Unwilling (3 page)

Chapter
Five

The harsh chill of the water washed
the blood away and blurred the sharp angles of grey from Connor’s vision.  The
world melted back to the vibrant colors of autumn.  Crimson was the first to
return.  He faded back into awareness while ripping a blood-soiled dress from
soft, pale skin. 

Woman’s skin. 
His
woman’s
skin.

“
Christ!
” he swore as he dropped
her body back into the waist-high water, recoiling as though she were a hot
coal scorching his flesh.  The rent garments stayed in his grip, and he hurled
them to the opposite bank in a fit of temper.  “Fuck!”  A mate?  Now?  How in
the name of the Gods had this happened?  He didna want her. 

The woman surfaced, sputtering and
flailing until she found purchase on the mossy rocks, and stood.

Connor blinked.  Och,
that
was how.  His berserker must have taken one look at the shimmering goddess in
front of him and decided to claim her as his own.  Straight, heavy raven hair
clung to pert, high breasts and a firm, tight figure.  She was a wee thing,
finely-featured and delicately formed, but fire flared in her amethyst eyes. 

Following the direction of his
gaze, she looked down and let out a shocked squeak and covered her breasts,
lowering her body back into the freezing water. 

For a moment, they just glared at
each other.

“Your eyes,” she gasped.  “They’re
green.”

“Aye,” he said moodily.  “They’ve
been since my mother bore me.”

“Nay.”  She shook her head
vehemently.   “Nay, they’ve been black as pitch until now.  Sir, you were
possessed by… some kind of demon.  It made you do—
terrible
things.”  She
regarded him with wide-eyed apprehension. “Don’t you remember what you’ve done?” 

He remembered it all through a
murky shade of grey
.
  Slaughtering Angus’ rogues.  The moment his beast
had decided to claim her rather than kill her.  The glow of her radiant flesh
in the dimness of the coach.  The hitch of her breath as he discovered the warm
cleft between her thighs.  The sweetness of her cries as she came for him.

The kiss that tied them together
for eternity. 

“Goddamnit!” he hit at the water,
showering the bank with a wave of his fury.  He whistled for Colm, his Shire
steed, and rubbed a wet and tired hand over his face.  He was well and truly
fucked. 

Panic flared in her eyes as he
stalked toward her, displacing the meandering water.  She struggled backward
against the current, but only stumbled and flailed.

“Yer coming with me,” he ordered. 

“W-wait!”  She threw a hand up,
effectively stopping him in his tracks.  “J-just go.  You c-can leave me here.”

The hell he could.  Her entire body
trembled, and her lush lips took on a blue cast.  He had to get her out of the
water and fast.  His ears pricked to the sound of Colm’s galloping approach. 

“It’s too late for that.”  He
reached down for her.

“I-I won’t tell anyone what you’ve
done.”  She cast her eyes toward the east, where the carnage from only moments
ago was an acre away, still shrouded in a dissipating mist and tall highland
grasses.

He let out an impatient noise.  “Ye
would rather me leave ye here, naked and defenseless?”

She looked at him like it would,
indeed, be the safer decision.  “I have a w-wardrobe, lashed to the coach.”

“Aye, and do ye want to crawl over
twenty dead men and as many horse carcasses to reach it?”

She paled, but then stuck her jaw
out at a stubborn angle.  “I-I would.  I can’t go with you.  What if the… demon
comes back?”

Connor reached down and wrapped his
hand around her thin arm, pulling her out of the water.  “That was no demon,”
he ground out.  “Only me.”

***

Lindsay knew by now that resisting
him was futile.  Though she wanted out of the freezing river, she couldn’t bear
to be naked in front of him.  Not after what they’d done.

What she’d allowed him to do.

She gave a token struggle, trying
to disengage the hand clamped around her arm like an iron shackle.  But the brute
dragged her onto the bank, as a gigantic black shire approached at a gallop.  Lindsay
crossed her arms in an ineffective effort to cover herself and hunched down,
feeling utterly humiliated and exposed. 

The Demon used his free hand to
snatch the reins and pull the prancing beast to a full halt before unlashing a
bundle from the dark leather saddle. 

“Here,” he growled, unrolling a
large, fur-lined cloak and settling it about her shoulders.  He at least had
the decency to avert his eyes from her nakedness. 

“Thank you,” she murmured,
clutching the warm garment around her and trying to quell her violent shivers. 
It smelled of leather and musk with the sweet hint of frankincense.  Like him. 

