Gray’s demeanor visibly relaxed. Without looking at his wife, he gave the hand Trulie still had clenched around his arm an affectionate pat. “ ’Tis true. And all ken that I canna tolerate an innocent kinsman t’be taken prisoner and tortured by a neighboring clan.” He grinned at Lilia. “Angus is without sin against the Buchanans. Horse thievery is more of a pastime in the Highlands—no’ a crime.”
“So you’re coming with me then? To rescue Graham?” Lilia scrubbed her palms, damp with nervous moisture, up and down her jean-covered thighs. Finally. Some action.
Gray shook his head. “Nay, lass. Ye’ll be stayin’ here with yer family whilst I take a few chosen men to fetch Angus. And I promise ye, if Graham happens to leap onto one of our horses, we’ll no’ have the time t’stop and take him back to the Buchanans. ’Tis harvest season. I’ve much t’do and should be visitin’ m’tenants—not returning prisoners to the Buchanans when they’ve no’ been skilled enough t’keep them from escapin’.”
“I’m going with you. I’m good with a sword and even better with a bow.” Lilia hurried to the door, yanked it open, and stepped out into the hall. She had to find Colum. Tell him exactly what she needed. Hand still holding the heavy latch of the oak door, she ignored Gray’s reddening face and nodded toward Trulie. “I don’t have time to argue with him. You and Granny fill him in. It’s time to lock and load.”
Then she pulled the door to and jogged down the hallway. I’m coming for you, Graham. Coming as fast as I can.
Chapter 25
“Here. Take it.”
Graham barely heard the hoarse whisper through the muddled fog of his half-conscious state. Something rough scratched the back of his shackled right hand. He forced his eyes open, blinking hard to beat back the bone-aching weariness.
Pinpricks of light floating in a blue-black darkness winked down at him from the cloudless sky. The light of the moon cast eerie shadows across the ground. Where the hell were they now? The land seemed familiar but he couldna tell for certain. Did he truly ken these hills or was it wishful thinkin’ brought on by the pain?
Stifling a groan, he repositioned his throbbing legs. And how many days had his arse been dragged behind a horse? Graham shifted against the crumbling wall of stone, flinching against the nauseating burn the movement caused. A cold sweat covered his body, stinging his wounds even more. His back was a raw field of torn flesh courtesy of his captor’s whips.
Angus nudged the grimy remnants of a dried oatcake against his hand again. “Eat it, man. They spared ye little food today. If we’re to be rid of these bastards, ye must eat.”
Graham pushed the food aside. “Leave off.” He didna need Angus frettin’ o’er him like some mother hen. The man had done quite enough by getting them captured. If anything happened to Lilia, he’d skin Angus alive and make him wish his father had ne’er met his mother.
“Eat it,” Angus whispered again. “For her.”
At least the bloody fool had stopped apologizing. Graham snatched the oatcake out of Angus’s fingers and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed the tasteless chunk of baked oats as best he could, nearly choking when he forcibly swallowed. Lore a’mighty. He didna have enough spittle to wash the mess down. He’d do just as well eatin’ the dried mud from the sides of the road.
“Here.” Angus held out a deflated waterskin. “There’s no’ much but yer welcome to it.” Grimacing as he scooted closer, Angus held his grimy left arm tucked to his chest. The Buchanans had broken it between the wrist and elbow. “I have news for ye. I heard that arse of a leader send some of his men away.”
“Send them away?” That was promising news indeed. They’d started this journey with six captors. Fewer Buchanans improved the odds for escaping. “Where did he send them? How many?”
Angus stole a surreptitious glance around the camp before answering. “On ahead to Buchanan Keep to tell their chief we’d arrive in less than a day’s time.”
Less than a day’s time. Graham drained the remnants from the water bag, holding the stale warm water in his mouth for a long while, savoring it for the wetness if not for the taste. Beatings paired with little food and water were wearing him down. Thank the gods he had his stubbornness and rage to fuel his strength. He’d be damned straight t’hell and back before he’d give in without a good fight. “If we be less than a day away, that means we’re well across MacKenna borders.”
