Chapter Three
Diana could not pull her gaze from the Mackenzie man. He still crouched beside Hera, his hands buried in her thick fur with soothing strokes. Large hands, she’d noticed. Hands capable of killing. And yet apparently healing as well. He’d been gentle and kind with Hera.
“You want me to touch the wall and marry you in Scotland?” Diana stood. “Do you always ask such a high price for your favors?”
“Depends on the favor.” He kept his face serious, but a hint of suggestion tinged his voice and sent a ripple down her spine.
“Do you intend for me to fall madly in love with you?” She tried to swallow, but her throat seemed to stick against itself. The burning thirst was impossible to ignore.
The man gave a final pat to Hera’s head and rose. His stare fastened on the opposite wall, marked with a deep, unmistakable red stain. He considered it for a long moment. “If ye believe in such things.”
“Do you?” Diana looked up at him. He was taller than her. Most men were not. Lean muscle corded his forearms where he’d pulled up his sleeves to work on Hera’s wound.
He tucked his dagger into his belt, and that was when she saw it. A wineskin tied to his pack, drooping with a heavy fullness that left her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth with longing.
He considered the stain, oblivious of her observation “I think I’d like to believe this one.”
She shifted her gaze to him. “Why?”
She could ask for the wineskin. Drink it. God, drink and drink and drink it. Once her thirst was slaked, she could agree to touch the stain. While he was distracted with whatever romance he intended they share, she could pull his blade and run free with the wolves.
She glanced at Hera. The wolf wouldn’t be able to run. Diana would have to carry her again.
“I dinna want us to be together because we dinna have a choice,” the Mackenzie said. “I want to care about ye and have ye care about me.”
“Can I have some first?” she asked, pointing to the wineskin.
He hesitated a moment before untying it from his pack. “It’s ale. Have as much as ye want. I’ve plenty more in the carriage.”
Diana almost moaned with the prospect. It would slake her painful thirst and fill her empty stomach. Her entire world centered on the wineskin, the beckoning of its promise to be everything she yearned for with a painful, visceral need.
He handed it to her. She eagerly accepted it and pulled the stopper free with trembling hands. She threw her head back, gulping hearty swallows of crisp ale while drips of it trailed from the corners of her mouth and trickled down her chest. It was spicy and sweet with a hint of honey and wet. Gloriously wet and refreshing. She wanted to keep going, drinking until she drowned in it. But her wolves needed some as well.
Once she’d had her fill, she cupped her hand and fed it first to Hera, then Zeus.
They lapped as greedily as she’d drank until the wineskin was flimsy and light in her hands. Diana straightened from where she’d bent over Zeus and gave a satisfied sigh. The Mackenzie man had been kind. It was a pity he was so determined to take her to Scotland. He was leaving her with very little choice.
She handed him his almost empty wineskin and lowered her gaze at him with what she hoped was a becoming expression. “Are you sure you want to touch the bloodstain?” she asked.
His eyes darkened, and a slow warmth low in her belly told her she was doing exactly what she needed to distract him. “Aye,” he said. “I do. With ye.”
Diana led him to the wall. It would take only a moment to grab his dagger. She waited by the stain. Her heartbeat came faster as her body prepared for a fight for freedom.
This time she’d make sure he didn’t follow her.
She smiled up at him. “We must touch it together.”
His right hand hovered over the stone wall in wait for her to join him. Diana lifted her left hand to keep her dominant one free. Together they pressed palms to the cave wall. The stone beneath was not cold as Diana had expected. It was warm. Hot. Like freshly spilled blood.
Her eyes widened in surprise. She snapped her attention to the Mackenzie and the world around her spun, swaying and tipping until the only thing keeping her upright was the very deep green of his steady eyes.
“The stone is warm,” she said.
“Is it supposed to be?” he asked.
The world righted itself once more.
Now.
Rather than answer, Diana lunged forward and grabbed the hilt of his dirk. She tugged it free and stepped back, putting a safe distance between them. Zeus leapt to her side. “I’m not going to Scotland with you,” she said.
The Mackenzie gave a sad smile. “Aye, ye are.”
Zeus’ head dipped before drawing upright, only to dip low again. “What’s wrong with Zeus?”
“The tonic.” The Mackenzie indicated the empty wineskin. “I put it in the ale in case ye needed more convincing.”
Diana stared at him, incredulous. “You poisoned me? My wolves?”
But she didn’t need to ask. Already the world seemed too slow, too distant. If he answered, she did not hear him. Zeus fell heavily on his side at her feet, almost knocking her down.
