When a Scot Gives His Heart

by Julie Johnstone

  “I like yer determination to escape me,” Lucan said, causing her to yelp in fright.

  Her pulse raced as she laid her hands in her lap. “I was nae trying to flee. My wrists hurt.”

  Lucan chuckled. “There’s a lie, if ever I heard one,” Lucan said. “Ye’ve spunk, lass. If I were inclined to take a wife, it would be one such as yerself.”

  The mere idea repulsed her. “I’m verra glad ye’re nae inclined for such a thing, then,” she bit out.

  In the firelight, Marsaili could see both his eyes slowly open, and the mirth that had been in his voice was gone from his icy gaze. “Careful, aye. I’m a prideful man, and if ye wound it too greatly by making me think ye’d nae welcome the touch of a man such as myself, I may feel obliged to show ye what ye are missing.”

  “Ye would nae dare,” she whispered, horrified by the thought of having his touch, or any other she didn’t want, forced upon her.

  “Nay,” he said, sounding irritated at himself for admitting he was not such a loathsome creature as that. “I’d nae. I dunnae need to force myself upon a lass. There are many who wish for my touch.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” she snapped.

  He turned to face her. “Shall I show ye what it is a man can do for a woman?” he asked, his tone silky.

  “I already ken what a man can do for a woman,” she replied, trying to steady her racing pulse as fear beat wildly within her. “Men can use women, lie to women, and break their hearts.”

  “Women can do the same to men,” he growled.

  It occurred to her then that maybe she was going about things the wrong way. Maybe she should try to understand Lucan, get him to trust her a bit, and then escape him. “I dunnae believe there is a woman alive who could have pierced that cold heart of yers,” she said softly. She held her breath, hoping he’d respond by telling her something of himself, something she could use.

  “My mother hurt me,” he said, sounding distracted. “She abandoned me when I was a lad of eight summers because she could nae feed herself and me, and she knew it would be easier to stay alive on her own.”

  Despite the fact that Lucan was a murderer who now held her captive, her heart squeezed for the pain such a thing must have caused him. “I’m certain,” she said slowly, “that yer mother did nae wish to leave ye.” Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the son who had been taken from her.

  Lucan made a derisive noise. “I’m certain she did, as she told me so. Ye dunnae forget being told ye have been nae a thing but a burden since the day ye were born.”

  Marsaili’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry, Lucan.” She could hardly believe she had so much sympathy for a man who had stolen her—twice.

  “Dunnae fash yerself for me,” he said, his voice frosty once more. “I only tell ye this because I want ye to truly ken that I do what I must to live. I’ve been near starving in my life, and I’ll nae ever be near starving again, even if I have to murder and take ye to some English lord to ensure I have enough coin. Ye can try to escape me, and ye may even succeed, but I’ll come after ye, and then—”

  “I’ll regret it,” she finished for him.

  “Aye.”

  She had no doubt he meant it. “How would ye make me regret it, Lucan? Ye kinnae kill me,” she said, matter-of-fact. “And if ye wound me, ye risk the earl nae wanting me anymore.”

  “Oh, I’d nae hurt ye,” he said, rolling onto his back once more. “Well, nae so much that it leaves a scar. I learned long ago that the best way to hurt someone is to strike at who they love.”

  She thought again of her son, but Lucan did not know of his existence. He was safe. “I dunnae love anyone.”

  He snorted. “It did nae look that way when ye were kissing the Grant laird.”

  Marsaili gaped. “Ye’ve been watching me?”

  “Nay, nae since I left ye to Cedric. After I discovered the earl had sent men for ye and I dispensed of them, I was making my way to the castle to collect ye and take ye to the earl. I was verra shocked to find ye in the laird’s arms, but verra glad to discover he’d dispensed of Godfrey for me. It may nae seem it, but I dunnae actually relish killing. I do it because I must.”

  Her skin tingled with his words. He believed that. He truly did. And that made him very dangerous. She swallowed hard, an image of Callum floating in her mind. She had loved him with all her heart, and he had destroyed that love. Yet, that did not mean she would ever want him hurt, not truly. “Callum Grant stole a kiss from me. I did nae give it willing.”

