Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (6 page)

Unaware how close he was until a rough hand curled around her wrist, she squealed as he jerked her to a halt. Both feet came out from beneath her and she toppled. Before the ground could greet her, powerful arms wrapped about her and dragged her to her feet. She fought and clawed against him, insensible sounds escaping. Frustration mingled with fear made her chest tight and breaths ragged. After the exertion of running, her vision grew fuzzy as drawing in air became more difficult.

“Cease, ye daft lass,” he commanded roughly and hauled her up the brow of the hill.

His hold on her remained strong while he tried to pin her hands to both sides. She ended up entirely enveloped by him, unable to move let alone breathe.

“Pray…let me…go…” She pushed the words out against his chest.

The Viking’s arms loosened marginally and she sucked in a deep breath. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

“What is this?” he asked gruffly. “Why do ye cry? Why do ye run? Lass, ye need not fear. Yer safe with me.”

“How… how can I be safe with ye?” She peered up at him to see a flash of genuine hurt flicker across his face.

“I know ye have experienced things no lady should but surely ye know that I am not like that man. I wouldnae harm ye. I am here to protect ye.”

“Protect me? How so?”

His brows almost knitted as he stared down at her. Something in his eyes reflected her own sense of vulnerability. It forced her to relax. Powerful strokes of his hands across her back warmed her skin and soothed her racing pulse.

“I dinnae know how the attack has affected ye, Katelyn.” His voice was low and as soothing as the palms on her gown. “But ye can be assured until we reach my sister’s, no man shall touch ye.”

“Ye… ye are touching me,” she whispered. Then she scowled. “Yer sister’s?”

“Aye, Lorna shall be sure to look after ye well. Until then, ye shall be under my care.” His jaw tensed at the words.

Catriona blinked. “Why do ye take me to yer sister’s?”

He drew back and skimmed a thumb over her head. “Ach, ye are more addled than I thought. Forgive me, lass, I—”

The dark haired man came up behind them and bent double to catch his breath. When he straightened, he slapped a hand to the man’s shoulder.

“Finn…”

Catriona scowled at the man’s name. She hadn’t even known it. But Finn… that was no Viking name.

“What is it?”

“Norsemen… over the hill. They may be looking for the lass. Likely they travelled through the night.”

“Damnation.” Finn skimmed his gaze over her and slowly released her. “Will ye stay calm now, my lady? I wouldnae have ye run into the arms of the Vikings.”

“The Vik—” Her legs trembled beneath her and she brought a hand to her mouth.

“Aye, they must have discovered yer absence. I suspect they would look to ransom ye, should they get hold of ye.” He turned to the other man. “How many heads did ye count, Logan?”

Logan? Another Highland name. Who were these men? Catriona skipped her gaze from man to man, taking in their clothing, considering their behaviour.

“Some half a dozen, mayhap more.”

“Ach, I like our odds but I dinnae want the lady caught in battle. What say ye, do we run or fight?”

Logan dipped his gaze to Catriona’s bare feet. “I dinnae think we’ll outrun them.”

“Aye, ye may be right.” Finn peered around and motioned to a nearby rocky outcrop with his sword. “My lady, ye must take shelter. Dinnae come out and dinnae be seen. We must see off these men if we are to take ye safely to Lorna’s.”

“Lorna… Lorna inghean Chaluim?”

Finn shook his head and eyed her again as if she had lost her mind. Mayhap she had. “Aye, lass. My sister. Go now, make haste.”

Nodding, she snatched her skirts and scurried over to the rocks, pausing to stare at Finn. Lorna inghean Chaluim. She knew that name. Katelyn had been intending to stay with her before she married Laird Gillean mac Dhomhnaill. Sweet Lord, Finn was no Viking any more than she was. He had not captured her, he’d rescued her. These were the men who were meant to fetch Katelyn on Laird Gillean’s behalf. No wonder she did not think him to be vicious and cruel like the man who attacked her.

