Highland Spitfire (24 page)

Ailis lost sight of her as she tumbled head over heels, her skirts blinding her and
trapping her arms. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t get her bearings, and a moment later,
she plunged into the river, the chill biting into her.

She let out a shriek, but her mouth was full of water and fabric. The current tore
at her clothing, dragging her into its heart and downstream as she fought to break
the surface and draw breath. She was straining, fighting with all her strength, but
the water was too powerful. The pain in her back was stolen by the chill of the water,
but still she fought to escape its power.

* * *

Helen was a bold woman.

She appeared in the training yard later in the day in defiance of the tradition of
it being a place for men. Some of the younger retainers blinked as they tried to decide
if she was truly there. She gave them no attention, continuing on to the man she sought.

“Save yer breath, Helen.” Marcus cast her only a short glance before returning his
attention to the men training in the yard. “I will nae be taking ye back to yer father,
and ye do nae belong in the training yard.”

Marcus and Bhaic were standing on a stone platform at the front of the training yard.
It was set off from the main yard in front of the keep. Helen picked up her skirt
and climbed the stairs without hesitation, a stern look on her face that promised
Marcus hell.

“No’ that I am surprised to hear ye saying such, but I did no’ come here to talk to
ye.”

Helen stepped right up to him but looked at Bhaic. “I can nae find Ailis.”

“Who gave ye permission to go near her?” Marcus demanded.

Helen bristled. “At least I went looking for her. No’ a single one of yer household
cares to notice that their mistress is gone, and it past noon.”

Bhaic turned to face her. “Where did ye look?”

“She is no’ in her chamber, or yers, or the kitchens. And no one has seen her. That
lot ye had trailing her has no idea where she is.”

“Elise should know,” Bhaic said slowly, trying to think the matter through. But his
emotions were rising.

“That useless creature dropped a tray in Ailis’s chamber this morning and left, considering
that service enough for a Robertson. She never checked to see if her mistress was
in the bedding,” Helen informed them both. “I checked. The tray is untouched, and
a dress missing from those her father brought her. I hung them and took an inventory.”

Bhaic locked gazes with Marcus.

“The mare,” they said at the same time.

Bhaic was down the steps and on the back of his horse in a flash of thigh and plaid.
Marcus was right behind him. Men scrambled to pull horses around from where they were
kept ready during the day. They dug their heels in to catch up with their leaders.

Helen was left standing on the stage from which training was conducted. The youths
had stopped and were staring at her, some of them with gaping jaws. She held her chin
steady before making her way down the steps and away from the training yard.

* * *

“Well now, that mare was gone before first light.”

“And ye did nae think to tell me?” Bhaic demanded of his stable master.

The man shrugged. “Yer stallion was missing too. Thought the pair of ye went off to
the astrologer’s house again. Or someplace else ye might enjoy being newly wed.”

Bhaic cursed, feeling his own choices nipping on his heels.

“Pull the hounds out,” Marcus instructed. “Looks like it will be a good thing she
went back to her own bed last night. Best get that sheet. We’ll start with the mare,
but might need something of Ailis’s.”

“Aye.” Bhaic swung back up onto his stallion and headed back to the castle. By the
time he made it back to the stables, thirty men were readying their horses. Marcus
had chosen well. They were all hardened Highlanders, their saddles packed light but
with what they needed to survive.

The hounds were large ones, their coats gray. They were eager for the hunt, pulling
on their leashes. The hound master took the hounds into the mare’s stall.

There was a low whine as one of them picked up a scent. Another hound joined in, and
then the pack was jumping against their leashes, trying to break free. The hound master
let them go, the pack taking off into the afternoon light.

Bhaic was right on their tail. He avoided thinking about what Ailis’s absence meant.

But that didn’t stop his temper from rising.

The hounds led them over the ridge and into the village. The most confounding thing
was that they were heading away from Robertson land. Someone started ringing the church
bell as they neared. People came out of their homes, goodwives standing in their doorways
wearing aprons as children peered through open windows and men looked out from workshops.
The streets cleared to allow for the retainers’ passage.

