Desired by a Highlander
Macardle Sisters of Courage Trilogy
Donna Fletcher
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author
Also by Donna Fletcher
Also by Donna Fletcher
No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without permission of the author.
* * *
This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Desired by a Highlander
All rights reserved.
Copyright July 2019 by Donna Fletcher
* * *
Cover art
Kim Killion Group
* * *
Visit Donna’s Web site
www.donnafletcher.com
http://www.facebook.com/donna.fletcher.author
Chapter 1
Willow hid in the bushes, the thorny leaves pricking at her skin through her wool garments and tugging at her dark red hair. She kept her hand clamped over her mouth fearful of gasping in fright and her eyes were spread so wide since the attack had begun that she feared she’d never get them closed again. Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest and fear trembled her body. She wanted to turn away, not watch the brutal battle, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t wise. She had to watch, had to see what happened… had to run if needed.
Lord Ruddock of the Clan Northwick, her sister Sorrell’s husband, had sent a troop of twenty of his warriors to escort her home. They were only a day away from arriving at the Clan Macardle. It had been difficult bidding her sister Sorrell farewell until they got to visit again, but she was happy with her husband and her new home and that had made Willow’s leave-taking a bit easier. Besides, her sister Snow needed her, an accident having blinded her some time ago. She could see shadows now, but no more, and Willow wondered if it was even more frightening to constantly have shadows surrounding you and not know who they were than living in complete darkness. Though, she had left her sister in good and capable hands, her step-brother, James. was to look after her as well as a new servant, Eleanor. Still, she was eager to return home to Snow and tend to her needs.
She cringed as the clash of metal grew louder and men fell to the ground wounded. Fright prickled her skin as badly as the thorny leaves of the bushes that concealed her. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched William, the warrior who had insisted she run and hide and stay hidden until he came for her, fall to the ground, blood running from his head down along the side of his face.
He wouldn’t be coming for her.
Ruddock’s warriors fought bravely, but they were outnumbered. It hadn’t appeared that way at first, less than a dozen men had been spied heading their way, but William had been cautious and she was glad he had been. More than two dozen men had descended on the troop after the fighting had begun.
It was obvious the men who attacked them were mercenaries, men for hire. There was no color plaid that united them as a clan and they were ferocious warriors. Their battle roars alone could shiver the devil himself.
Willow couldn’t help but wonder why they had attacked. Mercenaries never did anything without some type of reward being involved. Ruddock had had problems when he and Sorrell had first returned to his home, but they had been settled. So it didn’t seem reasonable to think this attack could have to do with Ruddock? She and the warriors carried no coin, nothing of value. What then could they possibly want?
Willow eased her hand off her mouth and watched as the last of Ruddock’s warriors were disarmed and made to kneel on the ground. She was relieved to see that most of the warriors while wounded were alive, though William had yet to move.
A man, of good height and size, with bright red eyebrows as bushy as his bright red beard and wearing a dark shirt and dark plaid stepped in front of the kneeling warriors.
“Where is she?” the man demanded.
Willow’s brow shot up. Was he asking about her?
Not one of the warriors responded.
“More afraid of what Lord Ruddock would do to you than anyone of us if you surrender her,” the man said and burst out in a hardy laugh, the other mercenaries joining him. “Can’t say I blame you. The man is a barbarian.” He let loose with another burst of laughter.
The red-haired man turned to his cohorts. “We’ll get nothing from them.” He looked back at the warriors, then scanned the area beyond them. “She couldn’t have gone far.” He scratched at his beard. “I’m too tired to give chase.” He turned to look at his men again and they all agreed with nods and ayes, calling him by name.
“Aye, Beck!”
Willow gave thought to running, but that wouldn’t be wise. Besides, she doubted she could untangle herself from the thorny bush. She stayed put and listened, fearing this would not end well for her.
Beck raised his voice as he called out, “Hear me well, lassie, show yourself or I’ll kill these warriors one by one until you do.”
Willow didn’t doubt he would do as he said and what choice was left to her anyway? She would never let another die if she was able to save them.
Beck gave a nod to one of his men and he raised his sword and approached the first warrior in line.
“I’m here. Don’t hurt him. I’m stuck in the bushes,” Willow called out.
Beck roared with laughter and pointed to two men. “Get her.”
Willow did her best to free herself before the two men reached her, but it was difficult. Every time she moved, a thorny leaf would prick at her, tearing at her clothes and skin.
