Highlander’s Curse (37 page)

He apologized but pressed on. His hand was large, too. Large enough it required him to work his fingers back and forth between her skin and the tightly laced bodice in his attempt to reach lower.

“I’m no finding any—” His words bit off suddenly as his fingers brushed across her nipple. “Apologies, my lady.”

“Under the boob.” God, could this get any more embarrassing?

“What?”

She’d never heard a whisper sound strangled before. “My breast. It’s underneath my breast.”

Was that stifled laughter she heard coming from Simeon?

“One thing I must ask of you, my lady. When we find Colin, you must never speak of this moment. Agreed?”

“Or if you do, make sure to give Dair a day’s head start.” Simeon was definitely laughing.

“I never thought to see the day I’d find myself wishing for a woman with smaller breasts.”

“Just get the damned thing.” Someday perhaps she’d be able to see the humor in this moment, too. But today was not that day.

She lifted onto her tiptoes, offering as much access as possible, and Dair dipped lower, his fingertips at last grazing the little knife. Cautiously he worked it across her skin until he could grasp it fully.

“Got it.”

Once his hand was out of her dress, she dropped back onto the balls of her feet. Just in time, too. Her calf muscles were already cramping from the time spent up on her toes.

It seemed forever before she felt the pressure of the ropes at her feet relieved. Dair shoved the little blade into the knot binding her hands and began a sawing motion, stopping when, in the dark beyond them, a stumbling, scraping noise captured their attention.

“We canna afford to bring down the whole camp. We canna fight them all unarmed, aye?”

With the whispered warning in her ear, Dair left the knife tangled in the rope while he and Simeon scrambled back to their spots, dropping to their knees and lifting their hands to the bindings as if they were still securely bound.

An instant later, a figure stumbled into view. It was Fergus, her tormentor from earlier.

“What’s this, my bonny? Did you fall from yer wee perch? Is that the noise I heard?”

He leaned his face into Abby’s, and the smell of stale whisky turned her stomach.

Moving her hands back and forth above her head, she continued to work the little blade against the knot that held her.

“All strung up here, you are, yer wares finely on
display like market day in Edinburgh. Makes a man hungry, it does, to taste a sample of what’s to come.”

“Leave her alone, Fergus. I’ve warned you before.” Dair’s voice sounded positively evil coming from the shadows.

“
Pfft
,” Fergus dismissed him. “You can watch if you like. I’ll show you how a real man does it.”

He walked behind her and grabbed her skirts, lifting them and pressing his erection up against her bottom, obviously surprised when he encountered the riding pants. “What the hell?”

The extra moment was all Abby needed. The blade broke through the knot and her hands were free. Without a thought, she ran.

Fergus ran, too. Much faster than she’d have expected from a drunk. He tackled her from behind, bringing her down with a jarring thud.

“I likes my women to be lively,” he said, as he pushed up to stand over the top of her. A drunken grin split his face and he grasped the hem of his plaid to lift it upward, revealing his swollen manhood.

Beyond him, Abby could just make out the figures creeping in their direction. Dair and Simeon. They’d want to take him without any noise. All she had to do was keep Fergus distracted until they reached him.

Clutching the little knife in her hand, she remembered her encounter with Jonathan in another forest, seven hundred years away. If it had worked once, it could work again.

She rolled to a crouch, and the man in front of her laughed.

“Aye, lassie, I like the idea of you on yer knees even more. Fergus has a surprise for you.”

“And I have a surprise for you, too.” She lunged forward, slicing the little knife downward toward his thigh.

“You whore!” he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.

Unlike Jonathan, Fergus moved. The blade sliced along the side of his leg, but didn’t imbed in the flesh. Instead of falling to the ground as Jonathan had, he drew back his leg and kicked.

Abby rolled to protect herself, taking the full force of the blow in her side rather than her face. Pain, white-hot in its intensity, blazed through her chest, driving the air from her lungs as his foot connected a second time.

“You’ll pay for that, you little—”

His voice abruptly silenced in a snap and a gurgle. Abby could only assume her husband’s kinsmen had reached her tormentor.

“Can you stand?”

Dair lifted her to her feet, even as she fought to catch her breath. It felt as if the knife she’d held had been driven deep into her side with each breath she took, and only when Simeon picked up the weapon from the ground beside her was she sure she hadn’t stabbed herself.

Within minutes, Simeon returned, the other prisoners he’d freed slipping past them to melt away into the inky night.

Dair took her hand to pull her forward and the pain nearly doubled her over. He ran his hands quickly down her arms and around her middle.

“Ribs,” he announced. “We’ll need a mount. She won’t be able to keep up on foot.”

“Leave me,” she panted. “Go find Colin. See to him. These guys won’t harm me. They want me for a ransom.”