Marcus whistled at Bhaic and pointed ahead of them. Ailis’s mare was tied up outside
the tavern. Bhaic slid from the saddle as several of his retainers struggled to release
the hounds. They tossed slices of meat to the animals to praise them for a duty well
done.

Bhaic went inside, pausing in the doorway to get a look at what was happening, his
hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword.

The place was filled with laughter. It died away quickly as the occupants gained a
look at who was arriving. They reached up to tug on the corners of their caps.

“The mare,” Bhaic began. “Who tied her up?”

There was a hoot from several of the men sitting at the tables. One of them lifted
his mug toward his companion. “See there? Even the Tanis has heard of yer talents!”

“Who?” Bhaic asked again.

The men were all drinking again. Bhaic ended up waiting until they lowered their mugs.
One of them wiped his mouth on his sleeve before standing. “The mare is me prize.
Shot a Robertson off her back this morning, I did. Damned bastard was sneaking around
at first light. Up to no good for certain. Saw those Robertson colors clearly.”

“Ye shot her?” Bhaic demanded. Marcus put out his arm, holding him back.

“No’ the mare.” The man sniffed indignantly. “Horse can’t be held accountable for
what stable it was born in.”

“The rider,” Marcus snapped.

The man shrugged and reached for something on the table. “It was a Robertson sure
enough.” He held up a tattered piece of wool, the Robertson colors clear in spite
of the mud dried on it. “I know me enemy when I see them. Even in the dim light of
early morning,” the man declared. He patted one of the pistols stored in his belt.
“Keep these loaded just in case I needs them.”

“What is yer name?” Bhaic asked. Marcus recognized his low tone for the threat it
was, standing half in front of him.

“Haddox.”

Bhaic flattened a hand on his brother’s chest and pushed him aside. “Did ye hear of
me recent wedding?”

The men in the tavern all started nodding.

“Aye. Indeed I did,” Haddox stated proudly, but his eyes widened as he realized exactly
what Bhaic was getting at.

“Did ye shoot me wife?”

Haddox lost his color, his mouth working like a freshly caught fish. “It was only
barely first light… I saw…saw the colors…” he looked down at the mangled piece of
wool, dropping it as though it burned his hand.

Bhaic grabbed the man up by his clothing.
“Where?”

“Up by the river… He went into the river…”

Bhaic tossed him toward the tavern door. “Take me there.”

* * *

It was his failing.

Bhaic looked at the ground, the place where Ailis had fallen, marked by gouges in
the new spring growth. It was a steep incline, the earth worn away by the water. It
was hard to keep his footing. If he’d fallen from a horse, there would have been no
hope of stopping.

“I let ye down,” Marcus said quietly, disgust edging his tone.

“No. I should have seen to her. She’s me wife.” Bhaic moved down the slope, following
the path she’d taken on her way to the riverbank. He looked at the current and peered
down the ravine.

“If she’s alive, she’s on her way—”

“To Gordon land,” Bhaic finished for his brother.

“God help the lass.”

“No,” Bhaic snarled. “God help Lye Rob if I find him anywhere near me wife.”

The Earl of Morton and his threats about feuding could rot in hell if Lye Rob put
one hand on her. Bhaic yanked the sheet off his saddle and gave it to the dogs. They
sniffed at it and started to search along the riverbank.

* * *

Obviously, she wasn’t dead.

No, she was clearly alive, because there wasn’t supposed to be pain in heaven.

Maybe ye’re in hell…

Well, she was freezing. So she wasn’t in hell.

She coughed out another mouthful of water and wheezed. Pain shot through her. There
was so much of it, she was fairly certain it would be simpler to list what part of
her body didn’t hurt as opposed to what did. Her back was on fire, as though there
was a red-hot poker across her shoulder blades. She wiped at her face, but there was
so much mud, she had to roll over and scoop up handfuls of water to wash her eyes
out before she could open them.

And when she did, she wished she were dead.

“No’ happy to see me, Ailis Robertson?”

