Ravished

by Keaton, Julia

Gray and Rafael moved to the sides, intent on cornering it, and Bronson moved ahead.

  Alex’s heart stilled, realizing she’d been forgotten. She dwindled behind them, watching as they drew further and further ahead, racing through the forest of falling leaves and dead brush.

  Knowing it was her one chance, Alex turned Firedancer, crashing through the tangling underbrush, heading North to Scotland as they went Westward deeper into the wood.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Bronson couldn’t see Alex. Alarm knocked the breath from his lungs. He pulled hard on Ebony’s reigns, turning around, letting his father and brothers outrun them as they vaulted after the buck.

  She was gone. There was no trace of her in the forest. He saw nothing of her retreat, nor could he hear the sound of movement other than his own heart in his ears.

  He knew where she’d gone.

  His vision turned red. A murderous haze overtook him. She had left him. He didn’t care if it was right, that he had no reason to expect her to stay. He still would not allow it—he could not allow it. Bronson kicked his horse into action, racing through the woods North.

  He would find her. He refused to believe he would not.

  The sounds of the hunt receded as he gained distance, ignoring the branches that slashed at him, the brambles that tore his hose at his passing. Ebony snorted, huffing as she ran, steadfast to his course.

  The edge of the wood neared, until he could see green pasture beyond.

  A cape fluttering caught his eye, red as a banner. He nudged Ebony forward, bursting from the wood, urging her faster, patting her neck, whispering words of encouragement as he lay low against her neck.

  Alex heard him, kicked her heels against her horse, spurring him on. The heavy beast was no match for Ebony’s grace and speed. She lunged forward, nearing his rearing, pulling forward, running neck and neck.

  Bronson reached across the short distance, catching Alex’s reigns. She slapped at his hand, but was too unsure of her seat to try more to ward him off, and their pace was too dangerous to take chances. Her horse tossed his head, snorting as Bronson eased them down, slowing their speed by finite degrees. He pulled hard on the reigns, halting them, lunging for Alex’s wrist before she could twist away. He caught her arm, dragging her, kicking and screaming, off her horse and onto his lap.

  She arched her back, trying to drop off his lap, losing her wig in her struggles until her hair fell down and tangled around them. She screamed in frustration as he held her arms tight, locking his knees against Ebony to keep from sliding off at her struggles.

  She was breathing heavily from exertion, her face pink with her fury, her eyes wild and hair untamed. “Release me!” she screamed in impotent fury, squirming in his hold.

  “Damn you,” he growled, crushing her to his chest as he kissed her. She bit his lip, drawing blood. He grunted in pain, pulling back immediately, glaring at her.

  “Do not touch me!” she railed in a furious whisper, as if suddenly fearful of alerting the others to his aid.

  Bronson wiped the trickle of blood from his mouth, surprised to find she’d only scratched him with her canines. Already it stopped.

  She gnashed her teeth at him, every inch the wildcat. No matter his fury, her anger, he wanted her still. His cock swelled with his rage, burned with the need to conquer. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working.

  “No, you are mine, damn you!” he said with quiet anger, giving her a shake to make her meet his eyes.

  She met his gaze, letting him feel the wrath in her eyes. “You have no right! Go to your betrothed, find warmth and comfort in her arms,” she said, choking, her voice breaking with emotion.

  He was stunned to see tears in the corners of her eyes. His anger diminished to a low roar, and he bent to kiss her. “There is no other to satisfy as you do,” he murmured.

  “I hate you,” she whispered, closing her eyes in pain.

  He covered her mouth, and her lips opened to him unwillingly. He felt the grooves of her teeth, asking for passage. Her tongue eased out, touched him, tremulously seeking.

  He groaned and thrust his tongue inside, drinking the sweet wine of her mouth, enjoyed her small moans of pleasure. She shuddered against him, and he tightened an arm around her, resting one hand on her lap, guiding it under her tunic.

  He cupped her sex, felt her moisture there, the wetness soaking his fingers. Her perfume released with the movement, tantalizing his nostrils with her faint fragrance. Groaning with desire, he mated with her tongue, thrusting his fingers against her sex, gratified to hear her moan in pleasure, move against his hand.