“Aye.” Angus dipped his chin in agreement. “And on our land and this close to the keep, we’ve a better chance of escapin’ and makin’ our way t’safety.”
“And how many did ye say remain?” Graham leaned forward, hissing out a strained breath as the wind brushed across his tormented back.
“No more than four. Maybe less. I havena seen the one called Scrunge since just before nightfall.” Angus leaned back against the wall next to Graham. “We’ll ken our odds better come mornin’ when they go to tie us back to the horses.”
Graham rolled his hands, grabbing up the length of chain between his shackled wrists. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he jerked the chain taut, searching for weakness. “If there’s naught but three of them…”
“Aye,” Angus hurried to agree. “Ye can strangle one o’ them with the chains whilst I take out the other two.” He held up his good arm, shaking his fist in the air.
Graham lowered both hands to his lap, taking care to rattle the chains as little as possible. Clinking metal stirred his captors to mete out more beatings. “Yer a fool, Angus. Ye’ve but one arm. How the hell d’ye mean ta take down two men?”
“There’s no’ a damn thing wrong with me sword arm. All I need is a weapon.” Angus pounded his fist atop his thigh. “I ken that ye think little of me and I dinna blame ye for that. What with all the grief I’ve caused ye. But ye canna say I’m no’ good with a sword.”
Graham eased himself back, gingerly searching for the least painful spot to lean against the wall. Angus spoke the truth. The man was damn good with a blade. Graham pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “To the mornin’ then and the promise a new day holds. At first opportunity, I’ll draw the Buchanans away whilst ye get to a sword. Aye?”
“Aye,” Angus whispered. “To the mornin’ and the spillin’ of Buchanan blood. Here’s hopin’ the gods be with us.”
Aye. But may they watch o’er m’dearest love first and keep her safe above all else. Graham opened his eyes, staring up into the night. Where was Lilia? Was she well? He’d told her to return to the future but doubted verra much that his stubborn wife had done as she’d been instructed. Graham swallowed hard. The gnawing ache in his chest, the burning worry in his heart, pained him worse than any of his wounds. He had to get free. He had to find Lilia and make certain she was safe.
“Angus,” he whispered with a nudge of his boot against Angus’s leg.
“Aye?”
“Ye feel certain ye can wield a sword? Yer wounded and weak, man—no insult to yer talents intended.”
“None taken,” Angus replied with a weary sigh. “And aye, I can swing a sword long enough to slit a few throats. Damn and for certain I will make it so.”
“Aye, Angus.” Graham closed his eyes again. “Together we’ll make it so.”
Chapter 26
“Kismet is more lethal than she looks and she’s been hankerin’ for a good fight. Things have been entirely too quiet around here lately.” Granny sat the disgruntled-looking black cat on the custom-made padded board attached to the front of Lilia’s saddle.
“If you ask me, she looks pissed about having her nap disturbed.” Lilia smoothed a hand down Kismet’s back and was rewarded with a soft growl. “See?”
Granny waved her words away and patted Lilia’s leg. “She’ll take care of you, gal, as best she can even if she is in a foul mood. She loves you as much as I do. She just doesn’t always show it.”
“If you say so.” Granny sending her guardian along touched Lilia’s heart more than she could say. Only the eldest time runner of ea
ch line was blessed with a guardian to help them navigate through life from cradle to grave. A guardian was a kindred soul—a lifelong friend and protector.
“I promise I’ll watch out for her.” Lilia looked past Granny. Trulie and Chloe were patiently waiting at the edge of the bailey, holding their torches high to beat back the darkness while the men readied the horses. Lilia had insisted they leave as soon as possible. She didn’t care that it was well past midnight by the time they got the supplies readied. A frantic urgency gnawed at her heart. Daybreak would be soon, but waiting for the full rising of the sun to begin their journey would waste too much precious time.
Lilia sat taller in the saddle, forcing a smile to Trulie. “I’ll watch out for Karma too, Sis. I promise.”
“Watch out for yourself,” Trulie advised. “Karma and Kismet will be fine. They’re wicked sly when they need to be.”
“I wish I could send Oren wi’ ye but Mama said no.” Chloe scurried up, stretched on her tiptoes, and held out a length of purple ribbon. “Tie this ’round yer braid. ’Twill bring ye luck in gettin’ Uncle Graham back.”