She blinked, but Lye Rob Gordon was still standing there, looking at her as though
she were a freshly downed doe. “I’d have preferred Satan.”

Two of his retainers hauled her off the riverbank. She cried out, her back in agony
as they moved her.

Lye Rob cupped her chin, bringing their gazes together. “Ye’re on me land now. Forget
who is master here, and ye’ll suffer for it.” He slapped her. She staggered only because
her legs were so unsteady.

“I am wed.” She straightened up, pushing the pain aside.

“So was Bothwell,” Lye Rob answered her. “A little gold in the right hand, and we’ll
have ye divorced quickly enough.”

“Wedding me will nae gain ye me father’s support.”

Lye Rob moved toward her. “Ye’ll be the one to tell him how savage yer MacPherson
husband was. Beating ye…” He hit her again, this time using his fist against her shoulder.
She went skidding into the dirt. Some of his retainers looked disapproving, but none
of them were willing to cross the laird’s son.

“I will nae.”

Lye Rob grinned, coming down on one knee next to her, because she couldn’t stop shaking
enough to stand.

“We’ll see about that.”

There was a twisted flicker of enjoyment in his eyes. She stared at it, sickened by
the sight. He grinned at her horror.

“Ye’re right.” He tapped her on the chin. “I will enjoy it.”

She didn’t doubt him. Her belly twisted with nausea, but it gave her the strength
to struggle to her feet.

“We need to build a fire,” one of his men said.

Lye Rob looked up. “Ye do nae tell me what to do. Me father may have stuck ye to me,
but I’m too old for a nurse.”

He was an older man, his head shaved but his whiskers well kept. “She’s no good to
ye dead. I’ve seen men pulled from that river who died a few hours later from the
ordeal. The chill stops the heart. Hers is slowing now, that’s why her fingers are
blue. With the sun setting, ye’ll need a fire, or she’ll no’ see the dawn. Mark me
words.”

Lye Rob looked down at her hands and cursed. “All right then.”

He started up the incline, leaving her to his men. The older man took her in hand,
laying an arm around her back as he half-carried her up the incline. Their horses
were on the other side of the rise, leaving the sound of the river behind them and
making sure they could hear anyone approaching them. There was a wagon, stuffed full
of bags and other items.

But that didn’t horrify her as much as the three women tied to the wheels of the wagon.
Their clothing was dirty and their faces smudged with dirt. One was a Robertson, but
the others were MacPhersons. All of them had pinched expressions as they tried to
hide their fear.

“Add her to the plunder, Naughton,” Lye Rob directed. “She’s a fine prize to be taking
home. Me father will have to take notice of me now.”

Naughton took her close to the fire. He pushed her down gently. He knelt as Lye Rob
tossed a length of rope over to him. It landed in the dirt because he was busy rubbing
her feet.

“Got to get some warmth back into ye, lass.”

He looked up at her, trying to tell her something. For a moment, she thought she was
only seeing what she wanted to. That panic was pushing her to desperation. He was
rubbing her feet, and she realized both her shoes were missing. One stocking was torn
completely away, and the other was tattered. Her skin was scraped and cut, but he
palmed something and pressed it against her calf. She blinked, trying to decide if
she was really feeling that cold metal against her skin. Naughton gave her a hard
look before he began to move it up her leg.

She bit her lip, sealing her protest inside her mouth as he reached all the way to
her garter. No one except Bhaic had touched her thigh. She felt him slide whatever
it was under her garter before pulling his hand down. He shot her a warning before
he picked up the rope and looped it around her ankles. The knots he tied were snug
but not too tight.

“Now give me yer hands. I’ve no care to handle ye, seeing as ye’re another man’s wife.”

She forced herself to comply, focusing on the feeling of what was secure in her garter.
It was a small eating knife. Like the one Marcus had insisted she not have. Her brother
had shown her how to use one years ago.

It would be a last effort to keep herself from rape. Good only when her attacker was
close enough to hit his vital organs and distracted enough for her to land her blow.

Yet, it was something.

She simply didn’t know if it would be enough.

