The Runaway Highlander (The Highland Renegades Book 2)

by Syme, R. L.

  A strange heat began in his stomach and consumed him as she moved against him. Her hands rested at first on his chest and then moved down his body, exploring as they went.

  I should untie her, his lust said.

  I should leave her tied and leave her be, his guilt said.

  “Oh, Aedan,” she gasped.

  A growl unleashed in his throat and they tumbled to the ground. He was careful to protect her body with his as they fell and she landed on him, but the kiss continued. Her hands continued their journey south and Aedan had to break the kiss just to breathe.

  With his eyes closed, he relished the weight of her, the feel of her skin, the pressure of her lips on his as she kissed him again.

  Then, as though he’d dreamed it, the agonizing parting made time slow to a crawl, and he was certain he could feel his resolve breaking. But her pulling back was the right decision. He had, after all, promised her mother.

  Aedan didn’t register the sound of his dagger being drawn until he felt the plunge of steel into his shoulder and opened his eyes to find her green gaze staring him down, shrouded in regret.

  “I’m so sorry, Aedan.”

  She stood and took the dagger with her, placing it down the front of her dress with her teeth. The pain pinned him to the ground and he was certain she’d sliced open his heart, as much as it hurt to watch her so easily dispose of his bloodied dagger.

  With a grunt, she pulled herself onto his horse’s back, which was the bigger of the two, and the beast bolted. As the animal ran off, she managed to lift her skirts enough to sit astride the animal like a man and grip the animal with her legs.

  Before long, the slack of the rope hit the ground with the rest of her bonds and she was gone, leaving Aedan to watch the horizon and nurse the pain of his wound and her betrayal.

  *****

  Anne sobbed as she rode, trying her best to read the tracks the horses had left in the dewy ground. As much as she knew she needed to escape from Aedan, she hadn’t planned on what that escape would cost her.

  That kiss.

  It had taken her every potential ounce of willpower to pull away from him. At first, she’d thought it would be easy to use his attraction against him, but she hadn’t considered that she might have wanted that kiss as much as he had.

  After Simon Alcock, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to kiss another man again. But the fire she felt around Aedan surprised her.

  The memory of it played over and over in her head. Her breathless response, his growling into her mouth like he would possess her, the overwhelming sea of desire that had threatened to wash her away.

  Most of all, her want. She hadn’t thought she wanted him, not like that, and the fact that she had used their budding interest to overpower him left her feeling hollow and used.

  And the first time she’d ever stabbed a man, it had to have been the man she was falling in love with.

  No. Not falling in love. Want. Something between them had certainly grown, and she’d known it was there from the first she saw him, she had to admit. But that wasn’t love. She couldn’t have done what she’d done if it was really love.

  Stabbed him. Left him.

  That was something Milene de Cheyne would do.

  She would go back for him. Once she’d warned Broccin and she would bring Aedan with her. Maybe he could join de Moray’s men and become part of the resistance to the occupation.

  She shouldn’t have stabbed him. Regret tore through her. She had to go back.

  Anne pulled her horse to a stop. On the horizon, she spotted two riders. For a short moment, she couldn’t decide what to do. If she turned back now, she might make it back to Aedan before they overtook her, but not likely. If she turned and they were after her, they would follow her. Catch her.

  She wasn’t a good enough rider to push this horse to his full capacity, she was certain. She couldn’t outrun anyone. If only she hadn’t dropped Aedan’s dagger after she’d cut her bonds.

  The riders could be the Sheriff’s men, and then she would rather be at Aedan’s side than alone. They might just be men out for a ride. Before she could think of anything further, she recognized one of the riders. It wasn’t an enemy after all, but Broccin Sinclair.

  With a ragged breath, she urged the horse forward. At least she could discharge her duty and be done with it.

  She waved to Broccin and the two riders slowed. The distance between them became smaller and smaller until she could see them waving. Stupid men, of course she could see them. They looked at each other and spurred their horses on, continuing to wave their arms. Before long, they were close enough, she could hear their voices. They both yelled in tandem to her.

