Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) (17 page)

"The marriage is not legal," Neacal growled.

"Depends on who you ask." She wiped the angry tears from her eyes. "The officials in our town would not go against him. I had no way to fight him, no funds and no one on my side, so I escaped and disappeared."

"Where is your sister?"

"I secreted her away to live with my aunt. I pray she is still in hiding there, and safe. I wanted to bring her with me but she wasn't able to travel."

"How long have you been on the run?" Neacal asked.

"Almost two years."

"I vow I'll protect you from the swine. You said his name is Blackburn?"

"Aye, he's the bastard cousin of my first husband. His name is Ranald Blackburn, but when he took over as chief, he told everyone to call him Blackburn MacCromar. His father was my husband's uncle, also a MacCromar."

"I see." Neacal wanted to ask more about her first husband, but now was not the time. He had to take her to a hidden and protected area further up the mountain.

***

Anna perched in the saddle as Neacal led the horse toward a small thatched stone cottage nestled in a high grassy meadow between two mountains. They had traveled this way for more than two hours, up the steep and rugged mountain and along a treacherous trail.

Although she was aware of their surroundings, most of her attention focused on Neacal. His long dark hair lay upon his broad shoulders. He turned his head, listening for those who might be following. His pale blue eyes were hawk-sharp and alert. Cunning. The jagged scar down the side of his angular face was like a warrior mask.

Heavens! She did not deserve his protection. He was far too good for her. Too selfless. How could she ever repay him? Even after knowing she had a so-called husband, Neacal didn't give up on her. He'd refused to turn her over to the MacCromar henchmen.

Neacal was a treasure and 'twould be her fondest wish to say
aye
to his proposal of marriage. If it could be so, she would cherish Neacal all the days of her life.

"This is a shieling the crofters use in summer while their cattle and sheep are grazing high on these mountains. The rest of the year 'tis empty. I stayed here for a while last fall and winter," he said. "'Tis warmer here than on the island, and the red stag and rabbits are plentiful."

No doubt he also liked the isolation of this location. She turned and gazed back at the view between the mountains all the way to the sea in the distance. Although dark gray clouds rolled in from the west, obscuring the setting sun, it was a lovely view. "'Tis beautiful up here."

"Aye." He lifted her down from the horse, focusing his arrow-sharp gaze upon her. "I want you to tell me everything."

She cocked her head and lifted a brow. "If
you
will tell
me
everything." There was plenty she didn't know about him, and she was keen to learn every detail.

"We'll see." He released her and headed toward the entrance to the shieling. The door was shorter than he was, forcing him to bend in order to enter. She followed him inside and found he could stand to his full height within because of the pointed thatched roof.

The bare stone walls were thick and tightly dry-stacked. The beige thatch had been replaced recently.

A fire pit with a large, black hanging pot occupied the center of the slate floor.

"I helped the shepherds bring the slate up here and put it in place. They bragged 'twas a manor house after that." His lips quirked as he glanced up at the ceiling. "They re-thatched it in May."

"A very cozy and well-kept shieling," she said softly, wishing impulsively this could be her new home… with Neacal, of course. She'd spent most of her life in castles, but living in a wee cottage such as this wouldn't be so bad, as long as they had everything they needed.

"They thought I might stay here again this fall and winter," he said.

"Were you planning to?"

"'Haps. If my brother hadn't been killed."

"And now—blast it all—you have to be chief."

His gaze flew to her and she smiled. Amusement crept into his eyes, but his lips had hardly moved. His intense gaze lingered upon her for long seconds, caressing her soul. She could scarce breathe, hoping he would kiss her.

Abruptly he turned away. "I'll go back down the mountain and cover our tracks. Hopefully divert them, if they should have a tracker. Clouds are drifting in. 'Twill most likely rain this eve. I'll hide amongst the rocks of the crag above the trail and pick them off one by one if they take the trail through the pass as we did."

Alarm raced through Anna. "In truth? That will be dangerous."

He shrugged. "But easy. They're unfamiliar with this area. I've been all over these mountains many times."

"But you're only one man against dozens."

"That matters not. I'm also supposed to be dead now, or an invalid. I'll leave Dunn with you. He's a skilled guard dog. I've taught him well to alert me to any prowlers. He's also a good fighter."

As he started out the door, she grabbed his hand. Instantly, he paused.

"Please, promise me you'll be careful." She could not even look him in the eye when she said it. Where would she be without him? Captured and on her way back to Blackburn. Beaten, battered and raped. She could not survive now without Neacal.

