Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8)

by Vonda Sinclair

  Aye, he was certain she was going to sleep. Ha. He shook his head, his frustration growing.

  He lay down on the pallet and stared at the ceiling in the dim glow from the fireplace. Glancing at her, he found her lying still as a stone but she was not relaxed. He felt her tension, taut as a violin string ready to snap.

  "You should trust me, Anna," he murmured.

  She did not respond. Had she even heard? Was she asleep already? He blew out an exasperated breath. Why the devil had she shown up at his castle and why had she captured his complete and undivided attention? As everyone said, he was mad as a loon. For him to feel this way about her with such haste surely meant his mind was not fully recovered from the torture.

  He should not trust his own judgment when it came to women. 'Haps he was desperate. He'd been two years without a woman and the lack had contributed to his lunacy.

  Although he didn't think he could sleep, he must have for a few hours. When he next became aware, dawn light shone through the window. After realizing where he was, he glanced at Anna lying, covered up, on the bed with her back to him. Was she sleeping?

  His shoulder and arm aching, he pushed himself up from the pallet and rolled his blankets. After collecting his belongings, he glanced at Anna again. Her breathing was still deep and even. Good. He would slip out before she awoke and hopefully before anyone saw him leaving her room. Of course, Korbin would easily figure out where he'd been if he had chanced to look for Neacal in the common room.

  He opened the door a crack and peered out. He saw no one about. 'Twas still early. He exited and descended the steps.

  The scent of bacon, scones and other foods drifted from the kitchen, making his stomach growl. He was ready for breakfast. He set his belongings against the wall and took a seat at a table. Would Anna join him for the meal? 'Haps he should have woken her. But now 'twould be awkward between them. After all, he'd proposed and she'd refused him. Of all the bad luck… the first woman he asked to marry him and she said nay. He shook his head.

  And then he'd asked her if she was a murderess or a thief. What kind of man was he? 'Twas no way to sweet-talk a woman.

  "A good morrow to you, chief," Korbin said, approaching. "I'll give you breakfast on the house."

  "Nonsense." Neacal took a coin from his sporran and tossed it to the man.

  "I thank you. I'll bring it right out." He hastened back to his kitchen.

  Neacal quickly ate and Anna still had not shown up by the time he was finished. If she was still sleeping, she must have been exhausted.

  Korbin returned to his table. "Can I get you anything else, m'laird?"

  "Nay. I thank you."

  He clasped his hands behind his back and gave a brief bow. "I'm sorry you'll be leaving us today." Korbin did not seem sorry in the least, and his tight smile made him seem anxious. Neacal frowned. Did Korbin plan to take advantage of Anna? He remembered how the man's eyes had bugged out when he'd first seen her. His son had the same reaction. Was it lust? Or had they recognized her? He didn't see how they would know her since she wasn't from this area.

  Maybe Neacal shouldn't be so quick to trust them. He had to convince Anna to return to Bearach with him.

  "I thank you for the meal and the hospitality," Neacal said, observing the man.

  "You're most welcome. I'm honored you stayed with us." Korbin bobbed his head, then glanced at the door. "Do you wish your horse saddled and brought 'round?"

  "Indeed. I would appreciate it."

  "Very good, m'laird." Trying to hide his smile, Korbin grabbed the empty trencher and rushed toward the kitchen. The man was acting strange. Why would he be so thrilled at the prospect of Neacal leaving? There was no way in hades he was leaving Anna here.

  Neacal hurried up the stairs and knocked at her door. Moments later, she opened it, blinking the sleep from her eyes, looking far too adorable and disheveled.

  "I'm sorry to have awakened you, lass, but this is important," Neacal whispered. "I need for you to return to Bearach Castle with me."

  "Why?" She frowned, blinking up at him in a confused manner.

  He glanced down the stairs but didn't see anyone. "Can I come in?"

  "Of course." She stepped back allowing him to enter.

  Neacal closed the door. "Korbin is acting odd. I think he or his son may be planning to take advantage of you in some way. I find suddenly that I don't trust them."

  "Oh." The worried look on her face increased and she paced, biting her nails.

