Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) Page 20

  He pushed some of the straw away. Sunlight and fresh air and glimpses of leaves on the trees.

  “I wonder if kissing Sir Quentin will be anywhere near as good as kissing you.”

  “Nothing about us will be the same,” he murmured, fighting down irrational anger.

  In spite of himself, he rolled her beneath him. Pushing her knees apart, he shoved himself between her legs where the cloth of her torn dress was the only barrier. “Do you feel this?”

  Her eyes half closed and she nodded. She tilted her hips, nestling him even more tightly against her. She wasn’t getting it.

  “Is this what you want?” He pulled at the neckline of her dress, harder than he intended, and cloth ripped, exposing one of her breasts. Before he knew it, his mouth descended, latching onto the nipple as she gasped and lifted her knees. She held his head tight against her breast.

  “Oh, James,” she breathed. “Please, what’s happening to me?”

  He broke off and took her mouth in a bruising kiss. One hand reached between their bodies. He lifted her skirts and found her wetness. He stroked her with one finger and delved into her tightness. She convulsed in his arms—gasping, pulling his hair, squirming, her heart pounding so hard that he could feel it in his own chest.

  Rational thought returned, and he slowly, gently withdrew his hand and rolled to his side, still holding her in his arms. He ached with how much he wanted to take her. And he knew she’d let him. But he wouldn’t do it. Not here. Not like this. He’d already done more than he’d intended.

  Her blue eyes looked into his with awe. She caressed his face, her thumb brushing his lips. “How . . . ? I never expected . . .”

  James tensed at the sound of the farmer calling out to his oxen, and the cart creaked to a halt.

  “Hush.”

  The two men were talking, but he couldn’t hear the words. He heard the sound of the team being unharnessed from the cart. James edged away from Emily, ready to fight when the men came around to the back.

  But they didn’t come around. Their voices grew fainter as they led the animals away.

  James pushed his way out and dropped off the cart. The two men had crossed an old bridge with the oxen and were about to disappear over a hilltop. A moment later, they were gone.

  He looked around him. They’d left the hay wain by an abandoned mill. The yard was overgrown and the thatched cottage was clearly deserted. There was no one else in sight.

  Emily climbed from the cart, her hair and clothes covered with hay.

  Her dress was torn in front, and her perfect breasts drew his gaze. By the devil, he thought. He’d done that to her. She saw him looking and immediately pulled the material together, covering herself.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  Before he could answer, the sound of approaching horses reached them. Whoever they were, the riders were coming from the direction of the castle.

  “What do we do?” The note of panic was evident in her voice.

  The open meadows around them offered no place to hide. From the sound of the horses, he knew they didn’t even have time to get over the hill beyond the bridge.

  The mill was a trap. The old dam had given way, and the river below it was shallow but wide. The mill would be the first place they’d search, but it was their only chance. Maybe there was something he could find there to use as a weapon.

  He dragged Emily across the yard to the mill and pushed her inside. “Look for anything that we could use to fight them.”

  A moment later, the riders came into view, and relief poured over him.

  “It’s all right,” he called over his shoulder at Emily. “Kester and six of his men. And the abbot is with them.”

  He went out and crossed the yard as the group reined in their mounts.

  “By Saint Andrew, it’s good to find you here,” Kester said, not dismounting. “But we’re looking for—”

  “I’m here, too,” Emily said, coming out of the mill.

  All eyes were on her. James cursed himself as she tried to hold the pieces of her dress together. When he turned back to the riders, he saw a look of horror on the abbot’s face. Kester’s eyes flashed with murder.

  “What goes on here?” the warrior growled.

  “Give me a blanket or something to cover her,” James demanded.

  One of the men tossed him a blanket, and James shook it and draped it around her shoulders. She looked up at him with a grateful expression.

  He turned to Kester, who was dismounting.

  “Someone kidnapped us. I was drugged and taken at Oban. They were holding us at a castle not far from here. It must be Evers or someone working with him. Where are we? What castle is near here?”

