The Highlander’s Witch (4 page)

Facts rapidly fired through her brain.

Big men.

Big dirty men in leather pants with long gross hair.

Big dirty men on large horses with huge hairy dogs that killed a cougar.

She did what she should have done as soon as she heard the noises from the forest; she ran.

Twisting, she took off around the tree opposite from the man on her right and away from the beasts to her left, running as fast as the darkness and her slippered feet would allow.

She ducked branches and skirted bushes too large to leap over as the pounding of hooves grew closer.

Too afraid to look, she kept running, her chest heaving with adrenaline and fear.

Skye could feel the horse’s breath as it came alongside her, its smell invading her nostrils and she darted to the left.

Oh,
shit.
She thought, just before a monstrous weight slammed her into a frozen puddle, her breath forced from her lungs by the figure on top of her.

She struggled, but it didn’t take her long to figure out she wasn’t doing much of anything but getting a mouthful of icy mud as she labored to breathe, so she stopped.

“I can’t breathe.” She rasped when he didn’t move.

He lifted himself off her, grabbed a hold of her robe by the neck and hauled her up.

He stared at her hard. “Ye be English.”

Even though it wasn’t a question, she nodded, spitting out the mud caking her chattering teeth as she wiped the grime from her eyes, wondering where the hell she was and how she was going to get out of this.

“What be yer name?”

“S-s-Skye. My n-n-name is-s-s Skye.” She rasped, hacking until she could spit out the mud in her throat.

He eyed her with distaste before hauling her bruised body over to his horse and started pulling rope from a sack.

When she saw his intent, she forgot about the fact that her left foot was missing a slipper and tried to break free, causing him to raise an eyebrow at the futility of her attempt.

Gritting her teeth, she watched in silence as he bound her hands together, wincing when they cut into her skin, but refusing to make a sound.

Stiffening to control the shivers racking her body, she took in the long black hair braided on each side of his temple falling in matted waves past his broad shoulders. The heavy beard covered most of his shadowed face but she could sense the anger simmering in him. Not used to having to look up so much to a man because of her height and the heels she normally wore, she was shocked at his build. Even his loose sleeves didn’t hide his massive arms.

She watched as he climbed onto his horse taking in the way his leg muscles bunched under his pants.

Steroids. Had to be. No way could a man have such a body without them.

She looked away just before he reached down and hauled her up and over his lap as if she were nothing but a grain of sand. Before she could voice her distress, he pushed down on her back to keep her in place as he turned the horse and headed back.

Moments later, Skye found herself stewing in silence as she stood next to the huge horse testing the rope that went from her wrists to the beast’s saddle.

Thankful the leaves had stopped falling, she concentrated hard on stopping the tremors that racked her body as the men made a pyre around the cougar. When it began to burn on its own, they constructed a litter for the injured dog, attaching it to the other man’s horse when done.

Amazed at the size of the two men as they worked in silence, she wondering at their appearance, trying to figure out who they were and where she was.

They didn’t wear normal jeans and shirts and there wasn’t a button or zipper on either of them—at least from what she could see under the grime.

She remembered the smell of leather as her face swung uncomfortably over the side of the horse next to the man’s leg. If it weren’t for the shorter blond locks that barely touched the other man’s shoulders, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.

Wrinkling her nose at the smell the fire put off, Skye once again focused on loosening her bonds.

When the blaze had destroyed the cat, they buried the remains and turned towards her. Fear caused her throat to clog as she backed into the stallion when the two monstrous men eyed her, causing the beast to turn its head and nip at her.

Before she could gather her wits, her kidnapper hauled her once more over his lap.

An hour later, they broke out of the forest into a cloudy day.

Shaking her head in confusion, Skye thought on how only an hour or so ago it had been late evening.

It was too soon to be seeing the sun now.

What she did know was that her body ached from the unpleasant position and the man wouldn’t let her move to get comfortable, not caring that his hard thighs and rigid knees were digging into her ribcage to the point of constant pain.

Pushing herself up, she tried to get her bearings, but a hand pressed her back down, leaving her with only images of barren trees and brown hills dotted with patches of snow.

The sun was high in the overcast sky before they stopped.

Her captor used her robe to haul Skye off the horse and she stumbled, falling to her knees because she had no feeling in her legs after the hours of cold and forced into an awkward position during the ride.

Noticing she’d lost her other slipper, Skye glared up at the man as he dismounted, but he ignored her to check on the wounded dog.

Scratchy from the dried mud that made her itch in places she’d rather not be thinking of, she concentrated once again on loosening the rope that bound her hands together, freezing as the second dog approached her cautiously.

Towering over her, it growled low in its throat just before it sniffed her robe. It was like a huge hairy greyhound, only she never thought of greyhounds looking so ferocious. When it was finished smelling her, it went over to the litter where the men were tending to the other dog.

Since they continued to ignore her and spoke too low for her to hear, Skye looked around hoping to find a way to escape but they were in a large clearing. She didn’t think she’d be able to find a place to hide before they noticed her gone and came after her. Of course, she couldn’t know that for sure unless she tried. Placing her hands on her legs she concentrated, willing blood back into all her limbs.

Moments later, she was easing herself carefully to her feet when she noticed a body in front of her. Heart threatening to break free from her chest, she tilted her head, not happy that she had to, to look at the man who captured her.

She came to her full height and stared at him, trying to hide how his stature and strength intimidated her.

