The Highlander's Curse (3 page)

One of the kilted gunmen slid the
barrel of his rifle into his kilt as the driver and passengers—a man and a
woman, both decked out in full Scottish regalia—stood on the muddy road, their
clothes already soaked from the pouring rain. He had begun pulling luggage from
the racks on top of the carriage, opening them and ransacking their things. I
squinted at the whole scene unfolding in front of me, a million thoughts
filling my mind at once: One being that I wondered just what the man holding me
was wearing. I had a feeling I knew. My second thought: What did he want with
me?

Kilts and violence. You ended
up in the wrong part of Scotland, Scar.

“These will fetch a hefty price,”
the pillaging gunman grunted, holding up a gown for his partner to see. “Look
at the quality.”

“Aye. And where are ye travelin’
tae, then?” the other asked, regaining everyone’s attention, though it was hard
for me to hear over the sound of the pounding rain, the beat of my heart, and
the man’s breath in my ear. Not to mention the fast way they talked. I’d had a
hard time understanding them even when they’d dumbed it down for me at the
airport and spoke slowly. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to do at this
point: Get the attention of the people on the road, including the
rifle-wielding Scotsmen; or stay with the lunatic holding me?

What if he was the one who’d
kidnapped me?

The gunman who’d rummaged through
the couple’s things carelessly tossed the luggage on top of the coach, and
approached them again with his rifle in hand. “Get in the carriage,” he
ordered, flicking the barrel in that direction.

The man and woman did as he’d
demanded and were shut inside with one of the gunmen. The other bandit kept his
gun trained on the driver as he stepped up onto the coach and took the reins.

“Now wait a minute,” the driver
huffed indignantly. “That’s
ma
carriage.”

“Nae longer.” The one that held
the reins pulled his trigger, the blast deafening as the coachman fell to the
ground.

I screamed behind the man’s palm,
pushing away from him with all my strength as the horses lurched forward, and
the coach disappeared around the bend. He pulled me back toward him, stopping
me from making any movement at all, let alone race down to the road to check on
the driver.

“Woman, be quiet,” he growled. “Nae
doubt there are more o’ those bloody heathens nearby. Dae ye want us tae all be
deed?”

“
Muwenededonthe
,” I
mumbled from behind his palm.

“I said be silent, woman. I’ll
nae let ye get either o’ us killed, aye?”

I stopped fighting and slumped,
still tight against his body. I only recognized the sound of my own breathing
and the feeling of my limbs shaking. Oh, and the tears that trailed down my
cheeks.

I couldn’t have just seen that. A
coldblooded shooting? Let alone by people who looked like they were taking a
trip down Ye Olde History Lane a little too seriously? I mumbled against the
man’s palm again, only slightly calmer than I’d been minutes before.

“Ye’re goin’ tae be quiet?”

I nodded, and he hesitantly
peeled his fingers and palm from my face. I might have felt safer had he not
just moved his arm down to brace my chest and shoulders.

“We have to get down there,” I
repeated, this time without the muffling of his hand.

“Nae.”

Of course. Why would he care if
the driver was still alive or not? “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“There’s naethin’ I could hae
done. We’re on MacDougall land.”

“What does that matter?” I asked,
shifting against him. The man tightened his arms and I let out an irritated
breath. “Oh
let go.
”

“Ye’re nae goin’ tae try and run,
woman,” he warned, his rough Scottish brogue making it sound more like
wooman
.
“Nor make a peep louder than we’re speakin’ now.”

A single nod, and my captor’s
arms loosened before he backed away a single step. I turned, facing him, but my
eyes landed on a taught chest, which was barely concealed by a strip of plaid
cloth running from his waist up to one shoulder. I’d known he was huge from
when he’d held me against him, but imagining his size and seeing it were two
different things. I forced my gaze upward, startled to see a scowling face with
piercing blue eyes narrowed on me; a swollen, bloody nose; brown hair so dark
it almost looked black, and a square jaw that was heavily dusted with at least
a few days’ stubble. I took a step back, getting him the hell out of my
personal bubble—or getting out of his. The guy tensed at my movement, his broad
chest and shoulders appearing even bigger as he folded his arms. This was not
the man I’d seen in Lorne’s Pub, but that didn’t make him any less threatening.
Probably more so. Was that a freakin’ sword at his side?

