Highlanders (14 page)

He strode out and mounted his horse. They were on the right path and would catch up with them. He only hoped it was before they reached the priest and made this man’s crime into something too difficult to correct. Dougal motioned to Niall and Shaw and they rode down to the packed dirt path...and on toward the village and his sister.

CHAPTER EIGHT

E
LIZABETH
PULLED
ANOTHER
piece off the roasted quail and put it on her wooden trencher. She did not realize how hungry she was until the innkeeper’s wife began putting plates on their table. The bird, a thick stew of mutton and vegetables, another with cheese and bread. All smelled delicious and could not be resisted after the plain oatcakes of this morn.

A younger woman, mayhap the innkeeper’s daughter, hovered around Jamie, filling his cup with ale as soon as he drank some and offering him
whatever
he needed. It did not take too much thinking to understand what she offered and only after several dark glares did the girl go away and tend to others.

Jamie did not seem to notice her untoward attentions. His gaze moved between his cup, the plates of food and his own trencher. He hardly spared her a glance, so lost in thought he was. So, deciding that she would rather face his anger than this polite attitude, she spoke to him of the one topic neither had mentioned.

“I wonder what happened to Ciara.”

“Ciara?” He drank deeply from his cup.

“Just because you—we—left, it does not mean that she married or will marry Tavis.” She sipped from her own cup and then added, “Or that the earl would permit such a marriage.”

James studied her then, before answering. “I had not thought of that. Tavis would not be a suitable choice for a woman of such wealth and connections.”

“Nor am I one for a man such as you.”

He let out a breath then and met her gaze directly for the first time they’d lain together and he discovered her secret. “Nay, you would not be someone considered when my parents were looking for a suitable bride.” He took her hand then and entwined their fingers, sending tiny bursts of pleasure and sadness through her. “But you are the woman I chose. We will make the best of this bad beginning.”

There was the problem—she did not want to make the best of this. That was what she would have done had James married Ciara. Elizabeth would have remained at home, mourned the loss of the man she loved and the forced loss of her closest friend. For in marrying, James and Ciara would ensure Elizabeth’s alienation from them. She would not have been able to bear watching them.

She thought that that situation would have been the worst thing to come from this three-sided relationship, but listening to James now, Elizabeth knew there was worse.

This would be worse—to marry the man she loved and wanted because he felt trapped. It would eventually change whatever love he felt for her into complacency and forbearance, one for the other. But what choice did she have now? What choice did he have? To act honorably and return her to Lairig Dubh, not married? To return to marry Ciara? Her head ached from the uncertainty of it all.

Her appetite fled her then, so she wiped her hands on the cloth given her and waited for James to finish eating. He asked the innkeeper’s wife to wrap the food that they did not eat so they could take it with them and she carried it off to do that. Elizabeth stood and watched as James got directions to where the priest lived. Once that was accomplished and a few of James’s coins paid for their meal, they walked out onto the road.

“It did not sound far,” she said.

“Not far at all. About a mile farther on that road,” he said, pointing out a smaller path that would lead out of the village, but in a different direction than the main one.

“Could we walk part of the way? I do not think I could on the back of a horse right now.”

He glanced overhead to gauge the position of the sun and how much daylight they had left before dusk would fall. There should be plenty of time, so he nodded and held out his hand. Though certain she wanted to rage at him, she accepted his hand in hers and they fell into step with the horse behind them.

They’d left the village, which was fading from sight behind them, but there was still no sign of the priest’s abode or the small church Lady MacLerie had mentioned was his. It could not be much farther.

Before they caught sight of anything in the thick forest that surrounded them, the sound of galloping horses grew louder. Someone or several people approached at a fast speed, though only the sound of it echoed yet. James released Elizabeth’s hand and drew the sword he’d placed next to the saddle. He wore a lethal dagger in his boot, if needed, but he hoped this was someone anxious to find the priest. Kin or kith near death and in need of the Last Rites?

Or not, for now he could see two horsemen riding toward them. Hoping she had not been seen, he pushed her toward the trees.

