Highland Resurrection (Blades of Honor Book 2) (5 page)

“Let them come,” Roderick hissed as he threw her to the ground, then rolled her beneath him. “I plan to take my time and enjoy the ride,” he said as he lifted her skirt, then positioned himself between her thighs.

Sheena bit back the urge to cry out. The pain the moment he entered her unlike anything she could have imagined.

“She’s a tight little wench, but I’ll loosen her up quick enough,” Roderick declared as he repeatedly pounded into her. “It has been a while since I had a virgin, and I forgot just how pleasurable it can be.”

Pleasurable for who?
She squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against the pain and humiliation of being taken against her will.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity, but her body soon became numb, her mind blocking out what was happening. When he finally let out a guttural yell, then rolled off of her, gasping to catch his breath, she curled herself into a ball and turned her back to him, sobbing.

Roderick climbed to his feet, then nudged her with the toe of his boot. “Get up and tidy yourself.”

When she didn’t answer, he kicked her again, this time with more force. “Are you deaf? I said get up.
Now
.” He captured her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

Her legs were so wobbly she thought they might give way, but she forced herself to stand. Unable to look the bastard in the eye, her gaze trailed the ground. She held the tattered remains of her
leine
together at the neck and backed away.

Roderick quickly followed, then stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “I enjoyed our time together immensely.” He nipped at her ear, then whispered, “This was only the beginning. We will have many such nights.”

She stared at him through tear-filled eyes. “What are you saying? You wish to marry me?” She found the thought of him ever touching her again repulsive.

“Hardly. I’m already betrothed. And what you said was true. You are beneath my status. But I have decided to make you my mistress. And you’re to be at my beck and call day or night,” Roderick announced smugly. “I am to marry the daughter of a powerful laird from northern Scotland in a fortnight, but I like variety. Being tied to one woman for the rest of my life isna something I’ll ever consider. You will serve as a nice distraction.”

“And . . . if I refuse?” Suddenly feeling as if she might be ill, she wrapped her arms around her middle and swallowed against the bile rising in her throat.

“I am the son of Laird Morgan and will someday be chief of my clan. You are nothing but the daughter of a merchant, no one of significance. You should be honored that I want you in my bed.”

“Have you no respect for the sanctity of marriage?”

“As the future laird, it is my right to have a wife to provide me with an heir and a mistress for whenever I want to rut in wild abandon. And I choose you.”

“I would rather die than be your whore,” Sheena spat. “When my father finds out what you’ve done—”

“Watch what you wish for, lass. Tell anyone what happened here and you will rue the day. Besides, it is the word of a whore against that of the future laird. Who do you think they will believe?”

His fierce scowl caused the hair on her neck to bristle, but she’d not cower before this brigand. “You may have violated me this night, but I swear on my mother’s grave, you willna lay hand to me again.” She spun on her heel.

“How dare you turn your back to me?” Roderick took hold of her upper arm and whipped her around to face him. “I’m not finished with you yet. Nor do I recall giving you permission to depart.” He drew a dirk from a sheath at his side, then waved it in front of her face.

“Threaten to kill me if you wish,” Sheena snapped, “but I will never come willingly to your bed.”

Roderick’s expression darkened as he lunged forward. “If I canna have you, no one else will want you,” he declared. He slashed her chin before throwing her to the ground. “Now you may leave,” he hissed, then sheathed his blade and turned to his friend. “Let’s go. I fancy another wee dram before I return to the castle.” He placed his hand on his companion’s shoulder and the two men strode toward town.

Shocked by what had just happened, Sheena pressed her hand to her face, warm blood seeping between her fingers. After a few minutes, she rose, wondering how she would explain what had transpired to her parents. She feared Roderick was right, they would not believe her word over his. Had her stepmother not sent her for the herbs, she might have been able quietly slip into their croft and change before anyone noticed her torn clothing, temporarily avoiding a confrontation with her da. But Lillian was awaiting her return and there was no way to hide or explain the gash on her chin.

Chapter 6

“Are you feeling ill?” Lazarus asked, then touched her shoulder. “You’ve gone pale and are shaking.”

