The Highlander's Triumph (5 page)

Julianna raised a skeptical brow.

“There is no one better than Brandon at reading people,” Ronan said, grasping his shoulder. Brandon was pleased to have his cousin’s confidence. “If ye say we can trust her, then I believe ye.”

Brandon nodded
, receiving a nod in turn from Ronan. From the corner of his eye, he watched Julianna. She stared them down, and he knew in her mind she was assessing the entire situation. The lass was shrewd, and one hell of a fighter, he’d give her that. More power to Ronan for being able to handle her spirit.

“What of the army? Did she give
ye numbers?” Julianna asked.

Brandon
unclenched his fist, not realizing he’d held it so tight. Relief flung through his blood. Damn, he hadn’t recognized how much Julianna’s acceptance meant to him. Why was he so hell bent on protecting a woman he barely knew? Aye, ’twas true he desired her, but there was more to it than that. There was something about her, the way her blue eyes enchanted him, made him feel as though she could see his soul and that her spirit melded with his. Ballocks, he hated getting all poetic. He needed more whisky. “Aye, she said there are over two-hundred of them.”

“Will they disband or join us?” Wallace asked.

Brandon rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles, eager for a fight. Bashing heads and knocking bodies was an excellent way to relieve stress and some of the internal emotions that stirred since meeting the lass. “I dinna know; she didna say.”

“Ask her,” Wallace ordered.

Brandon hid a grimace. While he wanted desperately to sit beside Mariana again, at the same time he didn’t want too. Being close to her only made him want to pull her into his arms and sample the lips she often bit. He had a dozen excuses as to why he should argue the order—how would she know the Ross army’s intent? Why would Ross share such intimate details? Could he trust her answer?

But in the end, he didn’t
give them voice. In truth, he desired nothing more than to sit beside her again, even if it meant speaking about his enemy. As long as he could hear her silky voice, imagine her warm breath on his lips.

Ballocks!
His cock pushed against the fabric of his plaid, and he was grateful that earlier he’d shifted his sporran to the front. Brandon nodded at his small group and turned to do their leader’s bidding.

But Mariana was gone.

Panic seized him. His stomach tightened, heart ceased beating, breath caught. Immediately, his hand was on his sword, ready to battle whoever had taken her.

“Where is Lady
Mariana?” he growled to the nearest guard.

The man shrugged. Brandon turned in a stiff circle, studying everybody, every boulder, every tree. No dark
-haired beauty with soot smudged across her nose. No petite figure within his billowing cloak. No seductive eyes, and coy smile.

God’s teeth, where the hell was she?

He wanted to shout out her name, but that would only draw Wallace, Ronan and Julianna’s attention. They’d not listen to him, then they’d go off of gut instinct that she was up to no good.

He raised his chin to another guard, “Where is Lady Mariana?”

“I dinna know, my laird, but I saw Jared speaking with her.”

Brandon nodded and marched toward Jared who examined the forest.

“Where is Lady Mariana?”

Jared
jumped, his face pale. Even the red of his hair seemed a shade lighter. “My laird.”

Brandon waited a split-second for the
novice warrior to regain his senses, about ready to pummel him, when he finally spoke.

“She wanted to wash her face and hands.”

“And?” Brandon bit out, irritation making his eye twitch.

“I told her the burn was through the trees.”

Fire lit Brandon’s blood. “Ye didna offer to escort her?” Brandon spoke through clenched teeth, every muscle in his body seizing.

Jared shook his head. “I figured she’d be fine.”

“Ye figured wrong, ye horse’s arse. Which way?”

Jared pointed with a shaky finger. Brandon took off at a jog through the trees,
holding his arm up to ward off branches that snapped, ready to slice his skin. Almost like the forest didn’t want him to find her, wanted to make his life more miserable. Brandon let out a string of curses and swore he’d take Mariana over his knee, spank her bare arse until her cheeks were pink—but that only made his cock hard. He’d barely made it a few dozen yards before he heard a sheer whistle pierce the air.

Chapter Five

B
randon turned toward the sound of the whistle, unsure if it was one of his own men or the enemy. Dusk was setting fast upon them and a wicked breeze ruffled his hair, winding its way down his shirt. Ordinarily, he might have missed his cloak, but rather than the whistle sending his blood to chill, it made him hot with the need to wage war with his enemies.

Had Ross and his men so easily descended upon them?
Ballocks!
He had to find Mariana first, make sure she was safe, before he discovered who was behind the whistle. Turning back toward the burn, he picked up his pace, and bolted to the edge of the water.

Not a soul in sight.
No Mariana.

“Damn,” he muttered, looking up and down the bank. The water trickled peacefully, completely in contradiction to the way his blood seethed through his veins.
Rushes and horsetails grew tall to the edge in places and trampled down in others. He brushed a few aside to make sure he didn’t miss her crouching down in the water. No slender fingers dipping into the cool burn, only a few sparlings, plucking at the algae covered rocks visible just beneath the water’s surface.