  Distantly, through the fog of lust in his brain, he recognized the sound of riders approaching. He paid them no heed, not caring if they saw him kissing Alex or fondling her. Damn them if they tried to stop him.

  His cock swelled against her bottom as she wiggled closer, kissing him harder, her soft lips pliant beneath his own. She placed a hand on his biceps, kneading the muscle as he curled his fingers into her sex.

  “Unhand my niece before I strike you dead ‘pon your horse.”

  * * * *

  Chills raced up her spine at the threat. Alex broke from Bronson’s mouth and saw, to her horror, that they were surrounded. Bronson tightened his hold on her, turning his horse so that he could face the threat.

  “I’ll not give her up without a fight,” he growled, easing her to the ground as he reached for his sword.

  One of the men had his blade out in an instant, the tip pressed against Bronson’s throat. Bronson froze, glaring at the elder man he faced.

  “My brothers will be here soon enough. You’ll not get far, Hugh.”

  Hugh laughed, stroking his beard, chancing a glance at Alex. “I should run you through for the trouble you’ve caused.”

  “Nay,” Alex screamed, standing before him. She could not stand by and watch as he was butchered. Surely these men, her cousins, could not be so heartless.

  Hugh gave her a pitying look, returning his attention to Bronson.. His voice dropped and his look grew stormy. “No doubt you’ve stolen her maidenhead.”

  “It is no concern of yours,” Bronson grit out, clenching and unclenching his hands.

  “It is every McPherson’s concern. Were you another man, I’d take you before the priest and force you to marry the gel. As it is, I’m afraid it’s out of my hands. Come now, gel, get in yer saddle. We’re off to home.”

  Alex looked at him, wanting to trust him. This was what she’d fought to do for so long. Now that it was upon her, she was reluctant to go. Not until she made certain no harm befell Bronson. “You will not hurt him if I come willingly?” she asked, not daring to look at Bronson for fear she would break down and cry.

  Hugh frowned. “Nay, lovely. He will come to no harm, were you willing or no. I give you my word,” he said, crossing himself--, “on the lives of my children.”

  Satisfied of his word, she smiled and climbed atop Firedancer. Hugh led her away while the others took care of Bronson. She glanced back, only to assure herself, and found they’d hauled him off his horse and were binding him.

  She turned back to Hugh, determined to ignore the scene behind her. Hugh smiled at her kindly, reminding her of her grandfather. She felt tears bleed into her eyes.

  “Come, Alex, is the hurt so severe?” he asked, urging them to a trot.

  “Nay. I weep for things that can never be … and for those I can never have again.” She was silent for a time, noticing the others had joined them but hung back in a protective gesture, wary but allowing a measure of privacy.

  “How did you know me?” she asked suddenly.

  He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “’Twas my brother, your Uncle Argyle that saw you on a raid. He told us you had the bonny look of Heather, despite your guise. ‘Twas not until your King Henry’s messenger arrived, however, that we learned your true identity. By my troth, he knows more of you, a stranger, than we, yer kin.”

  Fear turned her blo
od to ice. The king—he’d found her! “What was his message?” she asked, amazed the king hadn’t come crashing down upon her before now. The hunted feeling from before came again, closing her throat, clutching her gut. Her aches and pains diminished in the dread assaulting her.

  “I do not remember it to the letter. He only told me of his search for you, that you need to make haste to his court, for he has a special engagement awaiting yer arrival.”

  Saints above! She knew what that cryptic message meant. She was not ready to be a wife. She’d learned nothing of their ways, knew not how to run a household and perform other wifely duties. All she knew were carnal pleasures, she realized with a blush.

  “I gather from yer expression, this isn’t fair news?”

  Alex choked down her embarrassment, fighting back heated remembrances. “Nay ‘tis not.”

  “I hate to give you up when we’ve only just found you, lass. Ye must know, we won’t force you ta leave.”

