Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) (16 page)

"You contradict yourself," he murmured, wishing he could comprehend the mysteries of the female mind.

"I ken it. I am daft," she said, her voice breaking. She perched on the edge of the bed and burst into tears.

Saints! What on earth had befallen her? He inhaled a deep breath, praying for patience and understanding.

He stepped forward and knelt before her. "Anna." He stroked her arms. "You must tell me what you're so afraid of, else I cannot help you."

"I'm sorry. You must think me unbalanced."

"Well… maybe a wee bit," he said in a light tone. "But so am I."

A hint of a smile peeped out as she dried her tears.

"In truth, lass, it may not be safe here. I cannot leave you here, nor can I stay. I must get back to the clan. Let me take you with me. As soon as we arrive back, I'll send the visiting clans on their way. You need not associate with them."

With watery, reddened eyes, she searched his. "Do you promise?" she whispered.

This was what she wanted so badly? He'd been right, then. She obviously knew one of the visitors. After the other clans left, he would try to convince Anna to tell him who or what had so terrified her.

"Aye, of course, I promise," he said.

"I thank you. I owe you more than I could ever repay."

"You owe me naught." Beyond anything, he wanted to kiss her but he needed to take her away from here immediately. He arose and stepped back. "If you'll collect your belongings, we'll leave forthwith. My horse is being saddled."

She rushed about the room and gathered her things into a sack.

"You have not yet eaten," he said.

"I still have some apples in my sack."

"I'm sure Korbin has a couple of freshly baked bannocks or scones. Wouldn't you prefer that?"

"Aye." After putting on her cloak, she tossed the sack over her shoulder. "That is… if you trust him not to poison us."

Neacal frowned, thinking of the food he'd eaten. "I ate a large breakfast and I feel fine. I don't think he wishes to kill either of us."

"I'm glad."

He took the sack from her and opened the door. She headed out and down the stairs while he followed.

Korbin stood in the common room as they approached, his eyes again wide as he observed Anna. "M'laird, your horse is saddled and ready. Mistress, surely you are not leaving us, too."

"Indeed. Unfortunately, I will not get to stay."

"Do you have some fresh bannocks or a couple of scones Anna could take to break her fast?" Neacal asked.

"Eh… aye, I believe I do. Wait here." He trotted into the kitchen.

Neacal hoped the man hurried. He wanted to get going soon, while the weather was still good. He'd glimpsed some dark clouds on the horizon earlier. It wouldn't take long to travel back to Bearach, perhaps half a day.

Though he was not sure what it was, something made him uneasy. Neacal paced, glancing toward the kitchen from time to time. "What the devil is taking him so long? Surely he is not baking more scones."

"'Tis all right. I'm not very hungry," Anna said, then her stomach growled.

Neacal slid her a sideways glance. "Do not tell me fibs, lass. I ken you must be starving." Annoyed, he headed toward the kitchen to see what the holdup was. No one was there.

"Korbin?" Neacal proceeded to the back door, opened it a crack and peered out. Korbin stood at some distance from the tavern, conversing with a younger man. They talked quietly, their heads together.

Neacal's skin prickled. Damnation, they had to leave now. After easing the door closed again, he returned to the common room. "Come. Korbin is acting very strangely. We must leave immediately."

They hastened outside to Neacal's horse, where it stood saddled and waiting for him. Dunn sat beside him, then leapt up, tail wagging, as they approached. "A good morn to you, Dunn."

Glancing up, Neacal saw that the darkest clouds were still at a distance toward the west.

He secured his bedroll to the saddle, along with his bow and arrows and Anna's sack of belongings. He turned to her, ready to lift her onto the pillion cushion when loud footsteps clunking on the cobblestones drew his attention. Three men strode toward him.

The strangers, dressed alike, wore brown breeches, green doublets and sashes of an unusual gold and red plaid. Each man wore a sword and baldric, as well as various daggers and knives sheathed upon their belts. Obviously, they were guards, or henchmen from some clan far from here. Their gazes shifted from him to Anna beside him.