Where was she
? Had she already been captured?

“Mariana?” he risked calling out. Several birds took flight
at the sound of his voice, their wings rustling.

There was no reply. Not even a whisper of human sound. He could have been all alone in the wilderness. Except
—what was that? He tilted his head, fearing the truth of what he heard. A distant clang of metal. A battle.

Mo creach!
He couldn’t stand here. Praying that Mariana had made it safely back to camp, he rushed toward the sounds of the melee. God only knew how many were descending upon them—and he prayed it wasn’t the two hundred Mariana had spoken of.

B
randon broke through a copse of trees at the same time as Wallace, a dozen more of their men and a mass of enemy warriors. Ross stood in the middle facing off with Ronan and Julianna. The forest air filled with the clang of metal, the crash of bodies, shouts of victory and grunts of pain.

Blood rushed to his ears and all thoughts but that of fighting for his country
—and winning—left him.

He wasted no time jumping into the fray. Yanking his claymore from the scabbard on his back,
he swung it in an arc bringing it down on the closest enemy, droplets of warm blood spraying his face. Brandon turned off the sensation, making his mind blank to everything save the task at hand. He ducked the blow from a new opponent, pulling his
sgian dubh
from his boot and slicing into the back of the man’s knees. His foe fell to the ground, howling in pain, briefly clutching his leg, before coming to his senses and blocking Brandon’s next swipe of his sword. The man, incapacitated, could no longer harm anyone. Brandon leapt from his range of attack and pummeled the next man to the ground, head-butting him to knock him out.

The battle raged around him. Ronan went head to head with two warriors while
Laird Ross hung back, the bastard. His eyes blazed with evil, lips peeled back, baring yellowed and crooked teeth. He half expected to see horns sprouting from Ross’ weathered-looking head. But there were none—not that he could see anyway. Brandon sprang forward, catching Ross off guard, but not for long. The old warrior parried like a vicious bear, growls and all, but before Brandon could land a significant blow, two Ross men attacked him from behind—one landing a solid blow to the back of Brandon’s shoulder. He hissed in pain, feeling the heat of his own blood seep over his skin.

In th
e instant he turned from Ross to end the lives of his attackers, the bastard disappeared. And with him Julianna. Ronan called out to her, panic in his tone, and Brandon felt his pain, having had to push off his search for Mariana in an effort to aid his men.

But there was no time to think on it. Several more warriors pushed through the trees, their battle cries making Brandon want to rip out their throats. He
moved swiftly toward them, fury burning a heightened energy through his muscles. He let his anger and worry over Mariana out in a heated storm.

At last, most of their enemy fell
. The few remaining rushed back toward where they came from, perhaps looking for their leader. Not nearly two hundred had attacked, which meant there were far more of them somewhere close by. They had to move or risk another attack.

Ronan rushed toward them, sweat
slickening his face. He glanced at Brandon, his eyes scrunched in alarm. “Julianna! Have ye seen her?”

Brandon shook his head, as did the other warriors with him
. There was no sight of her within the copse of trees. She’d simply vanished.

“He’s taken her!” Ronan shouted
, face stricken.

Was it possible? Brandon wasn’t certain when Ross had disappeared. He thought back, long and hard. Julianna had disappeared around that time
—he’d seen her, but been pulled back into battle. Damn, he should have warned Ronan then, but there’d been no time.

“I do recall seeing her disappear around the same time as Ross,” Brandon offered, but Ronan wasn’t listening. He frantically lifted the limp bodies, tossing them aside, ’haps looking for a clue.

Brandon glanced back toward their camp, itching to run through it to see if Mariana was there. If the bastard had taken Julianna, it was entirely possibly he’d grabbed Mariana, too.

Ronan took off running
toward where many of Laird Ross’ men had escaped, calling out for Julianna. Brandon swallowed hard, and turned back toward camp. He had to reassure himself with the presence of Mariana’s face—and dispel the thoughts crowding into his mind. What if she’d escaped to the burn—told Ross where to find Julianna?

Part of him knew that had to be impossible.
There was no way she would have known where they were going to set up camp, nor did she have the opportunity to get word to Ross. Unless… Unless what? It was impossible. He had to stop making assumptions.

He looked up through the trees
and stared at the sky just now turning grey with nightfall. Bending to the ground, he wiped his weapons on the grass and sheathed them. Muscles tingly from battle, he walked back to camp, mumbling one word answers to his men who were still riled up over the battle. He’d never let any of them know how worried he was about Mariana.

S
he’d better be sitting pretty on the log where he’d left her.

The camp was in chaos as men ran hither and yon to pack up supplies, sew up injuries,
snap shoulders and put other joints back into place, wrap wounds, and drown their pain with swigs of whisky. Brandon narrowed his eyes, until they came to rest on a pale, shaken Mariana—on the bench where he’d left her, an ashen Jared by her side.