“We’re on Gordon land,” Marcus said, but Bhaic knew his brother well. He was saying
what had to be said, even though he didn’t care for it.

“He’s got me wife,” Bhaic cut back.

“Tied up, too.” Marcus had a small spyglass in hand as he considered the men below
them. “Not to mention a couple of other lasses. He’ll still cry innocence when it’s
all said and done.”

“Only if he’s alive.”

Waiting for true darkness took a long time. The moon was only a sliver in the sky.
The perfect time for raiding. It was also the perfect time for an ambush. Bhaic eased
closer, stopping often as he watched the horses tied up near the camp. If it wasn’t
for the captives, he’d have ridden into the camp and cut them down. But Lye Rob was
no fool. Neither were his men. Some of them had rolled up in their plaids, right next
to the women. The fighting was going to be hard if they wanted to avoid spilling innocent
blood.

He looked back at the horses and eased closer.

* * *

Lye Rob was getting drunk.

Ailis watched him tip a leather flagon up to his lips again and again. The other men
with him had drink, but they took only a few sips to warm themselves. They knew better
than to dull their wits.

Lye Rob? Well, he was obviously accustomed to having others look out for him.

She shivered and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the circumstances that had
prevented her from falling under the spell of the man. The courtship would have been
grand, but the union a horror. More than one bride learned the true nature of her
husband after the vows were spoken.

She shifted and realized the knots Naughton had tied were all loose. She had to hold
onto the rope to keep it around her wrists. The fire had started to dry her, making
her aware of all the dirt on her skin. She wanted to scratch and brush it off but
had to remain still. She lowered her head to her bent knees and watched Lye Rob through
her eyelashes.

He was looking at her, tipping the flagon again. His lips set into a smirk. He suddenly
flipped his kilt up, exposing his swollen organ. She flinched, turning her head away.

“Knew ye were toying with me,” Lye Rob said.

She heard his steps crunching the gravel on the ground as he came closer. His breath
smelled of whisky when he hunched down beside her.

“Ye’ll learn to enjoy me cock.” He reached up and caught a handful of her hair. He
yanked her head up so that their lips were only an inch apart. “Since I have to wait
until ye bleed, I’m going to enjoy fucking yer mouth first.”

She gasped with horror. He held her in place as his words sank in.

“Has yer husband no’ gotten to that little delight?”

She tried to shake her head, but the hold on her hair was too painful. Lye Rob snickered.

“He would have. A pair of lips around the cock is just as sweet as shoving deep into
a cunt.”

He yanked his kilt up, exposing himself again. “It’s a fine way to start our relationship,
Ailis.”

She turned away in spite of the pain shooting through her scalp, but he only tightened
his grip, yanking her around. She reached for the dagger, pulling it free. One of
the horses screamed in the distance. Lye Rob straightened and dragged her up in front
of him, pressed a dagger against her throat as the camp was overrun.

She wanted to be relieved at the sight of the MacPhersons, but Lye Rob dug the tip
of his dagger into her skin.

“I’ll slit her throat!”

Bhaic pulled up out of the lunge he’d been in. She’d always known he had a savage
side. Tonight, she faced it. He’d sheathed his sword in favor of his long dagger.
Its blade was already bloodied, but the look in his eyes made it clear that what he
truly craved was Lye Rob’s blood.

It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

Lye Rob was twisting the knife, cutting into her neck. She could feel his heart hammering
against her back as panic set in. Around them, men were dying, but it seemed insignificant,
fading away as she became conscious of the details.

Like the feeling of the knife in her hand. She let the rope drop to the ground. Bhaic
noticed it. He gave her only a fraction of a glance, but she knew he noticed.

He lifted his hand higher, drawing Lye Rob’s attention. “Leave now, Lye Rob. Let me
wife go, and I’ll get off yer land.”

“If I let her live, how long before the Robertsons and the MacPhersons unite and overrun
Gordon land?”

He was dragging her backward, looking over his shoulder for an escape route. His voice
was tense, telling one and all that his grip on reality was slipping.

Marcus appeared behind them. “Let her go,” he warned softly.

