Highland Archer

by Hildie McQueen

  “Mother!” Ariana could not help but laugh out loud. “He resembles a toad.”

  Her mother covered her mouth with both hands. “Aye, he does. He will remain single unless his father arranges a marriage without him present.”

  They laughed harder until Ariana’s sides hurt. “Do they leave in the morning?”

  “Aye.” Wiping tears from her face, her mother went to the door when someone knocked. Lily looked to Ariana and then to her mother.

  “Oh, there you are, milady. I’ve delivered the message.”

  “Message?” Lady McLeod looked to Ariana. “What message, Ariana?”

  Ariana’s chest constricted at Lily’s blunder. “I asked Lily to tell my brother I needed to speak to him when possible.” Ariana blurted the first thing that came to mind and gave Lily a pointed look, hoping the maid kept her mouth closed about her message to the archer.

  Her mother’s eyebrows rose. “What do you wish to speak to him about?”

  “About my place here. I wish to remain and not marry again.”

  Her mother came to her and took her hands. “You are young still and should marry. Being a widow gives you more choices; perhaps you should ask your brother to allow you to pick your next husband. I’m sure he will understand. We do not have a need to join with another clan as we are strong enough with our current allies.”

  Finally, she was able to leave her mother’s chamber. Ariana hurried back to her bedroom, Lily on her heels. “I am sorry, milady. I shouldna spoken freely like I did.”

  “Do not worry. I am sure Mother believed me.”

  Lily waited for her to remove her robe and placed it at the foot of the bed. “Milady, are ye really planning not to marry again? Ye’re still young and can look to a future of wee ones to raise.”

  “Not to an old man who my brother decides to pawn me off upon. Like Mother said, as a widow, I have choices now. And I choose to remain here, taking care of my mother and looking after the household.” She thought for a moment. “At least until Donall marries.”

  “Aye, milady. Very well, then. Into bed you go.”

  Ariana lay in the dark, her mind wandering back to the archer. She’d forgotten to ask Lily if she’d spoken directly to Valent or how the message had been sent. If her brother got wind of it, she was sure his reaction would be harsh. Hoping she’d not made things worse for the handsome man, she attempted to sleep.

  * * *

  Standing in the brisk morning air, Ariana held her bow and quiver and approached the training site. Valent was there. He was not harmed, looked to be fine. He held up his bow while looking to a younger man. She admired his stance and the width of his back as he pulled back on the string while explaining what he did. Her eyes traveled down his back to his taut bottom. A very well formed one, indeed.

  “’Tis a beautiful morning, is it not?” The voice made Ariana jump. The Munro’s son stood next to her, his bulging eyes focused on her chest. “Do you often train with the archers, Lady McLeod?”

  It was hard not to step away at noticing his lips resembled two earthworms sliding against each other. Instead, Ariana forced a smile. “Aye, at times I do. Excuse me for asking, but I thought you and your father were to depart this morn.”

  “Aye, we will be leaving soon. But I saw you from the balcony and came to seek a private word. Bid my farewell.”

  “Oh.” Ariana let out a breath. “How nice of you. I wish you well.”

  He took her arm. “Could I ask for you to walk with me for a bit?”

  When she looked to the archer, he turned to them. Locks of his dark hair had fallen over his face making the contrast of his light gray eyes even starker as he looked to them. His gaze moved to where Munro held her arm.

  Ariana met his gaze hoping to convey her distress at being asked to spend time with the toad of a man. He looked away and she wanted to scream in frustration. “Of course.” She placed her bow and quiver down and allowed him to lead her away.

  The man was shorter than her by a few inches. To make up for it, he stretched to his full height as they walked. “I am a man of few words. Therefore, I will not mince them. I find you quiet attractive and would like to ask that you consider becoming my lover.”

  At the man’s words, Ariana stumbled and put her hand out to a tree to steady herself. “What?”