With his hand, he tilted her face, forcing her to look at him. And she did, with pleasure. But when she gazed into his fierce blue eyes, she felt as if tethering hooks shot into her heart and dragged it out toward him. Saints, how she was falling for this man.

"Don't worry over me, sweet Anna." He kissed her forehead, turned and left the cottage.

Oh good Lord. Tears sprang to her eyes and she discovered her knees were weak. She propped against the wall and watched him stride toward where the dog sat near the horse. He gave Dunn a command and pointed at the cottage. The dog ran toward her, joining her inside. She stroked his bristly fur.

Neacal took his bow and arrows from the saddle, then led the horse into the byre, several yards distant. As he bypassed the shieling door, he paused. "I'll try to find some sort of game for a stew. Bar the door. I'll be back soon."

Anna's throat was so tight, she couldn't utter a word. She simply nodded and watched him walk away.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.
Dear God, protect him.

Dunn whined and moved about restlessly. She closed the door and barred it, as Neacal had instructed. She prayed he would return soon, but what on earth would she do if he didn't?

***

On foot, Neacal followed the rocky trail down the side of the mountain. It was wide enough for a horse to walk comfortably, but one false move and a person or animal would tumble several hundred feet to their death in the stream below.

He searched for stray tracks they'd left before, but found few. The grass and heather grew thick in the dirt. When he found tracks that he, his horse or Dunn had made, he smoothed them out with a slick stone. He also had to be sure to hide any stray broken stems. He saw a few deer tracks, and hopefully any disturbed dirt or foliage would be attributed to them.

At the base of the mountain, Neacal startled two young red stags. He was not surprised to see them for 'twas time for the autumn rut in the glens. The deer bolted, charging east across the moor.

As he was scanning the ground for the tracks he wished to erase, the sound of hoof beats reached his ears. Was it a herd of deer or the garrison? Taking out his sword, he slipped behind a thick stand of prickly gorse bushes and crouched.

The thundering grew louder and he quickly realized 'twas indeed several horses.

"Whoa!" The front rider held up his arm, drew to a halt and dropped to the ground. He scanned the muddy area. Neacal had not had time to blot out all of his party's tracks. He prayed the men couldn't tell which direction they'd gone.

Peeking through the branches, he counted fifteen men. Where had the other half of the garrison gone? They must have split up to search. Regardless, he was greatly outnumbered. His heart thumped loudly in his ears for he could be discovered at any moment.

Neacal peered out from between the bushes at Ranald Blackburn MacCromar's soldiers. Aye, they wore the same type of clothing and tartan as the men Neacal had fought with and killed earlier. Outnumbered as he was, fifteen to one, he'd best make sure he was not discovered. He might defeat three men at once, but fifteen made him far less confident when it came to hand-to-hand combat. If he were perched above them with his bow and arrows, however, he could pick them off one by one.

Were any of these men the one who claimed to be Anna's husband, or was he so wealthy he could simply send a garrison in his stead?

"You see there?" One of the men pointed at the ground. "A large dog track. They came through here."

The man who'd ridden in front, obviously their tracker, strode onto the moor. He crouched and examined the trampled grass. "They went this way!" He mounted again and the lot of them rode away, toward the east and across the moor, following what had to be the trodden grass trail the two stags had left behind.

Thank the saints!

After the sounds of hoof-beats vanished, Neacal emerged from the concealed spot, glanced around and listened. He heard naught but the screech of a hawk in the distance.

He checked for any stray tracks that led toward the mountain. Seeing none, he headed for the trail that led up to the cliffs from the back. The climb was steep and rocky and required the use of his hands at some spots, to drag himself up. After a hard pull, a pain shot through his shoulder and arm. Damnation, 'twas the old injury from when he'd been captured. He ground his teeth and, taking a deep breath of the cool, damp air, forced himself to ignore the pain.

At the top of the cliff, he looked east over the moor, but saw no people in the declining evening light. The wind picked up, shifting the bushes about. The leaden clouds drifted low, bringing an early gloaming. The rain would start soon, and if it was hard enough, it would wash away any remaining trace of their passage through the area and drive their pursuers indoors.

He watched for returning soldiers for a quarter hour. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed movement two hundred feet below… a large rabbit. If Dunn were here, he would catch it in less than a minute, but Neacal would use his bow. Because he'd brought only two dozen arrows for defense, he would have to be frugal with them and reuse them whenever possible. Slowly, he moved closer and maneuvered into position for a good shot.

After he slew the first rabbit, he noticed another a short distance away. Both kills were quick and easy. He, Anna, and Dunn would eat a good supper this eve.