Lye Rob turned to look at Marcus. Ailis tightened her grip on the dagger and drove
it into his neck. She couldn’t see her target, but she felt his blood covering her
hand. Bhaic was a blur of motion, springing on them and grabbing the knife at her
throat. She fell down, blood flowing over her shoulder before someone grasped her
wrist and yanked her free of the fight.

She looked up into Finley’s face, his expression harder than she’d ever seen it. No
hint of the playful buffoon he’d so often appeared.

“Up with ye now, mistress.”

He lifted her off her feet and set her behind him. She looked around him. Bhaic had
Lye Rob on the ground, his hands wrapped around his throat. It was a violent struggle,
both men powerful, but Lye Rob was losing. The smell of his blood was everywhere,
and his body went taut a moment before he went limp.

Bhaic snarled something in Gaelic, squeezing Lye Rob’s throat a few final times before
Marcus was able to pull him off the body. He turned, searching for her. She stumbled
around Finley, suddenly feeling every ache.

But being in his embrace soothed it all away. He trapped her against him, muttering
against her hair. She buried her face against him, inhaling the scent of his skin.
He cupped her face, raising her head so he could look at her. For a long moment, he
just looked at her, the hands on the side of her face trembling just the tiniest bit.

“Ye can nae go riding alone.”

She let out a snort. It was unladylike, but she was far past caring about appearances.
“As if I could nae come to that conclusion meself.”

“She might look rough about the edges, but she sounds right,” Marcus said. “What do
ye want to do with the survivors?”

Bhaic turned her loose, but kept her close with one solid grip on her wrist. The camp
was in shambles. Bodies were slumped to the ground, the female captives freed. The
surviving Gordons were herded together, the MacPhersons holding them under guard.
Bloodlust was still running high.

She suddenly saw Naughton. His shoulder was bloodied, but the older man stood proudly,
his chest puffed out as his fate was being decided.

Ailis curled in toward Bhaic. “Ye have to let that one with the silver beard go. He
gave me the knife.”

Bhaic looked down at her in confusion. She nodded. “No one chooses what clan they
are born into.”

“Aye.”

He leaned over to discuss it with Marcus. Her brother-in-law cut her a curious look
before he nodded.

She suddenly felt every scrape and bruise. Bhaic and Marcus moved off to deal with
the Gordons as Finley stayed near, clearly resuming his post as her escort. She looked
down and realized the rope was still knotted around one of her ankles. She sank down,
intending to work the knot free, but her hands were covered in blood.

She stared at it, starting to shake.

Her belly twisted with nausea.

For some reason, her back felt on fire.

And she was unable to focus on anything.

“Here now, mistress.”

She ended up staring at Finley’s head in confusion as he gently brushed her hands
away and finished untying the knot.

“Since when do ye call me mistress?” She probably shouldn’t have asked the question,
but she couldn’t think. Couldn’t seem to stop shaking either. She didn’t wait for
Finley to reply but became fixated on the blood on her hands.

“Did I kill him?”

“I did.” Bhaic was suddenly there, scooping her off the ground. “Do nae think about
it, lass. Ye did what ye had to.”

He carried her over to the wagon, settling her in a spot that had been cleared. The
other women were there, relief on their faces, but all Ailis could do was shake. She
tried to unbuckle her belt and free her arisaid.

Bhaic ended up doing it for her. He lifted her again, and she sighed, the scent of
his skin the only stable thing she could grasp. “Ye found me.”

He held her for a moment, their gazes locked. “Ye’re me wife.”

“But—”

He settled her back down among the grain bundles. She rolled onto her side because
her back was still on fire. He tucked her tattered arisaid around her.

“I’m no’ letting ye sleep on Gordon land.”

He smoothed the hair back from her face, considering her for a long moment. Something
flickered in his eyes. Something that both warmed her and made her shiver. He removed
the brooch holding his plaid onto his shoulder. He used a dagger from his belt and
rent the fabric, tearing off the half that he might use to shield his shoulders from
the night’s chill. He laid it out on top of her, satisfaction showing on his face
as the MacPherson colors covered her Robertson ones.

