Highlander's Ransom (3 page)

This time she did scream, or at least started to. As
the sound left her throat, he clamped one of those huge hands over her mouth,
stifling the sound. By now, all eyes had turned to her, and she quickly
registered the range of expressions on the other Scottish warriors’ faces.
Surprise flitted across most, to be quickly covered in unreadable masks. They
waited for what their apparent leader would do.

“What have we here?” the giant in front of her said in
English with a heavy Scottish bur.

One of the other warriors approached the man holding
her and leaned in, murmuring something that sounded like a question in Gaelic.

The giant’s eyes flickered, and then a slight smile
touched his lips, but not his eyes. She tried to draw back from the dangerous
look on this savage’s face, but he held her fast with one hand circling her
upper arm and the other still clamped over her mouth.

The giant responded in Gaelic to the man who had
spoken to him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that she would
have to come up with another word for him besides “giant,” because as her eyes
again flitted over the other men present, she registered that they were all tall,
hulking warriors.

With a nod of his head, he sent the rest of the men
back to their business. Despite their apparent interest in this turn of events,
they went back to cleaning their blades, securing their horses, and dragging
bodies out of the road, except for the man who had spoken softly to the one
holding her. He remained at the apparent leader’s side.

The two men made eye contact and seemed to be
communicating something to each other. Alwin stood trembling, her blood still
rushing through her veins. What would they do with her next? She would probably
die, but by God, she would not go down without a fight. Without waiting to
consider her actions, she sank her teeth hard into the hand that was still
clapped over her mouth. Just as she felt his grip release slightly from her
face, she brought her knee up swiftly between his legs. She heard a groan, but
had already turned to flee from the road and into the cover of the trees. She
sprinted as hard as she could through the forest, even though she could already
hear her pursuers giving chase. It would be futile, she knew. Even as she ran,
she waited for the blade she was sure was behind her to sink into her back.
Let
them earn my death
, she thought as she heard them closing in.

Chapter 4

Robert had been shocked speechless for a moment at the
sight of the inside of the cart. It had been empty except for a shadowy figure
crumpled up and trying to scramble away. When he had dragged the figure into
the dim light, he received another blow. Looking up at him had been a beautiful
lass. Her creamy white skin had been flushed with fear, her light brown tresses
tumbled and askew, and her eyes—those wide grey eyes—had gazed at him with such
awe and terror. She was slight in frame, but he could see that she was a young
woman, not a girl; her gentle curves were noticeable even through the cloak
that lay slightly off kilter on her shoulders. He had been so startled by not
only her presence, but also her beauty, that he couldn’t piece the situation
together until Burke had pointedly asked about the rumors they had been
hearing. A few weeks back, he and his spies had begun to hear murmurs of a
union being planned for Warren and some English lass. Robert knew that if the
whispers were true, it could mean trouble. If Warren had managed to ally
himself through marriage, it could be another sign that war was imminent.

This lass’s presence fit the puzzle pieces
together—Warren’s men providing a guard, the whispers about a marriage
arrangement, even the underhanded way she was being transported. Warren was up
to something. That thought had made Robert glare fiercely at the maiden, and he
watched as the color drained from her face. He had felt her tremble and nearly
faint, too. Good. Her fear would hopefully make her easy to handle. A plan had
started to form in his mind, and he had looked to Burke for consultation.

Just then, though, the little hellion had sunk her
teeth into his hand! At the same moment, he took a swift kick to the bollocks,
and had toppled over backward into Burke. The two stumbled, but righted
themselves quickly. Robert caught a flash of brown cloak disappearing into the
woods off of the road, and he growled his frustration. His men, noticing what
had happened, looked to him for direction. He waved them off, trying to hide
his ire.

“If I can’t hold on to one little lass, I’m hardly fit
to lead you all,” he said gruffly. That brought a few chuckles from his men,
but Burke refused to stand down.

“I’ll go with you. She might pull that trick on you
again, and we can’t have our Laird unable to produce an heir,” he said with the
faintest hint of teasing in his voice. Robert scowled at that, but let Burke
follow as he took off in the direction the lass had taken. They went on foot;
the horses wouldn’t be able to maneuver as easily in the thick underbrush. And
with any luck, neither would the lass.