  He hoped she would come to her senses and see reason. Surely she knew he wished to protect her. No doubt she also knew he would like to have her by his side always, considering he'd asked her to marry him. He shook his head, knowing many in his clan would think he'd lost what little was left of his mind for asking her, but he didn't regret it. If she would agree to it, he would say his vows this day.

  "Could you take me to Glenfinnan?" she asked, surprising him.

  "What? Why so far?"

  She turned away and appeared to be staring down at her broken fingernails. "I find I must… get away from the other minstrels."

  What on earth had taken place back at Bearach? It must have been something terrible, considering the way she wished to flee. "What happened? Did the piper make advances toward you?"

  "Nay." Vaguely, she shook her head. "I cannot tell you."

  Annoyance rammed through him. "Well then, why should I take you anywhere if you don't trust me?" he demanded. Damnation, he wished he could better control his tone of voice before the words blasted from his mouth.

  "I do trust you." Her gaze connected with his, and he felt her sincerity. The honesty and faith in her mossy green eyes near took his breath.

  "You contradict yourself," he murmured, wishing he could comprehend the mysteries of the female mind.

  "I ken it. I am daft," she said, her voice breaking. She perched on the edge of the bed and burst into tears.

  Saints! What on earth had befallen her? He inhaled a deep breath, praying for patience and understanding.

  He stepped forward and knelt before her. "Anna." He stroked her arms. "You must tell me what you're so afraid of, else I cannot help you."

  "I'm sorry. You must think me unbalanced."

  "Well… maybe a wee bit," he said in a light tone. "But so am I."

  A hint of a smile peeped out as she dried her tears.

  "In truth, lass, it may not be safe here. I cannot leave you here, nor can I stay. I must get back to the clan. Let me take you with me. As soon as we arrive back, I'll send the visiting clans on their way. You need not associate with them."

  With watery, reddened eyes, she searched his. "Do you promise?" she whispered.

  This was what she wanted so badly? He'd been right, then. She obviously knew one of the visitors. After the other clans left, he would try to convince Anna to tell him who or what had so terrified her.

  "Aye, of course, I promise," he said.

  "I thank you. I owe you more than I could ever repay."

  "You owe me naught." Beyond anything, he wanted to kiss her but he needed to take her away from here immediately. He arose and stepped back. "If you'll collect your belongings, we'll leave forthwith. My horse is being saddled."

  She rushed about the room and gathered her things into a sack.

  "You have not yet eaten," he said.

  "I still have some apples in my sack."

  "I'm sure Korbin has a couple of freshly baked bannocks or scones. Wouldn't you prefer that?"

  "Aye." After putting on her cloak, she tossed the sack over her shoulder. "That is… if you trust him not to poison us."

  Neacal frowned, thinking of the food he'd eaten. "I ate a large breakfast and I feel fine. I don't think he wishes to kill either of us."

  "I'm glad."

  He took the sack from her and opened the door. She headed out and down the stairs while he followed.

  Korbin stood in the common room as they approached, his eyes again wide as he observed Anna. "M'lair
d, your horse is saddled and ready. Mistress, surely you are not leaving us, too."

  "Indeed. Unfortunately, I will not get to stay."

  "Do you have some fresh bannocks or a couple of scones Anna could take to break her fast?" Neacal asked.

  "Eh… aye, I believe I do. Wait here." He trotted into the kitchen.

  Neacal hoped the man hurried. He wanted to get going soon, while the weather was still good. He'd glimpsed some dark clouds on the horizon earlier. It wouldn't take long to travel back to Bearach, perhaps half a day.

  Though he was not sure what it was, something made him uneasy. Neacal paced, glancing toward the kitchen from time to time. "What the devil is taking him so long? Surely he is not baking more scones."

  "'Tis all right. I'm not very hungry," Anna said, then her stomach growled.

  Neacal slid her a sideways glance. "Do not tell me fibs, lass. I ken you must be starving." Annoyed, he headed toward the kitchen to see what the holdup was. No one was there.

  "Korbin?" Neacal proceeded to the back door, opened it a crack and peered out. Korbin stood at some distance from the tavern, conversing with a younger man. They talked quietly, their heads together.

  Neacal's skin prickled. Damnation, they had to leave now. After easing the door closed again, he returned to the common room. "Come. Korbin is acting very strangely. We must leave immediately."

