Chapter Five
Angus stiffened at Lillianna’s scream. He opened his mouth to call to her when a man with a heavy English accent bid her a greeting, and then said, “You have caused me a great deal of trouble. Your uncle is most displeased with me that you fled the castle. Tell me, are you alone?”
“Yes,” she immediately responded, and Angus sighed with relief. Now he still had the element of surprise to take down the English guard sent to track her.
Angus scanned his surroundings, looking for the best place to scale the embankment and take the man unaware. Angus could easily climb the bank to his left and then circle through the brush to overcome the man from behind.
“Give me your hand, Lillianna,” the man demanded.
Loud rustling came from above. “You bloody bitch!” the man roared.
Angus clenched his teeth that the man would call Lillianna such a thing. Not wasting another moment, he belly-crawled as quietly as he could toward the area where he intended to climb. His hands sank into the damp soil and the thick brush made his progress slower than he cared for, but he could hear Lillianna screaming so he knew she was still able to talk and had not gone far.
“Release me!” she bellowed.
“You tried to stab me,” the man bit out.
Angus grinned at that news, then grasped on to the vine before him. Thorns sliced open his palms, but he clenched his teeth, curled his grip around the vine, and scaled the embankment as all sorts of horrible images of what the man was attempting to do to Lillianna filled his mind. The lass was his responsibility, and he was not about to let her come to harm.
He came up into a patch of deep vegetation, and he glanced to his right, following the man’s voice, but he could not see Lillianna or the stranger because of the overgrowth. He withdrew his sword as he jumped over a fallen tree and then ducked under a low-hanging branch. As he came up, Lillianna shrieked again, and the fury within him pounded like the beat of his heart. He barged through the trees, shoving limbs out of the way, and ran back through the woods far enough to come out behind her captor. Then he angled to his left and began backtracking toward them, his grip on his sword so tight that he could feel every pulse of his heart in his fingertips.
When the male voice drifted to him again, he knew he was close, and he slowed his steps, careful to ensure the man did not hear his approach.
“Your uncle said to bring you back to him, but he also said I could use you. If you attempt to fight me, I’ll not make this pleasurable for you.”
Angus ground his teeth so hard he thought they would break. He would kill the man.
“You imagine that you could?” Lillianna’s voice was full of contempt. Then she gasped, and a thump sounded, as if a body had hit the ground.
“Did that hurt?” the man sneered.
Angus peered through the trees and found them. The man was on the ground with his sword lying near his feet. He hovered over Lillianna and had her hands pinned over her head, his fingers locked around her wrists. One knee was between her thighs and the other was by her right hip. She bucked, and the man raised his hand to hit her. Without thought, Angus retrieved his dagger from the holder at his left calf and sent it through the air, pleased when it lodged in the man’s back.
Immediately, he stiffened, released Lillianna’s wrists, and went for his sword, but Lillianna was faster. She scrambled around him and grasped the sword as Angus ran toward them. The man shoved her back and snatched his sword from her just as Angus reached them. Their swords met with a clank, and the knight—the man’s chainmail told Angus that’s what he was—surprised him with his ability to still fight nimbly with a dagger stuck in his back.
He shook off the shock and channeled his rage into a full-blown attack. He swung his sword from the left, the man’s blade meeting his again, and then from the right, slicing the knight across the stomach. He turned and lunged at Angus, and when Lillianna screamed, Angus was momentarily distracted long enough that the tip of the knight’s sword grazed him. Still, he managed to swivel back, deflect the sword, and send his blade back around to catch the knight across his right arm.
The man dropped his sword, his face frozen in shock.
Angus pointed his sword at the man. “I can make it hurt, too,” he growled. And then he plunged his sword into the knight’s chest just far enough that he would die a slow, painful death rather than a speedy, merciful one. Lillianna gasped and turned away.
The knight dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest, and Angus moved toward the man, pulled his dagger from the man’s back, and then gave him a push. The knight fell to his back, turning pale and wheezing. Angus stared down at him dispassionately but offered a quick prayer for his departing soul before stepping around him. Instinctively, he took her by the elbow to lead her around the now-gasping knight, but she paused and turned to look down at the man. “Will he… Will he die?”
“Aye,” Angus said, “painfully. Much like the pain he promised ye. Come, let us make haste from here in case he’s not alone.”
She nodded, giving the knight one last lingering look.
They walked in silence to the horses, and when he looked at her, tears were brimming in her eyes. His gut clenched. “Lass,” he said, encircling her in his arms without thinking. He brought her toward his chest, hoping to ease her fear.
She clutched his shoulders and buried her head against him, her trembling subsiding after a moment, though his own heart raced. God’s bones! Holding her, soothing her, felt as natural as having his sword in his hands. It scared him, but he did not push her away. Instead, he found his hand upon her head and he stroked his palm down over her silky hair while whispering to her. “Chailin chalma,” he whispered.
