My Seductive Highlander (21 page)

She held her breath to keep from sobbing aloud as she watched them shove and prod Graham out of the clearing and push him through the trees. Angus's captor alternately dragged then propelled stumbling Angus along behind them.

Taking care to remain well hidden, Lilia angled around, following them through the trees as best she could. She chewed her lip so hard, she soon tasted blood. Oddly enough, the coppery tang calmed her, setting her sense of revenge into place like shuffling a deck of cards and preparing to deal.

I'll fire portal Granny. She'll know what we can do.
Lilia nodded to herself, keeping her gaze locked on the path between the trees—the path where they'd just shoved and dragged the men out of view. Tracking them by their sounds, she worked her way through the woods, hiding among the underbrush and behind knotted clusters of saplings until she'd caught up with the group.

Her heart ached as she watched Graham fight them, thrashing his body from side to side and doing his damnedest to ram them with his bloodstained head.

Stop fighting them. I'll get help. Just go with them before they kill you. Please—stop fighting them and wait for me.
She willed her thoughts and fears out to him, praying he'd somehow hear her.

Graham crashed to the ground, bloodied chest bouncing hard against the rocky terrain. As if he had in fact heard her, he twisted to face her, his cheek grinding into the earth as he fixed her with a narrow-eyed gaze. His split and bloodied lips barely moved across his clenched teeth, but Lilia clearly read the words he mouthed over and over until his captors yanked him back to his feet, looped a leather strap about his throat and forehead, and jerked him toward the horses.

Go,
he'd mouthed.
Go home.

Like hell I will.
Lilia sank back into the trees and crouched down. Time to wait. Time to plan.
This isn't over.

Lilia circled another lap around the cold ashes of the spent fire. How the hell had things gone bad so quickly? Just last night, she'd been in Graham's arms, drifting off to sleep while watching the dancing flames of their campfire. Contented. Peaceful. Genuinely happy for the first damn time in her life. And now…this.

She squinted up through the gently swaying branches of the trees, noting the position of the sun winking through the foliage. It hadn't been long enough since the group of marauders had ridden past the crest of the hill. If she built another fire now, the Buchanan bastards might spot it and decide to turn back. A column of smoke rising from the woods would be a dead giveaway. But she needed fire—no—she needed red-hot coals—badly. She couldn't reach Granny through the fire portal without them.

Her hands knotted into shaking fists.
I hate waiting.
She rubbed her knuckles against her thighs, squeezing tighter as a nauseating combination of rage, fear, and
this can't be happening
churned through her. Maybe it was good she had to wait. She needed to calm down. The longer she paced around what a few hours ago had been a loving nest of sensual contentment, the more her plans to save Graham and Angus would solidify into cold, hard tactical certainty.

Let the fire go, dearie. Those Buchanan fools are travelin' slow—watchin' close fer any sign of ye. And they've taken pains to leave a few of their own behind. The hateful bastards are hidden on the far side of the cliffs. I heard the goat-swivin' curs say so m'self.

Lilia whirled about, searching the clearing for the voice she'd never thought to hear again—except maybe in her dreams. The shaded glade was empty. Eerily quiet. Lilia eased forward across the carpet of moss, stopping at the edge of the softly rippling water. She stared down at her scowling reflection. “Stop it. Now is not the time to lose it,” she hissed at the rippling image.

Yer no' losin' it, silly child.
A gentle breeze swirled about Lilia, riffling through her hair as though attempting to console her.
Did I no' tell ye I'd check in on ye from time t'time?

Eliza's voice paused, making Lilia think that maybe she hadn't really heard the feisty old woman after all.

I'll be movin' on soon but I wanted to have a wee word wi' ye before I left. O'course I'll pop in every now and then. Ne'er ye fret about that.

Lilia slowly backed away from the pool's edge, swallowing hard and breathing deep as she looked about the clearing. Keeping her voice low, partly to keep from being found and partly because she felt more than a little odd talking to thin air, Lilia had to argue. “But I can't see you. How do I know I'm not just cracking up?”
I can't believe I'm talking out loud to a figment of my imagination.

Did ye no' always tell me I'd be in yer heart?

Lilia pulled her jacket tighter about her. August or not, she was suddenly quite chilled. Maybe it really was Eliza. “Yes. I did say that—many times,” she whispered.

Ye hear me in yer thoughts because ye have me in yer heart—and because ye have the sight. There is that as well. After all, ye are a Sinclair, child.

Emotions churned and the threat of tears burned her eyes. Lilia swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. She didn't need this now. Eliza's loss was still a raw open wound that would have to be tended to later.
I've got to focus on saving Graham.
“Unless you can tell me how to rescue Graham and Angus, I'm really not up to having a chat right now. I'm sorry. I just can't.”

