Highland Warrior Woman (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

The two men conversed a little as they rode. From their tones of voice, they might be out enjoying the fine weather, not kidnapping an innocent woman. She learned that the man who seized her was MacLeod’s second-in-command, but she couldn’t glean much about where they were going.

It was difficult enough to keep her wits about her, much less make a plan for escape. When she was finally let down from the horse, her head ached from being nearly upside down for so long and her ribs were sore from her perilous position slung over the saddle. She was not set on her feet so much as she was tossed to the earth, which jarred her bones. She bit her lip and tasted blood.

The first kick to her ribs was so unexpected that she could not even draw breath to cry out.

Another kick followed. Someone cuffed her face then smashed her against the ground. Her legs were free, but even if she stumbled to her feet, it only presented an opportunity for her captors to trip her. Pain overwhelmed her. Her own breath sounded deafening inside the hood.

Finally someone spoke. “Enough. She won’t go anywhere, now.” The voice was the laird’s. “Take this off before we have our fun. This one’s a great beauty, after all.”

The hood was pulled off. Gasping, Maeghan blinked at the sunlight. They were in a clearing. The men’s horses were tied up some distance off, where the trees resumed.

MacLeod laughed cruelly. “She
was
a great beauty, in any case.”

The man who’d bound her laughed as well. “Untie her hands,” MacLeod said. “She’s got some fight in her. I like that when I take a woman.”

The laird’s words sent a renewed throb of fear through her. These men meant to rape her, now that they’d beaten her too badly for her to flee.

Maeghan tried to force open her eyes, though only one obeyed her. The other was swelling too much to be of use. She felt the big bastard behind her untying her bonds and realized she had a moment to look around and catch her breath. Best of all, she had a moment to make a plan.

Her father had taught her to hunt with bow and arrow and also how to defend herself against any unwanted attention. She knew how a well-placed knee could bring down the tallest and strongest man. He had also taught her how to use her dirk and to use any means necessary to escape if the need arose.

Though she needed to keep her attention focused on her surroundings, Maeghan found herself thinking how it was her father’s fault that she was here at all. Patrick Fraser was dead, but he alone had raised Maeghan. A man of respect and duty, he’d had no time or inclination to raise a daughter. He’d raised her like a son because he knew nothing else.

Now, as an old maid at the advanced age of two and twenty, she was too set in her ways to change and ask for help. The women of her clan told tales about her and scorned her company, and the young men did not know what to do with her.

Because of her father, she had gone to the village alone and had been captured by these men. But because of her father, she would escape. Or she would die trying.

“Much better.”

Someone’s foot rolled her onto her back. Her hands, though freed, tingled painfully as blood returned to them. Suddenly the laird was kneeling above her, his knees straddling her hips. He brought one hand down on her shoulder, pinning her. She felt his other hand reaching among the folds of fabric around her waist.

He was in the perfect position. She wasted no time.

Maeghan drove her knee upward as hard as she could. It connected with something soft, and the MacLeod Laird doubled over, grunting. Seizing her opportunity, Maeghan scrambled backward on the grass. Her hand, still clumsy from being tied, reached for her dirk.

Before her fingers closed on it, MacLeod’s second-in-command yanked her up by her shoulders. “What did you do?” he roared in her ear.

She drove her elbow back hard into his ribs. The hands gripping her shoulders loosened. She tried to wiggle free, but the man threw her to the ground.

“You whore!” His foot connected painfully with her hip. Maeghan curled up, using her sheltered position to hide what she was doing. When she freed her dirk, the second-in-command was readying another kick.

She met it with her blade. Maeghan sliced across the front of his ankle, and the man let out a deafening bellow as he stumbled backward. Maeghan regained her feet. She ran three quick steps toward him and thrust her leg forward like the thrust of a pike. The sole of her foot connected with the man’s stomach. He fell, clutching his ankle.

The laird had rallied. Maeghan heard him grunting and snarling curses at her on the grass behind her. As she turned, she realized how close he was to her. He clutched at her plaid.

She drove her fist into his nose. The MacLeod Laird stared at her, astonished, but then he recovered. When he clawed at her again, she drove the dirk downward into his arm as hard as she could.

As soon as the fingers holding her released, Maeghan ran. There was no time to take one of the horses nor to retrieve her dirk from the laird’s flesh. He was roaring in pain behind her, but she had only bought a little time.

The woods were thick, but she didn’t let them slow her. She ran as fast as she could, scratching her face and hands on branches and tripping over roots. She did not look back and she didn’t dare stop running.

It was her injuries that finally forced her to stop. The throbbing in her ribs where she had been kicked grew too painful to ignore. She came to a stop, trying to pant quietly and listening for sounds of pursuit. There were none. If the men pursued her at all, they were a long distance off.

More likely, she thought, they had been hampered by the thickness of the woods. Their horses would hardly be able to follow through the tangle of branches, and the men themselves were much bigger than Maeghan.

Now if only I knew where I am
…

MacLeod would likely have ridden onto his own land to avoid antagonizing Maeghan’s laird. But she knew nothing about the MacLeod clan or their lands. She couldn’t even use the sun or other signs of the direction to guide her, not when she didn’t know where she was going.

She wandered. As the terror and excitement of the fight left, her blood slowed and her injuries seemed to hurt her more acutely. She made her way through the undergrowth slowly, clutching her bruised ribs and aching stomach, biting her lip to keep her groans of pain at bay. Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she concentrated on each step. She didn’t have the luxury of stopping, not when the laird might yet pursue her. And if she stopped, she might not be able to make herself start again.

That she had no idea where she was didn’t matter. The only thought going through her mind was to keep going.

