Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (7 page)

His admiration for her grew too. She had insisted on walking many miles barefoot. He had tried to persuade her to wear his boots, but they were too big and cumbersome. For some of the way, she’d allowed him to carry her. He enjoyed that far too much. A strong attachment to a lass was dangerous. The connection was too easily broken. He’d learned that once from his wife and he did not wish to repeat the experience.

Shaking away the memories, Finn touched her arm. She rolled and gazed up at him. He had yet to decide on the colour of her eyes. In some lights they appeared green, in others, a darker shade more like that of a loch. He stared at her as if he could break through the night and study them once more. Why they had him so interested, he knew not. He surely had more important things to think on than her eyes.

“Ye cannae sleep?” he asked softly.

“Aye.”

“Are ye cold?”

She shrugged. “A little.”

“Shall I…” He coughed. “Shall I lie with ye for a wee while?”

Was it relief or disappointment that jabbed at him when she shook her head and pushed to sitting?

“Nay, but I would appreciate the company. I cannae seem to… my mind…”

“I understand.”

“Have we far to travel? I have never visited Kilcree.”

“Aye, some eighty miles. But our mounts await us at the next village. We shall travel the rest of the journey on horseback.”

“And what… what does Lady Lorna expect of me, when we arrive?”

“Ye clearly dinnae know my sister. She wants for naught, save to ensure yer safety until the marriage arrangements are settled.”

“I dinnae understand. I had no word of yer impending arrival. We thought we would receive a missive at least before ye arrived.”

“Laird Gillean had word of the imminent attack and decided it best he bring forward his plans to wed ye.”

“And pray tell why ye joined the rescue?” Katelyn drew her feet up and began massaging the soles of feet with her thumbs.

“Well ye will understand when ye meet Lorna that no man can say nay to her. Especially her brother.”

“I must thank ye for yer kindness. Ye risked much.”

“I confess we didnae expect to meet with an army of Norsemen.”

She nodded slowly. “I am grateful ye at least arrived before…” She trailed off and even in the gloom, he saw her skin turn to ash.

In a bid to distract her, he settled in front and drew her feet onto his lap. “I should have allowed ye to tend to these sooner.” He wrapped a hand around her ankle, ignoring the way it made the hair on his arms stand on end.

If he was not careful, those delicate toes in his lap might make something else stand to attention too. How could he find this woman so enticing when scarcely able to make out her features under her bruises?

Katelyn released a tiny sigh, barely audible, yet his hearing immediately latched onto it. Her lips moved as if trying to say something but nothing came. Instead she closed her eyes and leaned back on both hands while he rubbed her feet. Even in the gloom, he knew they were sore.

“Ye dinnae need to do that, sir.”

“Ye may call me Finn, my lady.”

“Finn,” she whispered, sounding as if she was experimenting with the sound. “Ye may call me Cat—Katelyn.”

“I cannae call ye Kat then?” he teased.

Instead of giggling as he expected, her eyes grew wide and she shook her head frantically. “N-nay. Katelyn if ye dinnae mind.”

“I dinnae mind, Katelyn.” Ach, why did his voice drop low as if her were seducing her?

Did she realise she had shifted closer? Her hand crept over to his forearm while her fingers drew circles on his arm, scalding him through the coarse linen of his shirt.

The delicate hand stilled as she peeked sideways at him. Ribbons of moonlight broke briefly through the clouds, sending a sparkle into her full lashed eyes. Regret, deep and bitter, pulled at his gut as it also highlighted the crimson swelling on her cheek.

A surge of protectiveness filled his chest. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he did not welcome it. It had been many seasons since he’d cared for the welfare of anyone but his kin. But he still had a duty to this woman so he would do what he must and ensure her safe arrival at Kilcree. If he could but force aside these invading thoughts, he would have no problem handling her with the same courtesy and teasing manner with which he always treated the lassies.

“Will we see the Norsemen again?” she asked quietly, breaking his thoughts.

“In truth, I dinnae know but dinnae fear. We have the strongest men my sister could offer.”

“Yer sister was very kind to send ye. Ye risked much.”

He offered a half shrug. “’Tis no matter. Ye are safe now and none were harmed.”

In the dim light he saw her lashes drop, as if to conceal some emotion. He silently cursed his glib words. A delicate lady like Katelyn had no place amongst battle and had seen more than her fair share of atrocities.

“I am only sorry I didnae come sooner. Ye should never have experienced that brute’s wrath.”

A tiny shudder wracked her. He would not have made it out had he not been so close to her.

“In the midst of battle, some men are consumed by bloodlust. I cannae speak for my enemy but I would never allow my men to mistreat a lass, lady or no’.”

“Aye,” she agreed quietly.

“Alas, I dinnae think ye believe me yet, but I dinnae lay blame with ye. My barbaric ways didnae do much to recommend me. Ye must forgive me for frightening ye.”

Her lashes lifted, her gaze glittered and he found himself staring at her, his fingers moving leisurely over her feet. Ach, when had he ever sat and stared into a woman’s eyes? He was getting soft in the head in his old age. The only woman to ever draw his attention had been wee Alice. None could take her place and he did not wish them to. Aye, he was well enough on his own.

If only his body agreed. It had been too long. He simply needed a warm lass in his bed. A shivering, frightened, beaten woman was far from the perfect bed mate. If she had any idea of the heat that was amassing beneath his skin, she would think him no better than her attacker. Finn had never needed to force a woman to bed and he refused to have her think that of him.

In an effort to control himself, he retreated and released her foot. She made a tiny sound—like a noise of protest—but remained still. That puzzled him. Although her hand stroked his arm, seeking comfort, she did nothing else. After such a trial, would she not need reassurance from her rescuer?

