The Highlander’s Witch

by Jennifer France

  They didn’t wear normal jeans and shirts and there wasn’t a button or zipper on either of them—at least from what she could see under the grime.

  She remembered the smell of leather as her face swung uncomfortably over the side of the horse next to the man’s leg. If it weren’t for the shorter blond locks that barely touched the other man’s shoulders, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.

  Wrinkling her nose at the smell the fire put off, Skye once again focused on loosening her bonds.

  When the blaze had destroyed the cat, they buried the remains and turned towards her. Fear caused her throat to clog as she backed into the stallion when the two monstrous men eyed her, causing the beast to turn its head and nip at her.

  Before she could gather her wits, her kidnapper hauled her once more over his lap.

  An hour later, they broke out of the forest into a cloudy day.

  Shaking her head in confusion, Skye thought on how only an hour or so ago it had been late evening.

  It was too soon to be seeing the sun now.

  What she did know was that her body ached from the unpleasant position and the man wouldn’t let her move to get comfortable, not caring that his hard thighs and rigid knees were digging into her ribcage to the point of constant pain.

  Pushing herself up, she tried to get her bearings, but a hand pressed her back down, leaving her with only images of barren trees and brown hills dotted with patches of snow.

  The sun was high in the overcast sky before they stopped.

  Her captor used her robe to haul Skye off the horse and she stumbled, falling to her knees because she had no feeling in her legs after the hours of cold and forced into an awkward position during the ride.

  Noticing she’d lost her other slipper, Skye glared up at the man as he dismounted, but he ignored her to check on the wounded dog.

  Scratchy from the dried mud that made her itch in places she’d rather not be thinking of, she concentrated once again on loosening the rope that bound her hands together, freezing as the second dog approached her cautiously.

  Towering over her, it growled low in its throat just before it sniffed her robe. It was like a huge hairy greyhound, only she never thought of greyhounds looking so ferocious. When it was finished smelling her, it went over to the litter where the men were tending to the other dog.

  Since they continued to ignore her and spoke too low for her to hear, Skye looked around hoping to find a way to escape but they were in a large clearing. She didn’t think she’d be able to find a place to hide before they noticed her gone and came after her. Of course, she couldn’t know that for sure unless she tried. Placing her hands on her legs she concentrated, willing blood back into all her limbs.

  Moments later, she was easing herself carefully to her feet when she noticed a body in front of her. Heart threatening to break free from her chest, she tilted her head, not happy that she had to, to look at the man who captured her.

  She came to her full height and stared at him, trying to hide how his stature and strength intimidated her.

  In the light of day, she couldn’t help but notice his eyes. They were the purest blue she’d ever seen, ringed in a deeper blue, almost black.

  Damn, he was big.

  He stood there with his arms crossed and it angered her that he could so effortlessly frighten her. A shirt of some kind under his thick cloak barely concealed just how well built he was. Inwardly, she realized she was staring at him and it probably wasn’t a good thing, but she couldn’t help it.

  Then it hit her; he had spoken in Gaelic earlier! What had he said? She couldn’t remember.

  She stood there shivering, refusing to look away or look as pitiful as she felt.

  He returned her gaze, except he took in her appearance with a look of disgust.

  “Ye be the filthiest lad I have ever deemed to look at.” His lip curled. “An ye stink.”

  Skye glared, not knowing if she was more furious at being called a boy or filthy when it was his fault she was caked in dried mud, and it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t large chested.

  Crossing her arms as well, she sneered. “Have you smelt yourself lately?”

  That got a surprised look, but before he could respond, a yelp from the litter drew his attention, a worried look flashed over his features before disappearing as he turned back to warn her.

  “Runnin be useless. Twilna do anythin but cause me to punish ye harshly.”

  She watched him walk away until a soft whimper brought her attention to the injured hound and she could not help but frown in sympathy.

  That dog had saved her life. It may have been unintentional, but it remained a fact.

  When the men settled to eat without offering her anything, Skye eased her way to the wounded dog.

  Knowing the two men watched, she knelt before it, whispering soft words of assurance even as it growled weakly at her.

  Blood matted so much of the fur, she couldn’t tell where the wounds were.

  “I know, baby.” She cooed as she felt the warmth in her hands when her powers gathered strength.

  Cold and weakened from the day’s events, as well as the recent use of her powers to get her blood circulation going, Skye still knew she had to do something for this poor animal that had saved her life. She wouldn’t do anything noticeable just enough to make sure it would survive.

  Placing the back of her hand in front of its nose, she allowed it to sniff her, hoping its animal senses would pick up her abilities and understand she was here to help, not harm.

  The growling stopped and Skye sighed in relief knowing the hard part was about to begin.

  With her hands tightly bound, she could just barely close one hand in a loose fist so she could place the fingertips of her other hand on the dog’s skin.

  Concentrating, she focused her energy inwards.

  “What be the lad doin, Aiden?

  “I doona ken.” Scratching the irritating beard, he glowered. “But he harms me wee Seelie an he won’t be seein the end of this day.”

