Fianna Leighton - Tales of Clan Mackay

by Return to the Highlands

  “Something like that,” Nicholas agreed. He dipped his head closer, his breath warm on her cheek. “What have you been up to Mary? Digging in the dirt, hiding beneath the hayrack?”

  She pushed against his chest to keep him at a distance, could feel his heart beating rapidly under her hand, felt the shortness of his breath. Did she have a chance at escaping? Running would wind him quickly, yet looking up at him, she had doubts that she’d get two steps.

  A growl at Nicholas’s feet made him step back to find Tessa crouched beside him. A mewing sound announced her bairn hidden behind her.

  Nicholas knelt down next to the dog. “Ah, a wee pup in there eh?” He held out his hand to the dog and Tessa growled again. Mary put out a hand, not wanting the dog to hurt Nicholas.

  The Highlander did not seem to notice, smiling at Tessa. “I’ll not harm your pup. I’ve got to do a few other things you might not like however.” He stood up with the fluid grace of a cat, a warrior honed to his work. His eyes glinted briefly in the moonlight. “Call off the dog.”

  Mary stared at him, unable to protest with her heart hammering inside her chest. She slid sideways a step and his hand shot out blocking her way. “I don’t control the dog,” she protested. Nicholas was a study in contrasts tonight, frightening the wits out of her in one moment, endearing the next and now, once again a fearful oppressive figure with striking, intent eyes.

  He leaned closer, enclosing her within his arms. “I am going to take you with me and the dog will not give the alarm.”

  She blinked, trying to take in what he’d just said. “Take me where?”

  “I’m leaving and you’re coming with me.”

  “Like hell I am,” Mary swore. The absurdity of the idea almost made her want to laugh. “Ye’ll never make it out of the keep.”

  Nicholas lifted her against the wall of the barn, her feet dangling a foot from the ground. He was far stronger than she expected in his state, holding her without any evident effort, their eyes even. Tessa growled a warning but did nothing more. Nicholas ignored the dog and smiled at Mary. Her blood turned to ice at the look, not a smile at all, but a promise of something almost sinister.

  “You are.”

  “Ye’ll not make it a league before my brothers come after me.” Mary knew they would follow, bent on retrieving her, furious and full of challenge. It made her worry, oddly enough, for Nicholas. She shook her head at the thought. “Ye are being foolish, Mackay. Put me down and we’ll forget ye’ve even suggested this.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Nicholas countered and set her back on her feet. His fingers caught Mary’s wrist when she twisted away from him in an attempt to flee. Tessa scrambled out after him as he dragged Mary with him around the barn, his hand once again over her mouth, muffling her cries.

  He didn’t get far with the dog growling at their feet, the puppy whining pitifully at being left behind. He stopped and jerked Mary against his body, his breath warming her cheek as he hissed into her ear. “Scream and the dog will be dead.”

  She cursed, the sound ridiculously ineffective with his hand muffling her words. She felt his lips graze her ear and shivered at the contact. He was like fire and ice, unpredictable as well as dangerous. She didn’t doubt he’d harm the dog. She glared at him when he shifted her to face him.

  Tessa growled again, lip curled to show teeth.

  Nicholas smiled grimly and removed his hand from her mouth. He pointed at the dog. “Down.”

  Tessa dropped to the ground, her nose between her paws.

  Mary watched in shock, even Rory couldn’t get the dog to sit.

  Nicholas caught her skirt and before she could demand what he intended, he ripped a wide strip free at the hem. She stared at the damage and then at Nicholas, suddenly chilled by his expression. She backed up a step as he held the fabric between them.

  “I mean to leave tonight and I’ll not have you resisting.”

  Mary moved another step back, her breath ragged as he advanced toward her. “Ye can’t mean to do this. My brothers will kill ye if ye harm me.”

  “I mean no real harm, Mary.” He caught her wrist and pulled her close. “But I mean to take you with me agreeable or not.”

  She fought him, pummeling her fists against his chest, while Tessa whined faintly behind them. He laughed at her, his amusement only fueling her anger, his fingers painfully tight as he held her still.

  “I promise not to hurt you, or your dog, if you come peacefully.”