Silently, he grabbed her by the
waist and tossed her bottom onto the saddle, as though she were a sack of grain,
and swung up behind her.  An angry tension corded his thick muscles.  She could
feel it through the layers of the cloak and his still-wet clothing.  A vein had
developed a dangerous twitch at his temple.

“Where are you taking me?” she
demanded.

Instead of answering, he reached
around her and took up the reins with both hands, effectively securing her
between his massive arms, and spurred the stallion into a gallop.  Precariously
situated as she was, Lindsay had no choice but to cling to him for dear life as
they cantered north and west, plunging into the forest.  She couldn’t tell how
far they rode, but the sun had completely disappeared by the time they left the
trees, and he slowed to a trot in front of a particularly craggy outcropping of
rock.  Lindsay didn’t see the cave until they were almost upon it.

The giant dismounted before the
horse came to a complete stop, and drew his sword as he checked the cave for
what she assumed were unfriendly inhabitants.   If he thought she would be
sleeping in the dank rocks, he’d lost control of his senses.

Seizing the opportunity, Lindsay
threw her leg over the other side of the saddle, took up the reins and kicked
the horse’s flanks with all her might. 

The blasted beast didn’t even move. 

“Yaw!” she shouted, and tried
again.  Her heart fell as the horse tossed his head and let out an impatient
noise. 

“Do ye think me dim-witted, woman?” 
He sheathed his sword and cast her an infuriatingly droll look as he patted the
shire’s thick neck.  “Colm doesna obey anyone but me.”

Of course he didn’t.  Lindsay
narrowed her eyes, replying with more bravado then she felt.  “I can’t speak to
your wits, but abducting me might just prove the most foolish mistake you ever
make.”

He shrugged.  “Maybe so, but I had
no choice.”

Confused, Lindsay was about to ask
him what he meant when he reached up and lifted her to the ground.  Goodness
but his strength was frightening.  As was his size.  She blinked up into his
startling eyes.  They were a lovely color, as vibrant as the highland grasses
in the summer.  Nothing at all like the fathomless abyss they’d been before
when they’d—

Coughing, Lindsay looked toward the
opening of the cave.  Tucked behind some large boulders, it would appear to a
passerby that two large slabs of slate leaned against each other and were buttressed
by the mountain.  Unless someone ventured closer, it would be impossible to see
the depth of the resulting cavern about the convenient size of a small mire
hut.

“I have to collect wood for a
fire.  Can I trust ye not to try and escape me, lass?”

Oh, there was no doubt about it; he
truly was out of his mind.  “You mark me, demon—”

“I told ye I wasna a demon,” he
said in a tone she could only have called long-suffering. 

“I am Lindsay Ross, niece of the
Regent of Scotland, and I’m no one’s prisoner.  Even
you
can’t be on
guard all the time.  The moment you turn your back, the first misstep you make,
I’ll be gone.  And when I return, I’ll bring the wrath of the Ross and my
betrothed Laird MacKay upon you and every corner of your house.”  Lindsay had
seen such threats bring great Lairds and even English nobles to heel when
issued by her uncle.  She clung to the desperate hope that it would frighten
this mean creature.    

“Aye, I figured as much.”  His
chest heaved with a beleaguered sigh as he unlatched a coil of rope from the
saddle.

Chapter
Six

“How can you say you’re not a
demon?”  Lindsay spat as he set to lashing her wrists in front of her and
securing the bonds to the exposed roots of a tree. Timber didn’t grow tall or numerous
in the western highlands, but the roots burrowed deep into the earth.  This one
must be old and hearty on top of the stony hill in which they dwelled, because
the gnarled vines were as thick as her arm in some places.           

“Because I’m no’,”  he answered
simply.

“But all those men… you slaughtered
them.  And your eyes—”

 “Those men have been burning, murdering,
and raping their way across the highlands.  They didna deserve to live.”

So it was true.  Angus MacKay was a
warlord and a marauder.  She didn’t want to marry such a villain, but she
couldn’t stay with this… man, either.  He posed too much of a threat.  Not only
in terms of her survival, but to her salvation, as well.  Her body still warmed
to his touch.  She could still feel the press of his strong thighs against her
flesh as they rode through the gloaming together.  A dark and sinful part of
her thrilled to his darkness and strength.  “So, you get to decide who deserves
to live and die?” she pressed, ignoring the heat climbing her cheeks.  “What
are you, some sort of avenging angel?  A vigilante executioner?”

“Nay, just a mercenary.”

“Well, that is even worse.  What if
any of those men were innocent of the crimes you butchered them for?  What sins
have I committed that I must be witness to such a massacre?”

He flicked her a glance from
beneath thick, ebony lashes, and she might have seen regret soften his eyes
before he turned his attention back to securing her bonds. 

