Protected By The Highlander (Medieval Romance) Page 2

  The path was clear. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth forced herself to raise one foot and place it forward. The sound was practically nonexistent by itself, but the snoring made it completely undetectable. Yes! She made another step, closely followed by another, each one quicker and more stable than the last.

  It most certainly took her a while, but by the time she was finally far enough to stop watching her steps, she felt infinitely better. That was intense. Now it will be a simple matter of retracing our steps. Looking back once, she considered going back for her money, but ultimately declared it a lost cause. Nothing can be done about that now. She was definitely fortunate to have gotten out of there, and pushing her luck any further was a bad idea. Once more, she turned her back to the encampment and started walking away.

  “Goodbye, Laird,” she heard herself whisper unintentionally, disappointed. Stupid, stupid girl! He stole your money! For all you know, you will starve because of that! Elizabeth tried to force herself into hating the man, but it just would not work. There was something about him that outright prevented her from wishing him ill. Even more curiously, she could swear that he felt the same way. Like that would ever happen! As I was saying, stupid girl. She chuckled at her naïveté.

  Suddenly, from behind one of the rocks to the side of what passed for a road in these parts, she heard something move. Blood froze in her veins, and she was unable to take a breath. “Who—who is there?” she asked, uncertain of whether she should scream or try to keep quiet.

  “Nothin’ more or less than a dirty, uncultured Scottish brute, I’m afraid!” the man said as he slowly rose from the shadows. He was large, although not as large as the Laird. After a few moments, she even managed to recognize him. The man who was making fun of me! she concluded. But what does he want?

  “Alright, sir! I’m afraid that you’ve caught me! I am deeply sorry for trying to get away. I will head back toward the camp now, and I will not make any more trouble. In return, would you be willing to let this go?” She felt the cold sweat trickle down the side of her face. “Please?” she added with an awkward smile.

  “Oh, I will be taking things in return, all right!” he said as he started advancing toward her. “I’m not certain ‘bout everything else ye’ve said, though!”

  Immediately, she saw that something was amiss with him, and her gaze quickly fell down toward his groin. The skirt-thing appeared to be hanging just barely, as if something was pushing it up from beneath. No! Oh, no! Without saying a word, she turned around and started running. It took the man a whole second to catch up and toss her down on the ground.

  “No! Please don’t! Plea—“ the impact of the man’s hand on her mouth instantly stifled her scream. Horrified and completely paralyzed, she couldn’t help but stare into the man’s face. So, this is what will become of me, echoed inside her mind as he grabbed the sides of her long skirt and ripped them apart mercilessly. Stupid, stupid girl! Unable to watch, she closed her eyes, choosing to spare at least one of her senses from what was about to follow.

  Surprisingly, even though several seconds passed, still nothing happened. Instead, the man’s touch had unexpectedly weakened, and she could feel something wet and warm splash the sides of her face. It was sticky, and smelled like metal.

  Blood? The thought shocked her back into consciousness and she opened her eyes, regretting it instantly. The man was still standing over her, but his head was missing. A veritable fountain of crimson was there in its stead, erupting in a gory fashion. As if it hadn’t realized that it was dead, the man’s body contorted and twitched, burying its fingers in her nude thighs. Then, as if to make the whole display just a little bit more unpleasant, it collapsed on top of her, showering her in a fresh coat of red. Wheezing, she tried to catch her breath, but the man was massive even without his head, and she found herself having to fight just to remain conscious.

  Just as she was about to pass out, someone grabbed the body and removed it from her as if it weighed nothing at all. Still barely able to comprehend what was going on, she found herself staring into the face of the Laird. His muscles, so beautiful by day, appeared even more splendid under the light of the moon. The claymore he had embedded into the ground just next to him assisted the sight, reflecting just a little bit more illumination toward his features. To her, he appeared not unlike a god.

  Then, he did something altogether ungodly. Having moved the body out of the way, the Laird lunged toward her, grabbed the back of her head with his bloody palm, and kissed her passionately. The taste of his tongue mixed with that of the blood, creating an electric feeling that caused her body to shiver and her loins to stir. She wanted the feeling to last forever.

