Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles) (5 page)

“Yer gown shall be dry before long and then ye will have no more need of me.”

She nodded, viewing him from under her lashes. Something unreadable sat behind those eyes. Likely a quick mind worked behind them.

“Are we far inland?”

“Some ten miles.”

“Do ye no’ fear Scots attacking ye?”

“We hold a strong position and have many powerful sword arms on our side. Ye need not fear, my lady.”

“Aye.” She flexed her fingers against his chest and withdrew them abruptly. “Are we to travel far?”

“Six nights.”

Far off, the howl of a wolf skipped over the hills and Katelyn pressed into him. Her trembling increased. His heart flexed.

“’Tis far off, dinnae be concerned,” he assured her. He scowled when his voice came out gruff. That soft little body against his chest sent an increasing ripple of awareness through him. He threw his gaze up to the sky in a prayer for restraint.

“’Tis a clear night. We’ll no’ see rain,” he offered weakly in an attempt to force his mind away from smooth flesh beneath thick fur.

“Aye.”

He glanced down to see her gaze turn heavenwards. The tilt of her lips reminded him of a plea to a lover.

For a kiss.

And for the briefest moment he considered dipping his head and brushing his lips over hers, just to see how they would feel. Finn clenched his jaw and looked away once more—away from temptation. This was another man’s woman. And a vulnerable one at that. He did not need a helpless lass attaching herself to him.

A prickle skimmed along his side where their bodies touched. Ach, he was already too close. Any closer and he would be tucked beneath the fur and caressing that pale skin. He smirked to himself. At least keeping watch was going to be easy. In spite of the exertions of the day, sleep couldn’t be further from his mind.

Noting her trembling had ceased, he drew in a long breath and focused on the pinpricks of light above him. It was a habit—staring at them and feeling insignificant. As a large man, there were few times in life when he felt like that. That gentle ache that always sat in his gut throbbed, reminding him of Alice’s death—and the powerlessness that came along with that. Never again would he place himself in such a position.

That howl came again and he scowled. He hoped they were not being tracked though the fire was sure to keep the wolves at bay. Katelyn emitted a noise and he tightened his hold.

“They’ll no’ get close,” he murmured, reassuring her again. Why did he feel the need to erase her fear? All that mattered was that he got her to his sister’s keep. “We could see them coming many a mile away. We have been blessed with a bright night.”

“Blessed…” she whispered, though he couldn’t be sure if she intended for him to hear.

He supposed being taken from her home and dragged across the Highlands might not seem a blessing to her but it was surely a better fate than whatever that Norseman had planned for her.

“Aye, the heavens shine down upon us.”

“I-I havenae seen a night like this in a while.”

“’Tis beautiful indeed,” he agreed and frowned at his words.

Sat on a lonely hill with the stars and an almost naked woman for company and here he spoke of beauty. It seemed he had little control over his tongue this night.

“The siege prevented me from going outside for many weeks.” The hardened tone to her voice made his scowl deepen. She turned her face toward him, as if she expected a response and he fumbled in his mind for one. What did the lass wish of him? Was comfort not enough? Did she expect more of her rescuer? If he only understood women better.

Of course, if he’d been planning to bed her, he would have done it with ease. But offering comfort or conversation… nay, he was far out of his depth here.

“But see now,” he gestured to the sky, “the stars have come out for ye this night.”

“For me?” The faintest hint of humour sat in her tone, a welcome relief from the frigidness.

“Aye, indeed. For ye, wee lass.”

She softened a tiny bit more, truly moulding to him. “I have missed the stars.”

“And they have missed ye. For who would not?”

Katelyn raised a quizzical brow and gazed up at him. “Ye are an unusual man.”

“How so?”

“Ye speak softly of the stars, yet ye kill with ease.”

“I do what I must.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze turning back to the sky and he released a breath. “Aye, as do we all,” she replied.

Something about that statement caught him. Did she speak of her betrothal perhaps? A noblewoman doing her duty was no strange thing. Indeed his sister had married the man of their father’s choosing, but he’d never considered how a lass might feel about it. He had loved Alice, and she him. What would it have been like if neither of them cared for one another?

He flexed his fingers against Katelyn’s delicate shoulder. Less painful, for certain. Five summers and he no longer recalled Alice’s voice or what her kisses felt like. For that, guilt jabbed at him. But the cries of pain as she tried to bring their daughter into the world—they echoed through his mind as if it were yesterday.

Soft breaths filtered in and he studied Katelyn’s face in the starlight. She had fallen asleep. Her closed lashes against her swollen cheek eased the tension in his chest. He sighed. Soon enough, another man would be enjoying the sight.

***

Catriona awoke alone. She peered around. Nay, not alone, but no longer wrapped in the embrace of the Viking. Her muscles screamed in protest as she shuffled to sitting, fur clutched around her shoulders. The ache in her cheek seemed to have subsided at least. She glanced at the men. Still they slept on. She did not like her chances of evading all of them so surely now was the time.

A hand touched her shoulder and she swallowed a cry of surprise. Following the line of his body, silhouetted in the dawn light, she was confronted by a broad grin and even broader shoulders.

Escaping
him
, however, would prove difficult.

“Did ye sleep well?”

Catriona fidgeted, aware of his gaze tracing her body. No matter how she positioned herself, something peeked out of the pelt. A calf or her thigh. Even the curve of her shoulder, or the top of a breast. Interest sparked in his blue eyes, making her stomach flip.

She should be scared by him, not excited. Had she not already seen what a Norseman could do?

“Well enough, thank ye.”

He knelt and handed over her gown. She gripped the wool in her free hand and offered Finn a tentative smile of thanks.

“’Tis dry now.”