“Dinna run,” he barked, his r’s
rolling heavily as he glared at me in warning.

I folded my arms in response,
giving him a scowling every bit as much as he was giving me. “Why didn’t you do
anything to help them?”

“No’ ma clan lands.” He shrugged.

“What does that matter?”

“What does that matt—where are ye
from?” he demanded, his brows drawn low. He looked me up and down, his face
taking on a look of horror at my Juicy t-shirt, short skirt, and legs. “And
what in Christ’s name are ye wearing?”

“I’m an American. And what the
hell does it matter what I’m wearing?”

He made a Scottish grunt. “An
American
,
is it? Aye, ye’re definitely no’ a Scot.” He turned away then and rubbed his
hands over his face. “And where are yer clothes, woman?”

Zero time was wasted at his
turned back. I whirled around, bolting toward the road, hopping over brush and
anything else that got in my way. I made it out of the trees and onto the
downward slope. And then, I wasn’t running anymore. I was tackled to the
ground, with a heavy body on top of me. I barely had time to register that
twigs and leaves were slapping me in the face before I was rolled onto my back,
and the Scot’s body pressed me to the ground. I screamed and brought my hand
up, intending to shove it into his already bleeding nose, but he cupped his
hand over my mouth and halted my hand with a tight grip that instantly numbed
my entire arm.

“Be
quiet
, lass. Did ye
nae hear what I said?”

I shook my head back and forth
until his hand left my mouth. “
Get off of me!
”

“Nae. Ye said ye wouldn’ae run,
and ye did.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t run, you
just told me not to.”

“And. Ye. Nodded,” he said
slowly.

“Of course I ran, ass wipe. Do
you really expect me to remain in the presence of a…a…barbarian?”

He laid on top of me for a few
seconds more, his scowl increasing before he pushed off of me, and stood to his
feet. “Barbarian, is it? So I should’ae left ye tae the bastards that killed
the driver down there? Left ye for deed rather than savin’ yer pretty little
arse?” He stabbed his fingers through his hair and flicked his gaze at me. “And
what does what I wipe ma arse wi’hae tae dae wi’anythin’?”

I sat up, picking leaves and
twigs out of my hair. My butt and back were freezing now, soaked through from
being thrown onto the wet ground by this monstrous brute. I got to my feet and
stared him down—or up, rather—as I brushed at my skirt.

“Ye move fast for a lass.” He
brought his hands up to his nose. “And I think ye broke ma nose. Verra lucky I
didnae kill ye.”

Holy shit.
I gaped and
stepped back from him again, trying to remember any other tricks I’d learned in
defense training.

“Nae, no’ from the nose. I was
hunting,” he added, evidently seeing my shock. “I was trackin’ animals, but I
had nae idea what was coming when ye crashed through the forest.” A smirk
formed across his face and his eyes lit up. “I thought ye were a
boar
.”

And what the crap was he saying
about me there? “Well, as I’m sure you can see, I’m not. Now, are you going to
keep me here or can I go?”

The Scotsman’s eyebrows rose into
his hairline. “Go? And where would ye be headin’ then? The only town nearby is
where those dirty bast…” He rubbed a hand over his neck. “Uh, where those men
live. Ye’re no’ a Scot, so I dinna imagine ye’re part o’ their clan.”

“Where is the next town then?
Where is Oban?”

He blinked. “Oban? Ne’er heard o’
it.”

“How have you never heard of it?
It’s like a big city. Have you maybe heard of Lorne’s Pub?” Scots liked to
drink.

“Big city?” he said quietly. “Lorne’s
Pub? I dinna ken the foolishness ye speak o’. Now, where are yer clothes?”

I peered down at my Juicy t-shirt
and skirt, and popped my eyebrows. “What does it look like I’m wearing?”

“Och, those are no’ proper
clothes for a lady. I’ve ne’er seen such…” His voice died away as he frowned at
my shirt and mouthed the word “Juicy”. “It’s just no’ right.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding
me!” I stomped my foot and took a step toward him, pointing my forefinger
toward his chest. “I’ve been kidnapped and abandoned, saw someone get shot—
right
over there—
and witnessed two more people get snatched; I’ve been personally
attacked and tackled to the ground like I’m a
freakin’ quarterback
, lost
my shoes somewhere in this godforsaken forest because I was trying to get away
from
you
, and you’re worried about me wearing a skirt? News flash buddy:
Women have been dressing like this for-like-ever, so get the hell over it.”