  Sadly, he needed to breathe as much as she did, and after a good while they slowly broke contact. Then, for a single divine moment, they shared an intimate stare. He appeared absolutely perfect to her. For her. And she knew for a fact that he had felt the same way. She could see it in his eyes. Then, one of the other men dared say something, and ruined everything.

  “My Laird! What happened here?”

  “Connor overstepped his boundaries, and he paid th’ price! That is all there is to it,” the Laird said, his face covered with the man’s blood.

  In response the other men took a step back, practically in unison.

  The next day

  Standing tall at the top of a hill, Angus MacDonnell observed his native highland. Her rough, untamed mountains towered over the rest of the world, eclipsing it with their beauty in more ways than one. Yet, rare was the foreigner who didn’t consider himself better in some way, as if their shite didn’t stink. Such arrogance angered him to no end. They were soft, the lot of them; soft, unmanly and impotent. Their sheltered lives had made them that way, and their reluctance toward change made sure that they would never overcome their sickness. But that woman, she is different.

  She was a mystery to him. Everything about her screamed spoiled, sheltered princess, yet for some unknown reason she had decided to leave the great lie behind and step into the highland. And th’ way she looks at me… He conjured up the image of her wanting face, splashed with blood as it was. It was different than the way other women saw him, of that he was certain. Oh, there was a definite want—a lust in their gazes—but more than anything else, what they desired from him was his title. They all vied for the position of wife to the head of the Clan, and none of them got it. The fact that he was considering an Englishwoman for the role mystified him to no end, yet felt as natural as it possibly could .

  Yet why should I be surprised by it? He closed his eyes to the scenery, moving his hands and remembering the way her body curved. She was so, so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but want her. Th’ others will not be pleased. He formed his hands into fists, opened his eyes and prepared to turn toward the encampment. I dinnae care. She is mine, and whoever complains will have to take it up with me.

  Just as he was about to take his first step down the hill, though, he noticed four powerfully built figures approaching him from lower down. He recognized them immediately, even from distance. He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles and straightened his back. ‘Tis Dougal and his band. So it’s already underway. He grinned, donning an expression he reserved for fights. Oh, he knew that they would not dare attack him in plain sight, but it couldn’t hurt to put on a fearsome display. He grabbed his claymore where it was strapped to his back, pulled it out and embedded it into the ground before him. The earth was hard, yet the blade cut into it effortlessly. As it should.

  “Stay yer blade, Laird MacDonnell! We’re here to discuss, nae tae fight! If I wanted tae pose a challenge to ye, I’d have done it proper!” the man at the head of the group said. He was taller than Angus, but older, wirier, and not as handsome. Dark, white-streaked hair covered his head as well as his body.

  Rare is th’day that Dougal shies from combat! Angus thought, and his grin became even more pronounced. This should go easy, then! “Whoever said I wanted to fight ye? I merely enjoy th�
� feelin’ of a claymore in my hands, is all!”

  “Aye, with what you did to poor Connor last night, I think ye enjoy the feelin’ a wee bit too much,” Dougal exclaimed, still not close enough for Angus to be able to hear him properly. Even so, it was obvious that he had planned for the rest of the men to hear him.

  “’Tis what it is, Dougal. I’ve set my eyes on the lass, and he dared try and take her before me. Do you question my right?” He contorted his eyebrows, forming a snarl.

  “Of course nae, Angus. I have served yer father with honor, and I will serve ye just as well. I am just worried about ye, is all.” Even though the older man gave his best to appear earnest, Angus could tell that Dougal was not pleased with his new Laird. Ever since I’ve succeeded to the position, he has stared at me with disapproval. For all Angus knew, this man was planning on making a move against him sometime in the future. And I might just have given ‘em a reason. He gritted his teeth. No regrets, he reminded himself. It was the most important lesson his father had taught him.