  “I thank you,” she murmured, falling into a comfortable silence as they journeyed on to Scotland. It warmed her to have family again, someone to protect her, someone she could call her own. She knew her duty, however. She would prepare for travel at the McPherson household, and then she would go to the king, no matter the discourse of her mind.

  * * * *

  Hours passed before the Blackmores located Bronson. They found him bound and gagged, lying on the ground with his horse tied to a nearby tree.

  He was livid.

  As soon as his bonds were cut, he was on his feet, steaming with silent fury. “They’ve taken her. Those damned devil’s have taken her!”

  Their father exchanged a look with Gray and Rafael. Gray shrugged. Rafael just looked embarrassed and confused.

  Constance, who’d come to help search, laid a tentative hand on his arm, calming him enough he could speak with reason. “Who Bronson?”

  “Alex!” he said, running his hands through his hair, throwing his head back to yell up at the sky.

  Constance’s eyes widened. “Who has taken her?” she asked again, catching his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes.

  He gave her a thunderous look, his nostrils flaring with his heaving breath. Slowly, a weariness settled on him, making his tense shoulders slump with weight. “Her cousins, the McPhersons.”

  “What is this she business, son?” Father demanded gruffly.

  “Alex is a woman, Father,” Constance explained. All turned stunned eyes on her. She didn’t smile though she should have been amused at their naiveté.

  “What?” Father roared, leaning weakly on his horse. Gray hugged is shoulder, looking ill himself.

  “How did you know?” Bronson asked, surprise etched on his hard face.

  “In the stables. I came to realize it afterwards, how odd his behavior. I’ve known for several days now. I’m surprised neither Gray or Rafael discovered this as well.”

  “Damn. But … damn,” Rafael murmured, sitting on the ground, propping his hands on his knees.

  “I don’t see how this could have happened,” Father mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I was fond of the boy. He—she was a good lad. So honest. Why would she deceive us?”

  “I aim to find out,” Bronson vowed.

  “How so?” Gray asked, Constance echoing his words.

  “I mean to steal into the McPherson’s lair and take her back.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Alex was amazed by the size of her newfound family. Uncle Hugh ushered her into the ancient castle and into the midst of them. The men were fair-haired and broad, as tall as the Blackmores, but as different in appearance as night and day. Uncle Argyle she had ‘met’ before, as she sat in a cow patty during the raid.

  He grinned at her. “I don’ bite, lass. C’mon, get you inside to the rest of us. They’re eager to lay kisses on yer cheeks.”

  Alex chuckled, breathless as each cousin hugged her in turn. Argyle had never married, but Hugh seemed to have made up for the loss by having many, many children. Her eldest cousin, Callum had a wild look to him, and he was far more quiet than his rowdy brothers. Next came Flynn and Hunter, the twins. There was Jamie and Wren, and lastly, she met the only female of the bunch—Kiara. Kiara’s hair was darker than her own, perfectly straight, but her build was the same as her own, and she looked more sister to her than distant relative.

  “I’ll get ye away from these brutes so you can rest, cousin. Ye’ve had a tryin’ day, I’m sure,” she said with a laugh, pulling Alex free from the hugging bustle.

  Alex grinned, tripping along beside her, giddy and happy. Her troubles seemed faraway now, and she didn’t want to worry herself over matters out of her control. For now, she planned to enjoy her family.

  Kiara led her upstairs to her solar, collapsing on a chair and gesturing Alex toward one.

  Kiara breathed a sigh. “Whew, ‘twas a job gettin’ away from that brood. Tell me, how like you the family?”

  Alex grinned. “I think I shall like you all very much.”

  Kiara returned her smile, then abruptly grew serious. Her voice full of concern, she asked, “Did you come to harm at Derwin Hall? If it’s so, I’ll take my blade to the lot of them.”

  Alex sighed, rubbing a hand along her cheek and jaw. “Nay, ‘twas not so bad I am mortally wounded.”

  “I saw you, you know. As that lout, Bronson bathed and forced you to watch. I came in and saved you. Remember the maid with the linens?” She gave a little laugh. “You looked terrified. Not that I blame you. ‘Twas understandable.”