Damnation, now what was he thinking? He did not want the lass in his arms, let alone regarding him as some magnificent hero. Still mayhap it rankled his ego that she had not swooned with gratitude. Most women he knew would take any chance to be in the arms of the fair haired warrior and protector of the clan at Glencolum.

The sound of a slight intake of breath dragged his attention back to Katelyn and he cursed himself again. This rescue had gone nothing like predicted. They were to go to the isle, take Katelyn with ease and place her in the hands of her betrothed.

Instead he had been embroiled in two battles, had a fragile yet strangely strong woman in his care and a Norse army searching for them.

“Ye should rest,” he murmured to Katelyn when another yawn wrested free from her.

She shook her head. “I cannae.”

“We have a long journey ahead of us. I will protect ye, have no fear.”

“I dinnae fear for my safety, Finn. Ye seem a bold and brave warrior.”

He grinned at her assessment of him. “Aye, bold indeed. Some would say too bold. It has brought me much trouble at times.”

“Aye, but if ye hadnae been bold, I would probably be dead at the hands of that Viking.”

His grin dropped. The thought of Katelyn—a woman he barely knew—coming to harm made his gut clench. When the rush of bloodlust had dimmed, he had no doubt the image of her attacker attempting to rut against her would linger.

Katelyn touched his chin, the lightest of touches that sent an odd tingling sensation through him. He forced a smile again. How odd that even in the dark night she could make out his mood. Few people saw past his ready smiles and teasing wit.

“I am very grateful to ye.”

“Ye may save yer gratitude, Katelyn, for yer betrothed.” He didn’t know why, but he needed to remind her of Laird Gillean. Or was he reminding himself?

“I shall surely thank him too, but it was ye who took the risk of dressing as one of the enemy and infiltrating the keep mid-battle.”

“Ach, ‘twas no huge risk. I’ve been mistaken for a Viking many a time.”

“Aye…”

She sighed and tilted her head up toward the heavens. The moonlight that invaded the sky shone brightly enough to allow him to make out her profile. He swallowed. He had not noticed her true beauty until then but with her dark hair streaming down her back, even with the swelling on her cheek, he surely had a handsome woman beside him.

Ach, moonlight and a beautiful woman. Fate was playing a cruel trick indeed on him.

***

Finn pressed a coin into the hand of the villager who had stabled their mounts for their journey. There had been nowhere to leave them by the coast and knowing of their need to cross the sea, Finn had made the decision to stable their horses in the village.

He rubbed a hand down Dìleas’s flank and grinned. “Ye look well, lass. I think ye’ve been enjoying yer break too much. Ye shall have to ride hard now.”

“This is yer horse?” Katelyn’s asked as she approached from behind.

“Aye, this is Dìleas—my faithful companion. She shall see us safely to Kilcree.”

Katelyn blinked. “I shall ride with ye?”

“Aye, we didnae bring an extra mount. Dinnae fear, she is a strong horse and can easily bear the burden.”

Her throat bobbed lightly. What disconcerted her? The thought of riding with him? Mayhap it was the impropriety of their situation but it could not be helped. He had to admit the idea of having her pressed up against him sent a thrill through him in spite of himself.

Mounting the brown horse, he offered her a hand and settled her up behind him with ease. She released a tiny gasp as he lifted her and the sound made him clench the reins hard.

They set off at a steady pace, wary of tiring out the horses. Passing by the ramshackle cottages, smoke seeping from their straw roofs, Katelyn wriggled to get comfortable. Her slender legs rubbed his thighs and her fingers touched tentatively at his waist. Dìleas wandered to one side slightly, struggling against her added—
wriggling
—burden. By his reckoning, this journey would be a long, long one.

“Ye have a fine steed, Finn.” Katelyn lifted her voice over the steady beat of hooves.

“Aye, she is indeed fine.”

“Ye have had her long?”

“Aye, some ten years.”

“Was she yer father’s?”

Finn scowled. He’d forgotten how much women like to talk. When he spent time with lasses, it was rarely for conversation. He shoved aside one idea he had for keeping her quiet. Placing his mouth over her lips and—damnation. “Nay, my father died many years ago.”

“Forgive me.”

“’Twas a while ago and I have many kin around me,” he replied stiffly. His father had died of a battle wound—an honourable death, everyone assured him.

“And yer mother?”

“Aye, dead too.” Sickness had taken her several years after his father’s death. Yet another lass taken from him by some unseen enemy.

“As is mine.”

“I am sorry.”

“’Twas long ago too. But I do miss her,” Katelyn admitted and he felt her sigh against his back. “Ye have other brothers and sisters?”

“Nay, just Lorna. But she is enough for any brother to handle.” Her hand dropped and grazed the top of his thigh and he coughed. “And ye?”

“I had—have a twin sister,” she mumbled.

Interesting. He hadn’t heard mention of another sister. No wonder the lass was traumatised, having been torn apart from a close sibling. “A twin? Why were ye no’ with her?”

“I—we’re not close. She was likely with my father.”

“Well then, I am sure she is well.” He reached behind and squeezed her fingers, regretting it immediately when those soft tips settled in his palm.

Dìleas jerked on the reins as Katelyn shifted again and Finn muttered a soft oath. On such uneven ground, he risked the mount injuring herself.

“Is something amiss?” he asked more sharply than intended.

She yanked her fingers from his. “Nay,” she replied huskily.

He gripped the leather bridle and nudged the horse back on course. Dìleas could cope with much but Katelyn’s discomfort was putting her on edge. And him. He tried not to miss her delicate fingers in his hand.

Dìleas tensed beneath him. If only the lass would relax. “If ye are tired ye can rest against me.”

“I am no’ tired.”

He masked a snort. “And I suppose yer feet dinnae hurt either. Mayhap I should have ye walk the rest of the way,” he teased.