He remembered Anna's anxious expression when he'd left her. He hoped she wasn't afraid, being in the shieling with only Dunn for protection. He couldn't imagine her too terrified since she'd struck out alone from the castle. She was obviously a brave lady… one that he admired greatly.

When the first tiny drops of rain hissed through the air, he glanced at the darkening sky. The clouds overhead grew thicker and more ominous. With each moment that passed, the cold rain fell harder, drenching his hair and clothing. It didn't bother him overmuch. He was used to being outdoors in the elements. After scanning the moor one last time and seeing no one, he made his way to the trail again. Careful to step on stones as often as possible, and not leave tracks in the mud, he strode up the mountain at a brisk pace.

Sometime later, he entered the clearing, the bitter but homey scent of peat smoke surprising him. Lady Anna had built a fire. Fortunately, the rain and heavy clouds would prevent the scent of the smoke from traveling far.

He knocked at the shieling door. "'Tis me. Neacal," he called out.

Dunn woofed excitedly while Anna opened the door. He relished her welcoming smile, feeling more at home here than he ever had at Bearach Castle. Jumping about playfully, Dunn greeted him with a wildly wagging tail. Neacal rubbed his shaggy head.

"Thank the saints, you're back," Anna whispered, widening the door for him to enter. "But you're drenched!"

"Aye." As he'd guessed, a low blaze burned in the fire-pit, lighting the room to a cozy glow, the heat from it feeling good on his cold, damp skin. Steam arose from the large black pot hanging over the flame. The cooking vegetables and herbs scented the air along with the smoke.

"You built a fire?" he asked.

She closed the door. "Nay, Dunn did it," she blurted with a straight face. Then, a wee impish grin peeked out. Of course, his question was ridiculous, and she wasn't shy about letting him know that. He shook his head, unable to squelch the faint smile.

"Dunn also dug the parsnips, turnips and onions, then cut them up," Anna went on, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

Neacal snorted. "I didn't realize he was so skilled with a knife and flint. I thank you both." Smiling felt foreign to him. He'd forgotten his mouth could move in such a way, but it felt good. And for some reason, it made him want to kiss her. But, nay, he couldn't do that. "I wanted you to lock the door and stay inside."

"I know, but I couldn't. I was too anxious. I had to keep busy. When you didn't return before the rain started, I worried you'd run into trouble."

"No trouble, but I did see them."

"You did? Oh, good heavens." Her face blanched. "Do they ken where we are?"

"Nay, they rode toward the east, away from here."

"What if they return?"

"'Tis possible, but I believe the hard rain will drive them indoors at the first village they come to. 'Twill also wash away the remaining traces of our tracks."

"I do hope so." She bit a nail, making him want to drag her hand to his mouth, kiss it and try to calm her.

Needing to focus, he glanced away. He had considered readying for a trip back to Bearach as soon as the rain let up, but since only fifteen men had proceeded east, another almost two dozen were somewhere. Perhaps their leader had left a few men along the trail to catch Anna and Neacal if they passed that way again. He didn't want to tell her that and increase her anxiety even more. Nor did he wish her to know that the men would likely head to Bearach if they didn't locate them soon. He was certain Korbin had already told them that Neacal was the MacDonald chief, but his clan could handle Blackburn's men. Indeed, Korbin must've had something to do with the knaves showing up when they did. That was why he was acting strange, trying to get Neacal to leave Anna there so he could turn her over to them. There must have been reward money involved.

"Anyway, cease your worries," Neacal said. "They're traveling away from us."

She nodded, her brow still furrowed, anxiety dimming her green eyes.

How could he get her to calm down and smile again? He'd even enjoyed her teasing him and wished she would do it again. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Well then, believe what I say. All will be well."

Dunn sniffed at the limp rabbits he held.

"I'll go clean the rabbits and add one to the stew."

The dog whined, his intent eyes shifting from the rabbits to Neacal.

"Aye, one is for you, lad. Come out to the shed with me." Neacal snatched a wooden bowl from the table and exited with the dog. He hoped Anna was less worried by the time he returned. He wanted to learn more about her situation, but would she answer his questions and reveal all her secrets?

***

Closing the door, Anna pressed her head against the rough wood and said a prayer of thanks for Neacal's safe return. The work she'd done—digging and chopping the vegetables for the stew, gathering the herbs, building the fire and carrying the water—was to keep herself from going mad with worry. She'd feared he would run into Blackburn's garrison and be attacked by all of them at once.