  He didn’t seem to notice her distress managing to look down his nose at her, his lips curved. Dread filled her as she realized they were away from the view of others. “I know you to be widowed. You can take a lover and it would not be frowned upon.” The dreadful man pushed her against a tree, his face only inches from her. “The nights can be very lonely, can they not?”

  When she pushed against him, he did not budge. His face darkened and he glared at her. “You cannot hope for a better lover than me.” His attempted to kiss her, but she turned her face. Not discouraged, he began to kiss her neck. Ariana shoved at him while attempting to kick him. “Stop!”

  Just then an arrow impaled the tree directly above their heads. Munro jumped back, cursing. He whirled around to find a very menacing Valent behind him. “Sir, I believe your father is seeking you.”

  Standing head and shoulders above Munro, Valent made the horrible man crane his neck to look at him. “How dare you shoot at us? I will have you whipped within an inch of your life.”

  “On the contrary,” Ariana interrupted. “Once my brother learns about your attack on my person, he will reward Valent.” It was a lie, since Donall hated Valent, but the vile little man did not know.

  “You are not worthy of my time.” Munro attempted to push Valent aside. When the archer refused to move, he rounded him and stalked away.

  The archer did not move, his almost translucent gray eyes on her face. “Are you well, milady?”

  His beauty took her breath away. Dark, sable brown hair that fell to his wide shoulders in waves blew in the light breeze. His lips were sensual in a manner that made a woman lean forward in anticipation of tasting them. There was an aristocratic air about him that made her wonder of his lineage. “I am well. Thank you for your rescue. I do not know how far he would have gone, otherwise.”

  He nodded and turned away. “I will walk you back.”

  Ariana reached for his arm. “Why does my brother hate you so? You have been the target of his disdain since childhood.”

  With a one-shoulder shrug, he tried to dismiss it, his gaze on where her hand landed. “Just doesna like me, I suppose.” He tried to take a step forward, but she held him back.

  “Valent? I wish something of you. Would you kiss me if I asked?”

  His eyes flew to her face and his lips parted. For a long moment, he looked into her eyes until, very slowly, his gaze lowered to her mouth. “Aye, milady, I would.”

  “Come,” Ariana said, sliding both hands up his arms, amazed at the strength of them. “Kiss me.” She grasped his shoulders.

  His left hand trembled slightly as he lifted it to her face. He cupped her jaw and moved toward her. When his lips fell over hers, Ariana could not help but close her eyes at the soft, yet wonderfully innocent, kiss. He didn’t push further, but remained still, his lips on hers, his hand at her jaw, their bodies apart.

  Just as she was about to pull him closer, he stepped back. He didn’t speak, instead, waited for her, his hands to his sides. In the right one, his bow and quiver, the other relaxed against his thigh. His expression remained void of emotion.

  It was then she realized he only kissed her because she’d asked him to. An obedient servant of her family’s. “Valent. You didn’t have to kiss me if you didn’t wish to. I asked because I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you when I was a young girl. It is the first time I am alone with you. This was not a request of the laird’s sister, but of a woman who finds you attractive.”

  His beautiful eyes softened when looking at her. “I am honored then, milady.”

  She wanted to kick him in frustration. But, of course, it was not his fault for standing on for
malities. More than anything, she wanted him to slam her against the same tree Munro had and take her. How she wished he would thrust his hardness into her and make her his. She wanted to know what his bare skin felt like against her own. Needed to hear the sounds he made while losing control of his body.

  She smiled up at him. “Thank you for it. Now, I will wonder about other things about you.” His eyes rounded and she began walking toward the keep.

  He fell in step beside her. “Did you plan to practice today, milady?”

  As much as she wanted to spend more time with him, at the moment, she was much too distressed at everything that she doubted she would be able to shoot straight. “I did, but not any longer.”

  He nodded and remained silent. She slid a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His movements were graceful, his gaze straight ahead. Wearing only a tunic and breeches, it was easy to see the lines of his impressive body. “Do you still live at Tavish’s cottage?”