Sheena sniffled, then scrubbed her fist across her tear-dampened cheeks. “I’m fine,” she lied. Every time she thought about Roderick and what happened between them, her world turned inside out. But that day was in the past and she was determined to keep it there. She’d deliberately put many miles between them after her stepmother died in childbirth and her father disowned her for being a whore.

“Is there something I can get for you?”

“Nay.” Sheena took a moment to compose herself, then peered up at him. “I’m fine. However, we havena come to terms with the fact you’re still here when I asked you to leave.”

He shrugged. “I thought we had.” He picked up the mug and offered her a drink, but she waved his hand away.

“I was clear that I wanted you gone.” Why this thrawn man refused to listen and insisted on staying where he was not welcomed was beyond her comprehension. She blew out a sigh of frustration. Maybe she was wrong about Brother Lazarus. No one had ever treated her and Quinn with anything but scorn and rudeness, yet he was kind and gentle, unlike anyone she’d encountered in the past. Were her situation different, she might have found him attractive and even considered letting down her guard.

She drew in a slow deep breath. Fortunately, she hadn’t fallen prey to his charm. Just because she was starting to have fewer doubts about his motives, it did not mean she trusted him or wanted him to stay. He was also a man of the cloth and had pledged his life to the Almighty, so there could never be anything between them.

“Now that Sheena is feeling better, can we go to town for supplies, then perhaps do some hunting like you promised?” Quinn asked, brimming with excitement.

“That would be up to your sister.” Lazarus tousled the lad’s raven curls, then cast her a sideways glance.

“Can we, Sheena? Please,” Quinn badgered.

“I dinna think it wise,” Sheena replied. “I know Brother Lazarus has been here for a few days, but he is still a stranger. Besides, I’m sure he has more pressing things to do and needs to return to the monastery. They must be wondering what has happened to him.”

Lazarus planted his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Your sister is far from healed and still needs our assistance. But she also requires a great deal of rest. Perhaps while she is sleeping we can set a few snares behind the croft, and with luck might catch a rabbit.”

“Can we go to town too?” Quinn asked, then raced to his pallet and retrieved the sack of coins from beneath it.

“Have neither of you heard a word I’ve said?” Sheena found her patience wearing thin.

“If you’ll grant your permission, Sheena, I’m sure we’ll be able to get everything we need with this.” Quinn dumped the silver onto his palm, then held it out for his sister to see.

Sheena gasped. “Where did you get that money?” She’d spent the last of their coin in the village the day she was attacked, and other than a ruby pendant that once belonged to her mother, an heirloom she could not bring herself to part with, they were as close to destitute as humanly possible. Had Quinn stolen the money?

“The man who brought you home when you were hurt gave it to me,” Quinn replied, then put the coins back into the sack. “When he saw we had very little food and lived in this shack, he told me to use it to buy what we needed.”

“Where we live may not be grand, but we are lucky to have a roof over our heads. And you must never take things from someone you dinna know, Quinn,” Sheena warned. “Nothing is free in life and a kindness of this sort always comes with a price, or in the least, expectations we canna or willna honor.”

“You’re being a little harsh on the lad. He meant no harm and was only trying to help,” Lazarus said. “I’m sure the man’s generosity was unconditional. And judging by the way he was dressed and his fine mount and weaponry, I’m certain he willna miss a few pieces of silver. He appeared to be quite wealthy and mentioned he was from a prosperous Highland clan.”

Her gut twisted with dread. She’d gone to a great deal of trouble keeping her location a secret from Roderick. While she was sure he was married and had forgotten all about her by now, he had vowed to hunt her down and drag her back if she ever left.

“So you dinna know this man before leaving me in his care?” Sheena narrowed her gaze. It was bad enough she could not rid herself of the monk, but being seen by the well-meaning stranger could have put her and Quinn in danger of being found.

Lazarus shook his head. “Nay, but you dinna know me either. So in a sense we were both strangers to you.”

“That is not the point,” Sheena hissed. “What if he was evil, like the men who attacked me?”