A horse nickered ahead. She froze in her tracks.

She noticed how dim it had grown under the cover of the trees. Fear rose in her breast once again. It was close to dusk and getting cold. Even though she had her plaid and could use that to wrap herself in, she knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep the chill at bay.

It was quiet, too. All the creatures of the woods seemed to hold their breaths even as she did. That horse had been too close ahead. Had she wandered near a road?

Her legs felt too weak to hold her, much less to take her away from this new danger. All she could do was lean against the large tree before her and hope she wouldn’t be found.

Nausea roiled in her stomach, and even though she was cold to the core, she was also hot. Sweat beaded on her brow and upper lip, and her legs threatened to give way from beneath her. Another wave of pain rolled through her and she doubled over, biting down hard on her lip to keep quiet. Her vision was blurry, and she knew one of her eyes was nearly swollen shut. The skin on her face felt hot and tight and throbbed with pain, and she wondered if she looked as bad as she felt.

Ahead, she heard the sound of feet landing on the ground, as if a rider had jumped down from his horse.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled and a sob caught in her throat. She had been found. Vowing to fight her attackers until she breathed her last breath, she straightened up but had to lean against the tree trunk to remain on her feet.

The voice startled her, causing her to jump, which made pain shoot through her ribs and abdomen again. Doubling over, she clutched at her torso, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to fight after all. Sweat dripped down between her breasts as her vision faded. Sighing, she reached out for the oblivion of darkness and knew no more.

As Calum stepped out from behind the large tree trunk, his brothers saw the battered bundle in his arms. He heard their gasps of shock and growls of anger.

Clenching his jaw tight, he gave a nod to Ewan, and his brother dismounted so he could pass the woman over to him. When he had gained the back of his mount, he reached down for Ewan to return the woman to his arms. Releasing the clasp at his shoulder that kept his plaid in place, he withdrew it and wrapped it around the female.

“Do ye know the lass, Calum?” Hamish asked.

He gave a slight shake of his head and urged his mount forward. Not another word was spoken until they entered the keep more than an hour later. The lass hadn’t stirred, and her skin felt hot to the touch. He was becoming very worried.

“Gerty, I have need of yer skills,” Calum yelled when he entered the keep and stood at the base of the stairs leading to the bedchambers. “And find Lilith!”

He knew Gerty would have heard his roar and ascended until he was on the third level, where his and his brothers’ sleeping chambers were. Making his way down the hall, he kicked open the door to his room and gently placed the lass onto his large bed. He began removing her clothes so their cook and their healer could tend to the lass once they arrived.

By the time he had her naked, his jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. Not one inch of her had been left untouched. She was black and blue all over, and he could see the imprint of knuckles embedded in the skin of her stomach.

“Oh my lord, ye poor wee lass,” Gerty moaned as she entered Calum’s chambers and saw the battered woman.

Calum watched his housekeeper intently, making sure she didn’t inadvertently hurt the female even though he knew the notion was ludicrous. Gerty was one of the gentlest souls he knew. Why he felt the need to protect the strange lass, he couldn’t say, but the need to see to her safety and care seemed paramount.

Gerty washed the lass all over and then applied salve to the bruises. Soaking a cloth in witch hazel, she placed it on the lass’s inflamed eye and then dipped another cloth into the solution and covered her swollen face, only leaving her nose and mouth free. Once she was done, Calum handed over one of his shirts to his housekeeper then walked over to the bed and gently lifted the lass until she was half sitting and half reclining against his chest. He held her while Gerty pulled his shirt over her slight body.

“Who would do such a thing, Calum?” Gerty whispered furiously.

“I donnae know, Gerty, but I intend to find oot,” he replied in a hard voice.

Light footsteps sounded on the stone floor outside the chamber. Calum looked up and motioned Lilith into the room.

“Ye asked for me, Laird?”

“Aye, Lilith. The lass is hurt. Would ye please see if there is anything ye can do to ease her pain?”

Calum watched Lilith examine the injured girl. “Gerty has done much of the work,” she said aloofly.

He wondered what he had ever seen in the woman. Now that he had seen the battered angel in his bed, Lilith looked so cold and calculating. He had been thinking with his phallus, not with his head.

Although he had told Lilith from the start that he wanted no emotional entanglement with her, she had accepted him into her body on a few occasions and he had shared her with his brothers once, too. But Lilith seemed almost emotionless, and he had never seen any indication of tender feelings for him in her eyes when they had lain together. It had taken his younger brother’s words to wake him up and make him see that Lilith was only after a position of power and was using him, too. He hadn’t touched her in months, and the thought of doing so again made his stomach churn.

“Aye, and I did it well,” Gerty said coolly to Lilith before turning back to Calum. “Do ye know who the lass is?”

“Other than that she is a MacTavish, nay.”

“She has the fever and will need to be watched closely. I’ll send up some food and drink.” Gerty bustled from the room.

Lilith stood from the bed and faced him. “The lass doesnae seem to have wounds inside her. She has a slight fever and lots of bruising, but she will heal.”

“Thank ye, Lilith.” Calum gestured to the chair near the hearth and took the seat opposite. “I know ye and I have shared a bed upon occasion, as ye have with me and my brothers. I thank ye again for yer attentions, but we cannae share a bed again.”

“Ye have found another woman ye want to share,
Laird
?”

Calum ignored the acerbic pronunciation of his title and stared into Lilith’s cold eyes.

“Aye,” he answered, his eyes trailing over to the lass in his bed.

“I see,” Lilith said, rising to her feet. “I’ll thank ye for the use of yer and yer brothers’ bodies. I best take my leave, Laird. I have much to do this day.”