In the light of day, she couldn’t help but notice his eyes. They were the purest blue she’d ever seen, ringed in a deeper blue, almost black.

Damn, he was big.

He stood there with his arms crossed and it angered her that he could so effortlessly frighten her. A shirt of some kind under his thick cloak barely concealed just how well built he was. Inwardly, she realized she was staring at him and it probably wasn’t a good thing, but she couldn’t help it.

Then it hit her; he had spoken in Gaelic earlier! What had he said? She couldn’t remember.

She stood there shivering, refusing to look away or look as pitiful as she felt.

He returned her gaze, except he took in her appearance with a look of disgust.

“Ye be the filthiest lad I have ever deemed to look at.” His lip curled. “An ye stink.”

Skye glared, not knowing if she was more furious at being called a boy or filthy when it was his fault she was caked in dried mud, and it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t large chested.

Crossing her arms as well, she sneered. “Have you smelt yourself lately?”

That got a surprised look, but before he could respond, a yelp from the litter drew his attention, a worried look flashed over his features before disappearing as he turned back to warn her.

“Runnin be useless. Twilna do anythin but cause me to punish ye harshly.”

She watched him walk away until a soft whimper brought her attention to the injured hound and she could not help but frown in sympathy.

That dog had saved her life. It may have been unintentional, but it remained a fact.

When the men settled to eat without offering her anything, Skye eased her way to the wounded dog.

Knowing the two men watched, she knelt before it, whispering soft words of assurance even as it growled weakly at her.

Blood matted so much of the fur, she couldn’t tell where the wounds were.

“I know, baby.” She cooed as she felt the warmth in her hands when her powers gathered strength.

Cold and weakened from the day’s events, as well as the recent use of her powers to get her blood circulation going, Skye still knew she had to do something for this poor animal that had saved her life. She wouldn’t do anything noticeable just enough to make sure it would survive.

Placing the back of her hand in front of its nose, she allowed it to sniff her, hoping its animal senses would pick up her abilities and understand she was here to help, not harm.

The growling stopped and Skye sighed in relief knowing the hard part was about to begin.

With her hands tightly bound, she could just barely close one hand in a loose fist so she could place the fingertips of her other hand on the dog’s skin.

Concentrating, she focused her energy inwards.

“What be the lad doin, Aiden?

“I doona ken.” Scratching the irritating beard, he glowered. “But he harms me wee Seelie an he won’t be seein the end of this day.”

“Mayhap he be prayin the way his head be bowed over her?”

“Damn Christians.” Aiden replied in a distracted voice, his eyes never leaving the boy who showed him no fear.

They watched the stranger for a moment, absently biting the salted dried meat.

“I canna put me finger on it Collin, but there be somethin about the lad . . .” Aiden sighed in frustration. “I doona ken it.”

“Twould be wise to keep an eye on him, to be sure.” Collin placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Ye ken Seelie won’t last the journey home?”

When there was no reply, Collin nodded and left the man to his thoughts.

Skye removed her shaking hand.

“I don’t know how you survived this long, little girl. There was more damage than I thought.” She shook her head in amazement as she spoke quietly. “But I got the worst of it.”

She was cold and her body was quivering with the energy she spent. Unable to hold herself up any more, she sunk to the ground, curling into a ball, trying to heat her worn out body.

Aiden found her that way when he came to harness the litter. What gave him pause was seeing Seelie licking the lad’s bound hands.

“Would ye look at that?” Collin whispered in awe as he drew his horse alongside.

Aiden clenched his teeth and hauled the boy to his feet, shaking him. “Wake up, ye lazy welp.”

Skye fell as soon as he let go of her. On hands and knees, she lifted her head and glared at the man. “Dammit, give me a second, will you?”

“Ye have until we get this hooked, no more, ye ken?”

Skye scrunched up her face, trying to follow along with the heavy accent.

He crouched beside her and pulled her head back by the knit cap, tugging her hair with it. “Ye ken?”

“Yes, dammit, ‘I ken’.”

Aiden gave his friend a sour look when he chuckled.

By the time they had the litter attached to the other man’s horse, Skye was barely able to stand on her feet.

Her throat hurt and her voice was horse from swallowing the grit in her mouth and a lack of water to rinse the sand out put her in a foul mood, but she’d be damned if she showed any more weakness to these men.

Aiden came alongside and patted behind him. “Get on back. Ye smell too foul to be in front.”

Feeling the grit crunch when she clenched her teeth, Skye patiently held up her bound hands.

“And how do you propose I do that?” She croaked.

Too swift for Skye to step back, Aiden leaned down, grabbed her upper arm and then hauled her up behind him.

She would have shrieked in surprise but it came out a croak and then she was too busy grabbing his cloak to keep from falling when the horse took off.

Scared of what could happen in her condition if she fell asleep while touching him, Skye struggled to remain erect but was exhausted and found herself, more than once, leaning into his broad back, only the tickle of his matted hair on her nose brought her alert.

Unable to stop her thoughts about her captors, she wondered at the brute strength they seemed to wield with ease. Everything about them exuded power and control, from their height which towered almost a foot over Skye’s five foot eight frame to their body mass, which was pure muscle from head to foot and everywhere in between.

She was thankful that the one she was riding with was big enough to block most of the wind and kept her slightly warm. From his neck down, he had the body of a god. From the neck up, he looked wild, untamed, fierce—and ugly . . . except for his eyes, they were breathtaking.