  They hastened outside to Neacal's horse, where it stood saddled and waiting for him. Dunn sat beside him, then leapt up, tail wagging, as they approached. "A good morn to you, Dunn."

  Glancing up, Neacal saw that the darkest clouds were still at a distance toward the west.

  He secured his bedroll to the saddle, along with his bow and arrows and Anna's sack of belongings. He turned to her, ready to lift her onto the pillion cushion when loud footsteps clunking on the cobblestones drew his attention. Three men strode toward him.

  The strangers, dressed alike, wore brown breeches, green doublets and sashes of an unusual gold and red plaid. Each man wore a sword and baldric, as well as various daggers and knives sheathed upon their belts. Obviously, they were guards, or henchmen from some clan far from here. Their gazes shifted from him to Anna beside him.

  "Dear heavens," she whispered and yanked the cowl more fully over her head.

  "'Tis her!" one of the men shouted.

  Chapter Nine

  Outside the tavern in Acharacle, all three of the soldiers rushed toward Neacal, spurring him into his warrior mindset.

  He shoved Anna behind him and drew his sword. "Halt!"

  The men slid to a stop, their eyes narrowed on his blade.

  "Hand her over, you blackguard!" the one with short brown hair demanded.

  His hackles rose and heated fury poured into his veins. "I'm Chief of the MacDonalds of Moidart and she is under my protection."

  The lanky henchman with stringy long hair gave a nasty laugh. "His lairdship will not find this amusing. So, you've become a whore, have you, m'lady?"

  M'lady? Neacal darted a quick glance back at Anna. Her face was ashen. Was she a lady in truth? Although he'd had his suspicions… why had she not told him? And who was the laird they were speaking of? Obviously a relative of hers.

  At five paces, the men murmured amongst themselves but he could not make out their words. Their dialect was different; they must hail from a distant part of Scotland.

  "What is going on, Anna?" Neacal growled low. "Are these your clansmen?"

  Her wide-eyed gaze darted to him and back to the three soldiers.

  "Come, Lady MacCromar. 'Tis time to go home to your husband," one of the strangers called.

  Husband? What the blazing hell? She was married? Neacal glared back at her. Why had she pretended to be a widow? Why had she let him kiss her… and more? He muttered a curse.

  She sent him a guilty look, tears sparkling in her eyes. Her face was pale and her shallow breaths came quickly. She shook her head.

  Were the men lying?

  Regardless, he was not turning her over to the heathens. Clearly, she was terrified of them. Mayhap her husband was an abusive tyrant.

  "Get behind the horse," he murmured to her.

  She shook her head again, tears in her eyes. "I won't let them kill you. I'll go with them."

  "Nay," he grated. "Do as I say and move to the other side of the horse. Stay out of the way." He pushed her underneath the horse's head to the other side, then stepped forward, lest his horse get injured during the coming skirmish.

  The three men drew their swords. "Come, m'lady. Do not force us to kill the poor, disfigured young chief you have manipulated into helping you hide like an outlaw." The lanky knave sent Neacal a sinister grin as he crept closer. "It appears you already lost one battle."

  Neacal gave a malicious smile in return. Aye, let them underestimate him. 'Twould give him the upper hand.

  "Stop where you are," Neacal commanded, bringing his sword into the outside guard position.

  Dunn growled and hunched as if to launch himself at one of the men.

  "Back, Dunn! Stay!"

  "You're outnumbered, lad," the pudgy man with graying hair sneered.

  "Are you thinking that matters?" Neacal asked.

  All three men charged him, swords ready to strike. One stabbed toward Neacal's chest. Flicking his blade upward, Neacal knocked the weapon away and, at the same time, deeply nicked his attacker's chin. The man reeled back, howling.

  The other two bastards thrust their weapons at him. He slashed in a half circle, deflecting their blades upward. Then, in a quick reverse, cut both men across their abdomens. Blood saturated their sliced clothing and they staggered backward, cursing.

  The first man who'd attacked, his chin now dripping blood, leapt forward, ramming his sword toward Neacal's gut. He dodged aside and kicked the broad side of his opponent's blade.