"Dear heavens," she whispered and yanked the cowl more fully over her head.

"'Tis her!" one of the men shouted.

Outside the tavern in Acharacle, all three of the soldiers rushed toward Neacal, spurring him into his warrior mindset.

He shoved Anna behind him and drew his sword. "Halt!"

The men slid to a stop, their eyes narrowed on his blade.

"Hand her over, you blackguard!" the one with short brown hair demanded.

His hackles rose and heated fury poured into his veins. "I'm Chief of the MacDonalds of Moidart and she is under my protection."

The lanky henchman with stringy long hair gave a nasty laugh. "His lairdship will not find this amusing. So, you've become a whore, have you, m'lady?"

M'lady?
Neacal darted a quick glance back at Anna. Her face was ashen. Was she a lady in truth? Although he'd had his suspicions… why had she not told him? And who was the laird they were speaking of? Obviously a relative of hers.

At five paces, the men murmured amongst themselves but he could not make out their words. Their dialect was different; they must hail from a distant part of Scotland.

"What is going on, Anna?" Neacal growled low. "Are these your clansmen?"

Her wide-eyed gaze darted to him and back to the three soldiers.

"Come, Lady MacCromar. 'Tis time to go home to your husband," one of the strangers called.

Husband?
What the blazing hell? She was married? Neacal glared back at her. Why had she pretended to be a widow? Why had she let him kiss her… and more? He muttered a curse.

She sent him a guilty look, tears sparkling in her eyes. Her face was pale and her shallow breaths came quickly. She shook her head.

Were the men lying?

Regardless, he was not turning her over to the heathens. Clearly, she was terrified of them. Mayhap her husband was an abusive tyrant.

"Get behind the horse," he murmured to her.

She shook her head again, tears in her eyes. "I won't let them kill you. I'll go with them."

"Nay," he grated. "Do as I say and move to the other side of the horse. Stay out of the way." He pushed her underneath the horse's head to the other side, then stepped forward, lest his horse get injured during the coming skirmish.

The three men drew their swords. "Come, m'lady. Do not force us to kill the poor, disfigured young chief you have manipulated into helping you hide like an outlaw." The lanky knave sent Neacal a sinister grin as he crept closer. "It appears you already lost one battle."

Neacal gave a malicious smile in return. Aye, let them underestimate him. 'Twould give him the upper hand.

"Stop where you are," Neacal commanded, bringing his sword into the outside guard position.

Dunn growled and hunched as if to launch himself at one of the men.

"Back, Dunn! Stay!"

"You're outnumbered, lad," the pudgy man with graying hair sneered.

"Are you thinking that matters?" Neacal asked.

All three men charged him, swords ready to strike. One stabbed toward Neacal's chest. Flicking his blade upward, Neacal knocked the weapon away and, at the same time, deeply nicked his attacker's chin. The man reeled back, howling.

The other two bastards thrust their weapons at him. He slashed in a half circle, deflecting their blades upward. Then, in a quick reverse, cut both men across their abdomens. Blood saturated their sliced clothing and they staggered backward, cursing.

The first man who'd attacked, his chin now dripping blood, leapt forward, ramming his sword toward Neacal's gut. He dodged aside and kicked the broad side of his opponent's blade.

The man tried to regroup and ready himself for another strike, but he was too slow. Neacal sliced his throat. The man fell to the ground, screaming, blood gushing from his wounds. Both his comrades charged Neacal.

"Run!" Neacal yelled to Anna. He didn't want her accidentally hurt during the skirmish.

Neacal focused on his enemies again, battle fury consuming him. His survival instincts and years of training took over. He was unaware of what he did until 'twas over and all three bleeding men lay on the ground, writhing in agony or else still in death.

Neacal glanced down at his clothing to find it spattered with blood. The dark anger still consumed him as he scanned the area, looking for additional enemies. Were more of them behind the buildings?