  “Aye, milady, I do.”

  “Alone?” When the words left her lips, she almost groaned out loud. He must think her desperate for a man’s company.

  “I have a dog.”

  “Do you really? Where is he now?”

  “There.” He pointed to the deerhound that rushed to him as they came out of the wooded area. The archer lowered to one knee and the dog sat before him waiting for attention. “Arrow, bow to the lady,” Valent commanded, motioning to her.

  The dog lowered its head at her feet. “Hello, Arrow.” Ariana petted its head and smiled at Valent.

  Neither moved nor spoke, but looked at each other. The surroundings vanished in that instant. All she could see was the handsome man who she wanted more than life itself.

  A horn sounded and the trance was broken. “The Munro leaves,” she said, stating the obvious. “I must go.”

  Making her way to the keep, she turned to look over her shoulder. Valent remained on one knee, his frosty eyes on her, his hand on the dog’s back.

  Chapter Four

  Valent was glad for the excuse of Arrow’s presence, as he wasn’t sure how much longer his wobbly legs would contain him. Maintaining a neutral expression had been almost as hard as keeping himself from ravishing Ariana McLeod.

  That she’d asked him to kiss her astounded him. Her confession of wanting him for years even more so. Although he’d admired the beautiful woman from afar and found her stunning, he never dared to even dream of such a thing.

  He stood when the young man he’d been instructing approached, ready for the task at hand.

  It was best he continue about things. The sooner he forgot the feel of her lips under his, the better.

  * * *

  “Archer! You there, come here.” The younger of the laird’s brothers, Beathan, called to him. “Get your mount, we must ride at once.” There were several others with Beathan. Four guardsmen and one other archer.

  Soon, they rode towards the northeast. He wondered at the stoic expressions, but didn’t dare ask.

  They climbed a hill and brought the mounts to a stop. Below, they could see for many miles. In the distance was a camp. Beathan cursed. “The McKenzie dogs are, indeed, encroaching upon our lands. Just as you reported.” He spoke to a guardsman to his right.

  The guard peered straight ahead. “Looks to be only about ten of them. What do you think they do?”

  “Scouts,” another guard said.

  Valent doubted it. The men were probably unaware of having trespassed. A common mistake, he mused. They looked to be hunting and not hiding, camped in plain view.

  “Kill them. Send the McKenzie a clear message. We do not stand for encroachers.”

  It was hard not to give the man an incredulous look. The McKenzie Clan was a powerful one. Not one to be crossed. “Sir, it would be wise not to kill any of them,” he dared to say.

  Beathan ignored him. “Leave one alive.”

  They rode towards the camp, pushing their steeds to a run. Valent and the other archer raised their bows and let arrows fly toward the men who scrambled to find weapons. They didn’t have a chance. All were dead within minutes except two.

  Valent dismounted and met the gaze of an injured young man. He motioned to the boy with a flat hand to stay still and blocked him by positioning his horse in front of him.

  The other man, an older one, stood by a tree, head held high awaiting his demise. The guardsman looked down on him. “Go back to your clan and let them know not to encroach on our lands.”

  “We didn’t know,” the man stuttered. “Out for a hunt is all. They didn’t deserve to die for it.”

  “Stop speaking or you will join them.” The guard lifted his sword. “Go now. Leave.”

  The man hurried to his horse and did just that. When the guard turned to where the young man lay, Valent let out an arrow, piercing an already dead man. The guard turned to the body, his attention driven away from the young man on the ground. Valent let out a relieved breath.

  They rode away after driving the horses off. Valent hoped the injured one would survive and make it home.

  He found Arrow upon returning to the keep and called the dog, deciding it was time to head to his cottage. Just then, the same guard caught up with him. “The laird wishes to speak to us.” The guard did not meet his eyes and apprehension traveled down his spine.

