of the bailey, nearest the entrance he had raced through, only moments earlier.

  “What have we here?” boomed a voice from the midst of warriors, with weapons drawn, huddling around a mud-covered newcomer. Worried that the Mackenzie laird’s men would kill him first, and ask questions later, Niall struggled to stand.

  When he had stumbled through the village outside the gates, then pushed his way past two warriors, Niall had not revealed his identity. Until he verified his sire was not conspiring with the castle inhabitants, he would keep silent. Unfortunately, the warriors called him pirate.

  I had no’ counted on that.

  “Put him on his feet,” the laird ordered, “and bring the other one. I believe we have two pirates. One will talk, or shall watch the other die.”

  “Nay!” As warriors dragged them to their feet, Niall recognized the curves beneath the muddied trews and once-green vest. She had lost her cloak, but her dark red hair had come loose, and told the story.

  “Leave her be!” Niall growled.

  Silence.

  “Laird, ‘tis a wench!” a large warrior said. He pulled her to her feet, then grabbed her neck.

  “Remove yer hand, ye bastard, or ye shall answer to me!” Niall narrowed his eyes, and straightened to his full height. Bound and weaponless, it was all he could do.

  “Both of these muddied messes are a surprise.” Mackenzie turned to the two men guarding the main gate, and added, “Ye let a pirate into my home, as well as a wench dressed as a pirate?”

  The guards lowered their eyes, while Mackenzie turned Blair to face him. Blair only had eyes for Niall, and her gaze was hot with desire, and moist with unshed tears.

  She must be terrified. Niall had met the laird, but would Mackenzie recognize him in this state? Disheveled and wounded? He glared at the laird, and he took a leap of faith. He and Blair needed a friend, especially to help then find Keegan, and the inhabitants of Castle Ruadh were the only possible help, and standing in front of them.

  “Nay. We be the farthest from pirates, as pirates can be,” Niall said, without taking his gaze from her mud-spattered face.

  Mackenzie walked closer to Niall. “Explain.”

  “I am Niall Sinclair. I was in this bailey no’ a few weeks earlier. Do ye no’ recall my argument with my brother, Gavin?” Niall shouldered his guards aside.

  “Ye be Niall, the true Sinclair laird?”

  “No’ until Angus Sinclair is captured. We followed him here.”

  Mackenzie raised his chin in Blair’s direction. “And she is?”

  “Mine.” The word rushed from his mouth with no forethought, and without hesitation. Blair’s eyes widened, and she took a step toward him, but Mackenzie settled a hand on her muddy shoulder.

  “Wait, lass. Ye will feel more comfortable explaining how ye two came to be here, after a bath, aye?”

  A slight smile quirked her lips, and Niall exhaled a breath he had not realized he held. Mackenzie would not strike them dead. Yet.

  ***

  Blair couldn’t breathe, not while she kept her eyes and mouth tightly closed. Minutes had passed, since she had settled uneasily at the bottom of a massive tub. Several servants had hauled it into her room, an actual bedroom, and not the dungeon. With only her knees above the surface, no noise penetrated the water. Expelling all the air in her lungs forced her to sit up. Water sluiced down her face and hair. Taking deep breaths, she twisted the damp strands into a knot at her nape.

  She’d brushed most of the mud from her head and clothes before she had entered the tub, so the water was fairly clean. She lathered lavender soap over her skin. It mingled with the odor of embers, crackling in the nearby grate. She wanted to open the window and drink in the scent of the sea, but a snowstorm was currently pummeling the castle.

  When the castle’s inhabitants led her and Niall inside, the falling snow had thickened. Where Niall had disappeared to, was anyone’s guess, but he was close.

  “I can feel him.”

  “Aye, lass, I am here.”

  She shrieked, and jumped to her feet in the slippery tub. As she reached for toweling, she lost her footing. Warm hands grasped her to a naked chest. “Niall? What are you doing here? Is Keegan with you?”

  “The Mackenzie laird and I had a talk. His wife intruded,” he chuckled, grabbing another bit of toweling. Wrapping it around her nakedness, he lifted her out of the water. “Lady Fia is a little beauty. A verra’ pregnant lass, which is why she dinno’ meet us at the door.”

  “They do treat their women differently, here.”

  “They? Ye mean barbarians like me?”

  “You? A barbarian? I would never call you that. You’re…a pirate.”

  Niall smiled, leaned down, and kissed her, ignoring her query about Keegan. She’d missed his mouth and his touch, yet here they were, together, in a warm room. He was gentle and giving, so unlike the savage hunter she met. With only the light from two candles, and warmed by the radiating heat of a glowing fire, she clung to him for his strength. Her fingers tugged at the tiny golden hairs on his chest.

  “Where is your shirt?” she asked.

  He groaned, as if she had just spoiled the mood.

  Could he blame her for her curiosity? A servant had disappeared with her clothes.

  “I was soaked, and bloody. A servant whisked them away, and returned with a basin of warm water. I am no’ as clean as ye.” He nuzzled her neck, while he rubbed the toweling along her hips. When his arms drifted lower, she spread her legs and let her body simply feel. His lips and tongue worked their way along her collarbone, and settled over her left breast. Her mind went blank, and her body softened beneath his touch.

  “Ye taste like sunshine and smell like flowers.”

  “Lavender soap, but the fire reminds me of camping outdoors, and cooking dinner on a fire.” At the mention of dinner, her stomach rumbled. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse!”

  Niall smiled against her breast. “A horse? Aye, beasts we call garrons, are not as plentiful as venison, in the Highlands. Ye will no’ starve, but ‘tis time for other pleasures.”

  Blair raised her arms and tangled her fingers in his damp hair. The scent of soap clung to him. The sash and eye patch were gone, a
nd his lips were warm, and insistent.

  She shivered. The room was quite cool, after her warm bath. Closing her eyes, she let her fingers be her eyes, and swept them slowly over his ears, and the nape of his neck. When she cupped his soft chin, she gasped.

  “You shaved.” Another shiver slid over her at the thought of what a man, in this time, used as a shaving tool. Probably a dagger.

  “Aye. Kiss me?”

  Was he begging? Not to leave a man like him wanting, Blair pressed her mouth to his, and drank her fill. His lips were strong, yet soft, and he tasted of single-malt Scotch.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  His cheeks pinked. “Just a wee dram, to fight off the chill. They be serving a fine dinner, soon. We should find some clothes--”

  “Not yet.” Returning her lips to his, she swept her tongue inside. His tangled with hers, and she nearly wept from the pleasure. Her body softened, while he pulled her tight into his hard chest. The evidence of his arousal made his sporran prod her belly.

  “Niall? Is the door locked?”

  He growled, picked her up and walked to the door. He shoved the bolt across it, and headed through a small chamber that led to the adjoining room. He tossed her on his bed, retreated to his door, and bolted it. This room was dark, except for the fire in the grate. His shadowy profile reminded her of a dark, evil God, like Loki of Asgard. When his eyes glowed, and she caught a glint of his sandy hair, Loki’s brother, Thor, came to mind. When he raised his hands, she trembled with fear, but for only a moment. His hands were big, focused on her, and she wanted them everywhere.

  He pulled off his boots, then unbuckled his belt, and dropped his sporran. He peeled the plaid from around his waist. His erection, even in shadow, was huge and pulsed with need. A need she wanted to satisfy.

  “Niall, I want you inside me. Now!”

  His upper lip rose on one side, making his scarred cheek tremble. His cock bounced as he strode toward the bed. “No’ yet. Love.”