  “Ye looked more than willing to me—until he called ye mo chridhe. Then ye turned wild, much like a woman scorned. I’ve been on the receiving end of that anger enough times to ken what a lass whose heart has been broken looks like.”

  “Ye’re mistaken,” she protested, fearful that her heart did still hold some attachment to Callum, her first and only love. She also feared that attachment would somehow cause Callum harm if she managed to escape Lucan.

  “I’ll kill the Grant laird if ye cost me my coin,” Lucan said, firmly shutting his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Keep that in mind.”

  “It dunnae matter to me what ye do to the Grant laird,” she lied.

  The only answer was that of the wind and the creatures of the woods. She sat there, tense, her stomach knotted and palms sweating. It didn’t seem to be long before Lucan’s snoring filled the night once again, but this time she waited for a long spell before she moved at all. First, she wiggled her wrists again to see if she could loosen the ropes, and much to her surprise, she could. The rope chafed her skin, causing it to burn, but she ignored the pain and struggled with her left hand until she finally got it free.

  When Lucan grunted in his sleep, she froze, her heart nearly exploding. She locked her gaze on his chest, which continued to go up and down in long breaths. Sweat dampened her neck and brow as she bent toward her ankle and released her foot. She curled her knees in and slowly stood, her blood roaring in her ears. Lucan slept with both his daggers clutched in his hands, and his sword was sheathed along the length of his leg. She desperately feared that if she tried to take a weapon, he would awaken. If she managed to obtain a weapon and he woke up afterward, would she be able to kill him? She didn’t think she had the stomach to murder him unless she was defending herself.

  The only thing to do was get as far away as she possibly could. Decision made, she turned and crept toward the thick trees, hoping to lose herself in their canopy. When she entered the woods, she stilled and glanced around her. Urquhart Castle was to the east, and she thought Inverurie was to the west, where Maria had said the Summers Walkers would likely be. But if she headed toward her son, she would be abandoning Callum to Lucan’s wrath.

  Cursing, she turned toward the east. A branch snapped underfoot, and a roar resounded behind her. “Marsaili!” Lucan yelled, as she began to run. “I’m coming for ye, lass!”

  Callum had just finished tethering his horse to a tree so he could take a rest when a man’s voice bellowed Marsaili’s name in the quiet night. Happiness that he had tracked them correctly, and so swiftly, yielded to fury that she was in danger. Callum withdrew his sword as he ran toward the yelling, but before he got more than two steps, Marsaili burst through the trees and collided with him. Instinctually, he caught her in his embrace, the touch of her warm skin filling him with powerful emotions that went well beyond desire.

  “Callum,” she gasped, “give me a weapon!”

  Without question, he handed her a dagger while reaching to shove her behind him. But she slipped from his grasp, and as the Black Mercenary raced through the very spot she just had, to Callum’s astonishment, she rushed toward the man with the dagger and thrust it in front of her.

  “Marsaili!” he called out, alarm spiraling through every part of his body. He moved toward her, but it felt as if time—and he—had somehow slowed down. She stabbed the Mercenary in the chest, and then she screamed as the man reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, ya
nked her head back, and brought his dagger to her neck.

  “Dunnae come closer,” the man grunted at Callum while Marsaili screeched and kicked out to no avail.

  Callum came to a shuddering halt, and Marsaili shouted, “Dunnae listen to him! He’ll kill ye, but he’ll nae kill me. I’m too valuable to him.”

  “Oh, I’ll kill her,” the man threatened. “To be sure, if ye take another step, I’ll kill her.”

  “I’ll nae take another step,” Callum said and threw his dagger. The weapon lodged into the man’s hand, and with a howl, he released Marsaili, who scrambled away from him and toward Callum.

  As she did so, the Mercenary withdrew his sword. Without thinking, Callum shoved Marsaili down out of the sword’s path and met the man with his own. Their weapons clanked and slid blade to blade with a screeching noise. Rage pumped through Callum’s veins as he struck a blow to the man’s right leg and then left. Lucan crumpled to the ground, reaching for his shins, which Callum had sliced across. As Lucan rolled onto his back, screaming in pain, Callum raised his sword overhead to deal the man a deathblow.