His blue gaze latched onto hers briefly as the breeze ruffled his golden hair. His stark expression made her gut clench tight and something echoed between them across the open hills. Then he turned and ran. The other men had come up behind them quickly and they sprinted, swords drawn toward the encroaching attackers who, until now, were hidden behind the dip of the hill. Battle cries rang out and Catriona shuffled behind the rocks, gripping onto the cool stone, hoping to draw strength from it. If only she could cast her courage in stone—along with her heart. But her heart would not listen. It raced with fear for Finn and his men.

Her rescuer. How did she not see it? Yet he took her without a word dressed as a Viking. What else was she to believe?

Her thoughts scattered to the winds when she spotted the men clash. She ducked down briefly, closing her eyes to the savagery of battle, but a need to see Finn’s fate drew her back up. The danger had not yet passed. He might still be killed. Or he could survive and discover her true identity. Then she might be cast aside when he learned the real Lady Katelyn was dead. And Gillean would turn his attentions to Bute once more. It was weak. Even if her father managed to retake the castle, until the King’s men got there, they’d have little chance against Laird Gillean and his army.

A shudder wracked her and increased in intensity. Though far from her position, she heard the cries of men as they fought for their lives. Fought for
her
life. Her stomach churned when the crashing swords brought her back to the castle and the moment she thought she too would be a victim of war. Arms clenched around her waist, she battled to control the trembling of her body but it would not cease. Her hearing grew muted and all she saw was bloodshed. She watched each sword swing with horrified fascination.

Finn fought savagely, his size easily matching that of the Norsemen. He lunged and parried, striking down two men with little strain. When a gargantuan man faced him, Catriona’s heart stuck in her throat. This man saved her and she had not even thanked him.

Whatever the future held for her, she at least hoped to be able to do that. His attacker took a large step forward and swung at Finn. He staggered from the blow and coldness gripped her, forcing a cry from her throat. The huge Norseman withdrew and raised his head toward her position. She clamped a hand over her mouth as he moved closer, his pace picking up—clearly realising who she was.

Or who she was meant to be.

Catriona scanned her surroundings, bile rising in her throat as the Viking drew nearer. His furs swung about, filthy hair trailed behind, and it felt as though the ground shook with his every footstep. She curled a hand about a loose rock and backed away, stone held aloft. By some miracle it did not slip from her clammy fingers.

Unable to keep her gaze from it, she stared at the bloodied tip of the attacker’s sword. The blood of a highlander. She had not seen it, but he must have struck down one of the men. Would he strike her down too? Or mayhap he would pin her to the ground and start what the other man never finished? The trembling in her hands increased and the desire to run made her legs judder but she held firm. Finn’s great courage gave her courage too. For these strangers who had shown her kindness, she must be brave.

The odour of the man reached her before he did. Just as he was to leap upon her, he darted sideways. The stone dropped from her fingers. She stared on as the Viking toppled to the ground. Only when he twisted did she realise Finn had tackled the man. They wrestled briefly but Finn easily matched his strength. With a blow from the hilt of his sword, he rendered him senseless, mayhap dead.

Catriona failed to summon any sympathy for the man. Only relief swam through her body, rendering her weak. She put a hand to the rocks for support. Finn clambered to his feet, a grin cracking his face, before turning to view the other Norsemen retreating. When he faced her, his smile dropped and he hurried to her side.

“Ach, yer white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf.”

She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting her voice to work.

“I told ye we’d no’ let ye come to harm, did I not?”

“Aye,” she whispered.

He sheathed his sword and she forced herself not to contemplate the blood dripping from it. With one hand, he enveloped both of hers and held them still, and with the other he tilted her chin up.