  “Why should I believe ye?” Mary hissed furiously. “Here I’ve spent weeks tending ye and this is how ye repay me?”

  Nicholas pinned her against the wall. “I appreciate all you have done, lass, but I’ve made a choice and it includes you.” She was no match for his strength and all too quickly he had tied the pieces of her skirt around her wrists behind her back. The remaining piece he tied over her mouth. Tossed over his shoulder, she could do little more than glare at ground below her.

  Nicholas slipped inside the stables, moving carefully in the darkness. Mary could see little from her position on his shoulder, but heard the horses move nervously in their stalls. She could only grunt when he tossed her into a pile of hay. His expression made her lay back much like Tessa, terrified by the icy glint now in his gaze. Was this even the same man she’d rescued from Bannockburn?

  He pulled one of the horses from its stall, saddled it efficiently, and then tossed a blanket over the back of the horse. “Where is the armory?”

  Mary lifted her chin stubbornly. Gagged she couldn’t tell him nor would she tell him he’d chosen Rory’s horse, a devil of a thing sure to launch the wretched man across the paddock when he mounted. She could hardly wait for that.

  Nicholas smiled again, which made her heart patter rather alarmingly in her chest.

  He picked her up and carried her into the storage shed where they kept all the tools. Mary looked around wildly at the assortment of farm utensils: hoes, shovels, several sharp scythes, all hung neatly on the walls. Nicholas turned around, his fingers clamped on the back of her knees. What was he expecting to find? Swords? She rolled her eyes and then grunted when he lifted her off his shoulder. She glared at him only to squeal, the sound muffled by her gag, when he opened a wooden box big enough to fit Rory. The heavy woven bags they used to hold grain were stored inside, as well as an assortment of ropes needing repair and a few mice that scattered when Nicholas pulled out the ropes. Mary shook her head and stomped her foot but Nicholas only grinned.

  She tried to back away, stumbling a step, grunting angrily when he picked her up, holding her for a moment against his chest. His laughter, barely heard, fueled her anger, making her forget her fear. “Just a precaution so you don’t try to raise the dead while I get something sharp and pointy.” He settled her inside and quickly shut the cover over the box.

  Darkness settled over her completely. Perhaps he had changed his mind and meant to leave her in the barn? It seemed foolish take her in the first place since it would only enrage her brothers. Mary struggled against the ropes on her wrists, kicked the wall of the box at her feet but could do little more. Time passed slowly as she waited, working her wrists to no avail against the bonds, unable to lift the lid with her feet.

  Nicholas came back, coughing softly so she knew it was him, and opened the lid. He grinned at her and sat on the edge of the box. “Comfortable?”

  Mary glared at him. She berated herself for giving him his clothes back; she should have torn them to pieces. Nicholas reached in and pulled her up out of the box, lifting her back to her feet. Struggling did her no good, although she did get a good kick at his shin, and a head buffet to his jaw, but he only grunted and dragged her across the barn to the horse he’d saddled. To her surprise, Nim stood there docilely. Was the man a magician? He tossed her over the saddle and then mounted fluidly, shifting her to lie over his lap.

  He wasn’t going to be able to ride out of the keep without explanation. He was r
iding Rory’s horse and had Mary as well. She shook her head at the thought and then froze when Nicholas dropped a heavy hand to her back. Held firmly in place, the gag silencing her outraged cries, he guided the horse out of the barn. A moment later, he pulled the blanket from behind him to toss it over her. Darkness shrouded her as he tucked the blanket tight.

  Still it was impossible that they’d get through the guards.

  Except she remembered Rory had pulled the men from duty just an hour before to speak with them about Maelcolm Beg’s arrival. Good lord, Mary cursed; Rory had just allowed Nicholas his freedom and her abduction.

  Chapter 6

  His chest was on fire, breathing normally seemed almost impossible. Nicholas nearly reeled from the saddle at the dizziness assailing him. Mary lay struggling feebly, a wiggling, complaining creature that was making demands his body was far too willing to answer. He shook his head, grimacing at the foolishness of it all. Yet looking down, with his body leaping in answer to the feel of her against him, he would have done nothing different.