  Before Kester could answer, Emily broke in. “What are you doing here, Abbott? Why are you with Kester?”

  “Your father, lass. He was worried about you. And with your wedding . . .” The clergyman paused, carefully studying Emily’s torn dress and disheveled condition. “Did they . . . ? Were you attacked?”

  Emily stared at him, then looked from Kester to James.

  The abbot’s questioning was clear. James saw it plainly. The man had been sent to bear witness later that Sir Quentin wasn’t being cheated of a virgin bride. It was all business as usual.

  In spite of her abduction and the possibility of her being hurt, right now Emily was no more than a bargaining chip in the MacDougall’s eyes. She might be his only daughter, but her safety and well-being were secondary to clan business. That might be well and good for some, but in James’s eyes Emily had more value than that.

  He crossed to her, glaring at the abbot and Kester. “You’ll give us a moment.”

  Taking Emily by the hand, he led her across the yard and into the building. The floor was still covered with oat hulls, though the millworks had long ago been removed. Gathering his thoughts, James looked down through a hole in the center of the floor at the water running beneath the building.

  Finally, with no ceremony, no warning, no pleasantries of any sort, he turned and blurted out what was on his mind. “You will marry me. Right here. Right now.”

  Her mouth opened and closed. There seemed to be confusion first and then her expression softened. “What are you saying to me, James?”

  “The abbot knows, and so do Kester and the others.”

  “What do they know?”

  He waved a hand at her disheveled condition, at the torn dress.

  By the devil, he thought. She was beautiful.

  “I’ll not allow you be questioned about what happened and when and by whom. The rumors alone will destroy you. We’ll put an end to it before it begins. We’ll marry.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “You know why,” he snapped. “I’m doing it to save your honor and reputation. You’re a fine woman, Emily. And we had no choice in being captured. But this . . . this last thing . . . what happened in the cart. What we did . . . what I did . . . went beyond innocence. To everyone out there, it’s obvious something happened. And I must take full responsibility for it.”

  “But I kissed you. I practically attacked you.”

  She was such an innocent. As if her chaste kisses stood in comparison to what he’d done. The way he’d handled her. The way he desired her. The way he wanted her even now.

  “I was more than willing to be kissed by you. But I took it further than—”

  “James, wait. I need to talk to you.”

  “None of that matters. We must marry. Your father’s plans have been dashed, and I must make amends. To him. And to you.”

  “But—”

  “Nay. This is the way it must be.” He moved toward the open doorway. “I’ll get the abbot. He’ll perform the ceremony, or I’ll break his scrawny neck.”

  “James. Stop. I’ll not marry you.”

  Chapter 22

  I am gone, though I am here: there is no love . . .

  Emily wrung her hands. His eyes were burning into her.

&n
bsp; He’d understand. He had to. She’d concocted an innocent plan. And it had all gone wrong.

  “James, this marriage can’t take place,” she said quietly. “At least, not for those reasons.”

  “You have no idea what a scandal this will be, here and at court. After what’s happened, that pompous Lowlander won’t marry you. But he’ll make certain that your name and your clan’s honor are smeared in every inn and brothel from Dumfries to Stirling,” he said. “Nay, lass. I’ve done you wrong, and I’m determined to set it right. We must marry. It’s the only way.”

  Emily shook her head. This had gone far enough. She couldn’t bear to see him so distraught on her behalf when she was the cause. Now, she prayed he’d understand.

  “This is all a huge mistake. I never intended it to happen this way. I just wanted time to talk to you, to be with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “The original plan was simple. My people were to put a drug in your drink to make you feel unwell. They were to take you to a cottage in Oban where I was waiting, where I could nurse you back to health. Where we could spend some time and I could tell you about my change of heart.”

  James stared at her, a puzzled look on his face.