“Hide, Elizabeth,” he said, moving away from her to take any attention. “Now, lass. Hide.”

She hesitated for only a moment before fleeing into a thick stand of bushes just a few paces off the road. Once she hid from sight, James mounted and turned to face the men. From the color of their garments, they were dressed in the Highland manner and wore the MacLerie hunting plaids.

Fate...and the earl, it would seem, had caught up with them. James held the sword low and ready as the two men slowed and stopped near him.

“Where is she?” the red-haired one called out. “What have you done with Elizabeth?” Although his understanding and speaking of Gaelic was not the best, he comprehended the questions. Only when the man glared at him did he recognize him from a similar expression that Elizabeth often wore when angry.

“Dougal?”

“Aye, Murray. I am Dougal MacLerie. And I ask you again, what have you done to my sister?”

Before he could answer, another man approached from the other direction and positioned himself to block any attempt at escape. Even if he wanted to try, the man held a bow with an arrow nocked and ready and aimed at him. Hemmed in, he had no place to go. He heard her moving through the bushes just before she appeared at the edge of the road.

“Dougal! What are you doing?” she called out to her brother first. “Niall! Put down that bow!”

Elizabeth stood with her hands on her hips and that mutinous expression that mirrored the one her brother yet wore. James noticed that neither answered her or took their eyes off of him. He lowered his sword slightly and waited.

It was not long in coming. A nod from Dougal sent the man closest to him riding at James. But he was not the target—Elizabeth was, and he was too far from her to stop it. The warrior leaned over and scooped her up, tossing her over his legs in spite of the fight she gave. With one arm across her back to hold her there, the man turned his horse and rode away. She was still screaming—curses now—as they disappeared from sight over the rise in the road.

She was not in danger, but James was certain he was.

Dougal and Niall stayed in position, on either side of him, so he could not defend himself or fight one of them without the other being free to attack him. So, he waited to see what they had planned.

Niall remained some distance away when Dougal launched his attack. Charging him directly, James was forced to turn and ride toward Niall. As he did, Niall aimed the bow and James knew he would be struck in the leg by it. He stopped his horse and jumped from it, using it as cover while Dougal approached, driving his horse away.

Breathing heavily, James stood in the middle of the road awaiting his fate. Would they kill him now? The murderous look in Dougal’s eyes said aye. Niall seemed to be waiting for Dougal to act, for he never moved from his place or took his aim off his target. James took a deep breath as Dougal charged him now, for there was no hope of outrunning a man on a horse. At the last moment, he ducked low and turned away, but Dougal freed his foot from the stirrup and kicked him to the ground.

James’s landed facedown in the dirt and before he regained his feet, Dougal was there, sword in hand and murder in his eyes, ready to strike him down with the lethal Highland claymore he carried.

“Dougal,” Niall said. James had not seen the other man’s approach, but he sat on his horse just a few yards away. “Your orders.”

“Aye, Niall. I know the earl’s orders.” Dougal spit on the ground then. “He’s to be brought back alive to Lairig Dubh.” Dougal turned toward Niall and tossed the huge sword to him. Niall caught it with ease and nodded to Dougal. “I do not need my sword to show this cur that he should not have involved my sister in his plans.” Dougal climbed down from his horse and handed the reins to Niall, too. “Now, outlander swine, let me show you how a Highlander answers insult.”

No more words were spoken. Once Dougal launched at him, James could barely think. It felt like the man had eight arms and legs. The blows came from every direction and James recognized the pure fury in the attack. He’d held his own while fighting Tavis, but Tavis did not have righteous anger in his soul as Dougal did.

* * *

A
FTER
THE
FIRST
punches and kicks, Dougal slowed the attack. No need to rush the punishment this dog would get at his hands. Once Murray’s vision was blocked by the blood pouring from a gash on his head and from the swelling from several of Dougal’s punches to his face, Dougal taunted him. Pushing him down from behind, he ground his face into the dirt of the road and punched him in the back.

There would be bruises aplenty on the morrow.