“Thank you, Chloe.” Lilia took the ribbon and tied it tightly around her hair. “I feel safer already and I’ll have Uncle Graham back in no time.” I hope, she silently added.
Chloe blew a kiss then scampered back to her mother. Oren perched on the wooden hitching post beside her. The great white owl spread his wings their full glorious span then fluttered them a bit before resettling them back against his body. It was almost as though the bird, in his own way, was blessing the journey and wishing them luck too.
“Are ye ready then?” Gray brought his horse up beside her. His dark scowl almost made her laugh out loud. All the men were more than just a little perturbed that she was coming along. But once she’d shown them how good she was with a sword and bow, they acquiesced—grudgingly.
Granny, Trulie, and Chloe waved their torches one last time then hurried back inside the keep. Lilia clenched the reins tighter, hoping the family superstition held true. Granny had taught them all at an early age that you should never watch your loved ones leave. If you did, you risked them never returning. Always part face to face with kind words and a smile. That guaranteed your loved one would have a safe journey and make it back home safe as well.
Gray cast a frowning glance at Colum and the three other MacKenna warriors selected for the task. With an almost imperceptible nod, he turned his horse and led them all through the bailey, under the ancient stone arch carved with the clan crest, then across the bridge connecting the impenetrable stronghold of MacKenna Keep to the mainland.
Once safely across the bridge, Karma took the lead. He looked like a silent shadow skimming across the ground, his trotting lope at an impressive land-eating pace. Lilia urged her horse to catch up with the great black dog and stay close to him. Odds were that Karma would find the Buchanans faster than the several runners Gray had sent out ahead of them to home in on the rival clan and discover their location. Karma’s instincts and sense of smell missed nothing.
Lilia fought the desire to push her mount into full gallop. Gotta be patient. Levelheaded. Save berserker mode for the Buchanans.
Gray and Colum caught up with her, aligning their horses on either side of her.
“Stay between us. Aye?” Gray said. The half-light of approaching dawn made his dark look even more stern. There’d be no arguing with her brother-in-law on this point.
“If anythin’ happens to ye, there’ll be hell to pay with Mother Sinclair and yer sisters,” Colum added, his reddish-blond brows knotted with a stern look of his own.
Lilia didn’t bother answering. Just rolled her eyes and shook her head. Protective alpha males. Delightfully delicious but hardheaded. Lilia hitched back the urge to give in to tears. What she wouldn’t give to have her own hardheaded alpha back in her arms right now.
Glancing to her right, Lilia looked past Colum’s wild red hair whipping in the wind. A pale morning mist, soft as a lover’s touch, already stroked the rugged unforgiving landscape. This close to the sea, the land was wild and rocky but even in the gentle light of the new day, velvety patches of green and stunning purples of blooming heather hinted at the breathtaking beauty the full rising of the sun would soon reveal.
Cresting the sea, the horizon was just beginning to lighten. The warm yellow-pink glow slowly crept ever higher, brushing away the winking lights of the stars. The sun’s fiery rim barely peeped above the glistening waves as though shy about bringing the dawn.
New day. New hope. They had to get to Graham today. Lilia worried with the leather reins, willing Graham to hold on. I’m coming, baby. Fast as I can.
Karma’s deep baying bark interrupted her thoughts and the rhythmic pounding of her horse’s hooves against the packed earth.
“He’s found something.” Lilia spurred her mount faster, rushing to cross the narrow glen and catch up with the dog somewhere beyond the next hill.
“Dammit, woman!” Gray thundered past her, his sword already drawn. “Stay back until we see what the beast has found.”
“Like hell I will.” Lilia crouched lower, urging her horse into full gallop. Gaelic cursing filled the air around her, triggering a wicked smile as she clenched the reins tighter and leaned forward like a seasoned jockey. Her brothers-in-law might as well learn now: she did as she wished, not as she was told.
Lilia crested the next hill then pulled her mount to a full stop.
