Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) (28 page)

***

At gloaming, Colin joined Neacal on the ramparts. "Sleat and over two dozen men were in Acharacle at the tavern last night after their failed siege attempt." Colin and his garrison had just returned from scouting the surrounding area. "But they're gone now."

Neacal nodded, his gaze running along the mainland shore. "They must have left their galleys somewhere south of there and come overland. Conniving bastards."

"Aye."

"No doubt they'll be back with more men. What's worse is MacCromar may show up at around the same time."

"The rest of the MacRurys will be here by then, surely," Colin said.

"I certainly hope so or we'll be outnumbered. I doubt the MacKenzies will be here in time. I only just sent for them. I would've done so earlier if I'd known about MacCromar. Or MacRankin" Neacal shook his head. "How did I gain so many enemies?"

"Well, you must admit that ladies are two-thirds of the reason." Colin gave a wry grin.

"You're right." And Neacal had thought no woman would ever want to come near him again after the torture and all his scars. Anna had surprised the hell out of him.

"You've had bad luck with women," Colin observed.

"Aye, but no more. Anna's the only woman I want… and the last. Once I defeat MacCromar, naught will stand between us." Neacal was antsy to get the whole conflict over and done.

"What about the clan council? Will they agree to accept her as lady of this clan?"

Annoyance at the elders made his muscles draw taut. "They'll accept her or find themselves a new chief."

"Well… you're serious then. Willing to give up everything for her."

"Indeed. I've never wanted to marry before now. You ken that. I always had a feeling I would know when I found the right woman. I wasn't sure she existed. But 'tis Anna."

"How do you know she is the right one?" Colin asked.

Neacal eyed him, realizing Colin truly wanted to know the answer and was not teasing him. "Are you looking for a wife?"

Colin let out an audible breath. "As you might expect, my da wishes me to marry forthwith. 'Tis the way of it for a future chief. And I prefer to choose my own bride."

"I don't ken how to find the right woman. Strangely, the best way appears to be to
not
look for her at all. For me, Anna is like the bright blue sky in spring, or the purple heather on the hills in summer. Looking at her makes me forget the evil and the torture. 'Tis like she reached a hand down and drew me effortlessly from the dark abyss."

Smiling, Colin shook his head. "Och! Love has turned you into a bard."

Neacal felt his lips quirk with amusement.

"And you're even smiling? Saints! The lass is a miracle worker."

She was, indeed, and he was prepared to fight for her.

***

Later that night, Neacal entered his chamber to find Anna sleeping in the dim glow of the low-burning fire. He removed his clothes and crawled into bed with her. 'Twas an indulgence he could not resist. He snuggled close to her, absorbing her sleepy warmth.

She stirred. "Neacal?"

He snorted. "Who else?"

"I just wanted to be sure," she said, the smile in her voice evident. "Is everything all right?"

"Aye. The men are prepared for a surprise attack. All guards are on duty. I should be out there with them but I couldn't stop thinking about you." Although she wore a thin smock, he could easily feel her luscious curves through the material. "You feel so good."

Reaching back, she placed her hand on his thigh. "Are you naked?"

"Of course."

Wriggling, she turned to face him and pressed her lips against his bare chest. "Mmm. Nice."

Arousal bolted through him. "Why aren't you naked?"

"I could be in a matter of seconds if you help me."

He quickly tugged her smock upward and helped her slip it from her arms and head, then flung it aside.

"Ahh." He pulled her closer and absorbed the decadent feel of her heated breasts pressing against his chest. 'Twas one of the best feelings in the world. He slid his hand down over the small of her back to the sweet curve of her hips. So perfect.

The punch of arousal made him lightheaded. He trailed his hand down her thigh and lifted it over his.

Her lips moved over his chest, placing little kisses. She flicked her tongue against his nipple. He growled, drawing her closer and slipping his fingers upward between her thighs. She arched her back and drew her knee higher on his hip, giving him access to her heated center.

"Saints," he hissed. "You're so luscious. So wet."

"'Tis your own fault."

He grinned. "I love taking the blame for that."

Before he knew what she was about, she wrapped her hand around his shaft and squeezed. At the renewed streak of arousal, he growled and ground his teeth.

"I need you, Neacal."

"Not as much as I need you, my sweet Anna."

He moved between her thighs and stroked himself through her heat.

"Aye." She dug her fingers into his arse, urging him on. "Please."