  “Mayhap he be prayin the way his head be bowed over her?”

  “Damn Christians.” Aiden replied in a distracted voice, his eyes never leaving the boy who showed him no fear.

  They watched the stranger for a moment, absently biting the salted dried meat.

  “I canna put me finger on it Collin, but there be somethin about the lad . . .” Aiden sighed in frustration. “I doona ken it.”

  “Twould be wise to keep an eye on him, to be sure.” Collin placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Ye ken Seelie won’t last the journey home?”

  When there was no reply, Collin nodded and left the man to his thoughts.

  Skye removed her shaking hand.

  “I don’t know how you survived this long, little girl. There was more damage than I thought.” She shook her head in amazement as she spoke quietly. “But I got the worst of it.”

  She was cold and her body was quivering with the energy she spent. Unable to hold herself up any more, she sunk to the ground, curling into a ball, trying to heat her worn out body.

  Aiden found her that way when he came to harness the litter. What gave him pause was seeing Seelie licking the lad’s bound hands.

  “Would ye look at that?” Collin whispered in awe as he drew his horse alongside.

  Aiden clenched his teeth and hauled the boy to his feet, shaking him. “Wake up, ye lazy welp.”

  Skye fell as soon as he let go of her. On hands and knees, she lifted her head and glared at the man. “Dammit, give me a second, will you?”

  “Ye have until we get this hooked, no more, ye ken?”

  Skye scrunched up her face, trying to follow along with the heavy accent.

  He crouched beside her and pulled her head back by the knit cap, tugging her hair with it. “Ye ken?”

  “Yes, dammit, ‘I ken’.”

  Aiden gave his friend a sour look when he chuckled.

  By the time they had the litter atta
ched to the other man’s horse, Skye was barely able to stand on her feet.

  Her throat hurt and her voice was horse from swallowing the grit in her mouth and a lack of water to rinse the sand out put her in a foul mood, but she’d be damned if she showed any more weakness to these men.

  Aiden came alongside and patted behind him. “Get on back. Ye smell too foul to be in front.”

  Feeling the grit crunch when she clenched her teeth, Skye patiently held up her bound hands.

  “And how do you propose I do that?” She croaked.

  Too swift for Skye to step back, Aiden leaned down, grabbed her upper arm and then hauled her up behind him.

  She would have shrieked in surprise but it came out a croak and then she was too busy grabbing his cloak to keep from falling when the horse took off.

  Scared of what could happen in her condition if she fell asleep while touching him, Skye struggled to remain erect but was exhausted and found herself, more than once, leaning into his broad back, only the tickle of his matted hair on her nose brought her alert.

  Unable to stop her thoughts about her captors, she wondered at the brute strength they seemed to wield with ease. Everything about them exuded power and control, from their height which towered almost a foot over Skye’s five foot eight frame to their body mass, which was pure muscle from head to foot and everywhere in between.

  She was thankful that the one she was riding with was big enough to block most of the wind and kept her slightly warm. From his neck down, he had the body of a god. From the neck up, he looked wild, untamed, fierce—and ugly . . . except for his eyes, they were breathtaking.

  She should be afraid of him, but the way he treated the injured dog made him seem more human and less god-like.

  Skye’s stomach growled and she wondered how long it had been since she’d eaten. Because she thought she was meeting her aunt for dinner and not going to a speed dating event, she hadn’t worried about food, then she’d became too disgusted to even think about eating.

  Looking around, she tried to forget about her angry stomach as she worked on figuring out where she was.

  From their language, she figured Scotland. Probably the backwoods because they hadn’t passed any towns. They were scruffy, had bows and arrows, and that thing that kept hitting her thigh when she was lying across his lap earlier was probably some kind of holster for a gun.

  Hunting season in the backwoods of Scotland.

  Just great.

  The language they spoke wasn’t the Gaelic she knew but it was close enough that if she concentrated she could figure most of it out, like when they were discussing if they should stop for the night, their main concern on if Seelie, the wounded dog, could make it.

  Her stomach growled again and she winced. A moment later, she felt him poke her and she looked up to see something in his hand.

  “Eat.” He commanded.

  Too hungry to be offended by his rudeness, she took the piece of dried meat and forced herself to chew slow, not knowing when she would eat next.

  Skye told herself that as soon as they stopped, they would probably start a fire and then she would have a chance to get a hold of her sister to get her out of there.

  Then, by damn, she was going to have a one-sided conversation with her family.

  No more of this trying to set her up with someone because, obviously, Aunt Gladys had lost her marbles sending her here. She knew it was her aunt, because Miss Kitty only listened to Aunt Gladys and the cat only used Skye or Sarah when she deemed them worthy, like letting her in from the cold.

  Finishing the meat, Skye was jerked out of her thoughts as they came to a halt.

  Looking around, she watched the second man walk behind his horse and crouch by the litter, checking the dog.

  “How be she?” The man in front of her asked in Gaelic.

  Collin looked up. “I think the wee lass will make it.” He stated with surprise written all over his face.