  The man tried to regroup and ready himself for another strike, but he was too slow. Neacal sliced his throat. The man fell to the ground, screaming, blood gushing from his wounds. Both his comrades charged Neacal.

  "Run!" Neacal yelled to Anna. He didn't want her accidentally hurt during the skirmish.

  Neacal focused on his enemies again, battle fury consuming him. His survival instincts and years of training took over. He was unaware of what he did until 'twas over and all three bleeding men lay on the ground, writhing in agony or else still in death.

  Neacal glanced down at his clothing to find it spattered with blood. The dark anger still consumed him as he scanned the area, looking for additional enemies. Were more of them behind the buildings?

  Where had the lass gone? "Anna?" he called out.

  Before he could find her, two more men emerged from behind the tavern, one with bright red hair and one with dark hair and beard. Once they saw their cohorts lying on the ground, they drew their swords and eased forward cautiously, their glares directed at Neacal.

  Aye, he could kill them, too, if he wished. But how many more were there? What if a small army lurked behind the tavern? Did he wish to kill a dozen men this day? He and Anna couldn't stay here. He had to get her away.

  "Damnation! Anna, come!" When she emerged from the side of the building, he tossed her up into the saddle and leapt on behind her. "Dunn!"

  "That's her! Stop him!" one of the men shouted.

  "Hell," Neacal muttered. He urged the horse into a gallop, racing east, toward the hills and the nearest cover. When he glanced back, the two men rode horses, giving chase.

  "I'll have to kill those bastards, too," he growled. "Take the reins, Anna. If I jump off, you keep riding as fast as you can toward that mountain up ahead."

  "Nay, stay with me! I don't want you to get killed." She turned. Her anguished eyes pleaded with him.

  "Did those other three kill me? Nay, I'll be fine. Do as I said. Ride toward the mountain and hide behind the bushes if you must." He glanced back to find that Dunn had leapt onto the ginger-haired man and dragged him off his mount. He fell among the rocks and squawked
like a great bird.

  The other rider, with dark hair and a short beard, did not slow. When he drew close enough, Neacal struck out at him. Their swords clanged. Needing to take the fighting away from Anna, he shoved himself upward and leapt onto the other man's horse. Looping his arm around the man's neck, Neacal dragged him to the ground. They hit with a shocking jolt. Ignoring the pain, Neacal sprang to his feet, the tip of his blade at the prone man's throat.

  The black-eyed weasel did naught but lay still, his hands in the air beside his head. His sword lay several feet away.

  "Who are you?" Neacal asked.

  "MacBraden. One of Chief MacCromar's soldiers."

  "How many more men with you, besides him?" With his head, Neacal gestured to the man Dunn had attacked.

  "Three dozen are on their way. We're the scouts who rode ahead of the others. Lady MacCromar is the laird's wife. He will never give up until he has her back."

  Neacal felt as if someone had thrust a blade into his stomach, for he'd already started thinking of Anna as his own future wife. Now, that couldn't happen. Devastation poured in upon him like a great rock slide. "The bastard mistreated her, did he not?" Neacal asked, keeping his blade at the man's throat.

  MacBraden shook his head.

  "Cease your lies, man! Why else would she run away from him?"

  "Matters not. She's still legally wed to him. He has every right to discipline her, and even beat her if he so chooses."

  Neacal ground his teeth, trying to rein in the fierce anger that threatened to devour his control. What the devil had the knave done to her? "Any man who abuses a woman is no man in truth, but a coward," he shouted. "Is he among the three dozen?"

  The man smiled.

  Dog barks and yells echoed. Moving back a safe distance, Neacal glanced around to find the redheaded bastard swinging his sword at Dunn, back and forth. The dog dodged out of the way each time.

  "Back, Dunn!" Neacal commanded. The dog loped up the hill away from the man.

  MacBraden arose and yanked the dirk from his scabbard, while his comrade raced away from Dunn and toward Neacal.

  He didn't want to kill more men, but would if he had to. Anything to protect Anna. His heart ached with the knowledge she wasn't his and couldn't be. 'Twas why she'd refused him without explanation. Why hadn't he guessed? Regardless of whom she was married to, he would not let her be abused further.