Alwin stumbled as her dress caught on a shrub. She
could feel the energy which had given her the strength to escape just moments
before begin to seep from her body. She simply couldn’t keep running at this
speed for very much longer. There was still some distance between her and her
pursuers, but she could hear that they continued to give chase. She wondered
fleetingly if they were toying with her, keeping just enough distance between
themselves and her to give her hope and hurry her flight. Was she wasting her
energy? She forced herself to keep her legs moving, despite the fatigue and
pain settling over her. What was the alternative? Sit down and wait for them to
kill her? That thought gave her another little burst of energy, and she kept
running deeper and deeper into the forest. She didn’t know where she was going,
and she didn’t care.

Just then, her slippered foot snagged on a root, and
she went tumbling to the ground. By the time she sat upright, she could see two
bright red splashes of cloth through the dense foliage moving toward her. She
tried to scramble to her feet, but faster than she though possible, the two men
had closed the distance.

Suddenly the one she had bitten and kicked dove
forward and tackled her to the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs. He
pinned her with his body weight, and managed to wrap up both of her wrists in
one hand. He yanked her hands upward and held them to the ground above her
head. His warm breath fanned her face as she struggled to inhale underneath his
weight.

“Stop,” he commanded curtly.

“I’ll never give in,” she panted between gasps for
breath.

She seemed to confirm something for him when she
spoke, and a cold, menacing look settled over his face. After a moment, he
turned his head toward the other man with him, who stood to the side.

“Prepare rope and cloth.”

The man’s bur was even more noticeable now. Alwin
didn’t understand at first why he had spoken to the other man in English, but
then it dawned on her that he had wanted her to understand what he was saying.
He wanted her to know that he would kill her now. She struggled even harder
beneath the giant warrior.

The other man nodded, and headed back through the
forest toward where Alwin guessed the skirmish had taken place. The man on top
of her stood up abruptly, dragging her upright with him by her wrists. She
tried to twist out of his grasp, but that only seemed to annoy him. Without a
word, he hoisted her up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She
shrieked in protest and slammed his back with her fists, but it seemed to have
no effect. His arms held her in place like iron vices, and her blows appeared
to bother him no more that the tickle of a feather. He began to trudge back the
way she had run, and sensing the hopelessness of her struggles after several
minutes, she grew still. Her body began to tremble as she acknowledged to
herself that she would not escape, and that her life was probably over.

The injuries inflicted from the flipped wagon and her
dash through the forest began to throb. She had scratches on her cheeks, hands,
and neck, and she felt deep bruises forming on her left hip and knee. Her feet
began to feel numb, blessedly, for she was sure that she had done some damage,
her thin slippers providing little protection against the forest floor. She
silently cursed her father and Lord Warren for agreeing that since she would
remain in the cart for the trip, she didn’t need winter boots. Tears formed in
her eyes as she felt herself swirling helplessly. She was at the mercy of these
savages, and from what she had heard, they didn’t grant mercy.

Her captor was silent, although she was sure he could
feel her trembling, and despite her best efforts, a few moans of pain,
frustration, and hopelessness escaped her as she jostled on his shoulder. After
what seemed like an eternity, she saw the forest floor give way to the road
beneath his boots. Just then, he tipped her down onto her feet, and her head
swam as the blood rushed behind her eyes. He held her steady, though,
preventing her from crumpling to the ground. Unfortunately, it meant that she
was face to face with him. She wanted to cast her eyes down so that he wouldn’t
see her tears, but his cold blue eyes pinned her in place. She thought for a
moment that she saw something flicker there, but it was replaced with ice so
quickly that she doubted herself.

He broke their gaze and nodded to someone behind her,
who handed him a length of rope and a strip of cloth. Her eyes widened on the
rope, and she realized they were going to hang her right there and then.
Although she longed to try to break free again, she knew it would never work a
second time. This man before her could overpower her and snap her neck with one
hand in the blink of an eye.

Fearing the answer, she asked in the strongest voice
she could muster, “What are you going to do with me?”