A rush of relief so acute, it nearly buckled his knees, pummeled him. She was safe.

He’d not let himself feel the full force of his worry, was too ensconced in trying to win the battle. And now that he saw her, all of the feelings he’d kept at bay rushed him like a pack of wild animals on their prey. He swiped a hand over his face, scrubbed it through his hair.

Brandon took his time studying her. Her cheeks were flushed and smudged with
dirt. Dark tresses, wild and unkempt. Eyes wide and frantically searching. She wrung her tiny hands, lips were pursed. Then her gaze met his from across the way and he felt as if time stood still. The sounds of the men packing up camp dissipated, and the only thing he seemed to be aware of was Mariana.

She jumped to her feet at the same time he step
ped toward her. A swirl of Highland mist crept in from around the edges of camp. His stomach tightened, chest clenched. Brandon wanted to run to her, to pull her into his arms and tell her never to leave his sight again. To yell at her for having scared him. To take comfort in her warmth, let the rush of battle be soothed by her stroking hands upon his shoulders, through his hair. To kiss her, to slide his tongue between her lips and make love to her with his mouth.

Brandon shoved past a few warriors in his need to reach her, to touch her. Why he felt this
uncontrollable urge, he had no clue, didn’t want to think about that. Mariana too took a step forward, and he wanted to pummel Jared when his fingers clutched at her cloak stopping her. She turned to yank free, and Brandon growled, intent on issuing the recruit a rebuke when Jared saw his approach. The lad raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. Mariana followed Jared’s line of vision, her eyes locking on Brandon’s and pink coloring her cheeks. Her lashes closed over her eyes as she glanced down at the ground, an attempt to look meek, but the triumphant smile curling her lips was anything but.

“I…” she started, but trailed off, her voice raspy like she needed to catch her breath. “I saw the other warriors return, but
hadn’t seen you, my laird. I was…”

Brandon stopped inches from her, forcing his hands to remain by his sides. “Did ye fear for me lass?”

She looked up, eyes wide open then and while her lips played with his mind, her eyes spoke the truth. She nodded.

“I am here. Where were ye?”

“I wanted to wash my face,” she said softly, reaching up to touch her chin.

“Ye did not do a good job.” This time he gave in to his urge to touch her, his thumb brushing over a streak of black on her
cheek.

Mariana leaned into his touch. “
Oui
, ’tis the truth I never got the chance.”

“Why is that?”

“Battle broke out, scared me half to death.”

“And have ye recovered?”

“
Oui
, my laird.”

God’s teeth
, he loved the way she spoke. Mariana flicked her tongue over her lips, took his hand from her face and held it in her grasp. Her fingers were cold.

“’Tis the truth I am glad you’re safe,” she whispered. “I feared…”

Brandon shook his head, his smile full of confidence. Without thinking, he took both her hands in his and rubbed some warmth into them. He looked down at their clasped hands and promptly dropped them. “There is no need to ever fear for me, lass. I am invincible.”

“My laird, ye’re bleeding.” Jared pointed to his back
, the lad’s freckles fading. His mouth flopped open like a fish out of water.

Mariana gasped.
“Is it bad?”

“Ah, well, not completely invincible
.” He chuckled. In his haste to see to Mariana’s safety, he’d forgotten about his wound. “Send Hamish over to sew me up then, lad.”

Jared nodded, his face another shade paler, and ran to do Brandon’s bidding.

“Let me see,” Mariana said. She walked around behind him, her gentle fingers probing at the slice in his linen shirt. “Does it pain you?”

He shook his head.
“Nay, lass.” He dragged in a heavy breath. “Ye have a healing touch.”

And he wasn’t completely lying. He did like the feel of her hands on
him, it made him forget the ache of the slice in his shoulder.

“’Tis not too deep,” she said.
“But you have lost a lot of blood. Come sit.”

Brandon allowed her to lead him to the log where she’d been sitting. Bracing her hands on his
uninjured shoulder, she pushed him down. Now, he was at eye level with her breasts. How he wished he could push aside the copious amounts of fabric covering her, so he could bury his face in their ample plushness. Aye, he recalled just how they felt on his arm. Soft mounds. His cock twitched and he groaned.

“Oh, it must pain you so.”

Brandon bit his cheek. If the lass only knew why he was groaning… It surely wasn’t the pain in his shoulder. That he could handle, but the urge to touch her breasts, that might slay him yet.

He leaned his head forward, an inch from her. “
I am feeling weak,” he muttered, knowing all the while he’d have hell to pay if she found out about his little white lie.

Immediately, her hands came up around his head and pulled h
im toward her.

Ah, saints!
His forehead fell to her warm body as she cradled him, cooing words for him to remain strong. The tops of her breasts rested on his head, her flat stomach beneath his cheek. Lord, this was heaven. He breathed in her scent, wished to put the front of his face flush against her, kiss her, lick her, taste her.