  “What is there t’be worried about, Dougal? As far as I can see, and it’s pretty damn far, everything is in the best of order. We’ve taken out one of our enemies’ vipers, and I’ve found myself a new plaything. Go ahead and find me a dent in that!”

  “Plaything? Is that all the woman will be to ye, my Laird? If ye’d kill one of yer own for as much as a plaything, than I fear nae for ye. Nae, I fear for the entire clan!” Dougal spoke dramatically, but Angus could tell that every move he made had been planned out beforehand. Indeed, he probably spent most of the night scheming. Far as I know, he might have even sent Connor to try and claim th ’lassie. Angus tightened his grip on the claymore, causing the men’s expressions to darken just a little bit. They were well used to battle, but taking on one’s own Laird was a different beast entirely, and they were all aware of it. As expected, nae one would dare.

  “I didn’t take ye for a fearful man, Dougal. Perhaps I made a mistake when I made ye part of my council, then? Maybe Bruce would’ve have been a better choice, eh?” His expression was dead serious as he spoke, but his words took on a more joyous tone, so it wasn’t apparent whether he was joking or not. From the men’s somewhat confused expressions, he could tell that it had worked.

  However, the look on Dougal’s face didn’t change at all. He spoke with a straight face, as if he was not surprised at all by what Angus had said. “Aye, ye could have done that, my Laird. Ye could also have leapt from a cliff, choked on yer food, or fallen on yer knife at some point in yer past. Ye could’ve done all these things, and I wouldn’t have been there tae stop ye. That would’ve been tragic indeed, and no way for a Laird to end up, if ye ask me.”

  “Are ye threatening me, Dougal? I took ye for a smart man. Have I made a mistake about that as well?” Angus retorted, this time without a joking tone.

  “So, instead of listening, ye are going to keep flinging insult after insult my way? Is that th’ way this is going to go?” Dougal now showed hints of actual annoyance.

  “I have listened tae ye. I still am. Ye have come tae voice yer concerns, and I’ve considered, thought about ‘em, and proclaimed ‘em unimportant. That is it. Is there anymore, or are we done?”

  “Nae, my Laird. That’ll be all, I’m afraid,” was all that Dougal said as he turned around. With thinly disguised scowls, his men followed him move by move.

  That went about as well it could have, Angus thought as he watched their backs. A few hundred feet beyond was their camp. Elizabeth was still there, waiting for him. Picking her out was easy. No one had dared approach her while he was away, not after what he’d done with Connor. But if I don’t show them my teeth, they’ll rip the flesh off my ribs when I’m not looking.

  He sighed, took another look at Dougal’s retreating band, and pulled his claymore out of the ground. He observed his handsome reflection in the blade as he placed it on his back. He couldn’t shake the felling that he might have need of it soon. Someone else might have been more worried about it, but not him. He was the son of Gavin MacDonnell, and he had been born to that way of life. To show discontent, or feel it at all, was out of the question. With confidence, he took a step down, the first of many he would have to take on his way back to her.

  Back at the camp

  Elizabeth had tried to make herself somewhat comfortable in the glorified blanket the Laird had given her to replace her torn dress. Trying is not the same as succeeding, she grimly reminded herself.

  In the center of the encampment, and surrounded by wild Scotsmen, she almost felt naked. Even though they had yet to actually do anything hostile, she still felt ill at ease in their company. She had been told that the Laird would return from his contemplation soon, but he still did not. Worse off, her throat was getting dry, and she was too afraid to ask for a drink of water. Better not provoke them, or manipulate someone into getting beheaded. She shuddered involuntarily at the thought, and the image of the blood gushing from the man’s headless torso immediately sprang back into her mind. She could practically taste the blood. Then she instantly felt guilty: she remembered the kiss and the way it had made her feel, and the tender area between her legs responded appropriately. God forgive me for being such a twisted person! she thought as she unsuccessfully tried to banish the sensation. As if to make her feel even less comfortable, the feeling kept getting stronger.