Ye ken as well as I what ye need do.

“I need a fire so I can talk to Granny.” Lilia paced alongside the pool, hands fisted at her sides. She stopped walking and glared up into the treetops, forcing herself to continue speaking in a soft whisper when she really wanted to shout. “You told me I shouldn't build one because the Buchanans had left some watchmen behind. So what am I supposed to do now?”

The familiar sound of Eliza's old habit of clearing her throat when she was attempting to steer conversations where she wished them to go echoed through Lilia's mind.

I appreciate yer lookin' up when ye speak t'me—much nicer than lookin' downward.

Lilia was in no mood for Eliza's sense of humor, although it did affirm that maybe it really was her recently passed guardian chattering inside her head. “So what's my plan, Eliza? Sneak up on their camp? Steal their horses? What?”

See? I kent ye'd already thought up a fine ploy. Now…get on with it. I've much t'do but I wanted t'see ye on yer way before I left ye for a bit. I kent ye'd be finer than the King's crown, but I had t'be certain. Ye make me proud, lass, and I ken yer fine stubbornness will always see ye through.

Steal their horses and then haul ass to MacKenna Keep for reinforcements. One rider could cover a lot of ground fast. Faster than a group of men dragging two prisoners behind their horses. Prisoners they dared not kill for fear of their chieftain's wrath.

Buchanan lands were situated quite a bit farther south of the MacKenna stronghold. Graham had told her so when they were planning the jump back. If she could make it to MacKenna Keep in a day's ride, there'd be plenty of time to round up the men she needed to rescue Graham and kick some Buchanan ass.

“I don't suppose you'd be willing to point the way to the Buchanans' spy camp?” Lilia waited, listening hard. The only sound she heard was the gurgling water from the spring and the wind rushing through the trees. “
Now?
You pick now to move on?” Still no response from Eliza.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Lilia muttered as she yanked her backpack out of the tangled curtain of ivy then carefully draped the vines back in place over Graham's pack and the supplies she couldn't carry. Time to travel light and fast.

She paused before taking up her walking stick. She didn't really need it but she just couldn't leave it behind. She rubbed her thumb over the two intertwined hearts Graham had carved just above the smoothed handgrip. He had carefully stripped away all the rough bark for the sake of her palms, carved the hearts, then placed it in her hands with a loving kiss. The gnarled walking stick had become a precious gift. Tears threatened again, setting off a prickling burn in her eyes. With a hard shake of her head, Lilia hurried into the woods, stepping carefully with as little commotion as possible. No time for tears. Not now.

Rather than take the easier path back to the cliff's summit, she'd stay to the brush-filled ravines and fissures. She hated the delay of the rougher route but she had to stay hidden—at least until dark. She moved as quietly as she could, constantly straining to hear any sound that might signal she wasn't alone. The only emotional energy her senses detected was her own tormented misery.

Eliza had said the Buchanan men were camped on the far side of the cliffs.
I wish she'd said how many.
As the shadows grew longer, Lilia moved faster, changing her path to the easier footing that was now sheltered by the late afternoon shadows.

By dusk, she'd reached the point where the time portal had spit them out. She paused, crouching down between the rough sides of a pair of fallen rocks, and surveyed the area. There didn't appear to be anyone about, but the dirt of the clearing was covered with more bootprints than would've been made by Graham and Angus. Deep boot prints. Heavy steps. After a deep drink from her water bottle, she closed her eyes and leaned against one of the cold gray stones. She needed to concentrate. If she was close enough, she'd be able to
feel
the Buchanan guards.

Nothing stirred—even the wind had died with the setting sun.

Beyond the cliffs.
That's where Eliza had said the watchmen were camped. Which cliffs and how far? And how many men were there?
Dammit, Eliza.

Frustration. Impatience. Jealousy. Envy.
For the first time since Graham's capture, the hint of a smile tickled the corners of Lilia's mouth.
There you are. Lead me to you. Keep feeling.
Ever so quietly she scanned the area as she moved forward with painstakingly slow, careful movements.

Lilia tilted her head and listened. A low humming of deep voices. Farther west. The men couldn't be very far past the ridge where the time portal had opened.

“Ne'er again, says I. Ne'er again.” One man. Sounded younger with the husky up-and-down pitch of raging hormones.

“Ne'er again what?” A sharp intake of breath and a loud yawn. Another man. Definitely older. And bored.

Lilia crept closer, tightening her hold on her staff just in case. It wasn't the best weapon in the world but it was damn sure better than nothing.

“I ain't ne'er again stayin' back t'keep watch. Gonna make'm cast lots to choose the one that has ta do it. Ain't fair t'me just cause I'm the youngest.”