 “You don’t have to do this,” she
offered.  “I’m no danger to you.”

“I do what I must,” he murmured,
finishing with the knots and turning to face her.  “And I canna let you go.”

Lindsay knelt before him, all other
options exhausted and a real terror building inside of her.  Her wrists slid
down the root but held fast.  She’d never been tied up before, and considering
what this man was capable of, it left her feeling utterly vulnerable.  “
Please
. 
You can let me go,” she begged.  “I’m on my knees.  I’ll do anything.”

Her captor’s nostrils flared and,
though his features darkened, a dangerous light illuminated his eyes.  He took
a step toward her, bringing the front of his damp trews to her eye-level.  His
mouth dropped open on a steadying exhale and his tongue snaked out to wet his
lower lip.  “I’ll warn ye once, Lindsay Ross, doona drop to yer knees and make
such offers to me, unless yer fully prepared to accept my terms.”

Lindsay trembled.  She understood
his meaning, absolutely.  Her tongue wet her lips in a nervous gesture. 

“What do you plan to do with me?”
she asked, unsteadily.  “Ransom me to my betrothed?”

He turned away from her and strode
toward the cave opening.  “Ye’ll have no other betrothed.  Not after I slay
him.”

No
other
betrothed?  What
could that mean?  “My uncle, then?”

He shook his head.  “Nay lass, yer
coming with me.”

“Where?”

“Castle Lachlan.”

“Castle Lachlan, but—
Why
?” 
A dark fear curled deep in her stomach.

“Because yer to be my mate.”

“Your… what?”  That couldn’t mean
what she thought it meant, could it?

He paused, looking back at her with
angry, glittering eyes.  “My
wife
,” he ground out before leaving her
alone in the twilight.

***

He’d made a mistake leaving her to
her own devices, Lindsay thought as she used her bare feet as leverage against
the rock wall.  If he thought she would submit to being the wife of a demon –
or –
whatever
he was, he could go straight to hell!  Or, wherever
creatures such as he spawned from.   Pulling at the cords and tangles of roots
with all her might, she felt her shoulder pop as her strength gave out.  She
collapsed to the ground, disheartened, but not defeated.  If she could get free
and gain enough distance on him, all she had to do was find the river Tay and
could follow it east to Benmore. 

Her wrists hurt like the devil
now.  The rough cords of the rope hadn’t been tight enough to be painful or
cruel, but with all her struggling and pulling, she’d rubbed the skin so raw it
bled in some places.  That gave her the idea that maybe if she produced enough
blood to make her slim wrists slippery, she could wriggle out of the knots and
be gone before her captor returned. 

It didn’t work.  Now the stinging
and burning caused tears of frustration and pain to spill down her cheeks.  As
she shifted on the ground, something hard dug into the flesh of her thigh.  It
was a small piece of shale but had a jagged edge to it.

Aye!
  Fate finally smiled
upon her.  Lindsay quickly went to work on the rope, clumsily sawing back and
forth.  Her wrists protested as her movements caused the coarse fibers to bite
into her wounds, but she didn’t care, she could taste freedom.  To her dismay,
the rope was well crafted and took longer to fray than she’d hoped. 

It was almost completely dark in
the cavern when she heard muffled hoof beats on the soft earth outside. Lindsay’s
hopes fell and despair threatened to choke her.  No.  It didn’t matter; she’d
hide the rock and wait for him to fall asleep, then she’d make her escape.

She gave him her back when he
strode in, burrowing in his cloak and refusing to look at him.  But her ears
tracked his movement as he set to building a fire at the opening of the crevice.
 Soon the spark flared and threw her shadow against the stone wall.  She hadn’t
heard him strike tinder, and yet the brightness grew as peat and kindling
caught flame.  The light bloomed brighter as he added larger, dry logs.    

She tracked his flickering shadow
as he approached her.  How did a man so large move so silently?  His nearness
made her uneasy, and she shifted within the cloak, painfully aware that she was
naked beneath it.  Adjusting the hem to cover her more fully, she heard his
sharp intake of breath. 

“Why do I smell blood?" he
demanded in his cavernous brogue.

“I know not,” she replied tartly,
her heart thudding in her chest.  “Maybe it’s all the blood you’ve spilled coming
back to haunt you.”

He lifted her bodily from where she
sat on the ground and parted the folds of the cloak to examine her wrists. 

“Good God, lass,” his voice was a
tortured whisper.  The pupils of his eyes rippled and then began to grow,
overtaking the iris and spreading into the white.  “What have ye done?”