He eyed my pointed finger with a
lift of his brow, and I dropped it. “Surely
Americans
dinna allow their
women tae run around in such attire, nor tae speak so rash.”

“Well, I could really care less
what you think of my clothes or how I talk. I’m. Not. Scottish.”

“Nae, ye’re no’,” he agreed. “But
ye are on Scot’s land, lass, and unless ye want tae start somethin’ o’ a
scandal, ye’d be wise tae find a proper dress.”

I was physically unable to keep
my mouth from gaping open. “You know what, I’m done with you.” Turning on my
heels, I started yet again toward the slope that led to the dirt road, and the
body of the driver. I couldn’t just leave him there without at least making
sure he was really dead, even though there wasn’t much chance of him still
being alive after so much time had passed.

I heard footsteps right behind
me. “I said, I’m done with you. Finished.
Whoa!
”
The Scot scooped
me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “
What the hell are you doing?
” My
breath huffed out in a rush as my stomach crushed against his shoulder. His
hand covered my skirt, but I felt the heat of his skin as his palm cupped my
ass. “
Let me down!
”

“Och, ye need tae be makin’ up
yer mind, lass. ‘
Get off o’ me
’, ‘L
et me doon
’. Which will it be,
then?”

“I want you to put me down.” It
ended up coming out in grunts as every step took a little more breath out of
me.

“No.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Try it, woman. If the
MacDougalls e’en think ye might hae seen what some o’ their clansmen hae done,
they’d likely kill ye on the spot. Or worse.”

It was the “or worse” that kept
me from actually crying out. And after some time, I eventually forced my
breathing to slow. “Will you please just put me down?”

“I’ll consider it. If ye promise
nae tae run again.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, and hefted
me off his shoulder before settling me on my feet.

It took a few minutes for blood to
rush back into my head. Once the dizziness finally ebbed, I ran my fingers
through my hair, looping some behind my ears before I straightened my skirt,
pulling the bottom hem down as far as it would go.

I really hadn’t paid much
attention to how far the Scot had taken me, but when I finally peered up at
him, I could have sworn he didn’t look worn out at all. Even after carrying me
all that way. He seemed a lot more alert than I felt, and that just pissed me
off.

He returned my gaze, eyeing me
for a few seconds before nodding once. “Now there’s a good lass. Come wi’me, I’ve
got a fire tae keep ye warm.” He turned, taking a few steps before looking at
me from over his shoulder. “I said, come.”

Thought he could force me into
it, huh? Treat me like a dog he could order around?

I folded my arms and raised my
chin, meeting his steely gaze with one of my own. I may have promised that I
wouldn’t run. But I hadn’t said that I would go with him. “No.”

He faced me fully now, his
eyebrows lowering as he glared. “And why no’?”

“I’m not going with you,” I
insisted. “Like I should trust some creepy guy who hangs out in the forest all
alone, kidnapping unsuspecting women? I’ll take my chances with the woods.”

“Oh, aye,” he said, nodding, his
face lighting with humor. He folded his arms the same way I did and spread his
feet apart. I had a feeling that out of the two of us, he was a lot more
intimidating. Damn him. “And I bet ye’ll take yer chances wi’the bears too,
then?”

Bears?
I blinked.

“That’s what I thought. Now, come
wi’me lass, and I’ll keep ye safe from the wee beasties.”

Face dangerous animals on my own,
or go with this guy who hasn’t given me any reason to trust him in the
slightest. My breath slowly leaked out of me, but still I didn’t move. “I think
I’ll take my chances with the ‘
wee beasties’
.”

“Nae, ye will no’,” he replied
gruffly, slowly. He stepped toward me and I stepped backward, my bare, stinging
feet sinking into the moist earth with each step I took. “I dinna want tae keep
chasing ye, lass. But make nae mistake, I will if ye run again.” He gained, and
I turned, propelling myself away from him. In seconds, his arms wrapped around
me, and I shrieked. He hastily clamped his hand over my mouth, but on I
screamed, not caring that my voice was now muted.