He slipped inside, the sublime feel of her spurring him to slide to the hilt. Absorbing the glorious feeling, he paused, pressing his forehead against hers. After the perfect moment, she flicked her tongue against his lips. Instinct taking over, he withdrew and thrust again.

She gasped loudly, then whispered, "So good, Neacal. More."

"With pleasure." Aye, he wished to give all she wanted. His only goal in life now was to protect her, please her, and make her happy.

He drove himself into her, over and over again, watching the beautiful expressions of passion and joy move over her features. The moments when she chanced to open her eyes, love gleamed there… a love such as he never could've imagined. A love that his own heart reflected. Now, he knew what a soulmate was. Now, he knew why love could heal all wounds—because it was the most powerful force on earth.

"I love you, Anna," he breathed against her ear, not stopping. With his body, with his soul, he wanted her to feel how much he loved her.

"And I love you." Her words were broken, heated, passionate. A moment later, she grasped him in a tight embrace, her legs around his hips. Everything in her pulled at him, demanding he give her everything. And he did. An explosive pleasure burst through him and he poured himself into her.

***

At breakfast the next morn, a guard entered and ran across the great hall between the long tables. "A large force of men is approaching overland, m'laird," he said.

Neacal and Colin arose from the table and, once Neacal retrieved his bow and arrows, hastened up the stairs to the ramparts and the wall-walk.

"Damnation," Colin muttered as they watched around four dozen men, some on horses and some on foot, cross the wet sand toward the island on which Bearach Castle sat.

Narrowing his eyes, Neacal scanned the various plaids worn by the men. "That's Blackburn MacCromar. Not Sleat."

A woman screamed in the distance.

"Who is that?" Colin asked. "Why would a woman be traveling with them?"

Ice slid through Neacal's veins. "God's blood, that can't be…"

"Who?"

"Anna's sister."

"Anna's sister? Do you mean the blind lass?" Colin asked.

"Aye, if 'tis her." Neacal squinted into the distance at the well-armed soldiers approaching. Finally, he saw the female, resting facedown across the lap of one of the men on horseback, her hands and feet bound. He did not know what Lady Kristina looked like. He saw a bit of long blond hair, the same color as Anna's, escaping her
arisaid
. That didn't mean 'twas Anna's sister, but still, he felt gored.

Had to be her. Why would they bring anyone else?

The approaching forces fanned out. The archers took position and nocked their arrows.

Neacal gave the command for his own archers on the wall-walk to follow suit.

A large, ginger-haired man dragged the woman off the horse and she screamed again.

"Who is the lady?" Neacal yelled.

"I'm sure you must have guessed!" a man with shoulder-length black hair returned, a grin on his face. "Send my wife out to me and Lady Kristina will not be harmed."

Someone scrambled between Neacal and Colin.

He glanced around to find Anna, her face ashen.

"Kristina?" she yelled, her panicked breath coming hard and fast.

"Anna, is it really you?" her sister called.

"Aye. Release her at once, you blackguard!" Anna demanded, her voice hard with fury.

Blackburn laughed. "Lady Kristina wanted to travel with us to get you, my sweet. She misses her sister."

"Oh dear God," Anna whispered, tears in her eyes. "I'll have to go with him. I won't have a choice."

"Nay," Neacal growled. He would die before he'd give her up now.

"Blackburn will kill her, don't you see? He cares naught for her. He already blinded her and cut her face."

"We'll come out!" Neacal called out to the enemies. "Let's go," he murmured to Anna and Colin.

They followed him down the narrow winding steps inside the keep to the great hall.

"Damn the man," Anna muttered, wiping angry tears from her eyes. "When Kristina is away from him and safe again, I'll kill him."

"Nay, I'll do it," Neacal said, trying to keep his fury under control so he could think clearly. "And you're not going out to him."

"I have to! He'll kill her." Her anguished eyes pleaded with him.

"And what makes you think he won't beat you to within an inch of your life as punishment for running away and evading him all this time?"

She squeezed her eyes closed, a tear trailing down her face. "Regardless, I can't simply leave Kristina in his clutches."

"You won't have to," Colin said, a calculating look in his eyes.

"Do you have an idea?" Neacal asked.

"Someone disguised as me won't work, if that's what you're thinking," Anna said. "He likely won't even release Kristina. If I go with him, he'll bring her back with us to use as leverage against me for as long as I live."

"Saints!" Neacal said, grinding his teeth. What the hell were they going to do? If Colin had a plan, he wished he would spit it out.