  She had bewitched him. It was clear, much as Rory had fallen prey, Nicholas was now in too deep to back out. Not that he wanted to which amused him to no end. Mary groaned a sound that held as much anger as displeasure, as well as pain. He pulled off the blanket and then dragged her upright to plant her firmly on his lap facing him.

  She squeaked beneath the gag, eyes wide.

  Nicholas cursed as his blood conspired against him, her not so subtle gaze to his lap giving her credit that she knew what he was feeling. He gritted his teeth, willing his body to stay under control. Now was not the time to be aroused. They had left Drymen but had some way to go before they would reach Perth. Just what he’d do there, he still wasn’t quite sure. He could only trust Rory had things in well in hand. He wrapped the blanket around her as she shivered, covering her head to quiet the glare of her hair.

  “Mmmmm,” she mumbled fiercely, her gaze daggers to his heart, if he’d had one. Her brows, fine as they were, were drawn tightly together, her blue eyes full of fury. Amused, Nicholas smiled at the wraith on his lap.

  Mary continued to glare at him and struggled to speak beneath the gag.

  He untied the cloth.

  “Bloody hell,” Mary spat, earning a raised eyebrow from Nicholas at her curse. “Have ye any idea what ye’ve done?”

  “Aye, well enough.”

  She took a deep breath and he covered her mouth with his hand, staring intently as she quivered beneath his hold.

  “Scream and I’ll tie the cloth tighter this time.”

  He decided her brows were very eloquent.

  He removed his hand, slowly, waiting for her reaction.

  She didn’t scream, but did continue her tirade.

  “My brothers will slice ye to pieces. How dare ye, after all I did for ye? Is this how ye repay me?”

  He was doing her a favor, had she only known it. “You’ll thank me in the end,” he replied dryly, coughing to clear his throat. It didn’t work, his chest still felt on fire.

  She laughed rudely. “Thank you? Are ye insane? Ye've destroyed my reputation. Da will have a fit and I hate to think what Rory will do to ye.”

  “Ah, so you do feel something for me?” He grinned down at her.

  “Bloody Highlander – no! And I never will!”

  “Liar,” he argued. He chuckled and reached behind her to cut the bonds he’d put on her wrists. He drew her arm in front of her to inspect the bruises he’d left, regretting he’d had little choice. He caught the other wrist, and with the remains of the ties, retied her hands in front. Better to deter her somewhat. He tucked the dirk he’d stolen from the Drummonds back into his boot. It had been the only thing he’d found quickly, unwilling to waste more time looking for something better. He smiled at her, admiring the spark in her eyes. She was not helpless certainly, but even with his treatment, she had not tried too hard to get away. It made him wonder. “Besides, you’ll find me a bit better than the man your father has chosen.” There he’d said it. Would she believe him?

  Mary stilled in his lap, mouth open as she stared up at him. “W-what do ye mean chosen for me?”

  He shrugged, leaving it at that.

  “Maelcolm Beg has told me nothing of any betrothal. I would know. My brothers would know and they surely would tell,” she insisted heatedly, smacking him hard in the chest with both hands.

  “They didn’t know how to tell you.” Nicholas rubbed his chest absently, transfixed by the emotions flashing across her face. Revulsion, shock, horror, it was all there.

  Mary stared at him and then her eyes widened. “No, it can’t be,” she gasped.

  “Is he nigh about sixty?”

  Mary shivered all the way to her toes. “No, he’s thirty-five but he looks eighty. Good lord, he wouldn’t have?”

  Nicholas decided Maelcolm Beg was not only a heartless bastard, but a devious one as well. What cause had he to do such a thing to Mary? He ignored the fact he wasn’t doing much better kidnapping her. “Aye, signed, sealed and yet to be delivered so I was told.”

  Mary pressed her face into his chest and he found it rather intoxicating. Perhaps Rory was on to something. Her fingers twisted into his tunic, her words a mumble against his shirt. He waited for her to continue and urged the horse forward.