The two men gave no heed to her situation. They reached in and yanked her out and she winced at the pain of her skin being torn. The two all but dragged her to Beck, giving her a shove when they neared him.
Willow stumbled but managed to remain on her feet. “What do you want of me?”
“You’ll find out,” Beck said and nodded to one of the men. “Tie her wrists.”
Willow glanced at William and saw a slight movement. “Please, let me see to the fallen warrior first, then I’ll go with you and give you no trouble.”
“I care not about him and as for you giving me trouble, a good beating will have you obeying.”
“If you beat me, how will I tend your wounded men?” she asked calmly, though she shivered inwardly.
“They can see to themselves like always,” Beck grumbled and turned away.
“And what of you?”
Beck turned and glared at her.
“That old wound on the back of your hand isn’t healing. If it’s not tended to properly it will turn putrid, fever will set in, and you’ll die.”
<
br /> A small spark of fear ignited in his eyes. “You’ll tend me.” He nodded toward William. “You’ll not waste your time on him. He’ll not last the night.”
“Let me at least offer him some comfort and prayer,” she pleaded.
Beck looked about to deny her, then ordered, “Be quick about it,”
Willow hurried to William and when he tried to speak, she pressed her fingers to his lips. “Quiet and let him think I pray over you.” William remained silent and she quickly tore a piece of cloth off the hem of her shift beneath her tunic. She wrapped it around his head and kept her voice low and her head bent as if in prayer. “You’re not going to die, William, though he will leave you here thinking you will. It is nothing more than a gash. Remain still, as if near death, and once we leave and you regain your strength go to the Macardle keep for help. It’s the closest.” She placed her hand on the top of his head when he looked about to nod. “Do not move.”
“Enough,” Beck bellowed.
“My fate is in your hands,” she whispered and he blinked his eyes rapidly at her.
Willow stood and went to Beck. “You’re right. He will not last.”
She was going to inquire into the fate of the other warriors, but she saw for herself what that would be. Beck’s men were tying each of them to a tree and those that had suffered no wound were sliced on the arm or leg. They were being left for the forest animals to feast on.
It made her realize the severity of her situation even more. Beck was a man without morals and honor and that was dangerous, for there was no telling what he would do. She reminded herself that William was young and strong. He would be on his feet not long after their departure. He would free the others and they would get help, and she would be rescued. It was a reasonable and plausible thought. All she had to do was survive until then.
“We go. You can tend my hand at camp,” Beck said and shouted to his men to hurry and finish.
Willow was made to walk along with a few of the men while others rode. It was a quick pace Beck set for them, berating any who couldn’t keep up. Willow’s legs burned with pain by the time they reached camp hours later. She dropped to the ground, thinking she would never be able to stand again.
“Don’t get yourself comfortable, lass,” Beck said, walking over to her. “We’ll be leaving as soon as you’re done tending to my hand.”
Willow wanted to weep. She didn’t know how she would take another step today.
“Tend my hand well and I’ll let you ride the rest of the way,” Beck offered with a grin.
Willow would have jumped up and hugged the man if her aching legs would have allowed her to, though it wouldn’t have been the wisest thing to do.
“Let’s get this done, lass,” Beck demanded. “I want to get home tonight.”
While she didn’t want to budge, she needed water not only to tend his hand but to quench the dryness in her mouth that no doubt would grow worse with every slow, agonizing step she would take. The small stream they had camped by would serve her well. She just had to get to it.
Beck laughed, realizing her dilemma, yanked her up by the arm, and propelled her toward the stream, depositing her on the bank to sit.
“Quench that thirst of yours, then get to my hand,” he ordered.
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She didn’t even bother to cup the water in her hands. She grabbed her braid that had fallen in disarray and held it back while she bent over and drank until she could drink no more.
Afterwards she got busy on his hand, a hundred questions rushing to her tongue, but keeping silent. She would learn more by watching and listening and, though it was difficult, she did just that.
She worked as gently as she could, the area that was red causing her the most worry. It didn’t look like it had turned putrid yet, but one could not always tell. When she finished cleaning it, she applied some honey from the small pouch, Sage, Ruddock’s new healer, had given her in case it would be needed on her journey home. She had never thought she would be using it on a man who had taken her captive.
“You hold your tongue. That is a good quality in a woman,” Beck said.
“What is there for me to say? You will tell me nothing until you’re ready to.”