  “Behind you!” and “Look behind you!”

  Anne turned just as an arm was about to pluck her from her horse, riding at top speed behind her. She reined the horse sharply to the side. Aedan’s body flew from its mount and landed on the rocky ground several feet away.

  Broccin and his compatriot arrived and the other man grabbed the reins of the free horse while Broc jumped from the saddle and pulled at the bit of Anne’s horse.

  “Are you safe?” He took her arm and yanked her down from the saddle. “What happened?”

  Anne, tears still wet on her cheeks, realized she must have looked a mess. “No, I’m fine. I’m fine.” She pointed to Aedan. “My mother hired a man to come after me, believing I had been kidnapped.”

  Broccin drew his sword and stalked over to Aedan. When he released her arm with such force, she stumbled for a moment, then ran after him and threw herself between Broc and Aedan.

  Anne knelt in front of Aedan’s bent torso and shielded him with her body. “Please, don’t hurt him. I know this man. He is a Scot and a good man.”

  Broc was seething and grabbed at her arm again to push her aside, but she wrenched away from him.

  “Please believe me, Broc. He is a good man. Please.” She laid her body over his and he groaned. “I promise you. He means us no harm.”

  Broc rested the point of his sword on the ground and studied them. When she moved off Aedan’s body, Broc’s mouth held in an open ‘O’.

  “If he means us no harm, then who stabbed him?”

  She lowered her eyes and felt the tears threaten again. “I stabbed him, but it was an accident.”

  “You accidentally almost killed him?” Broc pulled her aside and put his hand on the wound. “Not much farther down and you would have, even without meaning to.”

  “He just…” she pushed at frustrated tears with her palm. “He wouldn’t let me come back to you, so I stabbed him.”

  Broc took in a breath. “Oh, Anne.” He signaled to his compatriot and the other man came to look at Aedan’s body as well.

  “Do you have any bandages in your saddle bags?” Broc asked.

  The man foraged in his pack and pulled out a roll of ancient-looking bandages. “Will these do?”

  Broc lifted Aedan from the ground and looked at his back. “It didn’t go deep, and didn’t go through. He should be fine if we can stop the bleeding.”

  “How did you find me?” Anne asked. She tore pieces of her skirt while Broc pressed the bandages to the wound.

  “When we saw your horse had been left, we knew something had happened. So we followed your horses. McKay is an excellent tracker.” He thumbed his friend who handed him more fabric from his saddle bags. “Not your shirt, McKay. This will be enough.”

  Anne pressed the shirt into the wound and Aedan groaned, opening his eyes. She placed the piece of her dress under his shoulder and tied it over the bandage to keep it in place.

  “The wound isn’t very deep.” Broccin wiped his hands on his tunic and sat back on his heels.

  “She isn’t very strong.” Aedan’s voice cracked, but Anne started at the sound. She put her hand on his stomach and leaned over him.

  “Aedan.” She felt like kissing him again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I have a wound in my
shoulder that says otherwise.” He sat up and Broccin offered him a hand as they both got to their feet.

  Anne sat on the ground between them as Aedan leaned on Broc for support.

  “Thank you for the dressing.” He pointed to his shoulder and grunted. “It may not be deep, but it slowed me long enough. Just as you desired, my lady.”

  She cast her eyes to the ground. The guilt ate at her. She could have just kept kissing him and Broc would have come across her eventually. She didn’t need to stab the man.

  And continuing to kiss him would have been beautiful.

  “Anne said you wouldn’t allow her to return to us.”

  Aedan stepped back from Broccin, his knees slightly bent as though expecting a fight. “Her mother sent me after her. She thought you’d captured her against her will.”

  “And he meant to return me, regardless.”

  Broccin studied the man who stood across from him. Anne could see in his face that he hadn’t made up his mind yet. He was still too curious to be fully angry.