  They rode silently for a long ways. Mary remained tucked against him, her face hidden. He wanted to close her into his arms, to comfort her distress but any effort to draw her closer only made her stiffen. He gave up, willing his blood to cool, focusing instead on the ride before them and the deep shadows of the hills. The path he’d chosen was off the main road, preferring to remain hidden from any other travelers. Eyeing the hills ahead, however, their darkness bleak in the moonlight, he knew he’d have to use the path for at least some ways to get through the narrow valley ahead. Perth lay east of Drymen, north of Stirling, which meant they would pass Bannockburn once again to the south. The moon languished overhead, a silent sentinel to their travel. The clip clop of the horse sounded loud, accompanied by the song of a frog throatily calling a mate and the winging presence of an occasional bat. Mary sighed against him and lifted her head.

  “Who put ye up to this?”

  Nicholas decided it was wiser not to tell. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “So let me go as soon as ye are safe and I’ll return to Drymen with no one the wiser.”

  “To marry a man you don’t want,” he added. He looked down at her to find her cheeks were pink, her lips almost a pout. His blood rose again, the urge to kiss her almost made him halt the horse.

  “No, I’ll not have him,” Mary vowed staunchly, quivering as she pushed herself away from his chest.

  “Too late for that, lass,” Nicholas reminded her. “Your father has signed the papers.”

  “Ye don’t know anything,” Mary cried and to his surprise, launched herself from his lap to the ground. She rolled neatly, even tied as she was and then staggered to her feet. She disappeared into the woods before Nicholas could dismount. He sighed, and sliding off the horse, tied it to a tree.

  ***

  Mary didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away from Nicholas. He was far too enticing, heating her blood in a way that was not expected, her fear and fury at being abducted smothered by the desire. She should be infuriated both with the Highlander and her father. Nicholas had certainly ruined her, Maelcolm Beg would not take kindly to the fact that she was with the man alone and at night, no matter whether Nicholas harmed her or not. And to find her father had made such plans, the coward, without telling her before he'd made his decision, or giving her a chance to say nay, made her even angrier. Debating both situations in her mind, even as she stumbled through the woods, she could not help but feel a faint hope that maybe for her, Nicholas's abduction was the better answer. Such thinking was treasonous to the family she loved, the father she adored.

  Bushes tore at Mary’s dress as
she ran through the woods. Briars nearly ripped her sleeve off in her haste and she stumbled several times to her knees. Nicholas didn’t seem to be in any hurry; she knew he was following by his laughter behind her. It gave her chills, the sound of it an arrogant statement that he would reach her eventually.

  What then? Mary moaned and climbed back to her feet, cursing the ties at her wrists. She didn’t dare take the time to untie herself fearing Nicholas would then catch up. Jerking her dress free of an offending twig holding her back, she continued on, the thin material ripped leaving her dress open to the thigh. The man would like that, she thought furiously, and stumbled further into the trees.

  Nicholas reached her as she knew he would, breathing heavily, his face pale as he twisted her against him. She kicked him hard in the shin and he stumbled. They fell over a rotting log and she landed under him, acutely aware of the body crushing her into the wet leaves beneath her. He stretched over her, holding her in place with his weight, his lips grazing a path across her cheek.

  It was insane, the sudden rush of desire at such an inopportune moment. She was being abducted, Mary thought fiercely, yet could not help but enjoy the feel of Nicholas against her, the weight of him pushing her down. She couldn’t deny the attraction between them, well aware of the looks Nicholas gave her, of the evidence of his desire even now. Fighting her attraction, Mary struggled, squirming beneath him knowing Nicholas was still weak from his wounds. If she could get free, she would return home. But to what?

  Nicholas had other intentions, however, and rolled off her, dragging her with him until she sat on his hips in a far more intimate position than she could have known.

  Catching her wrists, Nicholas grinned and then pulled her down toward him. He moved his hand against the back of her neck when she resisted, forcing her lips against his.

  Mary planted her hands against his chest, but could do no more as he kissed her. Her experiences with kissing were not plentiful, nor had she found them to be enjoyable at all. This was different; this sent her blood rushing inside her ears, heating her from her belly to the top of her head. His lips were insistent, hungry, the pressure of his hand holding her easily in place. Mary found she didn’t want to stop kissing him, liked the roughness of his cheek against hers, the shortness of his breath as he dragged her closer. Her body tingled, clamored for more of him, her hips shifted against his. His groan brought her out of the cloud of desire.