He glanced at her but didn’t answer. Instead, he asked
brusquely, “What is your name?”

She hesitated, but decided that it wouldn’t make a
difference. What did this savage care that she was a lady, and from a
respectable family as well? He probably hadn’t even heard of her family name.
On a shaky breath, she managed, “Alwin. Lady Alwin Hewett.”

He frowned, drawing his dark brows together and down,
but then nodded. Taking the length of rope in his hand, he grabbed both of her
wrists and began tying them tightly together. She watched him, suddenly
uncertain that he meant to hang her. He looked up from her hands and met her
eyes again, pausing briefly. Slowly, he wrapped the cloth over her mouth,
reaching around her to tie it behind her head. Finally, he spoke.

“We are taking you with us, lass. If you behave, no
harm will come to you. If not, well…I make no promises.”

With that, he turned away from her wide and teary eyes
and motioned for his giant warhorse to be brought over to him.

He turned to the rest of the men and barked something
in Gaelic that sounded like an order. They mounted and waited for him. He
smoothly slid into the saddle, then, with his giant hands under her arms,
pulled her up in front of him so that she too straddled his horse. He reached
around her waist and took hold of the reins, making a cage out of his muscular
arms. She could feel his legs give the animal a little nudge, and then they
were off.

Chapter 5

Robert couldn’t believe his luck. Warren’s betrothed!
And Hewett’s daughter, no less! He had hoped the supply wagon had held
household goods, or perhaps weapons at best, but this? He had no idea what he
had done to deserve such a blessing, but he thanked his lucky stars all the
same. She would be a powerful bargaining chip. Hewett, the old fool, and been
filling the air with his boasts of late about the dowry he had pulled together
for his only child, a beautiful daughter, or so he bragged. It was no surprise
that Warren had taken the bait. He doubted that Warren cared for the girl at
all, but if the price was right, the snake would likely marry a mule. The lass
pressed against him was certainly no mule, though. Her exceptional beauty must
have sweetened the deal for Warren. Again, the man’s pride controlled him; he
would want to be talked about at court for having a pretty lass on his arm.
Warren fancied himself an up-and-coming nobleman, and he went to a good deal of
trouble to advance himself—even at the cost of others’ lives, he thought with
disgust.

Warren would take the dowry money gladly, and the
beauty he could have on his arm at court was likely just an added bonus. Aye,
that would explain Warren’s willingness to align himself with the equally
greedy and manipulative, if slightly more foolish, Lord Henry Hewett. Robert
was familiar with the Hewett holding further south on the English side of the
border. Hewett was of aristocratic blood, and though his holding was small and
had almost no influence at court, he had amassed a fair bit of wealth in recent
years, mostly by overtaxing his tenants and being ruthlessly tight-fisted.

With his bride kidnapped, Robert was sure that Warren
would go to great lengths to secure her back into his possession in order to
save face—and collect the dowry. The man’s pride and greed would prove useful
to Robert for once.

Word would likely be reaching Warren soon of their
attack, and Robert doubted that the man would take it well. He and his men
would have to travel hard back to Sinclair land. They were still within reach
of Warren’s holding, and would be for several hours of hard riding. Hopefully
the relatively mild weather would hold and they would only have to deal with
rain and mud, not snow. The going would probably be tougher with the lass
along, though. Despite the fact that she had put up a hell of a fight, she was
a lady, and wouldn’t be used to such conditions. She appeared rather fragile as
well—or, perhaps that was the wrong word. Robert shifted his eyes to one of the
legs that was plastered against his, down to her small slippered foot bobbing
in front of his booted one in the stirrup. She was lithe, slim. Her bones were
delicate, but she had shown real grit in her attempted flight from him. He
frowned at her foot again. She was dresses all wrong for the travel they would
be doing. Those house slippers were already torn and soggy. He could only
imagine how frozen her toes must be. He glanced at the brown material of her dress,
which poked out from her cloak. It was finely made, but too thin for the
outdoors in winter. It was also not particularly showy. It looked like Hewett’s
daughter was also subject to his tight-fistedness, despite the alliance her
existence allowed him to make with Warren.