Gray had stopped his horse, his form seeming quite relaxed. He sat with hands folded atop the front of his saddle and head tilted slightly to one side. As Lilia pulled up beside him, he nodded toward the base of the hill at a lone tree growing beside the glistening path of a creek. “It appears Karma has somethin’ for us—and though the light be dim—I do believe that be a Buchanan plaid in the beast’s mouth.”
Lilia was first down the hillside. She eased her horse closer, peering up into the leafy branches of the great sprawling oak that had more than likely thrived for centuries in the sheltered glen beside the stream.
Gray, Colum, and the other three MacKenna warriors followed behind her with their weapons readied.
Karma stood at the base of the tree, hackles up, fangs bared, and the remains of a shredded plaid snagged in his bottom teeth. Gnashing and popping his jaws, he lunged upward against the broad gray trunk of the tree. His deep booming bark nearly shook the ground.
Kismet perked up, sitting taller on her padded seat. Ears pitched forward and the tip of her tail twitching, the black cat vibrated with a high-pitched growl. Her tail slowly grew in diameter, puffing up from the very tip and lifting a stiffened ridge of hair all the way up her back to between her ears.
“Who’s your friend, Karma?” Lilia slowly circled the tree without dismounting. She finally spotted a pale hairy leg wrapped around the trunk. A helpful breeze shifted the leaves and smaller branches, revealing the hairy ass attached to the leg. Whoever it was had climbed as high as he could go to perch in the safety of the tree limbs that would still support his weight.
“A Buchanan bastard.” Gray pointed to the plaid. “Those are definitely their colors.”
“Call off yer beast!” The branches shook and the bare ass disappeared, replaced by one bare foot and one foot in a half-eaten boot trembling on the limb. A grubby hand shoved the leaves aside, revealing an equally filthy face. The man squatted low, balancing an elbow on one knobby knee, his sagging man parts swinging down from his nasty matted crotch. “Call off yer beast and release me or the chieftain shall hear of this.”
“I am the chieftain,” Gray replied.
“Yer no’ my chieftain,” the man sneered down at them. “My fealty lies wi’ the Buchanan and he’ll make ye rue the day ye e’er stepped on Buchanan land.”
“This is MacKenna land, fool,” Colum said.
“No’ for much longer—no’ when the Buchanan finishes wi’ ye.”
“You talk amazingly brave for a man who’s bare-assed and trapped in a tree
.” Lilia paced the horse back and forth, taking care to stay out of spitting distance. She knew this guy’s type without a scan of his feelings. “The Buchanans took two men as prisoners. Ambushed them farther north of here. Where are they now?”
“Yer the witch!” The Buchanan weasel jabbed a bent finger at Lilia, his delighted cackle raking across her already raw nerves. “Old Borden said MacTavish’s witch would come a-lookin’ for him. Damned if ye didna do just as he said.”
The man licked his lips and reached down between his legs. With a look that made Lilia want to vomit, he grabbed his limp cock and shook it at her. “I ain’t tellin’ ye nothin’, whore. Not unless ye wish t’barter.”
Colum whipped out his bow and nocked an arrow. “Tell Lady Lilia what she wishes t’know afore I nail yer cods to that tree.”
The squatting man quickly stood, scampering along the limb to a thicker shield of leaves. “I can stay up here as long as it takes.”
“I’ve had enough of this shit. Kismet—you’re on.” Lilia drew closer to the tree and the softly growling black cat gracefully launched herself up into the branches. Lilia returned to her designated position between Colum and Gray.
Colum slowly lowered the arrow and bow, turning to Lilia with a gleam in his eye. “Yer a great deal like yer grandmother, are ye not?”
“I hope so,” Lilia said. “Kismet will get him down without maiming him so badly that he can’t give us any information.”
The outer limbs of the tree shook and rattled. Leaves exploded free of branches as Kismet convinced the man it was time to climb down. The Buchanan’s shouts and curses played a perfect duet with the feline’s yowls and hisses.
“Off me, demon. Leave off, ye bastard!” Limbs cracked and popped. The man bellowed, bouncing down through the branches with Kismet firmly clamped around his face. He hit the ground flat on his back with a hard thud. Wheezing and gasping for air, he flailed both arms, clawing at the cat still attached to his face.
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