She pulled back from him, her small bandaged hands pressed to his chest. He was certain she did not even realize her hands were there, and he willed his heart to still so she’d not know she was affecting him. “What does that mean?” she asked. “Chailin chalma?”
“Brave one,” he replied, moving her palms that were crazily stirring his desire. If she were not injured he would keep them on separate destriers, but she could not ride on her own in her condition. “Come. Ye dunnae need to fear that he’ll follow us, but as I said, there may be others nearby.”
She nodded but stood there, unmoving. Was she in shock? “Did he hurt ye?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. I—” She swallowed audibly. “I did not think my uncle would send someone after me. He must—” She stopped suddenly and bit her lip.
Angus frowned. “He must, what?”
She looked away from him, her shoulders pulling up with obvious tension. “He must still wish to use me, and if that’s the case, he’ll not stop. He’ll send more men, and more, and—”
“Dunnae fear,” he said, turning her face back to his. Terror shimmered in her gaze. “I will protect ye with my life.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “You truly are honorable,” she whispered.
Before he knew what he was doing, he ran a gentle hand down her cheek, but when she stiffened, he withdrew it, cursing his momentary weakness. Silence stood between them and grew uncomfortable. “Should I take yer shock at my honor as a compliment?”
“Of course,” she said easily.
He nodded, feeling his own shock at how pleased he was that she was growing to trust him. He should not care at all. “Do ye need help mounting?”
She shook her head and started toward her horse. He was about to tell her that she was riding with him, when he noted she was moving very slowly. “Are ye certain that he did nae hurt ye?”
“I’m a little sore from riding, that’s all.”
“Oh,” he said, glancing down at her. “How sore? Can ye straddle the horse for the rest of the journey today?”
“Yes,” she replied, starting to grip the saddle, but Angus stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. It was a clear lie.
“Nay. Ye’ll ride with me.”
“With you?” She gasped, her gaze raking over his chest and warming him considerably. Far too considerably for man on a mission with a lass he could not join with.
“Aye,” he said. He cleared his throat when he heard how husky he sounded. “Yer hands are injured, and I’ll nae risk ye hurting yerself more. We have to ride hard the rest of the way.”
“I’ll ride alone,” she protested, crossing her arms over her chest in such a way that it accentuated the lush roundness of her breasts. He barely held in his groan. Desire shot through him like liquid fire searing his veins as it flowed. God’s blood, the lass spoke to him as no lass ever had. Irritated with himself, he took hold of her waist, ignored her protest, and lifted her up onto his saddle.
“Ye will ride with me, and that’s that. I’ve nae the time nor the patience to argue.”
“You will never get a wife being so bossy with women,” she growled, glaring down at him.
“That’s nae yer concern,” he retorted.
Turning his back to her, he quickly tied her horse to the rear of his saddle and then swung up behind her. The minute his thighs pressed against the curve of her bottom, yearning spiked again so that he had to clench his jaw against it. She glanced over her shoulder and scowled at him before she scooted as far forward on the destrier as the beast allowed. They no longer touched, but it did not seem to matter. Her body called to him like a siren song. It was not until they were well away from the river that he felt in control of himself enough to speak.
“What do ye think yer uncle wishes to use ye for? If he believes yer cousin is complying with him, what else could he want from ye?”
“Marriage perhaps,” she said, her voice sounding strained.
He frowned. The odd pitch of her tone told him she did not believe what she was saying. Why would she lie?
“Ye think yer uncle sent that knight—”
“Donovan,” she supplied.
“Donovan. Ye think yer uncle sent Donovan to find ye because he decided to marry ye off?” When she nodded, Angus felt his frown deepen as he remembered what Robbie had told him. “But why would yer uncle threaten to kill ye if yer cousin did nae do as he wished and then suddenly decide to marry ye off when he thinks yer cousin is doing as he wishes?”
“It’s simple,” she said. Her voice still held that same strained sound, but it had a new edge to it now, something almost fearful. “Now that he thinks Elizabeth is complying, my uncle has decided I am not quite as worthless as he so often told me. He can use me in marriage for his gain, or perhaps as a favor owed. Other than that, I am worthless to him. Women have been used in marriage since the dawn of time, Angus. Certainly, this cannot come as a shock to you.”
She had a point. He didn’t know why he didn’t think she was telling him the whole truth. Mayhap he was just too accustomed to being distrustful, or mayhap she truly was hiding something…
He stared at the back of Lillianna’s shining head as he thought. Robbie’s foolish story about the legend entered his mind. Was it possible that the legend was true? He felt foolish for even asking himself the question, and he quickly dismissed the thought. “Nay, it dunnae come as a shock.” He wanted to ease the hurt she must be feeling, but he had never been one for soft words, and the desire to soothe her meant he was becoming too embroiled, despite himself. So instead of saying anything more, he clicked his heels and sent them galloping over the terrain in hopes they’d reach a village before nightfall.