Before he could, another guard rushed into the great hall. "Chief! Sleat and the MacRankins have returned and are coming up behind the MacCromars."

***

Blackburn turned about to face the clan approaching from the rear. Had the MacDonalds somehow split their force and slipped around to their back? The kilted warriors, coming forward at a non-aggressive pace, carried many weapons, but had not yet drawn them.

"Get Kristina on your horse and hold onto her tight," he told Red Holme, then turned to his other soldiers. "Half of you guard the lady and half come with me." He guided his horse across the wet sand again to face the newcomers who wore metal-studded leather armor. "Who are you?" Blackburn demanded, stopping a few feet away.

"Chief MacDonald of Sleat," the burly, bearded leader said in an aggressive tone. "Who are you?"

Upon hearing the name MacDonald, Blackburn's hackles rose. "Stay back or I'll have the lady killed!"

"What lady?" Sleat asked, his eyes searching those behind Blackburn.

"Lady MacCromar's sister."

"MacCromar? Ah, the lady Neacal was helping?"

"Aye. She's my wife and she's being held prisoner in this castle!"

"What do you think, MacRankin?" Sleat asked the man with short brown hair and beard beside him. "Neacal MacDonald has stolen another man's woman."

"Whoreson," MacRankin hissed, sending a murderous glare toward the castle.

"Are you the MacDonald chief, or is Neacal?" Blackburn asked.

"Both. We're distant cousins and lead different branches of the clan, but he is my worst enemy."

"Indeed?" Blackburn had no problem believing that. The situation in his own clan had been similar… when he'd been forced to kill his own cousin to gain what he deserved.

"For a certainty. He and his men killed my son," Sleat said, his nostrils flaring. His sideways glare toward the castle was both anguished and lethal.

This was a man Blackburn wanted fighting beside him, for his rage and need for revenge would drive him to fight harder. "I'm sorry to hear that. Looks like we're on the same side, then."

Sleat nodded. "I plan to lay waste to this castle. If my son can't have it, no one will."

"Two years ago, the bastard turned my betrothed against me, and now she's dead." MacRankin clenched his jaw tight. "Mayhap you can flush him out and I'll kill him."

"As long as he's dead, I don't care who kills him." Blackburn smiled. These men appeared strong and they had a large force of men with them.

MacRankin nodded. "We've been watching the place for days, waiting for the whoreson to leave the castle. When we saw you approaching, we wondered whether you're friend of foe."

"Enemy of my enemy is my ally, I say," Blackburn said. "And we all want the same thing—Neacal MacDonald dead. He killed over a dozen of my men days ago."

MacRankin snorted. "Singlehandedly?"

"At first I doubted it. I figured it must have been the whole clan, but nay. The head of my guard said 'twas only one man. He hid in the darkness and shot them with arrows."

"Stealthy bastard, aye?" Sleat said.

"Nay for long," Blackburn growled.

One of his guards shouted, "Galleys approaching!"

Blackburn, Sleat and MacRankin eyed the loch. Several galleys quickly glided into view from the west end of Loch Moidart, their white sails filled to bursting with the strong wind. In the sky behind them, dark gray clouds rolled in from the sea.

Blackburn counted the galleys—ten. And each one appeared to be filled with between ten and twenty men. Were they friend or foe of Neacal MacDonald?

"Who the devil is that?" Blackburn asked.

"'Tis the damned MacKenzie," Sleat growled through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowed. He muttered several more curses.

"I've heard of them. Friends of yours?" Blackburn asked dryly.

"Nay, I hate the whoresons. One of the MacKenzie's brothers married Neacal's sister. So they're allies."

Blackburn cursed.

"He has almost two hundred soldiers with him. We'll be outnumbered." Sleat looked around frantically as if counting men.

Blackburn glanced at Red Holme, charged with holding Kristina. "We'll keep the upper hand as long as I have the lady."

***

"Stay in here and keep the door barred," Neacal told Anna as he rushed her into his chamber. "Do not open it until I return."

"Make certain you do return," she said urgently, tugging him down for a fast kiss.

"I will," he murmured against her mouth. A surge of adoration for her smashed into his chest. "I love you."

"And I love you. Please be careful," she begged, tears in her eyes. "And remember Blackburn is completely ruthless."

"Aye. I'm going to leave a guard posted just outside the door."

"Chief!" Leith yelled from the corridor. "The MacKenzies approach in their galleys!"