  The familiar voice of the Laird pulled her out of her introspection. “Lassie! Glad tae see that yer getting comfortable!” As she turned to face him, she noticed that he was not in the best of moods, but that changed completely when he took one look at her eyes.

  “Is there any particular reason that yer cheeks are all red, bonnie one?” he asked, smiling.

  In surprise, she touched the sides of her face with her palms. They were burning up. I do not have a fever, do I? She checked her forehead next. It was quite normal. “I did not notice up until now,” was all she could say, now ashamed to let him see her whole face.

  “Nonsense! If anything, ye should show yer cheeks proudly! I like ‘em that way!” he said, now barely a foot away from her. Strongly yet gently, he grabbed her delicate hands with his own pair of rough ones and pulled them away from her face. “Gets me going for what follows, if ye know what I mean!” he said, his face graced by a roguish grin.

  Of course he would think like that. He is a man, after all! Elizabeth reminded herself that a man was last thing she wanted at the moment, despite what her body so desperately wanted to tell her. But I am in a foreign land, surrounded by wild men. What am I to do? The answer did not come easily.

  “Lassie, are ye with me?” He pulled her out of her contemplation once again.

  “Yes… yes! I apologize for that! This is just so disorienting for me, being here, with all of you. Please do not think that I do not appreciate you saving me from that man last night. And from that coachman before, may his soul burn in hell!” She had absolutely no idea of what she wanted to say, and it showed.

  “Perhaps being in this camp clouds yer thoughts? Would ye feel better if I took ye elsewhere, at least for a little while?” he asked her, still smiling a little bit, but in a genuine tone.

  Should I accept? She contemplated for but a moment. Refusing him was not smart. Besides, sitting there was becoming less than pleasant for her. But what if he turns out to be like the other Scotsman, the one from last night? She took another look at him. The way he looked at her was full of raw, physical desire that could not be denied. Yet there was something more in there, something she could feel as well. And I know that he knows it.

  She extended her hand to him, and he took it instantly. “Indeed, I would feel much better. Take me elsewhere, my Laird,” she said to him with a sincere smile.

  Back on the hilltop

  Simply breathtaking! Although the hill wasn’t that much higher than the place where they’d made their camp, it allowed Elizabeth to see things much more clearly than before. Unaware that her mouth was agape in quite an unladylike fa
shion, she could not help but observe the scenery. Her eyes moved involuntarily, absorbing every little detail with complete attention. It was rough and untamed, but despite that the highland simply radiated beauty. Or perhaps it is so beautiful because of that fact, not unlike the Laird. She turned back toward him, expecting him to be displeased by her lack of attention. Instead, he seemed proud.

  “Is she nae beautiful? Her lush fields and rocky mountains, deep lochs and crystal skies are quite a sight to behold, nae?” He took several steps forward, once again standing barely a foot away from her. Then he extended his right hand and fondled her chin. “But as beautiful as Scotland might be, she cannae hold a candle tae ye, lassie,” he said, causing her to blush yet again.

  “My Laird,” was all she could say.

  “Angus MacDonnell the Third to everyone else. Ye, however, can call me ‘Angus,’” he said as he kept getting closer, one inch at a time.

  “It is an honor to be graced with the knowledge of your name, Angus. I am Elizabeth, the heiress—well, renounced heiress—of the house of Cornwall,” she said in a hurried tone. She kept finding it more and more difficult to form sentences the closer he got to her.

  “And what makes such a lovely English lass wander this deep into the wild? Was the noble life not tae yer liking?” Angus asked, not even taking a chance to blink.

  “I was… I have escaped an arranged marriage to a man I did not like. A man no one could ever like,” she said, still unsure of why she was opening up to him like that.

  “Oh? So a man ye don’t like is enough tae make ye leave yer whole life behind?” His straight, strong nose now practically touched her small one.

  “I… did not think myself a girl to behave like that. Not until I met him. But he was beyond obnoxious, and with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Dying was preferable to spending the rest of my life with him!” She heard hints of rage in her voice, and no doubt he did as well.