Highland Spitfire

by Mary Wine

  “What is yer name?” Bhaic asked. Marcus recognized his low tone for the threat it was, standing half in front of him.

  “Haddox.”

  Bhaic flattened a hand on his brother’s chest and pushed him aside. “Did ye hear of me recent wedding?”

  The men in the tavern all started nodding.

  “Aye. Indeed I did,” Haddox stated proudly, but his eyes widened as he realized exactly what Bhaic was getting at.

  “Did ye shoot me wife?”

  Haddox lost his color, his mouth working like a freshly caught fish. “It was only barely first light… I saw…saw the colors…” he looked down at the mangled piece of wool, dropping it as though it burned his hand.

  Bhaic grabbed the man up by his clothing. “Where?”

  “Up by the river… He went into the river…”

  Bhaic tossed him toward the tavern door. “Take me there.”

  * * *

  It was his failing.

  Bhaic looked at the ground, the place where Ailis had fallen, marked by gouges in the new spring growth. It was a steep incline, the earth worn away by the water. It was hard to keep his footing. If he’d fallen from a horse, there would have been no hope of stopping.

  “I let ye down,” Marcus said quietly, disgust edging his tone.

  “No. I should have seen to her. She’s me wife.” Bhaic moved down the slope, following the path she’d taken on her way to the riverbank. He looked at the current and peered down the ravine.

  “If she’s alive, she’s on her way—”

  “To Gordon land,” Bhaic finished for his brother.

  “God help the lass.”

  “No,” Bhaic snarled. “God help Lye Rob if I find him anywhere near me wife.”

  The Earl of Morton and his threats about feuding could rot in hell if Lye Rob put one hand on her. Bhaic yanked the sheet off his saddle and gave it to the dogs. They sniffed at it and started to search along the riverbank.

  * * *

  Obviously, she wasn’t dead.

  No, she was clearly alive, because there wasn’t supposed to be pain in heaven.

  Maybe ye’re in hell…

  Well, she was freezing. So she wasn’t in hell.

  She coughed out another mouthful of water and wheezed. Pain shot through her. There was so much of it, she was fairly certain it would be simpler to list what part of her body didn’t hurt as opposed to what did. Her back was on fire, as though there was a red-hot poker across her shoulder blades. She wiped at her face, but there was so much mud, she had to roll over and scoop up handfuls of water to wash her eyes out before she could open them.

  And when she did, she wished she were dead.

  “No’ happy to see me, Ailis Robertson?”

  She blinked, but Lye Rob Gordon was still standing there, looking at her as though she were a freshly downed doe. “I’d have preferred Satan.”

  Two of his retainers hauled her off the riverbank. She cried out, her back in agony as they moved her.

  Lye Rob cupped her chin, bringing their gazes together. “Ye’re on me land now. Forget who is master here, and ye’ll suffer for it.” He slapped her. She staggered only because her legs were so unsteady.

  “I am wed.” She straightened up, pushing the pain aside.

  “So was Bothwell,” Lye Rob answered her. “A little gold in the right hand, and we’ll have ye divorced quickly enough.”

  “Wedding me will nae gain ye me father’s support.”

  Lye Rob moved toward her. “Ye’ll be the one to tell him how savage yer MacPherson husband was. Beating ye…” He hit her again, this time using his fist against her shoulder. She went skidding into the dirt. Some of his retainers looked disapproving, but none of them were willing to cross the laird’s son.

  “I will nae.”

  Lye Rob grinned, coming down on one knee next to her, because she couldn’t stop shaking enough to stand.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  There was a twisted flicker of enjoyment in his eyes. She stared at it, sickened by the sight. He grinned at her horror.

  “Ye’re right.” He tapped her on the chin. “I will enjoy it.”

  She didn’t doubt him. Her belly twisted with nausea, but it gave her the strength to struggle to her feet.

  “We need to build a fire,” one of his men said.

