To Conquer a Scot (A Time Traveler’s Highland Love)

by Gill, Tamara

  “Maybe I’ll have ye now.” He jumped from the horse and came around to stand over her, nudging one of her legs with his boot.

  “Look at me,” she screamed. “I mean, really look at me. I’m not this Coira you seek. Surely in the months she lived with you, you noticed some sort of mark, a scar even, that will prove my innocence.”

  He seemed to think on this a moment, before disdain covered his features. “Ye are who I say ye are.”

  “How fortunate.” Abby looked around the location, searching for anyone to come and get her out of the dire situation. She noted a rough stone cottage farther down the hill, a thatch roof and no door, just a space to enter the building. The windows had no glass panels. It didn’t look like anyone had lived in the dwelling for years.

  He slashed the rope at her ankles, the knife slicing into her skin. Abby gasped, but didn’t have time to see how much damage he’d done, as he hauled her up and pushed her toward the cottage.

  “Inside.”

  She did as she was told, entering the building and noting it was empty save for an unlit fire and an old cot to one side of the room. The floor was dirt, the air smelling of damp and mold. “Why have we stopped here?”

  He looked out the door, ignoring her question.

  “Why have we stopped?” Abby raised her voice the second time she asked, the fear over the unknown making her bolder.

  He called out to one of his men to come to the cottage. He still didn’t answer her, but instead spoke to his clansman. “Watch the lass and don’t let her leave. If she tries, kill her, I don’t care how.”

  Abby gasped in shock as he left her with a man that looked at her as if she were a tasty morsel of food, not a prisoner of his laird. She tore her gaze away as his attention lowered to her bosom, not wanting to see the salacious smirk that covered his god-awful visage.

  She was a sitting duck, a target for anyone who wanted to hurt her, and tied up as she was, there was nothing she could do about it.

  After a few hours of being held, Abby started to doze. It was dangerous to sleep, she knew that, and yet the pounding headache and lack of sleep the night before were catching up with her. The guard hadn’t moved, and even if he seemed to be thinking of taking her for his own pleasure, he hadn’t ventured from his post.

  Famous last thoughts. No sooner had she thought it, than the sound of boots stomping across the floor woke her. She gasped as the guard grabbed her legs and pulled her down into a laying position. Abby screamed, kicking out as he tried to grab her legs and spread them apart.

  Images of the horror that was about to come filled her mind. With her hands tied, she fisted them together and struck his jaw, snapping his head back. He laughed at her attack attempt, seemingly unfazed, before he slapped her hard. Abby blinked, wondering where she was for a moment, before absolute terror crashed her into reality.

  He slid between her legs, the slimy tip of his jutting penis touching her thigh. Abby wrenched herself to the side, making him lose his balance. She used the moment to get up and run for the door. He caught her, pushing her forward, making her face plant into the ground. Dirt and moss entered her mouth as adrenalin flew through her veins.

  Cool air touched her legs as he threw her gown up over her back. His hand pushed hard on her nape, pinning her against a rock. “Try that again, and I’ll slit yer throat. Now hold still, or it’ll be more than my cock you’ll feel back here.”

  ...

  Aedan pushed hard through the night, his tracking hounds not taking long to find a scent of Clan Kirk and the bastard who dared to take Abigail. When he’d left her, he’d rounded up his clansmen, some less than helpful after a night of revelling, and gone looking for the soon-to-be-dead laird.

  And found him missing.

  That their camp was deserted wasn’t a surprise, but it made him wonder what the man was up to. He’d sent men off to try and see which direction they’d traveled, as he headed back toward the castle, wanting to ensure Abigail and Gwen were safe.

  He’d found Braxton leaning up against his sister’s door, the man confirming all was well in that part of the castle. He’d then headed to Abigail’s room and found her servant with a broken neck on the floor, and no sign of his lass.

