The Trouble with Highlanders (6 page)

Tomorrow would arrive soon enough.

***

Norris jerked awake, his mind still tired but clearing instantly. He rolled over and rose halfway off the bed before he realized it was Gahan who had startled him. His half brother locked stares with him then reached over and pinched out the candles. The scent of smoke teased his nose, and he heard the door close softly behind his captain.

The darkness suited the moment. In fact, it pleased him immensely. With no way for anyone to watch him, judge him, he was free to let his expression relax.

Daphne was sleeping.

He pulled the bedding over them both and nuzzled against her neck.

She smelled good.

He knew what clean skin smelled like, but hers went beyond the lack of grime. He placed a kiss against her temple and left a trail of them along her hairline.

This
was
something
else…

She muttered in her sleep, shied away from him, and hugged herself. He pulled her back against him and eased her into his embrace. In the darkness, he smiled, a genuine smile of contentment.

***

She'd fallen again.

Daphne stared at the man sleeping in her bed but realized she was more frustrated than shamed.

Well, there was another sin to add to her list.

The sun wasn't really up yet, only the edges of the horizon turning pink. With the poorly fitting window shutters, it was enough light to wake her, since the bed curtains had never been closed.

Of course not; Norris would never allow himself to be taken by surprise simply to be warmer.

She plucked her chemise from the floor and hurried into it. Norris never moved as she dressed, but she left her shoes off when she crept from the chamber. She froze when she turned and found herself facing one of Norris's men. The burly retainer had the section of his plaid that normally rested on his shoulder raised up over his head while he slept. He was sitting on a stool with his back propped against the wall. But his hands were locked around the pommel of his sword.

Of course there was a man at the door. Maybe while they were alone it would be possible to forget who Norris was. Part of her cringed as she moved away from the retainer and down the stairs. Her chamber was three stories up in the main tower. It was also the coldest.

She sat down and put on her boots before hurrying to the kitchens to warm her hands over the hearth. The cook wasn't at the long worktable yet, which made Daphne frown. She checked the spice cabinet, but it was locked.

The cook held the keys.

She would have to hope another hour would not make much difference, even if it would increase how many eyes would know what she was about.

Daphne refused to care. She really couldn't afford to, anyway. Gitta might be of the firm opinion that a child would ease their suffering, but there was no way Daphne was going to risk her courses not arriving soon. She'd brew the necessary concoction and suffer the cramps. And that was the end of it.

Guilt tried to needle her, so she left the kitchen and walked out into the yard. The gate was just being raised, and someone ran through it. He was just a small boy with one missing front tooth. He stopped in the middle of the yard, looking at the men on the walls and scratching his head as if trying to decide how to get to them. When he noticed her, he smiled.

“Lady. Lady. Me da sent me to tell ye the Comyn are in the pens with the sheep.”

Her temper flared, and the boy flinched from the sight of her. She shook her head and forced her anger behind a serene expression.

“Thank ye. Yer da should be very proud of ye. Now go inside and wait for the cook.”

He tugged on the corner of his cap before scurrying away. Daphne hurried into the stable, startling the boys who slept there.

“The Comyn are stealing the sheep again. Wake the men.”

She took only the time to bridle a horse and then mounted the animal.

“Lady… ye need to wait…”

Daphne rode out of the stable before she heard the rest of what the boy was trying to say. Keith would be on her heels quick enough; the man was far more at ease on the back of a horse than she was. Besides, she was on a mare, and the retainers all rode stallions.

But she'd failed to realize how close she was to the pens they'd shut the sheep in. Inexperience with riding making her ignorant of just how little time it would take her mare to travel the distance. Before there was much more than scarlet light on the ground, she was watching the sheep being herded out of the pens, and Keith had not caught up to her.

Which left her very much on her own against the Comyn.

***

“I'm going to blister her backside.”

Norris didn't give a damn about the looks he was drawing from the MacLeod retainers. There was something balled up in his gut that he didn't like at all. He understood the feeling of fury well enough, but this was something that sickened him.