For some unknown reason, she failed to stop her smile from expanding at his obvious statement.

She stood, fighting to ignore how he followed her movements closely. “Will ye excuse me while I dress?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, making her feel as though sprites might be dancing in her stomach. How did a barbaric Viking look so… so tender? She swept aside the notion she would miss the fair warrior. This was for the best. Whatever his plans for her, they could not be good.

“I shall turn my back,” he offered.

Catriona nodded and motioned to an outcrop of rocks. “I will be but a moment.” Furs clutched about her shoulders, she waited until he turned and scurried behind the rocks.

She fought the stiff fabric of her chemise and gown. Salt from the sea crusted upon it and the ties would be almost impossible to do on her own.

Once her chemise was on, she tugged the gown over her head and grimaced at the feel of the rigid garments against her skin. But at least she was no longer naked. She shook her head. Everything she had been taught about the Norsemen was wrong. Why had he not ravished her when given the chance? Did he not find her enticing? Catriona touched the swelling on her cheek. Mayhap the hit to her face had spoiled her looks. She never normally dwelled long on her appeal to men. It was an encumbrance and most thought her conceited when she dismissed them but, in truth, the attention made her uneasy. Katelyn and her father never understood why she did not use her looks to manipulate men, but she only concluded she had to take after her late mother, who knew little about plotting and scheming. Manipulation did not come naturally to Catriona.

So why did she care what her kidnapper thought? Sweet Mary, she really was turning into one of those women who fell in love with their abductor. She stretched her arms against the fabric to loosen it and
tutted
at herself. Not love, nay. She had not meant to say love. But certainly her feelings were far from fear. Which was a very foolish thing indeed.

Darting a peek over the grey rocks, she sighed as her gaze landed on the large man, his back still to her. The hills and valleys were all cast in muted colours, their splendour not yet allowed to shine through. If she travelled south she would come across one of the villages scattered across the countryside. In theory, returning to the coast would bring her close to civilisation but she was not sure she wished to risk such a venture. More Norse might have crossed from Bute by now.

A breeze glided across her back, reminding her of her gaping dress. There was little to be done. Without aid, tying it was impossible. Stealing one last glance at the magnificent Viking, she clutched her skirts and fled.

***

Tèile lifted her head from the rock and scrubbed her eyes. She blinked and scrubbed them again. Sure enough, the woman was scurrying off into the distance. Curses, what was she doing? One minute she’d been lying in Finn’s arms and now the lass was disappearing off into the hills. She had felt sure a connection was already blossoming between the two. Why would the woman wish to run off alone, toward possible danger?

Wings spread, she gave them a flutter and wriggled. The foolish man still had his back turned and had not realised she was gone. What was it with these Highland warriors? It seemed to Tèile these men and women spent half their time running from one another and fighting their feelings. Her life would be much easier if they said what they meant and got on with it. In spite of her time around humans, she still failed to fully understand them. If she did not like another faery, she told them. That was probably why the
sidhe
council took a disliking to her but still, it was surely better than keeping secrets?

The faery flew swiftly over to Finn and landed on his shoulder. She rolled her eyes. Humans did not see the fae unless they wanted to. Most were not able to even sense them but she could make him aware enough of her. With a smile, she jabbed one pointed finger at his neck. He made a sound of surprise and swatted, nearly crushing her with his huge hand.

Tèile scuttled back and tried again on the other side. This time she was ready and only felt the waft of air as he slapped the other side of his neck. She gritted her teeth in frustration. How long did he think it took for a woman to dress?

Snatching a small bunch of hair, she gave it a sharp tug and this time he swivelled. The scowl on his face gave way as realisation dawned. Off in the distance, Catriona could still be seen, stumbling over the rough land. Dawn began to make itself fully known, golden and pink hues streaking the sky. Her green dress might have blended with the hills but against the colourful backdrop, her silhouette stood out in stark contrast. Had they been further north and in rockier terrain, Catriona would have found it much easier to hide. Thank goodness for small mercies.

Finn snatched his sword and cursed. She hoped he had no plans to use the weapon but she noticed these warriors were strangely attached to such things. He kicked one of the men as he ran past and the man roused, grumbling. Flying alongside Finn, Tèile glanced behind to see him jump up and move to wake the others.

She turned her attention to their quarry. They would gain on her soon enough and Tèile could return to her work. If only she could figure out why the lass ran from Finn. It was hard enough trying to ensure fate fell back into alignment, but if Catriona fought it too long, it would make Tèile’s job all the more difficult. Still, one thought made her smile. It only meant she would have to be extremely sneaky. And sneaky she could do.

***

Catriona glanced over her shoulder and her breath trapped in her chest. Hair streaming behind him, sword in hand, the Viking looked every bit a powerful warrior intent on claiming his prize. 

Her.

Quashing a squeal, she stumbled on. Every tiny rock and prickly plant seemed to find the soles of her feet. They were likely bleeding and raw. But she refused to stop. Not when her life depended on evading him.

The cumbersome gown grew heavy on her shoulders, no doubt weighted down by the dried salt from the sea water. Fatigue still lingered in her bones and the dull throb in her head nudged her, tempting her to stop and give herself up. However she had no doubt angered her abductor. While he had been patient and gentle with her before, who was to say if he would be kind now? Playing the meek captive might have worked to get him to trust her but she had destroyed that now. If he caught up with her, would she see the true nature of the man? Would the horrific tales she had been told come to life?

Her heart beat a sickening pace as she gulped down breaths of air. Dear Lord, but she was weary. How had she thought she could outrun such a physically capable man? Her ankle nearly buckled as she navigated the uneven path down the side of the hill and she swallowed a sob of desperation. A shout behind her sent a shiver up her spine but she continued on blindly.