  “It was just a draught for sleeping,” she continued, trying to stay calm. Perhaps he’d see the humor in it. “Because of your size, we didn’t know how much to give you. We just wanted you to feel dizzy. A wee bit ill.”

  The puzzled look disappeared. His face became expressionless, unreadable.

  “That was when the plan fell to pieces. You passed out and everything went wrong. Campbell and Macpherson warriors were everywhere. My men panicked. They couldn’t get you to me, so they took you to my aunt’s castle, just north of the town. I wasn’t there yet, and my aunt knew nothing of the plan. And when she found out, she wanted no part of it. She was afraid of what would happen if you woke up before I arrived. So she put you in the dungeon. For safekeeping.”

  His silence was beginning to unnerve her. She raced on, trying to explain everything.

  “When I got to you, you were already stirring, and I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid you’d be angry and leave right away. So I did the only thing I could think of. I pretended we were both kidnapped. I had the guards drag me in to the adjoining cell. I thought we could still have a chance to talk. I kept trying. I wanted to explain, to tell you how I felt about you and me, about Sir Quentin, but you wouldn’t listen. You just wanted to get out of there. You were relentless. So I had to go along with you, improvising as I went. When I realized we were actually going to escape, I was afraid someone might get hurt.”

  She knew she was beginning to babble, but she couldn’t stop now.

  “Actually, you gave me the idea. In what you did for Alexander and Kenna. I thought if I could arrange the same thing for us . . . a chance to be together. You said that you knew they were made for each other, and they just needed time to realize it. I wanted that for us because . . .” She faltered and then plowed on. “Because I love you. And I know you care for me, too. I couldn’t bear to walk away and marry someone else. Not without knowing . . . without knowing about us. So I had to do something. But I made a mess of everyth—”

  “Stop.”

  His curt order cut through the air. Emily winced at the cold fury she saw in the depth of his gray eyes.

  “You poisoned me. You tricked me. You lied to me.”

  She’d wanted to make James see that everything she’d done had been done out of affection, but his eyes told her that he didn’t. Tears welled up and splashed down onto her cheeks.

  “You used me for your amusement,” he snarled. “You are the lowest woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Don’t say that. I understand that I went too far, that I ruined everything. But I love you. And I was so desperate to know what you felt for me. There was so much that was left unsaid between us. I couldn’t marry Sir Quentin. Not when I’m in love with you. I tried to steal some time for us, the only way I could think of. Only an overnight.” Emily stopped. She stretched a hand out to him. “I’m sorry, James. Please forgive me.”

  “Never,” he rasped in a voice of cold steel. “My only hope is that I never lay eyes on you again.”

  She lied. Everyone had lied. She lied.

  The sound of her crying followed James out the mill door. He came to a dead stop in the yard, anger washing through him. Tears meant nothing. It was far too late for tears.

  Bloody hell. Bloody hell.

  The morning sun framed the men and horses standing in the cart path beyond the mill yard, but it was no match for the fires blazing inside him. His face burned. How could he be such a dolt?

  The Highlander’s fists clenched tight. His eyes fixed on Kester, who stood with the abbot near the others.

  “You knew about this?” James demanded, spinning him around.

  Kester frowned. “What did she tell you?”

  “Who knew about this? Her father?”

  “Nay, lad. Not her father nor her aunt nor the abbot here.”

  “But you knew.”

  “She meant no harm. Her plan went awry, but the lass just wanted some time to talk to you.”

  The blow to the jaw sent the MacDougall warrior staggering back across the cart path.

  She was a monster. Aye, beautiful on the outside, but with a devious soul that seethed within. She was a poisoned apple. And he hadn’t seen it. He was a fool.

  And this one was just a minion, doing her bidding.

  But when it came right down to it, he had no one to blame but himself.

  With one hard look back at the mill, he climbed onto Kester’s horse and wheeled the animal toward the hills.

  Wiping the blood from his face, Evers knew he’d been duped. Going west, following the shore of the long lake, they’d been hemmed in by a ridge of impassable mountains to the north. The way had turned out to be a death trap.