The ride was excruciating, and Lillianna had concluded that she might die before Angus decided it was safe to halt. The cold wind had turned her face numb hours earlier, no longer stinging her skin. She felt nothing there, and she wished to God above that she could feel such numbness in her thighs. They throbbed and burned in a way she had not known possible. She was certain, without even having to look, that the skin had chaffed away.
Angus had set them to a fast pace not long after they had ridden away from the forest, and he had not let up since. She’d not protested. In fact, she’d been relieved not to talk. Fear had lodged in her throat, and when she spoke she could hear it in her voice, and she was certain Angus heard it, as well. Her uncle had sent Donovan after her. Why? Why would he do that? She had told Angus it was likely to marry her off, but that was a lie. The only reason she could think that her uncle would bother to send someone for her was if he had found the brooch. Her breath caught at the thought. If he had found the brooch, he’d go to great lengths to get his hands on her. She prayed the MacLeods would protect her, for she had nowhere else to turn.
The pain in her thighs pierced her thoughts for a moment, but when Angus shifted and his thighs pressed more firmly against hers, she considered the day—what he had done for her and all he had told her. She pictured his family celebrating Hogmanay, and she imagined herself there. Wistfulness filled her. What would it be like to have a family that you knew loved you, that you could count on? She’d never know. Though she was going to her mother’s clan, she did not expect to ever truly be considered a MacLeod. She’d not been raised there, and she had no intention of every marrying, which would serve to alienate her from many people. They’d see her as odd and question why, but she’d never be able to give a good answer.
She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be married to a man such as Angus. He would die to protect whomever he loved—of that much she was certain. His wife would be part of a big, happy family. Jealousy and longing settled in her gut like a hard rock as the road grew rough and the jostling became worse. Her pain became nearly intolerable, but she clenched her teeth, determined to stay on the horse as long as Angus required it of her.
Her mind drifted to her past, and suddenly, her father was looming over her, and she was wheezing and shaking with a fever on her bed.
Her father stood by the medicine woman who had treated her mother at her death. “She’ll die soon if we do nothing,” the healer said.
“What do I care?” her father snarled. “She’s worthless to me now. Her only worth was in the seer powers she would come into when she fell in love, but now that I know that will never happen, she matters not to me.”
“Your wife could have been wrong,” the healer suggested.
Her father looked down at her dispassionately. “No,” he said, “I’m certain she was right. Lillianna has been nothing but a burden. Let her die. I care not. The brooch is lost, and she will never have worth. Never.”
The healer nodded, and as she and Lillianna’s father left the room, Lillianna cried out over and over, but no one came back. She was too weak to move, too weak to help herself. Daylight turned to night, and back to daylight, and then night once more. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking only to a dry, burning throat. Suddenly, a hand was on her forehead, and the healer’s face was in front of her. “Your uncle has written. He’s searching for the brooch now, so I’m to keep you alive. You must be quiet as I treat you, though. Your father is not happy. He thinks you should be left to die.”
The horse jostled, and the memory was gone in a blink, but sadness invaded every part of Lillianna. She did have worth. She had worth beyond her powers. Why could her father not see that? Why did he not love her?
After some time, the sun started to fade, and in the distance, she thought she saw the dim glow of lights. Hope that they had reached their destination flared in her, and when Angus began to slow the horse, she nearly wept with relief.
“This is Bedord,” Angus said, leaning closer to her ear, his chest brushing her back and warm breath caressing her neck.
Gooseflesh swept her body, but the pain of her legs washed over her anew, banishing any yearning that he had sparked. She supposed she ought to be grateful for the pain. The thought almost made her laugh. Almost.
“Will we stop here?” she asked, praying she didn’t sound as desperate to get off the destrier as she was. Her head was swimming, and she was suddenly so very hot. It had to be the plaid.
She started tugging on it, but Angus’s hand came over her fingers and stopped her now-frantic efforts. “What are ye doing?”
“I’m burning up!” She gasped, trying to shove his hand away, but her fingers felt clumsy and the world around her tilted precariously.
Angus’s palm settled on her forehead, and he stiffened behind her as he swore. “Ye’ve a fever.”
She let her head sag into his palm, glad to no longer be holding up her heavy skull. “I don’t feel well,” she mumbled. Bright silver dots appeared in her vision, and then it felt as if she’d taken a great leap off a cliff with nothing between her and the earth but blissful sky. Her body swished through the air as all went black.