  Lye Rob looked up. “Ye do nae tell me what to do. Me father may have stuck ye to me, but I’m too old for a nurse.”

  He was an older man, his head shaved but his whiskers well kept. “She’s no good to ye dead. I’ve seen men pulled from that river who died a few hours later from the ordeal. The chill stops the heart. Hers is slowing now, that’s why her fingers are blue. With the sun setting, ye’ll need a fire, or she’ll no’ see the dawn. Mark me words.”

  Lye Rob looked down at her hands and cursed. “All right then.”

  He started up the incline, leaving her to his men. The older man took her in hand, laying an arm around her back as he half-carried her up the incline. Their horses were on the other side of the rise, leaving the sound of the river behind them and making sure they could hear anyone approaching them. There was a wagon, stuffed full of bags and other items.

  But that didn’t horrify her as much as the three women tied to the wheels of the wagon. Their clothing was dirty and their faces smudged with dirt. One was a Robertson, but the others were MacPhersons. All of them had pinched expressions as they tried to hide their fear.

  “Add her to the plunder, Naughton,” Lye Rob directed. “She’s a fine prize to be taking home. Me father will have to take notice of me now.”

  Naughton took her close to the fire. He pushed her down gently. He knelt as Lye Rob tossed a length of rope over to him. It landed in the dirt because he was busy rubbing her feet.

  “Got to get some warmth back into ye, lass.”

  He looked up at her, trying to tell her something. For a moment, she thought she was only seeing what she wanted to. That panic was pushing her to desperation. He was rubbing her feet, and she realized both her shoes were missing. One stocking was torn completely away, and the other was tattered. Her skin was scraped and cut, but he palmed something and pressed it against her calf. She blinked, trying to decide if she was really feeling that cold metal against her skin. Naughton gave her a hard look before he began to move it up her leg.

  She bit her lip, sealing her protest inside her mouth as he reached all the way to her garter. No one except Bhaic had touched her thigh. She felt him slide whatever it was under her garter before pulling his hand down. He shot her a warning before he picked up the rope and looped it around her ankles. The knots he tied were snug but not too tight.

  “Now give me yer hands. I’ve no care to handle ye, seeing as ye’re another man’s wife.”

  She forced herself to comply, focusing on the feeling of what was secure in her garter. It was a small eating knife. Like the one Marcus had insisted she not have. Her brother had shown her how to use one years ago.

  It would be a last effort to keep herself from rape. Good only when her attacker was close enough to hit his vital organs and distracted enough for her to land her blow.

  Yet, it was something.

  She simply didn’t know if it would be enough.

  Six

  “We’re on Gordon land,” Marcus said, but Bhaic knew his brother well. He was saying what had to be said, even though he didn’t care for it.

  “He’s got me wife,” Bhaic cut back.

  “Tied up, too.” Marcus had a small spyglass in hand as he considered the men below them. “Not to mention a couple of other lasses. He’ll still cry innocence when it’s all said and done.”

  “Only if he’s alive.”

  Waiting for true darkness took a long time. T
he moon was only a sliver in the sky. The perfect time for raiding. It was also the perfect time for an ambush. Bhaic eased closer, stopping often as he watched the horses tied up near the camp. If it wasn’t for the captives, he’d have ridden into the camp and cut them down. But Lye Rob was no fool. Neither were his men. Some of them had rolled up in their plaids, right next to the women. The fighting was going to be hard if they wanted to avoid spilling innocent blood.

  He looked back at the horses and eased closer.

  * * *

  Lye Rob was getting drunk.

  Ailis watched him tip a leather flagon up to his lips again and again. The other men with him had drink, but they took only a few sips to warm themselves. They knew better than to dull their wits.

  Lye Rob? Well, he was obviously accustomed to having others look out for him.

  She shivered and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the circumstances that had prevented her from falling under the spell of the man. The courtship would have been grand, but the union a horror. More than one bride learned the true nature of her husband after the vows were spoken.