  Sir Ralph scanned the hillside around him. Acres of heather and clumps of pine, and the ground covered with blood and bodies. Such a small force of Highlanders, and yet they had come screaming out of the west and fallen on his forces with such wildness. Such ferocity! He’d encountered nothing like this in the Borders.

  The feeling was coming back into his left arm where the barbarian had struck him with his hammer. The red-haired giant had breathed his last a moment later with Evers’s sword embedded in his heart.

  Every Highlander lay dead on the field. Not one escaped. But at what cost?

  Sir Ralph moved slowly over the bloody ground. His best officers were dead. Too many of his English fighters were dead or dying. Many of the Lowland Scots were sitting or kneeling, catching their breath.

  The price had been too high. He’d lost too many men.

  He flexed his left hand. Usable, once again.

  The shadows were growing long by the time he reached his forward company. He turned to a grove of trees by the lakeshore where the battle had been wildest. The leader of the enemy lay on his back, his torn and bloody tartan spread out like a great eagle’s wing on the rock and grass. Unseeing gray eyes stared vacantly into the Scottish sky.

  “Speak to me, Highlander,” Evers commanded. “Rise and speak.”

  The specter lifted out of the body and faced the Englishman.

  “How was it that you knew where to attack us?”

  “Every clan in the Western Highlands knows you are coming, butcher. You’re on Graham land, but we’re only the first that you will meet. The MacNabs and the Campbells gather to the west. You will die in your own blood before you reach the sea.”

  Evers waved his hand, dismissing the ghost. “Away, spirit. To hell with you and all your barbarous kind.”

  Sir Ralph looked out to the west. He would never get past a larger force of Highlanders, not with the men he had remaining. He had to reverse his course, go east, and meet up with his forces there.

  Turning his back on the orange
sky, the Englishman worked his way back across the battlefield, ignoring the spirits rising up from every bloody corpse. Around him, his men had begun stripping the bodies of their weapons.

  Maxwell was still pursuing the woman. The last message he’d sent said she’d slipped the noose but that the Lowlander had a new plan.

  Whatever it was, it had better work, Evers thought, or he would gut Maxwell like a sow and eat his miserable heart.

  Chapter 23

  Charm ache with air and agony with words.

  Kenna leaned down and whispered enticingly in his ear.

  “Slow down, you beast. Make this last.”

  But there was no slowing him. He was heading for home.

  “If you’ll at least throw a shoe, I’ll see that you get extra oats for your supper.”

  Her horse shook his head with a neigh, and Kenna had her answer.

  The animal couldn’t walk slow enough to suit her. Kenna would travel on foot the rest of the way if she thought she could get away with it.

  They crossed into the river valley that marked the beginning of Macpherson land yesterday. They were getting close to their destination. With the long summer days, they’d started out very early this morning. After two days of riding, they’d arrive at Benmore Castle today. Much of the valley’s meadowland was covered with heather, but Kenna barely noticed the blanket of purple spreading out around her.

  Side by side at the head of the Macpherson warriors, Kenna and Alexander crested another ridge. The Grampian Mountains, covered with snow even now, rose up majestically to the south.

  Kenna sighed. She wished her husband would take his men and ride ahead and let her alone with her misery on this last day of their journey. But he stayed with her.

  Unconsciously tightening the reins of her mount, she cringed at the thought of how different her entry into the Macpherson stronghold would be compared to six months ago. Last winter, the plans had included ample ceremony and grandeur. A large company of MacKay warriors would escort her with pipes and drum, and two young women would ride on either side, serving as her lady’s maids. Carts had been loaded with trunks filled with dresses and fine cloth and an abundance of gifts that her people had spent weeks preparing for practically everyone at Benmore. She, Kenna MacKay, daughter of Magnus MacKay, laird of the North, was to represent the best of her people in this union. She was to make her clan proud.