“You have good qualities. You will fetch a good price,” Beck said with a grin.
“You intend to sell me?” she asked, the thought filling her with fear. Please. Please, William, hurry and get help.
He chuckled. “We’ll see. Maybe. Maybe not.”
He was teasing her or he was telling the truth and didn’t want her to know yet. “Since I have little say over it, what does it matter?”
“You never know. It might matter,” he said.
They spoke no more. She tore off another piece of her shift, though this time from her sleeve. It was cleaner than her hem after having walked so many hours. She wrapped his hand.
“Good, we can be on our way,” he said.
She looked around, her brow wrinkling. Two campfires had been started and two men entered camp with four rabbits, skinned and ready to cook. How could they be leaving when the men were settling in.?
Willow found out soon enough. She and Beck were the only ones taking their leave. Her wrists were tied and she was placed in front of Beck on his horse.
“Hold on, we ride fast,” Beck warned.
The air was cold, more so with it slapping against her face as they rode across the land. Her wool cloak kept the chill at bay, though it might have been the heat from Beck’s body that did that. The ride seemed endless and her thoughts drifted to how difficult life had been for the last few years. Her father’s mind had betrayed him and he had made unwise decisions in regards to the clan. If her mum hadn’t sent for James, their father’s bastard son, she didn’t know what would have happened. Her mum had encouraged her and her sisters to trust James, that he was a good man. She’d been right. Willow just wished her mum was there to see it. She died from problems sustained from a fire in the keep, the one that had blinded Snow.
All seemed like it would do well with Sorrell’s marriage to Ruddock, the Clan Northwick being a powerful clan. It meant the Clan Macardle no longer had to worry about protection or food for the winter or trouble that had been brewing with the neighboring Clan MacLoon, or be beholding to Tarass of the Clan MacFiere, also known as the Lord of Fire, an intimidating warrior.
She and Snow also did not have to worry any longer about an arranged marriage. Ruddock had freed them to make a choice of their own. That had pleased her and Snow. Now, though, none of that mattered, not unless William managed to get help. Otherwise her life that had recently taken a change for the better, had been pitched back into the darkness.
It was near dusk by the time they rode into what appeared a small village. A longhouse sat in the middle of several hut-like structures, and smiling faces shouted out greetings to Beck.
About six men approached them as Beck brought his horse to a stop.
“You got her,” one said in surprise.
“You doubted I would, Rob?” Beck shot back.
“No, it’s the consequences we talked about that worries me.”
“As it should all of us,” another man said.
A third man joined in. “Lord Ruddock is not one you want as a foe.”
“Worry not, it will go as planned. Take her, Geary,” Beck said.
Geary reached up and grabbed her at the waist to pull her off the horse and settle her on the ground. “Where do you want her?”
“In the hole with the other one,” Beck ordered.
“You’re going to put her in there with him?” Rob asked startled.
“Isn’t that what I just ordered you to do?’ Beck said, sending Rob a nasty glare.
Willow listened, her fear growing with each word.
“Help him, Geary,” Beck ordered. “Coyle, you come with me. We have things to discuss.”
Willow was taken to a spot on the side of the longhouse. Night was falling rapidly, but she co
uld make out three wooden grates laying on the ground a few feet from each other.
Seeing them, she knew what Beck intended. She would be placed in one of the holes and from what they had said, she wouldn’t be alone. She’d be with a man. Fear gripped her stomach, roiling it, the thought frightening her senseless.
She was familiar with such punishments or keeping a prisoner confined like that, having seen it once when she had gone with her father to a neighboring clan. A hole was dug only deep and wide enough for a person to stand in.
One person.
How she would fit with another person in there, she didn’t know, and she would rather not find out.
Rob moved the wooden grate aside. “You got a guest,” he yelled down into the dark hole.
No response was heard.
“It’s a woman,” Rob said and waved to Geary to bring Willow to the hole.
“Best grab her legs as she comes down or she might make it uncomfortable for the both of you,” Geary warned.
Willow wanted to scream out and beg them not to put her in the dark hole with a strange man. But if she did that, she would show her fear and weakness to the man in the hole. The man she would be stuck with for who knew how long. She had to swallow her fear, tamp it down, let no one know she was frightened more than she had ever been in her life. And for the first time in her life, she couldn’t make sense, see reason, for what was about to happen. Reason had always helped her deal with things, but when reason was lost what did one do?
Desired by a Highlander Page 1