  A chilling rage enveloped him and he’d bolted for the stables, calling to his men to take arms against Clan Kirk. They’d caught up with some of the other laird’s men within the hour who notified him the Kirks were headed toward O’Cain lands. No doubt hoping they’d find sanctuary within their treacherous walls. Rory Kirk would never reach O’Cain land, and he’d find no safety by the end of this night. Aedan would make sure of that.

  Hours later, the light of day pierced the sky and he could see the fleeing clan in the gully beyond. He stopped his men, looking to see if he could recognize Abigail among the many men. Not seeing her, a paralysing fear that he was too late gripped him.

  He looked farther up the ridge and spotted an old crofter’s cottage, movement near the door said there was a man there, but he couldn’t make out much more than that. Aedan urged his mount on, knowing that if they didn’t act soon, Abigail’s life would be in danger should they cross into O’Cain ground.

  If Rory had hurt Abigail, he’d ensure his death was long and painful. Nothing would stop him from having his revenge on a man who was a blight on Scottish soil.

  He yelled to his men as they barrelled into the enemy’s camp. “No prisoners. Kill them all.” His men shouted their agreement as they surrounded Clan Kirk. Aedan pulled his sword and sliced into a man as he rode past with no thought or care that the man’s last hours on earth would be long or painful. All that mattered was Abigail. Her safety.

  The battle was bloody, swords clashed, and horses screamed. Aedan fell from his mount and fought with his clansmen to avenge their honor and home. The fight seemed to last forever, each stroke jarring his already injured arm, blood oozed from his wounds.

  He looked up to the cottage and realized that from here, whoever was up there with Abigail, should she even be there, wouldn’t know the clan had been attacked. He headed in that direction. Sweat poured down his face, and he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. He stopped, halting his men as Rory stood, surrounded by a few remaining clansmen, the snarl on his face making the blood in his veins turn cold. The bastard would pay for this, no matter what came out of his mouth in the next few minutes.

  “You’ll lose this battle, Aedan. The woman isn’t yours, and she’ll do to you what she’s done to me, no matter what promises she makes. I’m only taking back what is mine and making her repent.”

  Anger thrummed through Aedan, and he clenched his jaw. The urge to gut the man, spill his body parts, and let the dogs eat him alive, was tempting. “She’s not who you seek. Wherever your betrothed went was not to my keep. Your actions this past day have brought nothing but dishonor to your family and yourself. It ends here. Now.”

  “You’re too late, in any case. I’ve already taken your sweet woman’s body.” He laughed. “She liked it, too. Begged for more, scraped her nails down me back.” Rory’s men joined in with his mirth and Aedan’s temper snapped.

  He charged the man, his sword raised to chop off his head, anything, as long as the man died. Abigail would never have gone willingly to this traitor’s bed, and it left him enraged that she’d been raped.

  Shock registered on Rory’s face, but it wasn’t from Aedan’s strike. The spike of a silver arrow protruded through the man’s chest, and he looked down on it for a moment in awe, before his eyes glazed over in death and he fell forward. MacLeod clansmen took care of the last remaining Kirk men as Aedan looked around for who it was that had shot the arrow.

  “Are ye alright?”

  His attention flicked up the ridge to a copse of trees, and he met his sister’s gaze. He swore. “What are ye doing here, Gwen? How did ye get out of yer room with Braxton at ye door?”

  “You forget my room also has a hidden passageway. Braxton didn’t let me out; in fact, he’s no d
oubt snoring against my door right at this very moment, none the wiser.”

  “We’ll be having words about this when we return home, I can assure ye.” He stood. “Now, what are ye doing here? Explain yourself.”

  His sister smiled and gestured to the trees a little way away. “I was behind the tapestry in Abigail’s room when he took off with her. I followed him and knew you’d catch up, eventually. But when I saw you were going to fight him after he goaded you, I had to shoot. Your sword skills have never been the very best when you’re angry. And he angered ye on purpose.”

  Shocked mute for a moment, he stared at Gwen, not believing what she was saying. “You push me this day, sister, but I’m glad of it. It seems your aim is true.”

  Gwen smiled. “Are ye proud of me then?”