  She swallowed, vividly remembering the first time she’d seen him bathing. Her body flushed with heat. She patted her hot cheeks. “I was not forced to do anything I did not want to do.”

  Kiara gave her a look. “I know the ways of their men. I gave one my mark for his trespass.”

  Alex sat up straight in her chair, intrigued. “Oh? Which one?”

  Kiara waved her hand, looking disinterested. “The one who’s name is akin to mud.”

  Alex laughed. “Gray?” she asked, astounded. She’d been certain a while there, he was going to beat her for attempting to seduce his brother. She could just imagine what her cousin had done to him. “What did you do?”

  “’Tis of no importance.” She grinned suddenly. “Marry, I warrant he does not forget me,” she said with a laugh, wiping tears from her eyes before straightening her face. “You’d do well to learn to protect yerself from men. Clinker me if they don’t seem an entirely different species. You mark my words, no matter what father says, when the time comes, you run from the marriage bed. I’ve seen too many an unhappy bride even amongst our own clansmen.”

  “Aye,” Alex agreed, nodding.

  “So God mend me, I do go on. I fear I set you in a spell with my glum words.”

  “Nay, I enjoy your talk.”

  “I see yer sad. Come, let’s join the others and be merry. I warrant they’ve scattered by now. One or two should not be so overwhelming,” she said with a grin, standing and offering her hand to Alex. “I am glad yer here, cousin. It can be lonesome being surrounded by so many clods.”

  * * * *

  Bronson, Gray, and Rafael ignored the warnings of their father and Constance’s pleading. Bronson had made up his mind, and it would not be changed. Gray and Rafael vowed to go if only to protect Bronson from irreversible folly.

  They waited through the following day until night fell. The moon cast almost no light in the pitch dark, and the stars shed more than the pale sliver peeping through wispy cloud cover.

  It took hours to reach the McPherson castle, for they had to leave their horses behind when they neared and walk the remaining distance. Fires glowed on the ramparts as clansmen kept watch in the frigid night air.

  The three men studied the guards, following the patterns of their watch. They’d been to the castle once, long ago when they were unruly children intent on playing pranks on their neighbors. Bronson knew their only chance was the entrance they’d taken then, but he feared that it
had come to ruin in the intervening years. If the tree had been trimmed, there would be no gaining access, and they would be caught in the open with no chance to escape.

  He didn’t believe they would be killed, but if the Scotsmen caught him trying to take back their kin, he honestly couldn’t fathom how they would react.

  “You mean to take the old oak?” Gray asked, whispering.

  Rafael punched him on the shoulder. “They cannot hear us at this distance, airling.”

  Gray scowled. “’Tis a good measure to take, no matter our distance.”

  “Hold you two,” Bronson said. “Aye, I take the route by the tree. Unless they’ve boarded the window or a storm as felled its branches, we should be able to gain entrance.”

  Gray rubbed his chin, looking at the castle. They couldn’t see the tree, for it was in the back, shielding the garden that had once grown there when the lady of the manor still lived. “’Twas ancient at the time and we young boys. I’ve my doubts they’d let it stand so long.”

  “I warrant the old man kept it for sentimental reasons.”

  “What are we waiting for then,” Rafael asked.

  Bronson tensed, crouching on the small rise. “By the next pass of yonder guard, we go down the hill to that ridge. From there, round the back.” He gave his brothers a look. “You’ll have to keep up.”

  Gray snorted. “I can beat you in a race any day, old man.”

  “We shall see,” Bronson said, readying himself. He had a prize to claim this night—Gray and Rafael had not the incentive he possessed.

  The guard walked as he’d done every other time, rounding the ramparts and heading to the far side, turning his back toward them.

  Bronson lunged forward, racing down the rise, jumping the ragged terrain at its bottom as he headed for the castle. Gray and Rafael trailed him by a hair, moving silently.

  Within heartbeats, they hit the castle, hugging their bodies tight against it. Bronson breathed through his teeth, listening for sounds of alarm. None came to his ears, and he edged quickly along the wall, moving round to the back.