  “Nay!” Marsaili cried, scrambling toward Callum and grabbing at his arm. “Dunnae kill him.”

  Breathing hard, Callum kept his gaze trained on Lucan. “Why? Why do ye wish to show him mercy?”

  “He kinnae follow us,” she said calmly. “Nae wounded as he is.”

  Callum glanced down at the man writhing in agony, then finally looked to Marsaili, who was but a shadow in the dark woods. “He will likely die here.”

  “Likely,” she agreed, “but his death will nae be on our shoulders.” With that, she pushed around Callum, kneeled down, and gathered Lucan’s weapons. “I’m sorry yer mother abandoned ye,” she said to Lucan. Callum blinked in astonishment. “Ye did nae deserve that. All children should ken their parents.” She murmured the last sentence so softy that it took him a moment to discern exactly what she had said.

  When she turned toward Callum, the moonlight hit her face, which glistened from the tears streaming down her cheeks. She brushed past him, two daggers and a sword crushed to her chest, leaving Lucan groaning on the ground. Callum watched her, hips swaying attractively, despite her determined march. He was certain she would pause, turn, and offer some explanation, but when she started up the hill he had descended not long before, he understood she had no intention of saying anything else.

  He turned to Lucan. “I’m letting ye live, though I doubt ye’ll make it out of here alive. But hear me now. If ye do somehow live and think to come after me or Marsaili, I’ll nae be so generous as I am at this moment. If ye try to take her again, or threaten her in any way, I will rip out yer heart with my bare hands.”

  “I look forward to ye trying,” Lucan called to Callum’s back, for he had already started after Marsaili.

  He overtook her on the other side of the rocky ledge where a stream meandered through the thick woods. She didn’t pause in her stride or acknowledge his presence. “Marsaili,” he said, thinking she would surely stop.

  “Aye?” Her tone was cool.

  “Ye are going the wrong way. My home is to the north.”

  “I’m nae heading to yer home,” she replied, quickening her pace.

  “Do ye nae wish to return for yer friend before I take ye to Dunvegan.”

  She came to an abrupt stop. “Ye?”

  “Aye. I’ve decided to take ye myself.”

  She gave him a wary look. “Nay. I dunnae have time to return for Maria.”

  He frowned. “To where do ye flee in such a rush that ye would leave yer friend behind?”

  “She will ken,” Marsaili replied and turned away to continue her flight. He grabbed her arm, sending the sword and one of the daggers she had been holding to the ground between them. Something inside him jolted with the contact, and he was fairly certain it was his heart. She did not try to pull away, but perhaps she sensed he would not let her go. His resistance to Marsaili was nearly nonexistent, and he could not afford for that to be so. His greatest defense would be to allow her to depart as she wished, but no force on Earth, even his position as laird, would compel him to abandon her when she was in such danger. The admission was dredged from a place beyond logic and reason.

  Marsaili was strong, yet when faced with the enemies that were hounds on her heels, she was very vulnerable. And whatever secrets she was hiding from him, for he saw that she was in the depths of her gaze, they must have weighed on her most terribly to cry for a man who had seized her twice. No, Callum could not part with her. The best he could hope for was to keep his guard up and not allow himself to be drawn to her so much that he once again forgot his responsibilities. Yet, in order to help her, he needed to know the truth, or as much as he could persuade her to tell him.

  “What the devil are ye about, Marsaili? Maria told me ye share the same mother with the MacLeods, and she mentioned that ye once believing me honorable cost ye much. I’d stake my life on the fact that ye dunnae have any intention, nor did ye likely ever, of traveling to Dunvegan Castle.” An outraged look crossed her face, but it did so a breath after her eyes had widened to the size of saucers. “Dunnae bother to deny it,” he growled. “Yer guilt shows in yer eyes. Why did ye tell me ye were going there to a certain MacLeod? And surely ye have nae been at yer Campbell home these whole three years? Where have ye been? Running from yer father? Did ye flee to the MacLeods?”