She started to say something, but he pressed a single fingertip against her lips to
silence her.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

He was gone a moment later, his powerful stride holding her attention as she watched
him mount and raise his hand to bring his men into line.

“He’s a fair bit more attractive than the tales I’ve heard.”

Ailis turned her head to look at the Robertson woman who had been one of the captives.
She was young, not much more than a girl really. She smiled at Ailis as the wagon
started moving, the MacPherson retainers surrounding it.

“Never thought I’d be happy to be traveling with MacPhersons,” she said.

“I am,” Ailis said as she started to slip away. She didn’t fight against the darkness,
letting it envelop her and snuff out the pain.

But she was glad.

Very glad indeed.

* * *

She knew his scent.

Ailis sighed and rubbed her cheek against Bhaic. She felt as if she was floating or
rolling around inside a cloud. There was daylight and darkness and voices that were
far away. Time seemed impossible to grasp, and honestly, she just didn’t want to.

And sometimes there was Bhaic.

Or maybe not.

She wasn’t really sure.

* * *

“It was only a little fever,” Ailis said firmly.

“As if I’d be willing to risk yer health because ye were fortunate,” Helen said, still
standing in front of the chamber door.

“Ye were very fortunate,” Senga said softly from where she was changing the bed sheets
with Elise. The young Robertson had been there when Ailis woke up, settling in with
Helen.

Now that her head was clear, Ailis looked toward Senga. “Are ye sure ye wish to stay?”

Senga stopped and let Elise finish. “I’ve no home to go back to. The Gordons burned
it and killed me father. Even if I were to rebuild it, how would I protect meself?
Besides, I’ve no intention of arguing with the good Lord’s will. He sent me father’s
enemies to rescue me. So, I think yer marriage is what he’s wanting.” She smiled.
“I’ll prove meself to ye, mistress.”

Elise bit her lip, obviously realizing she’d lost her opportunity to secure a higher
position in the household. Now, she was a chambermaid, holding stacks of fresh linens
for Senga.

“I need fresh air.” Ailis was sick of looking out the window. “I am going for a walk.”

Helen grunted but moved aside. Ailis’s memory was cloudy, and she wasn’t even sure
what day it was.

All the more reason to take a walk and get her blood flowing.

Ha! Ye’re running away because ye’re in yer husband’s chamber.

It was the truth. One she had no idea how to wrap her thoughts around.

But she’d woken up in Bhaic’s chamber, and that was a hard fact.

Finley was leaning against the wall with Skene. They both reached up and tugged on
the corners of their bonnets when she opened the door. She offered them a soft smile
as she started down the stairs.

“Here now… Mistress…wait for just a wee moment…” Finley cupped her elbow.

“I am very well,” she assured him.

He didn’t release her. “Well now, I can nae be having yer husband thinking I let ye
take a tumble.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Skene tugged on his cap as he hurried off
somewhere. Finley fell into step behind her, but it felt as though he was hovering.
People looked up as she passed. The day was half gone, and the scent of baking bread
came down the passageway from the kitchens.

Had she really slept so late?

She moved through the great hall, drawn toward the door by the sunlight. Two more
retainers fell in with Finley.

“I do nae need to be taking up yer time,” she assured them.

They tugged on their caps but made no move to leave. She was torn between them and
the sunlight.

Freedom won.

She made it out the door and sighed. The yard was full of activity, and it felt as
if she’d been locked away from it all. Her brain seemed to be working slower than
normal, but she could feel the stiffness leaving her joints.

A horse came through the gate, Bhaic leaning low over its neck. He pulled up at the
base of the steps and swung his leg over the horse’s head before sliding to the ground.

He was up the steps in a flash.

“Should ye be up, lass?” There was concern in his eyes that confused her.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Because ye’ve been fighting a fever for the better
part of two weeks.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t realize it had been…well, I’m quite well.”

He flashed her a smile and slid an arm around her waist. She felt his breath brush
her ear as he tilted his head close to hers. “Ye’re shaking.”