  She shifted and realized the knots Naughton had tied were all loose. She had to hold onto the rope to keep it around her wrists. The fire had started to dry her, making her aware of all the dirt on her skin. She wanted to scratch and brush it off but had to remain still. She lowered her head to her bent knees and watched Lye Rob through her eyelashes.

  He was looking at her, tipping the flagon again. His lips set into a smirk. He suddenly flipped his kilt up, exposing his swollen organ. She flinched, turning her head away.

  “Knew ye were toying with me,” Lye Rob said.

  She heard his steps crunching the gravel on the ground as he came closer. His breath smelled of whisky when he hunched down beside her.

  “Ye’ll learn to enjoy me cock.” He reached up and caught a handful of her hair. He yanked her head up so that their lips were only an inch apart. “Since I have to wait until ye bleed, I’m going to enjoy fucking yer mouth first.”

  She gasped with horror. He held her in place as his words sank in.

  “Has yer husband no’ gotten to that little delight?”

  She tried to shake her head, but the hold on her hair was too painful. Lye Rob snickered.

  “He would have. A pair of lips around the cock is just as sweet as shoving deep into a cunt.”

  He yanked his kilt up, exposing himself again. “It’s a fine way to start our relationship, Ailis.”

  She turned away in spite of the pain shooting through her scalp, but he only tightened his grip, yanking her around. She reached for the dagger, pulling it free. One of the horses screamed in the distance. Lye Rob straightened and dragged her up in front of him, pressed a dagger against her throat as the camp was overrun.

  She wanted to be relieved at the sight of the MacPhersons, but Lye Rob dug the tip of his dagger into her skin.

  “I’ll slit her throat!”

  Bhaic pulled up out of the lunge he’d been in. She’d always known he had a savage side. Tonight, she faced it. He’d sheathed his sword in favor of his long dagger. Its blade was already bloodied, but the look in his eyes made it clear that what he truly craved was Lye Rob’s blood.

  It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

  Lye Rob was twisting the knife, cutting into her neck. She could feel his heart hammering against her back as panic set in. Around them, men were dying, but it seemed insignificant, fading away as she became conscious of the details.

  Like the feeling of the knife in her hand. She let the rope drop to the ground. Bhaic noticed it. He gave her only a fraction of a glance, but she knew he noticed.

  He lifted his hand higher, drawing Lye Rob’s attention. “Leave now, Lye Rob. Let me wife go, and I’ll get off yer land.”

  “If I let her live, how long before the Robertsons and the MacPhersons unite and overrun Gordon land?”

  He was dragging her backward, looking over his shoulder for an escape route. His voice was tense, telling one and all that his grip on reality was slipping.

  Marcus appeared behind them. “Let her go,” he warned softly.

  Lye Rob turned to look at Marcus. Ailis tightened her grip on the dagger and drove it into his neck. She couldn’t see her target, but she felt his blood covering her hand. Bhaic was a blur of motion, springing on them and grabbing the knife at her throat. She fell down, blood flowing over her shoulder before someone grasped her wrist and yanked her free of the fight.

  She looked up into Finley’s face, his expression harder than she’d ever seen it. No hint of the playful buffoon he’d so often appeared.

  “Up with ye now, mistress.”

  He lifted her off her feet and set her behind him. She looked around him. Bhaic had Lye Rob on the ground, his hands wrapped around his throat. It was a violent struggle, both men powerful, but Lye Rob was losing. The smell of his blood was everywhere, and his body went taut a moment before he went limp.

  Bhaic snarled something in Gaelic, squeezing Lye Rob’s throat a few final times before Marcus was able to pull him off the body. He turned, searching for her. She stumbled around Finley, suddenly feeling every ache.

  But being in his embrace soothed it all away. He trapped her against him, muttering against her hair. She buried her face against him, inhaling the scent of his skin. He cupped her face, raising her head so he could look at her. For a long moment, he just looked at her, the hands on the side of her face trembling just the tiniest bit.