Where had the lass gone? "Anna?" he called out.

Before he could find her, two more men emerged from behind the tavern, one with bright red hair and one with dark hair and beard. Once they saw their cohorts lying on the ground, they drew their swords and eased forward cautiously, their glares directed at Neacal.

Aye, he could kill them, too, if he wished. But how many more were there? What if a small army lurked behind the tavern? Did he wish to kill a dozen men this day? He and Anna couldn't stay here. He had to get her away.

"Damnation! Anna, come!" When she emerged from the side of the building, he tossed her up into the saddle and leapt on behind her. "Dunn!"

"That's her! Stop him!" one of the men shouted.

"Hell," Neacal muttered. He urged the horse into a gallop, racing east, toward the hills and the nearest cover. When he glanced back, the two men rode horses, giving chase.

"I'll have to kill those bastards, too," he growled. "Take the reins, Anna. If I jump off, you keep riding as fast as you can toward that mountain up ahead."

"Nay, stay with me! I don't want you to get killed." She turned. Her anguished eyes pleaded with him.

"Did those other three kill me? Nay, I'll be fine. Do as I said. Ride toward the mountain and hide behind the bushes if you must." He glanced back to find that Dunn had leapt onto the ginger-haired man and dragged him off his mount. He fell among the rocks and squawked like a great bird.

The other rider, with dark hair and a short beard, did not slow. When he drew close enough, Neacal struck out at him. Their swords clanged. Needing to take the fighting away from Anna, he shoved himself upward and leapt onto the other man's horse. Looping his arm around the man's neck, Neacal dragged him to the ground. They hit with a shocking jolt. Ignoring the pain, Neacal sprang to his feet, the tip of his blade at the prone man's throat.

The black-eyed weasel did naught but lay still, his hands in the air beside his head. His sword lay several feet away.

"Who are you?" Neacal asked.

"MacBraden. One of Chief MacCromar's soldiers."

"How many more men with you, besides him?" With his head, Neacal gestured to the man Dunn had attacked.

"Three dozen are on their way. We're the scouts who rode ahead of the others. Lady MacCromar is the laird's wife. He will never give up until he has her back."

Neacal felt as if someone had thrust a blade into his stomach, for he'd already started thinking of Anna as his own future wife. Now, that couldn't happen. Devastation poured in upon him like a great rock slide. "The bastard mistreated her, did he not?" Neacal asked, keeping his blade at the man's throat.

MacBraden shook his head.

"Cease your lies, man! Why else would she run away from him?"

"Matters not. She's still legally wed to him. He has every right to discipline her, and even beat her if he so chooses."

Neacal ground his teeth, trying to rein in the fierce anger that threatened to devour his control. What the devil had the knave done to her? "Any man who abuses a woman is no man in truth, but a coward," he shouted. "Is he among the three dozen?"

The man smiled.

Dog barks and yells echoed. Moving back a safe distance, Neacal glanced around to find the redheaded bastard swinging his sword at Dunn, back and forth. The dog dodged out of the way each time.

"Back, Dunn!" Neacal commanded. The dog loped up the hill away from the man.

MacBraden arose and yanked the dirk from his scabbard, while his comrade raced away from Dunn and toward Neacal.

He didn't want to kill more men, but would if he had to. Anything to protect Anna. His heart ached with the knowledge she wasn't his and couldn't be. 'Twas why she'd refused him without explanation. Why hadn't he guessed? Regardless of whom she was married to, he would not let her be abused further.

Neacal eyed the two men poised to charge him at any moment, fury and murder in their eyes. "Neither of you want to die this day, do you, like the other three at the tavern?" he asked them. "You saw your brethren back there. They attacked me at once and none survived. There are only two of you. What chance do you have?"

They hesitated, the gleam of dread and hatred in their eyes.

"We have nay fear of a barbaric and heathen MacDonald!" the redhead shouted.

"You want to see barbaric? I'll be glad to show you." He sent them a malicious grin.