“I’m usually a good judge of a man’s character. Ian Fraser offered his help when he could have easily passed on by and not given us a second glance. Instead, he stopped and asked if he could be of assistance and was very gentle in caring for you. When I asked if he could see you home safely because I couldna do it myself, he graciously agreed.”

A sigh of relief slipped past her lips. “Fraser,” she said softly. She did not recognize the name, so as far as she knew, he had nothing to do with the MacLean or Morgan clans. “I’ll admit it was kind of him, but things could have turned out very differently than they did.”

“Fortunately, nothing bad happened, so you can put it behind you,” Lazarus replied. “Fraser and I arrived in time to keep those two blackguards from violating you, and that is what is important. Granted, you did sustain injuries, but your body will heal. No further harm came to you or Quinn. For that we can praise the Almighty.” He crossed himself and uttered a prayer.

“Can we go to town, Sheena?” Quinn asked again.

She brought a hand up to stifle a yawn. Her strength was waning and she was having a hard time staying awake. “It appears I’m outnumbered and dinna have much of a choice,” Sheena conceded while glaring at Lazarus. “But only for a short time and you must return before dark. After which, I want your word that you will go back to the abbey.”

“We will make a quick visit to the vendors in the village for some oats and a few other things you require,” Lazarus said. “But as for leaving, I willna promise you anything.” He tucked the pelt under her chin. “Are you warm enough? Would you like some of the brew I made to ease your pain and help you to relax?”

“Nay. I willna have a problem falling asleep and want to keep my wits about me,” she said. It was becoming more difficult to remain cross with a man who was trying so hard to be sweet and kind.

Lazarus grabbed his hooded cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Try to get some rest. We willna be gone long.”

Sheena watched as Lazarus and Quinn left the hut. She’d rest, but with one eye open, and when they returned, she’d insist Lazarus take his leave.

Lazarus stepped outside, pausing to draw in a deep breath of fresh air. Going into town was risky, but he’d promised the lad and they were in desperate need of supplies. “Have you had any luck catching fish in the stream?”

Quinn shook his head. “I like fishing, but Sheena doesna let me go near the creek alone. She’s afraid I might slip in and drown. Sometimes I’m sure she thinks I’m still a wee babe.”

“Your sister is only looking out for your welfare, lad. We will set some rabbit snares before we go to town, then try our luck at fishing on the way home.” Lazarus tugged the hood of his cloak lower on his brow. “Best we make haste. I’d like to return before Sheena wakes up.”

After setting two traps in the woods behind the hut, Lazarus and Quinn headed to town. He found the lad’s nonstop, lighthearted chatter amusing, but as they approached the village gate, a strong sense of foreboding washed over him.

Every time he visited Berwick, something happened, and Lazarus hoped this day would prove uneventful. He’d remain in the shadows as much as possible, reducing his risk of being seen. He’d narrowly escaped being captured by French soldiers the day he’d rescued Sheena and he planned to keep his head on a swivel. But if he should be recognized, he’d surrender without a fight. He’d do nothing that might jeopardize Quinn’s safety. He clutched the Celtic cross he wore around his neck and said a quick prayer, asking the Lord to guide their way and protect them.

“Do you think we’ll have enough coin to buy some sweetened nuts?” Quinn asked. “I tasted one once at a village fair. The vendor let us sample them, hoping we’d make a purchase. But we dinna have enough money for what Sheena called frivolous things. I know she would enjoy them. And it might help to make her feel better.”

“We’ll have to see. Your sister is right. Getting necessary supplies must take priority, but you never know,” Lazarus replied, smiling. “While in the village, you must stay close to me at all times, and when I say it is time to leave, you must mind.” He glanced down at his monk’s robe, wishing he had a tunic and trews, making him less conspicuous.

“I will.” Quinn led the way through the town gates, then dashed toward the vendor carts.

Lazarus raced to catch up, then grabbed Quinn’s shoulder, halting the lad in his tracks. “I told you to stay close. If you’re not going to listen, we’ll return home right now.”

Quinn lowered his gaze and kicked at a rock, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “I’m sorry. But when I saw the sweets, I got excited. I willna run off again. I promise.”