  He nodded, starting for the cottage. “More than ye know. But ye still shouldn’t have put yourself in so much danger. These men are not the sort I want my sister around.”

  “I know,” Gwen said, frowning slightly.

  “Give me yer arrows. I may need them.”

  She shrugged off her gear and handed them to him. Accompanied with two of his men, he ran for the cottage, the sound of a scream and swearing echoing over the ridge.

  If they’d touched one hair on her body… Aedan crawled up the last of the rise and looked over a small ridge of stone and saw Abigail run from the cottage, a haggard, nasty-looking man close on her heels, before he pushed her over, sending her spiralling forward.

  “Stay here. I’m going to move around and see if I can get closer without being seen.”

  His men and Gwen agreed and he left, never taking his eyes off the woman he loved.

  ...

  Abigail gasped, her eyes wide with fear as he released the arrow, watching with satisfaction as it thumped into the bastard’s back and popped out where his heart would sit. The man cried out, before falling over.

  His lass rolled away from the dead man, scurrying farther still as blood pumped onto the soil and toward her foot.

  “It’s alright, lass. I’ve got ye. You’re safe now.”

  And thank God he did…

  Aedan scooped Abigail into his arms and cradled her against him. Her body shook. He pushed a lock of hair away from her face, hoping she’d say something. Look at him, anything, but only blankness stared back at him from her normally beautiful, vibrant eyes.

  She was as pale as a new moon, and as cold as the loch in winter. He felt her skull and noted the large bump protruding from the back. No doubt how Rory Kirk had removed her from his keep with little fuss. He swore, glad the bastard who’d done this was dead.

  She sniffed, seemingly trying to pull herself back together. Relief poured through him that she’d not been silenced mute by her suffering.

  “How did you find me? Rory said you’d headed in the opposite direction to where he was taking me.”

  “We let him think we were headed away from his direction, but we weren’t. Or, at least, I wasn’t. My men informed me he’d headed for our enemy’s land. ’Tis closer than his own.” He cut the ties free from her wrists and cringed at the bloody rub marks. Picking her up, he walked over to his horse. “I need to get you and Gwen out of here. Do ye think ye can ride?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m so relieved Aedan got to ye in time.” Gwen gave her a quick hug before Aedan ushered her toward a horse.

  He helped her mount and pointed toward the gully to the south of them. “Ye need to ride hard in that direction, Gwen will show ye the way. You’ll come to where the river splits in two. Turn right and cross there. It isn’t deep. Ride for a few miles and then stop when you come to a clearing in the woods. We’ll catch up to ye before nightfall, I promise.”

  “I’m scared, Aedan. What if something happens to you?”

  He wiped a tear away from her cheek, smiling a little. “I promise ye I’ll be there. We have to end this skirmish, bury our dead.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tonight, then.”

  “Aye. Nightfall,” he said, slapping her horse’s rump while watching her ride off with his sister.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Abby cringed and opened her eyes, shutting them just as quickly. Her brain pounded with a migraine unlike any she’d ever had before. And damn it, there was no Tylenol.

  Memories of the ordeal bombarded her in quick succession. Of Rory Kirk, her chamber servant, of being hit over the head with something like a hammer. A cottage, a filthy Kirk clansman looking at her with degrading, horrifying intentions, of the man’s putrid breath, rotting teeth, and a mouth salivating with lust.

  Panic rose and she took a calming breath, relaxing a little when she recognized the room she occupied was the one back at Druiminn. She was home. Back within the safety of Aedan’s keep. Back with Aedan.

  A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, and she welcomed its calming effect. The bed dipped and a finger glided over her cheek, a soft caress from a person she recognized without even looking.

  “Should you be in my room, Aedan MacLeod?” She smiled as she heard him chuckle, his lips pressing gently against her temple.

  “Aye. The rules change when one’s been injured.”

  She did look at him then, reaching up to touch his handsome face, kind and affectionate. He hadn’t shaved, and the rasp of his stubble scratched her palm. “Isn’t there enough women in this castle to do that?”