She released a breath and, with a long wooden spoon, stirred the large pot of chopped vegetables. She was glad to see it starting to boil. The addition of rabbit would make it perfect. When he'd said he would return with some sort of game for a stew, she hadn't doubted him. She was certain he must be an excellent hunter.

Rain still poured down outside and the wind blew against the closed window shutters, making her glad she was inside this cozy, dry cottage. Neacal would be even wetter than he had been.

What would it be like to spend the night here with him? Against her will, a shiver of delight coursed through her. What a terrible wanton she was, but she couldn't help herself.

She was surprised he hadn't been angry after finding out about the mess Blackburn had forced her into. Instead, he wished to help her more. He was an amazing man.

A quarter hour later, when Neacal returned from cleaning the rabbits in the shed, water dripped from his long, dark hair, which he had flung back from his face. She feared he would catch an ague, for the air was cooler this eve and autumn was beginning.

"You're completely soaked now," she said. Droplets of water ran down his handsome face and dripped from the short stubbly beard on his chin. What she could see of his linen shirt clung to his chest.

He lifted a brow, a hint of amusement lighting his eyes. "You worry about me overmuch."

'Twas true; she did. Her face heated. "Well… I don't wish you to be sick."

"I do believe I have a change of clothing here someplace." He glanced about the room.

"I'm glad. Where is Dunn?"

"In the shed, guarding. He devoured his rabbit and seemed satisfied. He'll alert us if someone approaches. He'll hear them and smell them long before we would be aware of their presence, especially if he's outside."

That was good then, but she would be alone with Neacal again. She was unsure of their association and connection, which at times felt awkward because of how intimate they'd been at the tavern the night before. Would that happen again if she spent tonight alone with him, or something far more profound? A thrill of giddy excitement spun through her, along with annoyance at herself. Why couldn't she control her thoughts and reactions around him?

Neacal added the cut meat into the pot with the vegetables. "I'm glad it's raining so long and hard, in truth," he said. "'Twill keep the knaves away a while longer."

She nodded, praying they wouldn't follow. The last thing she wished to do was cause Neacal harm. Though she didn't want to surrender to the beasts, she would if that's what it took to preserve his life.

After washing his hands in the basin in the corner that she'd filled, he strode to the trunk beside the box bed, opened it and dug inside.

Watching the sure, confident moves of his lean, muscular body, she became almost enthralled. She could watch him all day and never grow bored.

He pulled out a folded plaid and shirt, sniffed them, then closed the trunk. "I'm thinking one of the shepherdesses washed these before packing them away with herbs a few months ago."

"How kind. I was glad to find the vegetables, flour, and other supplies they'd left."

Neacal nodded, watching her. "I hope you won't mind if I get out of these wet clothes."

"Oh." Imagining him disrobing in front of her, renewed heat flamed over Anna's face. She spun around to face the door. "Of course not. Shall I go outside?"

"Nay, that will suffice. The rain is pouring down."

Saints! Her whole body feeling scorched, she listened to the rattle of his belt buckle and the slide of cloth against skin. What would he look like naked? She was certain she couldn't imagine such a wickedly carnal sight. Why was she so mortified? He'd touched her in profoundly intimate ways last night. 'Haps it was because she had not touched him… he hadn't let her. She knew little about his body beyond how it felt to ride with him on the horse.

She recalled how firm and lean he was… all over, from his arms to his waist. The muscles of his upper arms were very well developed and strong. She craved wrapping herself around him and touching him… kissing him anywhere she wished, brushing her lips down his sculpted chest.

"Finished," he said, startling her out of her sinful daydream. Good heavens! How scandalous she was. She was supposed to be a well-mannered lady, not a wanton wench craving a man's attention.

Hesitantly, she turned to find him fully clothed and hanging the wet plaid and shirt on a chair by the fire. So as not to devour him with her eyes, she fixed her gaze on the pot of bubbling stew, then stirred it. But he had captured her awareness. She caught a whiff of the lavender scent of his fresh clothes and even the hint of rain on his skin.

"Smells delicious," he murmured.

Surprised, she lifted her gaze to find him staring at the stew. But she could say the same thing about him—that he smelled delicious—but kept her lips sealed tight.

"You impress me greatly, Anna."

Her heartbeat quickened and she craved looking deep into his eyes, drowning in the blue darkness, but forced herself not to. "I thank you but 'twas not too difficult. You'd said you were going to bring back game for a stew, so I thought I'd help in the only way I knew how. I found peat stacked in the corner, and a flint in the cupboard. Dunn did indeed help me dig out the parsnips and turnips. I carried water in the bucket." Realizing she was anxiously prattling off a list, she snapped her mouth closed and glanced at him.