They both rushed him at once. He dodged aside, first striking one in the arm and the other in the abdomen. Dunn barked behind the men, drawing their attention and giving Neacal the opening he needed. By the time the redhead saw him coming, 'twas too late for him to raise his sword to block the blow. Neacal ran him through and, after he toppled to the ground yelling and thrashing, he focused on the dark-haired man.

MacBraden put up a good fight but in the end he was no match. Neacal practiced with a sword for several hours per day and had great endurance. After a few minutes of swordplay, MacBraden tired and faltered, stumbling over a rock. Neacal's next blow struck him in the chest and he sprawled upon the ground.

Neacal watched both men, but clearly they were not rising again.

"Dunn, come!" Neacal yelled.

MacBraden had said three dozen more were coming.

Neacal was ready to fight every last one of them until he faced Anna's husband. If he was the rotten and abusive brute Neacal imagined him to be, he would rid the world of the bastard.

Neacal glanced around. "Anna!" He headed toward where he thought she'd gone. Dunn trotted along in front of him. "Find her and the horse, lad."

Moments later, the dog barked from behind the tall bushes up ahead. Neacal rushed forward to find Anna still in the saddle, her face wan.

"What happened?" she asked. "Are you hurt?"

"Nay. They're all dead. But the last one said three dozen more soldiers are coming." He leapt on behind her.

"Saints," she hissed. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Do not fash yourself over it. 'Tis time for us to head back to Bearach Castle." He turned the horse around, heading west, and urged it into a trot. Because a rugged mountain lay in their way, they had to retrace their steps to rejoin the trail leading north to Bearach. "Can you
now
tell me why you left the castle?" he asked.

After a long moment, she nodded and turned to him. "I'd met the Hamilton chief before. I knew if he saw me, he would send a missive to the beast who claims to be my husband."

"Claims to be?"

Was it possible she wasn't actually married?

Before he could find out what she'd meant, Dunn drew to an abrupt halt in front of them and growled. The hair on the dog's back stood on end. A faint sound reached Neacal's ears… a multitude of hoof beats. In the far distance, he saw a garrison on horseback. That had to be the three dozen, all of them on the trail they needed to take to reach Bearach.

"Damnation, that's the rest of the garrison. Come, Dunn!" Neacal turned the horse about and raced toward the mountain again. 'Twas the one where he'd lived for a time, and he knew almost every stone on it.

Though Anna sat in front of him, he had no time or attention for a discussion. He wrapped one arm around her to make sure she didn't lose her seat during this jarring ride. Sparing a glance back every few minutes, he was thankful he didn't see their pursuers again.

Once they were several miles away and nearing the large mountain, he slowed the horse to a walk, then dismounted and let him drink at a stream. When he remembered that Anna had not yet broken her fast, he said, "You must be starving. I'm sorry I have no food."

"Nay, I have an apple left. But I'm not hungry." She avoided his gaze.

"You said he claims to be your husband. What does that mean?"

Anna pressed a fist to her stomach. When her eyes finally met his, they were filled with anguish. "The truth is Ranald Blackburn murdered my husband, his cousin—John MacCromar—and then forced me to marry him by threatening to kill my sister." Anna's voice caught and tears sparkled in her eyes. "To prove he meant what he said, Blackburn cut Kristina's face, leaving a terrible scar. Then, he ordered one of his men to hold a knife to her throat during the ceremony. Afterward, Blackburn shoved her down, causing her to hit her head and go blind. She still cannot see. You wished to ken the truth. There it is."

Neacal was near speechless, imagining what the two women had suffered through. "The bastard," he rasped. Outrage surged through him, tensing his muscles. He wanted to hunt the beast down now. Was he with the garrison following them or had he simply sent his men? He hoped he was leading them. Neacal had an arrow destined for the whoreson.

"He paid the priest who performed the ceremony a generous sum for his silence. Besides, 'tis his distant cousin."