Blazing blue eyes, that could not even compare to a clear sky seared into her. The touch of his rough hands warmed her—made her skin prickle. Another violent shudder and he dropped her hands to take her into his arms. Though not the first time he had held her, this time she did not think him her kidnapper. She sank into the embrace. Without even thinking, she flung her arms around his waist and buried her nose into his chest. No tears came, which surprised her. Only awful images of blood and terror played behind her eyelids. The scent of man and sea, a confusing mix of musk and salt mingled and she drew it in. Beneath her hands, she became aware of taut skin and muscle. Gradually, the world returned to her, mostly in the form of Finn. The scratch of his linen and plaid made her skin sensitive to his touch. One hand had come up to her hair, pinning her to his chest while the other smoothed over her back, just above her rear. Each sweep of his fingers sent a spiral of tension into her belly. Gone were the awful memories. Instead she pictured those fingers elsewhere. On her skin, her lips.

Catriona jerked, but only moved a little, as his hands still held her tight. What was she thinking? His fingers on her skin? She barely knew the man. And not a few moments ago, believed him to be a Viking. He offered her comfort, nothing more and yet she now swooned in his arms like some damsel.

She tugged back and this time he released her. Hands clamped in front, she licked her lips. “I thank ye, sir. I owe ye a great debt, it seems.”

He flexed a hand and glanced at it briefly, his brow furrowed. “Ye owe me naught. Save yer thanks for yer betrothed.”

“Well, I offer my thanks regardless. Pray—”

Logan came to Finn’s side, his features weary. “We’ve seen them off. With no losses either. Gerard took a swipe but ‘tisnae deadly.”

“Aye, thank ye, Logan,” Finn replied distractedly, his gaze still firmly on her.

What she saw in that gaze, she could not be sure. Confusion, it seemed, for even though he smiled, a line flexed between his brows as if unable to make her out. What confused him about her? Had he figured the truth? Surely not for there was no telling her and her sister apart. With their dark hair and gentle faces, only those who knew them well had ever been able to say who was who.

“Come then.” He snapped his head away suddenly and laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Tend to Gerard and we must be on our way. Who is to say they will no’ return with a larger force. It seems, my lady, that ye are a fine prize.” His gaze flicked over her. “Fine indeed.”

Catriona struggled to find a response. The way his voice lowered sent a curl of pleasure through her and her cheeks heated. Before any words came to her, he stomped off to check on his men. She regarded his back with a sigh. So broad and powerful. At least she knew she wasn’t in danger of falling for her kidnapper. Nay, now it seemed she might fall for her hero instead.

Chapter Three

With the fire lit and the men bedded down for the eve, Finn focused his attention on the lass. He tried not to question why he’d offered to take first watch again while knowing Katelyn did not yet sleep. The woman needed rest but she seemed unable to find it. She tossed and turned, the rustle of the furs the only sound for many miles. He plucked at the grass in front of him and lifted his head to the stars. No clouds followed them once again. The sky proved clear and pricks of light blanketed the heavens. He drew in a long breath and squeezed his hands together.

By God, he could not forget the feel of Katelyn’s body beneath his palms. The slight curve of her rear had taunted him—nay—
begged
him to splay his fingers across it. Her sweet curves flattened against him made his body ache. He intended to offer comfort and instead he had startled her, mayhap even worse. What man took a woman in his arms after such an ordeal and considered stripping her bare and parting her thighs? Ach, but he disgusted himself.

He tore another chunk of grass from the ground and flung it into the night. He did not need to be thinking of such things. If only his dream lass returned to him. He’d not thought of her since meeting Katelyn. The woman in his imaginings might not be real but that did not matter to Finn. At least he did not have to fear for
her
safety. Katelyn had come too close to death once again today. Obviously these past days had planted much fear in her mind for her to consider running from him. He had failed her too many times now.

She muttered something and tossed again. Even though his mind begged him not to, his heart reached out to her. Coming to his feet, he edged his way over and sank down beside her. What a fool he was. His duty was to get her safely to Kilcree. He had no other obligations. So why did it pain him to see her restless and weary?