  Skye relaxed slightly. She’d been worried she didn’t have enough strength to do all that was needed to make sure the dog would live.

  The other man looked around. “So, do we make it home or stop at the auld shepherds place?”

  “Tis gonna rain.”

  “Aye.”

  “We could make it no long after night fall.”

  The other man grinned. “We would be wet but we would be home in a warm bed.”

  “Cover her up an let us get. I be tired, an the thought of a night with the smell comin from the lad isna apealin.”

  It wasn’t until they were on their way that Skye figured out what he’d said and snorted.

  Chapter Three

  Skye collapsed against her captor’s back.

  She couldn’t help it. Worn out, freezing, and soaked to the skin from the chilly rain that had started a couple hours ago, her body finally shut down.

  Aiden felt the lad fall against him and he twisted around carefully to keep him from falling.

  He should have given the boy some kind of cover but he didn’t know who the lad was or where he came from and too many years of battle had taught him to err on the side of caution.

  Concern was the last thing he would show the intruder.

  They were close to their destination. It was already dark as the rain began to fall and would be pitch black when they reached the castle gates but he was tired of being away and looked forward to the comfort of his own hearth.

  Aiden’s thoughts centered on his home and not some small campfire out on the march or in a field surrounded by men who didn’t know there was better than the present.

  He was tired of war and the worthless spilling of blood.

  Tired of the nobility’s failure to unite to strengthen Scotland for all, instead of the individual.

  He, Collin, and their men, had just returned from the brutal battle in Edinburgh where they battled alongside Robert Stewart against imprisonment of the young Duke of Rothesay. A man whose actions threatened to destroy the very aristocracy Aiden was weary of.

  All he’d wanted was to be left alone, laird of his own keep. Concerned with nothing but the improvement of his people and the land they lived on.

  Not even given a moment to remove the grime from his body or the hair from his face, his people had begged him to hunt down and kill the cougar that was destroying their cattle and had killed the last man sent after it the previous night.

  When Collin, his longtime friend and younger sister’s husband, had seen Aiden readying himself to do as his people asked, he had kissed his pregnant wife and saddled a new horse.

  Now he was returning to his castle.

  He should be happy.

  Instead, he was concerned.

  He knew that there was alarm over recent fear of the English crossing their boarders and aligning with Reivers to steal land and slay those they couldn’t make into slaves.

  Now, here was this English boy caught just inside his property.

  He was going to get answers before he would be able to rest. Mayhap they should have stopped for the night at the old hut. He sighed, knowing Collin wished to return to his family as much as he did.

  * * *

  She was dreaming about a chant to get her home, confused by the water that seemed a part of it.

  Then she was falling again.

  “No!” She cried out hoarsely, struggling to reach the surface.

  Arms held her tight as she fought with all her strength, her bound hands unable to break free against the grip on her.

  “Stop!” Came a vaguely familiar voice, stern in its demand.

  Skye stilled in shock before sagging in relief as she realized it was pouring rain and she’d only been hauled off the horse’s back and hadn’t actually cast a spell sending her to the bottom of the ocean.

  A small amount of light came from somewhere behind her, making it difficult for her clouded mind to make out details so when he grabbed one of her fists and felt something cold slice between her wrists she stiffened even as her
body shivered from the god-awful cold.

  Gritting her teeth, she looked up at him, the heavy downpour causing rivulets of water to course from her cap down her face.

  Aiden stared down at the barely illuminated face in front of him, eyes narrowed as something tickled his brain.

  Hauling the lad up the stone stairway by the arm, he ignored the cries of protest and dragged the boy inside where torches lit the entryway.

  Ignoring his mother and sister’s welcome, he glowered at the person before him.

  “What?” Skye croaked in frustration.

  She cringed when his meaty hand reached out, yanking off her cap.

  There were gasps and then silence as her hair unwound from its twist in thick clumps.

  “Yer a lass.” Aiden accused.

  “Well, duh.”

  Realizing this was not the appropriate time to get snide, Skye snapped her mouth shut feeling her teeth grind against sand.

  Aiden shook his head and walked around her, poking here and there. When he returned to stand in front of her and poked a breast, her hand lashed out to slap him but his reflexes proved faster than hers.

  As he caught her wrist, Skye glared up at him.

  “You are an ass.” She spit out, enunciating each word as if she was talking to a simpleton.

  When she made to go on, he leaned into her space and whispered fiercely. “Hold yer tongue!”

  Straightening himself, he called out to one of his men and when approached, he pushed her into his arms.

  “I want her washed, presentable, an before me in one hour.” He demanded as he stormed off, his family following.

  Led to a place resembling a kitchen that would have fit in perfectly in medieval times shocked Skye and she stumbled to a stop.

  She didn’t remember seeing where they were before they got to wherever it was they were because of the night rain and she’d been sleeping, but the things she saw now was cause for concern.

  She began to tick off clues.

  Torches, tapestries, the gowns the women were wearing, the kilts and trousers the men wore.

  “No way.” She remarked.