She had indeed been poisoned. They all had. Her feet wouldn’t cooperate and the cave spun in a disorienting blur.
She had lost.
Evander was glad he’d given her the tonic after all. He’d almost declined her request for the wineskin, but her stare had been so desperate, her full lips puckered from lack of moisture. He could not bring himself to say no.
It had worked to his benefit.
Diana stumbled forward, almost tripping over the black wolf lying in a final show of valiant protection over her feet. She caught herself on the wall, both hands splayed over the red stain. Confusion puckered her smooth brow. “It’s cold,” she murmured.
She glared at him through heavily lidded eyes and her hair caught around her face like gold netting. “If I had my dagger, you’d be dead.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “I dinna doubt ye’d try.”
“I’d do more than try.” Once she’d managed to slur out her threat, her lashes swept over her cheeks and she slid down the cave wall.
Evander caught her as she fell, before she even had a chance to touch the ground. Beneath the heavy mantle, voluminous cloak, and oversized dress, there wasn’t much to her at all.
He stared down at her now. Her father had said she was five and twenty, though she didn’t appear so old. She had the freshness of youth glowing from her creamy skin and a rosy flush to her cheeks and lips. Holding her securely in his arms, Evander left the cave with the two wolves sleeping behind him. He’d be back for them later with several other men after he had Diana safely in the carriage.
The drugging had been her father’s suggestion. He’d mentioned having put the lass on a limited fare to make her more compliant. Based on how quickly the tonic hit her and how thirsty she’d so obviously been, the woman hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink in some time. Anger knotted in Evander’s gut.
He wanted to ensure they were wed, of course, but he hadn’t wanted her tortured for it. Apparently she had been.
Because she didn’t want to marry him.
He refused to allow himself to register the slight. After all, she’d run off every suitor before him, men who were richer, more powerful, of higher birth. English.
Lord Cornwall was clearly desperate to approach a Scotsman – a Highlander no less.
The worst of the rain had stopped, but still the journey was a sodden one which left them both soaked through.
The lass didn’t so much as move in his arms. He stopped every twenty steps or so to listen for her breathing, to ensure she still lived. He hadn’t expected her to be so slender nor to be so thirsty. Perhaps she had taken too much of the tonic.
The thread of fear in his chest pulled taut. He would not forgive himself if anything happened to her. She may have been ill-treated by her father, but she was in Evander’s care now and he would ensure no one ever hurt her again.
“Ye had to drug her after all, eh?” Camden grinned at him as he approached. “I told ye ye’d need to.”
Evander slid a hard stare at his prized warrior. Were it not for the lifetime of friendship they’d shared and Evander’s arms currently full with his intended wife, he’d personally show Camden another method for incapacitating.
Evander addressed his men. “Prepare to leave. We need to get her wolves.”
Several men eyed him with skepticism, but they did not voice their displeasure at this decision. They didn’t need to. Evander knew exactly their thoughts – bringing such large beasts home when there was little food to feed their own families would not be well-received.
But without the wolves, Evander knew he would not have the bride. And without the bride, they would all die.
Soon they would have food. Not just the stores Lord Cornwall had promised to send, but also from the coin Evander had been given. Half now, half when the earl received confirmation of the union.
Diana’s body was entirely limp, a doll both fragile and vulnerable, though Evander knew neither to be true. She stayed asleep when he climbed into the carriage and laid her on the padded cushion. Her wet blonde hair pillowed her face, gold and glowing cream. He had the sudden urge to trail his hand down her smooth cheek, to brush his fingertips over her full lips, to sample their soft warmth. His right hand tingled with the desire.
“How are ye planning to keep her?” Camden appeared at his side and took the almost empty wineskin of tonic. He bounced the skin in the air and gave a laugh. “In a day or five when she finally wakes after having had so much.”
“I’m hoping the wolves can help me.” Evander wiped drops of rain from his face. “Or I have more tonic and can drug her again before she fully wakes.”
Camden looked down at Diana. Something protective in Evander reared up and left him with the sudden impulse to block her from his friend’s view. She was so defenseless where she lay, her face soft with sleep, her body limp in the unnatural slumber.
“I hope ye have a lot of tonic. I think ye’ll need it all,” Camden said. “And I hope ye dinna get torn to shreds for yer efforts.”
Evander grunted. “Aye, in that case, we should get the wolves soon before they begin to wake. I know we’ve got at least six hours for Lady Diana. I dinna know how long it will last on them.”
He shared Camden’s concerns, but more than that, he had his own fears to contend with. Even if he could get Diana to Castle Leod peacefully, how would he convince her to marry him?