  “Why would you return her?”

  “To her own mother?” Aedan asked. He spread his hands and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I can think of at least one reason.” Broccin held up his finger and stared at it as though it were the man himself. “The Sheriff.”

  Aedan shook his head. “Why? Does he have some price on her head?”

  “A bride price.” Broccin spat on the ground, away from where Anne sat. A tiny warmth bubbled inside that he would so completely take her side. So completely believe her. Of course, he’d seen the Sheriff’s handiwork with his own eyes.

  Aedan’s eyes rounded. “A bride price?”

  “The Sheriff means to marry her.”

  With closed eyes, Aedan expelled a deep breath. “You mean her mother sold her to him?”

  “In essence. It is done.”

  Aedan’s eyes remained closed and his head shook slowly from side to side. “But Milene de Cheyne no longer holds a place of honor in his house.”

  Anne started. “What?” She pulled herself to her feet. “How do you know this?”

  “She wasn’t dressed and at court when I came across her. In fact, all the nobles had assembled and another woman sat in your mother’s place. And others in yours and your sister’s chairs, as well. Your mother hunted me down after I’d left the great hall, and, now that I think of it, was dressed in traveling clothes. She didn’t wear the finery of her previous appearances. That I did notice.”

  Anne pondered this. Her mother, out of the Sheriff’s favor. That could mean any number of things.

  “Your mother seemed genuinely concerned to see you returned to her.” Aedan stretched and the curtain of hair slid back from his face for a moment. Anne remembered the feel of that scar against her lips, the edges so hard where his mouth was otherwise so soft, so warm, so inviting.

  She found herself staring at that mouth and shook herself back to the moment.

  “So you followed her all the way here because her mother sent you?”

  Aedan nodded. “She wanted me to arrive before the Sheriff’s men.”

  Broc stiffened. “The Sheriff’s men?”

  “The Sheriff knows where to find your camp.” Aedan’s eyes darkened. “I was to retrieve Anne before they attacked so she wouldn’t be hurt.”

  Broccin studied him with wary eyes. Anne found herself wanting to protect Aedan from that glare.

  “He knows the location of our camp? Or he knows how to find it?” Broccin’s voice was low and careful.

  “He knows how to find it.”

  Broc sprang into immediate action. “McKay!” he called. “We must return to camp immediately.”

  Anne, confused by the sudden rush, pulled at Broc’s arm. “You have to take me with you.”

  Broc glowered at Aedan, then shifted his focus back to her. “If the Sheriff’s men attack, you cannot be there.”

  “But the Sheriff…” she began.

  He shook his head with a finality that sent chills to her very soul. “It would appear your encounter in the castle made enough of an impression that the Sheriff has cast your family aside.”

  “Broccin…”

  “Anne, I can’t.” He took her by the shoulders. “Don’t you understand? I have to protect Andrew. And Lachlan. I must return him alive to my wife.” A deep thrum of emotion passed through him. “I cannot return with her father dead.”

  He kissed her forehead and swung onto his horse. “I cannot promise to protect you, Anne, and I will not bring you to the camp to die. Aedan has been paid to protect you. He will return you to your mother and see you safely home.” Broc’s fair head turned to Aedan for confirmation. Her scarred captor nodded.

  “I must return before the soldiers find the camp.” With that, Broccin kicked his horse and rode off the way he came with McKay nearly in his dust.

  Aedan glanced at Anne and his eyes held hers with a savagery that chilled her blood. “You are mine, now.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re nothing better than a common mercenary.”

  Aedan rolled his eyes heavenward and secured the rope around her slight body and the sturdy tree. Double-knotted this time. “Actually, I prefer opportunist.”

  “You may prefer whatever you please. It doesn’t change the fact that you plan to take money from my mother in exchange for kidnapping me.” Anne wriggled against the ropes, but made no progress. He pulled the knots again, just to be sure. She wouldn’t be going anywhere this time.