  They entered the courtyard where the other guards and archer were already standing in front of the laird. He motioned for Arrow to stay back and he joined the men. Donall’s cold eyes flickered from him to the dog. “Come forward, archer.”

  Valent stood before the laird, his head bowed. It was a good stance as far as he was concerned since it made it easy to hide his hatred for the man. “My laird.”

  “You allowed a man to live who you were ordered to kill.” The words made the blood in his veins freeze. “Why?”

  “He was but a young boy. They were hunting, unaware to have trespassed.”

  A blow to his face with the back of the laird’s hand only made Valent angrier. “You are not allowed the luxury of thinking!”

  The laird paced before the men lined up behind him. “And you also failed as you did not complete my brother’s mission.” He looked to the guard who’d fetched Valent. “Except you.”

  The men shuffled in discomfort, awaiting their punishment. Valent would not give the laird the satisfaction. Instead, he stood still, his head bowed, rage boiling through his body.

  “Five lashes.” The men let out audible sighs of relief at the low number. The laird moved to stand in front of Valent. “You will each give him five lashes.” There was a collective gasp.

  Valent was dragged to posts and his arms spread, his wrists tied to each. They cut the back of his tunic open. Arrow barked at the men and one lifted his sword to the dog. “Arrow, go!” Valent yelled and the dog gave him one last look before dashing away.

  Valent didn’t fight the men, knowing it would do no good. Instead, he looked to the guard who’d turned him in. “Is the boy alive?”

  “Nay, I went back and killed him.”

  All air left his lungs and he allowed his head to hang for a moment.

  “Begin!” the laird called out and the first lash was like fire to his skin. With each lash he made a promise. He would leave; go as far as he could. Although he’d pledged his alliance to the McLeod Clan, it was a fruitless thing.

  The whip was passed to another man. Valent heard the shuffling of feet. A new lashing began. Soon he lost both count and his footing, allowing his legs to fold under him.

  “Enough!” A woman’s voice permeated the ringing in his ears. “What are you doing?”

  “Do not interfere, Mother. His punishment must be done or I’m sending a message that you can stop it at any time.” Donall’s voice sounded bored.

  The woman walked up to Valent and lifted his head; it was the laird’s mother. “How many lashes has he received?”

  “Twenty,” someone replied.

  “Then it is enough,” the woman sai
d while looking into his face. “I must speak to you at once, Donall. It is important.”

  She let Valent’s face drop.

  “Cut him loose,” the laird ordered as he followed his mother inside.

  Two men helped Valent toward the guard’s quarters. Each apologizing for what they’d done. Movement caught his gaze and he looked up to the balcony. Ariana McLeod stood watching.

  He couldn’t help the hatred. How he hated the McLeods. Each and every one of them.

  Once he was laid upon a cot face down, a healer came with cool water and cloths. He ground his teeth when she poured the water over his back. The woman was silent, other than a command she gave to another to bring more water. He couldn’t concentrate on the sound of her voice, didn’t actually care who it was at the moment. His sole purpose became to heal so he could travel. His body shook, the tremors making his teeth chatter.

  “He’s getting feverish,” the woman said in a low voice. “Bring the cot closer to the fire. Do not cover him. The blankets will cling to his wounds.” He couldn’t help but continue to shake until the warmth of the fire began to permeate. Slowly, a fog descended, whether it was death or slumber did not matter to him as he succumbed.

  “Valent?” A woman’s voice sounded as if far away. “Can you hear me? Open your eyes.”

  The first attempt to lift his eyelids failed. When he opened his mouth to speak through his parched throat, it wasn’t possible. Everything was too difficult, he preferred to remain asleep. “It’s been three days. You have to try to open your eyes. I have broth for you.”

  Lora’s face came into view, blurry at first and then clear. “You have to eat something.”

  When he moved, the skin on his back pulled and he let out a groan. “Can you help me sit?”

  Together, they managed to get him upright and she held the bowl up to his lips. “I cannot understand why the laird would do this. Why you took the punishment for everyone.”