Oh, he was not unscathed but at least he would be standing when this was over. Only when Niall called out his name, did he stop. He trusted his friend to call a halt before the man died. After one more very satisfying punch to his face, Dougal walked away.

He took the skin of water from his horse and after taking a mouthful of it to rinse out the blood, he dowsed his head and face with some. Then he washed Murray’s blood from his knuckles and hands. Niall brought Murray’s, or rather the earl’s, horse over and together they threw the unconscious man over the saddle, tying his hands and legs to each other under the horse’s belly to keep him in place.

As they rode to catch up with Shaw and Elizabeth, who would be waiting north of the village, Dougal wondered what the earl would do with the man...and with his sister. It was near full-dark by the time they reached the agreed-to place, but Shaw had a fire built and was waiting for them. They dismounted and walked closer, seeing the cuts and scrapes all over Shaw’s face and neck and hands.

“What happened?” Dougal asked, glancing around the clearing.

“Your sister did not wish to leave,” Shaw said, touching one ugly gash on his neck.

“Where is she?” Dougal could hear noises but could not see Elizabeth.

“Over there,” Shaw said. “It seemed the best way to keep her and myself safe.” Dougal followed him across the clearing where Shaw led.

Elizabeth sat at the base of a tree, her hands and feet tied together and rope binding her to the tree. A length of cloth was tied around her face, gagging her mouth, though not stopping her from trying to scream at him. Dougal knelt in front of her and removed the cloth.

“Are you hurt, Elizabeth? Did he harm you?” He searched her face for any sign of injury from whatever Murray did to her.

“Shaw did not hurt me, Dougal. I am calmed down now, you can untie me.” She lifted her arms as much as the other ropes allowed, clearly expecting him to cut her free. He did nothing.

“I meant Murray. His note said he kidnapped you from Lairig Dubh. Did he...?” Dougal paused, thinking of the smell of the shieling. “Did he force himself on you?”

“You are a fool if you think he forced himself on me, Dougal. I did not think you a fool before.” Her eyes narrowed. “Untie me. Let us go.”

“I have my orders, from the earl. We are to bring you back to Lairig Dubh.”

She stared at him then and said nothing.

“Tell me, Elizabeth,” he insisted. “The earl will want to know what happened.”

When her chin lifted just a bit and her lower lip edged out, he knew he’d lost this battle. Stubborn to the core, she did as she pleased and answered to no one when she wore this expression. His anger drained from him and, pushing her tangled hair from her eyes, he asked his sister what he needed to know.

“Are you well, lass? Just tell me that much,” he said quietly so that none of the others heard.

The tears welling in her eyes worried him, but she blinked them away quickly and nodded. Turning away, she would not say anything else. Until she noticed Murray’s body strung over the horse.

“Dougal, what have you done now?” she said in a tone that nearly shouted at him. “Untie me.” She began to fight the ropes and, with the way Shaw tied his knots, it would only make them tighten more. “I beg you, Dougal. Niall. Shaw.” She looked at each of them. “Let me see to him. Please.”

Dougal just shook his head and walked away from her. Her reactions to seeing Murray as they’d left him explained much to him—more than he wished to know. Elizabeth had not been kidnapped. She had not been forced. She had been a willing participant in this folly and she would need to pay a steep price for contributing to her loss of honor yet again. The earl would determine that once they got back home.

And she was mistaken if she thought she gave the orders. With a nod of his head, he directed the others to follow him. In a few minutes, they’d untied Murray, laid him on the ground on the other side of the clearing and bound his hands and feet so he could not move when he did wake. When he glanced in her direction, he found her straining against the ropes to see what they were doing.

They would stay here for the night. Now that they had Murray, they did not have to rush back to Lairig Dubh.

Only after he tossed a blanket over Elizabeth and took one for himself, assigning each of his men a guard shift through the night, did he allow himself to feel the exhaustion and the pain that coursed through his body. A few hours of rest and he’d be fine. With a clearer head, he would deal with Elizabeth and her lover in the morn.