  His shoulder twinged. All the struggling had aggravated his wound. He’d be lucky not to be bleeding.

  “I prefer to think of it as returning lost property. You run away. I find you.”

  Her laugh was short, pointed, like the cut of a sword. “You find me, I wound you, I escape.”

  Pressing his lips together to avoid indecorous speech, Aedan leaned down so his face was mere inches from hers. “You escape, I find you.” He hardened his gaze. “I will always find you.”

  The words hung between them in breathless silence. He wanted to do something to punctuate that promise, but the only thing that sprung to mind was kissing those back-talking lips of hers. That would be more than indecorous. Not to mention complicated.

  Luxurious, he remembered. The speed of her tongue had to translate into some skill other than blathering. She was a magnificent kisser.

  Though he had the wound to prove it, which would hopefully make him think twice the next time.

  No, there would be no next time. He wouldn’t allow her close enough for next time.

  “Surely you can’t mean to leave me tied like this all day.” Anne continued to struggle vainly against the bonds, but her shoulders thunked against the thick tree with each new thrust.

  “We’re not staying here all day.” Aedan untied her horse and his and led them both down to the edge of the nearby river, where he anchored them with enough slack to have a good long drink before they traveled again.

  “I only mean to rest here a moment. We will travel as soon as I am certain the bleeding has stopped.” Aedan rolled up his extra cloak and set it against a tree deeper into the little copse, then lay across the ground so he could see her, the horses, and the road, all in one glance. “You should sleep now, because you won’t be able to sleep in the saddle. I need to rest, of course, because someone stabbed me in the shoulder.”

  She made a buzzing sound of protest with her lips, but did not speak.

  Whether she waited for a better opening to escape or she really couldn’t sleep with a tree at her back, he didn’t know. Nor did he care. She’d called him a mercenary. And maybe he was one. But only for one woman and one situation.

  Once he returned her to Berwick, his mercenary days were behind him for good.

  Aedan’s dreams came rushing to his wakeful memory as soon as he opened his eyes. The sun was past its high point and one glance rested his nerves. Anne sat against the tree with her eyes closed, hopefully sleeping, and the hor
ses stood near the river, still tied.

  The scenes that had played through his mind during sleep hadn’t been quite so scenic or idyllic. This had been the third night in a row he’d dreamed of fighting in a battle to rescue his sister. It had been a bloody clash with faceless people, but gave him a start no less. He wanted this life of violence to be behind him.

  Much as he wanted his sister to be safe, he was finished with blood and wounds and fighting and stabbing. He just wanted to deliver this package and save Brighde from her mother’s fate.

  Aedan sat against the tree for a long moment, watching Anne sleep. There had been a time in his life when he would have wished for a woman like this. And perhaps a part of him still did. But her mother was right. A woman of such beauty could never love him. That made him perfect for this job, but would likely be the constant torture of his life.

  Wanting to be loved. Never being loved.

  Was it possible for that to be a man’s destiny? To be disfigured and cast aside? Or was there a God out there who would show him mercy? Aedan had never been much for that emotional side of religion the way his sister was. He didn’t feel God or cry out to God. And he’d never really been a praying man.

  But that day, watching Anne in her peaceful slumber, he couldn’t help whispering a hurried prayer. He wanted her to love him, maybe more than he’d ever wanted anything. While her betrayal had stung, it had only made their kiss that much sweeter.

  If that was to be his last and only kiss, though, it would imprint a memory on Aedan’s mind that would never fade.

  He stood and stretched, taking his things down to the river to store away in the saddle bag. He pulled the horses back up to where Anne slept and after divesting himself of all weapons, he tied the horses to the tree where he’d slept and moved to wake her.

  *****

  Anne woke to a sore back, but settled down into her bonds with quiet resignation. She snuggled back against the tree and leaned her head against the side to relieve the pressure on her back. She felt warmer and wondered if the sun had come around.