A deep chuckle and then another loud yawn. “Go check the horses, boy.”

Peeping through the dense brush, Lilia searched the cleared area the men had scraped out in the middle of an overgrown dip in the mountainside. Their camp was tiny, barely big enough for two. No fire. Apparently they didn't wish to be found any more than she did.

The heavier man, balding with a scraggly fringe of gray sprouting down around his ears, settled deeper into the plaid wrapped around his body, then tucked his chin to his chest. “Ye've got first watch. Wake me after a few hours.”

“Why've I got first watch? Ye stayed here drinkin' all the ale whilst I searched for the witch.” A knob-kneed youth, pimply-faced and crowned with carrot-red hair, kicked the boot of the older man lounging against a tree.

The reclining man didn't even open his eyes, just resettled his folded arms across his chest. “Ye kick me boot again and ye'll ne'er wake up the next time ye choose t'close yer eyes.”

Lilia could see the boy's oversized Adam's apple skitter up and down his long neck in a hard swallow. Leeriness rolled off the boy in thick waves. Lilia smiled. Breathing came a bit easier with the knowledge that the odds were in her favor. The kid was unsure of himself. Inexperienced.
Stealing the horses should be easier.

The frustrated lad stood there a moment longer, staring down at the now snoring man as though struggling to decide if it was worth the risk to challenge his elder. His insecurities finally won out. With knotted fists shaking at his sides, the boy jerked away and stomped out of the clearing.

Lilia waited a moment longer, closely watching the sleeping man. Something wasn't right. The emotions he was sending out were too strong and active. Sleepy drunks didn't ping her senses with the alertness of a predator.

Just as I thought. You old faker.
The wily old warrior barely lifted his head, a smug look wrinkling his grubby face as his narrow-eyed gaze followed the boy. A quiet chuckle shifted him as he settled back down and closed his eyes.

Lilia waited until she was certain the man slept for real this time. She preferred not to tangle with a seasoned warrior. She could easily handle the boy. Carefully skirting the clearing, her steps were muffled by years of dried pine needles carpeting the ground in thick layers. She homed in on the boy's fiery emotions and his steady stream of hushed cursing.

“Lazy old bastard. I'll show 'im what for one o' these days.” The boy stumbled and fell against one of the horses. The massive beast barely shifted, swished his long black tail, and flipped it in the boy's face. “Leave off!” The boy shoved the horse as he righted himself to his feet. “Dunno how the hell I'm s'posed t'check on the damn animals. Can't see a thing without fire nor torch!”

You got that right.
The fading light wasn't exactly helping her observe her prey either. Lilia crept closer.
Come on, kid. Get somewhere and steal a snooze. You know you want to.
The more she watched the sullen youth, the more she realized that wasn't about to happen. The boy's angst was keeping him wide awake. Lilia's own angst was keeping her on edge too. Precious time was slipping away. She needed those damn horses. Now.

Okay, kid. I really didn't want to do it this way.
Lilia rolled the solid hardwood staff in her hands. Time to help laddie boy take a nap. She'd been penalized in several Highland competitions for knocking out her opponents when her temper had gotten the best of her. She had a reputation for beaning them in the back of the head—much like she'd done to Graham after he'd spanked her. All her competitors had learned never to turn their backs on her when she was mad. But the unsuspecting Buchanan teenager wouldn't know that.

The boy shuffled toward her, glaring down at the ground as he kicked up clumps of pine needles in front of him. He paused within a few feet of her, stopping right in front of a large chunk of limestone. He stared at the stone for a long moment, stole a quick glance back at the horses, then stood on tiptoe and peered in the direction of the clearing where the old man's guttural snoring was rattling through the trees.

Lilia sank down lower and held her breath.
Turn around, kid. Sit on the rock. Make this easier for both of us.
She didn't want to kill the boy—just knock him senseless long enough to get away with both the horses.

The red-haired lad sniffed, wiped his runny nose with the back of one hand, then plopped down in front of the rock and leaned back against it. With one last glance toward the direction of camp, he flopped his long legs wider apart, shoved his plaid to one side, and softly groaned out a loud sigh.

Oh my God. Are you kidding me?

The up-and-down motion of the young man's pale right arm shining in the moonlight told Lilia exactly what he was doing.

She silently rose to her feet and choked up on the walking stick as if stepping up to bat.
Hate to do this to you, dude. But I've gotta go before you come.
She swung hard, making solid contact with the back of the unsuspecting youth's skull. Lilia jumped to one side and drew back again in case she'd missed her mark. Mr. MacSulky might not be a man yet but he was well on his way. But there was no need for another hit. The boy went limp, falling to one side with his dick still in his hand.