He leaned low over the neck of his stallion and gave the beast its freedom. The animal surged forward, digging his hooves into the soft morning earth. Gahan was at his side as he raced up the rise and pulled his stallion to a stop at the crest. The animal snorted and danced in a circle as he obeyed.

Every muscle Norris had rebelled against stopping, screaming to charge down into the valley where the sheep had been penned, but he was not a fool or some beardless boy who had never seen a battle. The advantage was on the high ground.

“What in the name of Christ?” Gahan muttered as he surveyed the sheep milling about below them. Two of the pens were open, allowing the animals loose.

“It was a trap,” Norris pronounced in a deadly tone.

Gahan took a second look at the pens and sheep then nodded.

“That fool woman ran straight into their hands,” Norris added.

“But why leave the sheep?” Keith asked.

“Because Comyn does nae need to steal the animals. He can have anything he wants off yer land once he has yer mistress wed to him.”

It was a ploy as old as time.

“What are ye planning to do?” Keith asked.

Norris surprised him by grinning, but a closer look showed him just how unholy the curving of his lips was.

“By God, I plan to take her back.”

***

“Agree to wed me this morning.”

Morrell Comyn stood in front of her while his men ringed them. The morning sun was brightening the day, but all she saw was the ugliness of his expression. It was cold and calculating.

“If ye want to wed me, best ye go back to MacLeod Tower and discuss it with me overlord, Norris Sutherland.”

“Sutherland's son is here?” Morrell scanned the rocky terrain behind her, losing some of his confidence for a moment, but he quickly regained his arrogance. He reached out and slapped her, to the delight of his men. “Best ye learn that I do nae tolerate scheming well. Sutherland would nae bother with ye until yer brother arrives. If the savage is still alive, that is.”

Her hands were bound behind her back, and she turned with the blow, stumbling and then regaining her balance. Pain threatened to rob her of her vision, making dark spots dance before her eyes, which she blinked away. Her cheek throbbed, and she knew she'd have a bruise to mark the spot.

“Ye'll wed me, Daphne MacLeod, and I do nae mind so much just how much pain ye have to endure before agreeing.” The tip of his tongue appeared and swept along his lower lip. Morrell wasn't a bad-looking man; some might even see his dark hair and square jaw as comely. Nonetheless, the lust twisting his features made him hideous in her opinion.

“And yer fortune of a dowry will be mine just as soon as ye swear before the priest that ye take me for yer husband. Since yer father is dead and yer brother is nae here, we need no contracts. Only the blessing of the Church and witnesses of a consummation.”

Several of his men snickered.

“I have no dowry.”

He raised his hand, and this time she only turned her head with the blow. Oh, it hurt just as badly, but she was ready for the sting and stared right back at the man in spite of the pain. Morrell smiled brighter, a gleam of appreciation lighting his dark eyes. “I do enjoy testing the strength of any beast I plan to master.”

“Wedding me will gain ye naught but hungry people to provide for until me brother arrives to confirm that there is no gold.”

He reached up and removed a long riding crop from his horse's saddle. The animal snorted and stepped away, obviously having felt the sting of the rod.

Morrell slapped the crop into his gauntlet-covered palm. “Swear to wed me.”

“I will nae.”

“I think ye will, Daphne,” he taunted her. “But 'tis a shame to ruin yer fine face. I'm going to enjoy yer beauty while I labor to plant me son in yer belly. So yer bruises will have to be on other parts of yer body—some place that will nae ruin me enjoyment of yer flesh.”

He continued tapping his palm with the riding crop. Daphne battled to maintain her stony expression, but the sound of that leather meeting leather sent a chill down her spine. His men were all watching, and not a single one looked disturbed by their laird's actions. More than one was leaning forward, eager to get a good view.

Morrell walked behind her and slapped the crop harder. She jerked in spite of her resolve to remain still. He chuckled softly, sickeningly.