  She immediately cast her gaze from him and set out untying rope at her calf and moving it to her waist where she put her remaining dagger. “Ye dunnae have the right to demand answers from me,” she said, the words rough, as if she’d ground them between her teeth before spitting them out. “I dunnae hold importance to ye.”

  A thousand denials came to his lips and froze there. Nothing he wanted to say was possible to do so without revealing how he really felt. There had never been a woman more important to him than she had been, and there never would be again. He wanted to reach out and caress her cheek, bridge the distance that his duty required he keep from her. But he could do none of that. He curled his hands into fists, his desire for her thicker than the blood in his veins. “I may nae have the right to demand answers of ye, but as yer protector, I’m taking the right, mine or nae.”

  “Ye’re nae my protector!” she said, her horror at the notion all too clear.

  He would have been offended, but he wondered suddenly if she, too, was still drawn to him as she had once been and was fighting it. God’s blood, he was a fool to even ponder such a thing. It was more likely that she simply detested him and did not want to be around him because she believed him dishonorable. Yet around him she would be, whether she liked it or not.

  “I am yer protector from this moment forward,” he said.

  “By whose authority?” she demanded.

  “By the authority given by God to all honorable men when a woman foolishly means to put her life in peril,” he growled, wincing the moment the belittling words left his mouth.

  She whipped up the dagger that she had sheathed and pointed it at him. “Release me, or I’ll stab ye.”

  “Ye would nae,” he countered, though he was prepared to block a thrust of her dagger with his forearm in the event that he was misjudging just how vexed she was.

  She blew out a frustrated breath, which allowed him to exhale his own pent-up one. “Release me, Callum. Ye dunnae have a claim on me.”

  Her words punctured his heart like so many well-placed arrows. “I dunnae, ye speak the truth, but I intend to see ye to where ye wish to travel, and I’ll nae be parting ways with ye until I am certain ye are safe. So ye can tell me where it is ye truly are heading, or I will simply throw ye on my horse and take ye back to my castle where I ken ye will be safe.”

  “I imagine yer future wife would have a few things to say about that,” Marsaili said, sarcasm heavy in her tone.

  “I imagine she would,” he agreed, not caring one bit in this moment.

  “I kinnae return to yer home,” she murmu
red, almost as if distracted by her thoughts.

  He looked down at her, her brown hair in wild disarray, dirt and traces of blood from branch scratches smudging her cheeks. None of it mattered. Her beauty radiated from within and made him want to weep shamefully like a bairn. He swallowed, keenly aware the battle to resist her was raging already.

  “Tell me where ye are going, and I will see ye there.” And then somehow, someway, he would have to find the will to leave her there and return to his home, to the duty that bound him. “Will ye be safe there?”

  “I dunnae ken,” she said faintly. “But I must go anyway.”

  God’s teeth, if she was his he would keep her safe forever. If… But she was not his. The most he could hope for was to deliver her into the hands of someone who had her welfare in mind and would strive to keep her from harm. He prayed it would be one of her MacLeod brothers, for if Callum had to hand her off to a man that might one day marry her or have her heart, it would rip him apart. “Could ye travel to Dunvegan when ye are done?” he asked hopefully.

  “Nae now.” Her gaze skittered to him and then away. “I will someday, and I hope the welcome is warm and nae frosty.”

  “Why would yer brothers nae welcome ye warmly?”

  “I have done unforgivable things, yet my sister Lena has asked them to show me forgiveness, so we shall see what comes to pass.”

  He could not imagine her doing things that were unforgiveable. She was too good, her heart too pure. He swallowed thickly. “What things? Can ye tell me?”

  She shook her head. “I dunnae wish to tell ye. I’ll nae be revealing my secrets to ye ever again. Doing so once was a mistake; doing so twice would make me an utter fool. Ye lied to me. I told ye what ye would face if ye wanted to wed me, I told ye of my father’s plot, and ye sat there and ye sat there, nae saying a word about yer own future. Ye were promised to wed another and ye joined with me! Offered vows ye kenned ye were nae free to offer!”