  He shrugged, rinsing out the cloth and placing it back on her head. “Nay. You’re my responsibility, and one I take very seriously. And I wanted to be here when ye woke, in case ye couldn’t remember what happened and panicked.”

  “I remember most of the night. I think the knock to my head has jumbled the order in which they’re running through my mind, but I haven’t lost my memory. What I do know is I owe you a huge thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death. If you hadn’t come to that cottage when you did, I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened.”

  “None of them will ever threaten ye again.” Aedan’s voice was hard and cold. A shiver stole down her spine at his vehemence.

  “I don’t remember you meeting me at the clearing.” She tried to sit up, but the pain increased, stabbing down her neck, and she flopped back onto the pillows, rubbing her temples.

  “You need to rest, Abigail. You’ve had a nasty hit and from the bruises on your body, you took a few beatings as well.” He frowned. “You were unconscious by the time we met up with ye and Gwen at the clearing. You’ve been asleep for the past two days. I was startin’ to worry, especially when Gwen thought the strike to ye skull could’ve killed ye.”

  She nodded, knowing that was probably very true, considering Rory’s cruel nature and strength. “I’m glad it didn’t.”

  Aedan nodded, chuckling at her attempt at a joke. “So am I.”

  Her heart swelled at his words. He looked worried and anxious and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to show him how much she’d come to like him. Adore him, even. “Are you really?”

  “Aye, lass. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost ye. I’ve grown quite fond of ye.”

  His heartfelt words reminded her of her plan to return home. The thought of leaving him now turned her stomach. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. And if what Aedan said was true about Rory Kirk not being a problem anymore, why couldn’t she stay a little longer?

  He poured her a cup of water and handed it to her. “Do ye still plan on leaving me?”

  She shook her head, eliciting another thump behind her eyes. “No. I don’t want to go.” And she didn’t. She didn’t ever want to leave him. The thought of living a life without this man left a hollow crevice the size of the Grand Canyon inside where her heart would sit. She’d already lost one man she loved. She couldn’t do it again. And maybe with her knowledge of future technology, she could make Castle Druiminn a little more modern and less harsh to live in. More homely. Maybe… “I don’t ever want to go, but I know that’s not possible. I don’t fit in here. I’m not at
all what your family needs. I’d bring nothing to a marriage. No fortune or army. Nothing.”

  He gathered her into his arms, and she went willingly into his embrace. His strong arms encircled her back, the support and safety she felt when wrapped against him unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. He kissed the top of her head, rocking her a little.

  “Stay with me. Make my time yours.”

  She took a deep breath, having wanted to hear such an offer from him for some days now, but too scared to even think of the consequences should she choose this time to live in.

  It would mean a lot to give up the twenty-first century. All of life’s luxuries would be a thing of the past. Her life would be harder, dangerous even. Not to mention, the small amount of friends she did possess would never know what happened to her. All her years of schooling, trying to make something of herself so she may give her children, if blessed with any, a better childhood, would be for nothing. There was no need for museum curators here. Not to mention Abby wasn’t cut out for seventeenth century life. This time was hard and volatile. What if she became ill with a disease and needed twenty-first century medicine? She could die in pain.

  They were all points to consider, but then, when leveled against having Aedan as the man she would build a life with, support and love…there was really no question at all.

  She pulled back and looked up at him. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do.” He paused, his face deadly serious. “I want ye to be my wife. I don’t want any of the women who’re here.”

  “But Aedan,” she said, not fully convinced, “I have some ancestry of Scots in my blood, but I’m not Scottish born, nor do I come with a powerful clan or army. You are giving up a lot to marry me.”

  “I want you. No one else, no matter how much power they may wield. Damn my previous stance of who would make the correct wife for Laird MacLeod. I want ye to be mine. Always. I love ye, lass.”

  His tone was serious and she bit her lip, loving his declaration. “So, you don’t want me to help you find a wife anymore?” Abby grinned, liking the idea more and more. Not that she’d been helping much in that regard, since she’d been sleeping with and keeping Aedan to herself these past weeks.