Lazarus could understand Quinn’s enthusiasm, and the lad knew nothing about his risk of being captured by the French Guard, but he needed him to stay close. “See that you dinna dart off again.” He faced the vendor. “We came to town for oats and a few other supplies, but how much for a small sack of sweetened nuts?”

The merchant scratched his chin, then smiled at Quinn. “If you buy your other supplies from my brother’s cart, I’ll throw in a few nuts for a very good price.” He pointed to the vendor next to him. “It is a family business and we share the profits.”

“Can we?” Quinn folded his hands as if in prayer and peered up at Lazarus, while doing his best to keep from bouncing up and down.

Lazarus wandered over to the other cart and glanced at the man’s wares and produce. “I suppose his prices are as good as any.” The quicker they made their purchases and could be on their way home, the better.

The second vendor cocked his head and studied Lazarus. “Are these for the abbey?”

“Nay. Why do you ask?”

“It is odd to see a monk in town with a lad in tow. Is he an orphan?” the man asked. “I’ve heard the monks take in strays.”

Lazarus glared back at the man, his heartless comment hitting a nerve. “Bairns who have lost their parents are na strays. They’re people with the same needs and feelings as any other. It just so happens, his older sister is ill and I offered to escort him to town.”

The man held his hands up in front of him. “I meant no offense. I was merely asking. There have been some French soldiers in the village of late, inquiring about the clerics who live in and around Berwick. They are looking for escaped fugitives, and said to be wary of men posing as priests and monks.”

Lazarus focused on the peddler’s cart rather than looking him in the eye. “I have no knowledge of any such men at Ayton Abbey. I have lived there since I was orphaned and left for dead following the Battle of Berwick-upon-Tweed.”

“A dark day in Scottish history,” the vendor said.

“Aye, it was.” Lazarus quickly changed the subject. “I’ll need some oats, several turnips, and an onion.” He paused, then turned to the first vendor. “And a small sack of sugared nuts.” He nodded at Quinn. “Pay the man.”

Quinn opened his money pouch, plucked out pieces of silver, then placed them on the second vendor’s palm. “I hope this is enough. My sister has been ill and I want to make a gift of the sweets.” He nibbled on his lower lip as the man counted the coins.

“Aye, you have plenty and some to spare.” He handed the change back to Quinn, then quickly gathered the purchased items and gave the bundle to Lazarus. “I hope there are no hard feelings.”

“None. But in future, I hope you’ll think before you pass judgement or speak ill of those less fortunate.” Lazarus tucked his purchases under his arm, then glanced down at Quinn. “Let’s be off. Your sister is awaiting your return.”

“Dinna forget your nuts.” The first vendor held a small canvas bag. “I threw in a few extras to make up for my brother’s loose tongue. This way the lad can have some and give the rest to his ailing sister.”

Quinn snatched the sweets and held them protectively against his chest. “Thank you.”

“That was kind of you,” Lazarus acknowledged. “I have no doubt he will enjoy them.”

As they turned to leave, Lazarus stopped dead in his tracks when he came face-to-face with a man wearing the attire of a French Guard—a sight he’d seen often during his incarceration in the palace prison and something he would never forget.

“
Bonjour
, friar.”

Lazarus’s mouth went dry when the guard spoke, then he quickly tucked his hands under his arms, hiding the Templar ring he wore and had forgotten to remove before heading into town.

“I see by your attire you are a monk. Might I ask your name?” the guard asked.

Lazarus lowered his gaze, his heart hammering. He had to think fast, but he would not risk putting Quinn in any danger. “I’m not sure why you wish to know, but I’m Brother Thomas,” he lied, hoping the Lord would forgive him, and that Quinn would not contradict him.

“Where are you headed, Brother Thomas?” The guard widened his stance, his hand resting over the hilt of his sword.

“He is taking me home to my sister,” Quinn piped up. “She has been caring for me since my mam died giving birth to me. Sheena has been ill and the brother was kind enough to bring me to town for supplies we need to tide us over until she recovers.”