Simeon snorted his reply before disappearing into the dark.

“Obviously, my kinswoman, you have no concept of what yer husband would do to us if we left you behind.”

Gently, Dair lifted her into his arms, but even
gently
hurt like hell.

They waited under cover of the trees until Simeon returned, leading two horses.

Only the knowledge that she’d know Colin’s fate within the hour was enough to get her up on that horse. Anything, even the searing pain she felt with each breath, was a small price to pay if there was any way to save him.

I
t was the mother of all headaches awaiting Colin’s return to consciousness. He lay very still, knowing there was something important he should remember, something urgent, something just beyond his ability to pluck from his memory.

An incessant buzzing plagued him, finally forcing his eyes open.

Memories swam before him, clicking into place sharply.

“Abby.” Her name was on his lips though he struggled to make any sound.

He rolled to his side, struggling to push to his knees. He had to find his wife.

“Abby!” He could hear his own voice this time. That had to be a good sign.

His foot slid, jamming against something heavy, and he swung his head to investigate.

Big mistake.

The world swam around him again, the fly-infested body of the man at his feet the last thing he saw before the dark overtook him once more.

The sun hovered halfway down beyond the horizon the second time Colin awoke. Fortunately, this time his memory returned more quickly. Very slowly, he pushed up to his knees and crawled the few feet to the nearest tree. He propped himself against it and surveyed the road while he waited for his strength to build.

The only body he could see was that of the man he’d killed. The man’s companions likely hadn’t thought much of him to leave him there in the road.

Of course, they’d left his body here, too.

There was no sign of Abby. He hoped that indicated she lived. And as long as she lived, he’d find her.

For now, he had to get off the road. If the men who’d ambushed them had been here once, they might well return.

Using the tree for balance, he pulled himself up to stand. A wave of nausea swept over him and he bent from the waist, waiting for the sickness to pass. Once he felt strong enough, he headed into the woods, stumbling from tree to tree to keep himself upright.

Dusk had settled over the land by the time he heard the first noises. A rustling, as if someone carelessly made his way through the brush.

He scanned the area at his feet, searching for anything he might use as a weapon, finally deciding on a stone the size of his hand. Clutching it tightly, he dropped to
his belly, inching his way forward until at last a small clearing lay ahead of him. There he found the intruder.

His own horse stood next to a small stream, nibbling at the leaves of a small bush. Dried blood streaked the animal’s flank. He remembered that now. An arrow. It had caused his horse to rear, unseating him.

He waited, overly cautious perhaps, to make sure the animal was the only occupant of the clearing. Satisfied at last, he again pushed himself to his feet and joined his mount at the bank of the stream.

Dropping again to his knees, he dunked his head in the cold water. Once, twice, a third time, the swirling waters carried the last traces of his blood away.

For once he was thankful for his Faerie heritage. Without it, he’d likely have died of his wounds. As it was, he’d live. He’d live to find Abby or her murderers. If the latter, he’d pluck their eyes from their heads and stuff them down their throats.

The vision gave him determination and with that determination, strength.

With the discovery of his horse, he had the means to travel. Now he needed only to decide where to travel to.

Considering where they’d been assaulted, the attackers were likely MacDougall’s men, waiting to pick off any of Robert’s stragglers who might try to turn back to escape the ambush awaiting them at King’s Field. That being the case, any captives would likely be taken to the MacDougall stronghold, Dunstaffnage.

The likelihood of his success if he single-handedly stormed the keep at Dunstaffnage? None at all. He could not do this alone. Then again, he wouldn’t have to.

His brother Andrew resided not too far from the MacDougall castle. He needed only to make his way to MacQuarrie Keep. From there he could send a messenger to Dun Ard, requesting that his laird send men to assist him in confronting the MacDougall.

He pulled himself up onto his horse and set out. If he kept his distance from the main road, he should be able to avoid any other men the MacDougalls or their allies the MacNabs had left on watch. If he rode hard, by this time tomorrow he would reach MacQuarrie Keep.

For now, he wouldn’t allow himself to consider how his laird would react to his request for men. He wouldn’t think on whether or not Abby had been hurt in the ambush. For now, he would simply concentrate on his plan and on staying on his mount.

It was the best he could think of. It was his only hope.

O
f course I’m sure this is where we left him. How many places do you think there are with dead bodies lying around opened up like a can of beans?” Abby held her arms tightly around her middle, trying her best to glare at the two men on the ground.

It wasn’t her fault Colin wasn’t lying in the middle of the road where she’d seen him last. In fact, she was thrilled he wasn’t there. Certainly no one had come along and moved him, or they’d have moved the hideous, disfigured body that lay at her horse’s feet.