"Thank the saints!" Neacal said. How had they gotten here so quickly? No matter. He would owe them a grand debt. The rest of the MacRurys that the chief had sent for had not yet arrived, so Neacal was doubly grateful for the MacKenzies. "I must go." After giving Anna another kiss, he stepped from the room and closed the door. Once he heard the bar fall into place, he turned to Leith. "Do not leave this post for any reason. You're to guard her with your life. And don't allow her to leave the room."

"Aye, chief."

Neacal rushed down the stairs, across the great hall and out into the bailey. Dunn ran to greet him. Damnation, he couldn't risk Dunn being killed in the coming battle. He'd meant to leave the dog safe inside the keep with Anna. He had no time to spare now to take him back in. He had to update the MacKenzies before the battle began.

Grasping Dunn's collar, Neacal ran with him to the kennels where the other hunting dogs were kept, near the stables. Multiple dog barks echoed and Dunn tried to resist being confined. Finally, Neacal locked him inside.

Fully armed with a sword, targe, and four dirks, Neacal emerged from the walls through the postern gate, several of his men following. They hastened down to the shore as the MacKenzies pulled their galleys in.

Saints, he couldn't believe the number of twenty-oar galleys. And there had to be almost two hundred men aboard them.

Strong westerly winds blasted against Neacal's face as he raced across the sand. Leaden black clouds rolled overhead signaling an approaching gale storm.

He hoped that, since the MacKenzies hadn't needed to row, they would be well-rested and ready to fight. Either way, they were highly trained and had incredible endurance. Three of his own men, whom he'd sent north only a day ago, dragged his small galley into shore also. How on earth had they had time to travel such a great distance in a short time?

Chief Cyrus MacKenzie and his brothers Fraser and Shamus, all of them tall, dark-haired and well-armed, leapt onto the wet sand, then their many clansmen followed. Neacal was heartened to see such a large garrison of allies. He could thank Maili for this; she'd secured this alliance by marrying Shamus MacKenzie. And Neacal had had no idea at the time how much he would need the clan.

"You came quicker than expected!" Neacal called once he was within earshot.

"Maili sent us," Shamus said, his long hair in a queue.

Neacal stopped and waited for them. "What do you mean?"

Shamus and his two brothers joined him. "She had a vision of three clans attacking you."

"She's right. 'Tis happening now." Neacal motioned toward the mainland. Maili had second sight and never had it come in so handy for him. "I thank you for coming."

"We're glad to help. Who are we fighting?" Cyrus was known far and wide for his thunderous, warlord reputation.

"Sleat, MacRankin and MacCromar."

"I know Sleat, but not the other two." Cyrus frowned darkly, his brownish-black eyes scanning the forces gathered further up on the mainland shore.

"MacRankin is the whoreson who tortured me two years ago," Neacal said. "And MacCromar… he's even worse than the other two. Sleat's son was killed in a skirmish here a few nights ago, so he'll not give up until he's dead."

Shouts and the clang of weapons rang out from the mainland. "Hell. 'Tis starting." Neacal ran toward the center of the fighting.

"Who's helping you?" Cyrus asked, keeping pace beside him.

"A few of the MacRurys, and several dozen Camerons. Close allies of ours for many years."

"I know the Camerons. Let's crush these other bastards."

***

The fierce wind whipping at him, Blackburn kicked his horse into a trot toward the shouting and conflict on the sandbar causeway leading to the castle. Three men jumped Red Holme and Kristina. One grabbed Holme's knife hand, another yanked his left arm, and the third caught Kristina as she slid off the horse.

"Nay, you bastards!" Blackburn yelled.

The tawny-haired enemy soldier, a Cameron, threw her over his shoulder and ran, while the remaining two dragged Holme from his mount.

In the melee and the start of the fighting, Blackburn could not see where the whoreson who'd snatched Kristina had gone. Why had his men not been guarding her as he'd ordered?

Holme hit the ground between the other two Camerons. One of them kicked the dirk from his hand while the other held a sword to his throat. Blackburn charged them on horseback. One of the men swung his blade at Blackburn's leg, but he blocked the blow with his own sword at the last moment.

Blades clanged all around him. He wheeled his horse about, scanning the area for Kristina. Someone leapt onto his back and dragged him from his mount. He plummeted to the ground, pain shooting through his hip. One of his guards engaged the enemy in swordplay above him. He crawled from beneath them, and leapt to his feet, keeping hold of his sword.