  “Ye can nae go riding alone.”

  She let out a snort. It was unladylike, but she was far past caring about appearances. “As if I could nae come to that conclusion meself.”

  “She might look rough about the edges, but she sounds right,” Marcus said. “What do ye want to do with the survivors?”

  Bhaic turned her loose, but kept her close with one solid grip on her wrist. The camp was in shambles. Bodies were slumped to the ground, the female captives freed. The surviving Gordons were herded together, the MacPhersons holding them under guard. Bloodlust was still running high.

  She suddenly saw Naughton. His shoulder was bloodied, but the older man stood proudly, his chest puffed out as his fate was being decided.

  Ailis curled in toward Bhaic. “Ye have to let that one with the silver beard go. He gave me the knife.”

  Bhaic looked down at her in confusion. She nodded. “No one chooses what clan they are born into.”

  “Aye.”

  He leaned over to discuss it with Marcus. Her brother-in-law cut her a curious look before he nodded.

  She suddenly felt every scrape and bruise. Bhaic and Marcus moved off to deal with the Gordons as Finley stayed near, clearly resuming his post as her escort. She looked down and realized the rope was still knotted around one of her ankles. She sank down, intending to work the knot free, but her hands were covered in blood.

  She stared at it, starting to shake.

  Her belly twisted with nausea.

  For some reason, her back felt on fire.

  And she was unable to focus on anything.

  “Here now, mistress.”

  She ended up staring at Finley’s head in confusion as he gently brushed her hands away and finished untying the knot.

  “Since when do ye call me mistress?” She probably shouldn’t have asked the question, but she couldn’t think. Couldn’t seem to stop shaking either. She didn’t wait for Finley to reply but became fixated on the blood on her hands.

  “Did I kill him?”

  “I did.” Bhaic was suddenly there, scooping her off the ground. “Do nae think about it, lass. Ye did what ye had to.”

  He carried her over to the wagon, settling her in a spot that had been cleared. The other women were there, relief on their faces, but all Ailis could do was
shake. She tried to unbuckle her belt and free her arisaid.

  Bhaic ended up doing it for her. He lifted her again, and she sighed, the scent of his skin the only stable thing she could grasp. “Ye found me.”

  He held her for a moment, their gazes locked. “Ye’re me wife.”

  “But—”

  He settled her back down among the grain bundles. She rolled onto her side because her back was still on fire. He tucked her tattered arisaid around her.

  “I’m no’ letting ye sleep on Gordon land.”

  He smoothed the hair back from her face, considering her for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes. Something that both warmed her and made her shiver. He removed the brooch holding his plaid onto his shoulder. He used a dagger from his belt and rent the fabric, tearing off the half that he might use to shield his shoulders from the night’s chill. He laid it out on top of her, satisfaction showing on his face as the MacPherson colors covered her Robertson ones.

  She started to say something, but he pressed a single fingertip against her lips to silence her.

  “Let’s go home,” he said.

  He was gone a moment later, his powerful stride holding her attention as she watched him mount and raise his hand to bring his men into line.

  “He’s a fair bit more attractive than the tales I’ve heard.”

  Ailis turned her head to look at the Robertson woman who had been one of the captives. She was young, not much more than a girl really. She smiled at Ailis as the wagon started moving, the MacPherson retainers surrounding it.

  “Never thought I’d be happy to be traveling with MacPhersons,” she said.

  “I am,” Ailis said as she started to slip away. She didn’t fight against the darkness, letting it envelop her and snuff out the pain.

  But she was glad.

  Very glad indeed.

  * * *

  She knew his scent.

  Ailis sighed and rubbed her cheek against Bhaic. She felt as if she was floating or rolling around inside a cloud. There was daylight and darkness and voices that were far away. Time seemed impossible to grasp, and honestly, she just didn’t want to.