“Yes. Yer back. Just think, me lovely Daphne. The priest will nae see any bruises along yer back. But ye'll feel them with every thrust.”

He tapped her gently with the end of the riding crop, drawing it down her spine until her bound hands interfered.

“Neither will they gain ye a single bit of silver, for me clan has naught. Ye'll be saddled with a bride without a dowry.”

He let out a sharp whistle.

“Unbind her, and hold her steady.”

Two of his men obeyed quickly. One sliced through the strip of fabric they'd torn from the bottom of her skirt to bind her, and separated her hands. They pulled her arms out to her sides, crushing her wrists in their grips because they didn't temper their strength.

“Swear to take yer vows.”

“Nae.”

The crop landed on her back and sent her pitching forward as pain burned through her. While the men held her in place, she sucked in a deep breath and held it to maintain her dignity.

“Think of how much pain ye want to endure tonight, when I have ye on yer back beneath me, Daphne. I promise to ride ye half a dozen times before dawn.” The crop sailed through the morning air again.

She jerked as it landed, and pain tore through her once more. It felt like it lasted longer this time, but she refused to believe it. She could endure.

She
must.

“Ye'll feel every bruise while I fuck ye.”

The crop sliced through the air and struck a third place, and then a fourth quickly thereafter.

“Laird!”

Daphne was suddenly free. She stumbled and turned around to see Morrell looking behind them.

“God damn ye!” he snarled, jerking back to glare at her. “Sutherland is here!”

And the man was in a rage too. She could hear Norris roaring. His men echoed the battle cry. It mixed with the pounding sound of the approaching horses. Morrell ran to his stallion and swung up onto the back of the beast. With a vicious jerk, he sent the animal charging straight at her. Too late, Daphne turned and ran, but Morrell leaned over and hooked her. Agony twisted through her back, but she refused to yield to it. She kicked and twisted, prying at the hand holding her against the side of the horse. She might well end up trampled beneath the hooves of the beast, but she preferred it to submission to Morrell Comyn.

“If 'tis a broken neck ye crave, so be it!”

Morrell Comyn cursed her and released her. She tumbled to the ground, curling into a ball to try and protect herself. As new agony raced through her body from the impact with the ground, all she heard was the thunder of the horses' hooves. Blackness didn't offer to take her away this time, maybe because the pain was too intense. But she was aware of every second that she tumbled along the ground, of all the rocks she hit and the sight of horses' hooves tearing into the earth all around her. Time seemed to slow down, giving her the chance to notice the way a hoof tore a chunk of grass from its roots and flung it up into the air.

She rolled and rolled, and finally there was nothing but silence, the thunder of the horses in the distance. When she stopped, she was lying on her back, staring up into the sky. It was a beautiful day, the sky blue with only a few clouds lingering from yesterday's storm. The ground beneath her back was moist from the rain, and the grass smelled fresh and new.

The thunder stopped, and she sighed, happy to know the sky would remain clear. But a shadow fell across her, and a moment later, Norris was beside her.

“Where did ye come from?” she wondered aloud, but then recalled the way he'd been roaring. “Ye are a fearsome man when ye want to be, Norris Sutherland.”

“And ye are vexing,” his words were too soft for how somber his expression was. He was smoothing his hand along her arms, touching her as if she were a babe.

“I am quite fit,” she announced and sat up to prove her point. Pain stabbed into her from too many places to count. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out because her entire body was frozen in agony. She could not draw breath, couldn't do anything but endure.

“What ye are is luckier than any soul has a right to be.”

He boldly flipped up her skirt and ran his hands along her legs. Then he covered her again and cupped her jaw to look into her eyes. “But ye're reeling, and that's no mistake.”

“I am nae,” she argued. “Me wits are in order.”

He hooked her under her arms and lifted, still handling her like a child. She barely felt it when he put her on her feet, because the man was supporting most of her weight.

“I can stand.”

He grumbled something, and there were other voices in agreement. She looked around to find Gahan and the rest of his retainers ringing them.