The Highlander's Excellent Adventure (Survivors, #8)

by Galen, Shana

  “If he dinnae want more blood drawn, he’d better bring a fat purse.” The man moved back further and several other men joined him. Just how many had been hiding in these woods? One of them took Ines by the arm, and she gave Emmeline one last pleading look before she was pulled away. Beside Emmeline, Loftus whined.

  As soon as the men were gone, Emmeline looked at the dog. “Go get Murray,” she said, and Loftus took off in the direction she and Ines had come from.

  DUNCAN

  “I think it’s best if we hire horses and travel that way from now on,” Stratford said as he rummaged about in a sack and assessed their provisions. He was in charge of rationing their food, which meant they always had something to eat and Duncan was always hungry.

  “And where will we find the coin for that?”

  “How much do you have?” Stratford asked.

  “Not enough for four horses.”

  Stratford seemed to consider. “What about two horses?”

  Duncan shook his head. “I have enough tae buy us food and maybe a night or two in an inn, but I cannae hire horses. Unless we want tae do as we did in the army.” He raised his brows at Stratford who shot him a disapproving look. In the army they had stolen the horses they needed. Of course, those were the enemies’ horses, which was a bit different from stealing from your own countrymen.

  Duncan held up his hands. “Yer right. Nae thieving, but what if we—” Duncan looked up when Loftus bounded into the clearing and barked. That was an odd thing as the dog did not bark often, and he was always at Miss Wellesley’s side.

  Stratford rose and Loftus ran up to him and barked. “Where’s Emmeline?” Stratford asked, as though the dog could actually answer.

  The dog barked twice and then ran back toward the woods then back to the clearing and then dove into the woods again. “Follow him!” Stratford called. Duncan was already on his feet. Stratford would follow him, but he was no good at navigating woods or unfamiliar places. Duncan followed the sound of the dog through the trees until he heard a feminine voice greet the dog. A moment later, Miss Wellesley came through the foliage, her expression anxious. “Mr. Murray!”

  Duncan assessed her quickly, noted she was not injured. He looked behind her for Ines, but Ines did not appear. “Where is Ines?” he asked.

  Her face tightened. “That’s why I sent Loftus to you. She’s been taken.”

  “Taken?” Duncan yelled. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Of all the things he thought the woman would say, that was not one of them. “Who the hell took her?”

  “I don’t know.” Miss Wellesley was all but crying now. He hadn’t thought she could cry. She always seemed so strong and confident. The fact that she was crying alarmed him and sent steel shooting through his spine. She took a ragged breath. “There were men in the woods. They had a knife and a bow and arrow.”

  Duncan reached her in two strides and grabbed her by the shoulders. He could not think now. The feeling he liked to think of as that lunatic part of himself took over. It scrambled his thoughts and demanded action. “What men? Where did they go? Why did ye let them take her?”

  “Unhand her, Duncan,” Stratford said.

  Duncan hadn’t realized he was holding on to Miss Wellesley and shaking her. He released her, and she melted into a heap on the ground, covering her face with both hands. The dog tried to lick her, but Stratford brushed the dog away when he knelt beside her. “Tell me what happened.”

  Duncan wanted to scream, a primal scream that would scatter birds and shake the boughs of the trees. He wanted to rage against Stratford’s calm. His body quivered like a nocked arrow on the precipice of release. He only needed to be aimed in the right direction.

  Ines. Taken.

  Duncan clenched his fists, waiting to be released.

  “He had a knife,” Miss Wellesley said then blubbered on about something else that didn’t quite make sense. Duncan growled low in his throat, his entire body tense and quaking.

  Stratford, calm as ever, raised her chin until her gaze met his. “Take a deep breath now. No, don’t try to speak. Just breathe.” He glanced at Duncan. “Some water, I think. Wine, if we have it.”

  Christ and all the saints! Duncan wanted to shake the information out of her. He wanted answers. Now. But the army had taught him some control, and he knew enough about Stratford’s methods to trust the man. He stomped back to the clearing, grabbed a bottle they had been using for water, and carried it back to Stratford and Miss Wellesley. She had stopped crying by the time he handed it to her, which was a good sign.

  “Drink,” Stratford told her. She did. Her small sips seemed designed to appease him rather than slake her thirst. “Better?” Stratford asked.

  She nodded.

  Duncan folded his arms over his chest and tried not to scowl at her, tried not to think about the precious time being lost while Stratford coaxed and soothed.

  Ines. Taken.

  “Tell us what happened,” Stratford said. “From the beginning.”

  “There’s a brook,” she said, pointing toward the sound of running water. “We, Ines and I, went to have a sip of water and wash our faces. Then Loftus jumped in and seemed to spot something. He ran away from us, and we thought it was a rabbit, but it wasn’t.” Her voice hitched, and Stratford offered her the water again.

  Christ but Duncan wanted the rest of the story already.

  “We called him back, and he didn’t come. We went to see what he had found, and I saw a man with a bow and arrow pointed at Loftus. And then another man grabbed Ines and held a knife to her throat.”

  Duncan’s arms dropped. “I’ll kill him. Where did they go?”

  “That way.”

  Duncan saw only red rage as he cut through the trees. Ines taken. Ines taken. He didn’t feel the branches snapping against his face or the cut of the brush on his legs. Stratford was beside him a moment later, panting as he ran to keep up. “Emmeline says they want to meet at the crofter’s cottage at sunset.”

  Duncan slowed. “Cottage?”

  Stratford nodded, bending to catch his breath. “It’s to the east. They’ll trade you for her.”

  “Trade me?” His voice was deadly calm, giving no hint to the rage within him. If Ines had been hurt... If anything happened to her...

  Duncan couldn’t allow himself to think about it. He couldn’t let his emotions take over. This was why he had tried to keep away from her. He hadn’t wanted to risk this pain, this loss. But somehow she’d managed to worm her way into his heart because it hurt now when he thought of losing her. “Trade me?” he repeated.

  “For a fat purse.”

  Duncan’s vision grew dark crimson. “I’ll trade them, I will.” He started away again, looking for any sign of the men’s movements.

  “I’ll look for the crofter’s house,” Stratford said. “You track the men. We need a plan.”

  “I have a plan,” Duncan said. “I’ll kill them.”

  An hour later, Miss Wellesley looked up sharply then relaxed when she saw it was Duncan who stepped into the clearing.

  “Reivers,” Duncan told her. The shadows had grown longer in his absence. Duncan tried not to think about what the reivers had done to Ines while she’d been away from him.

  “What are reivers?” she asked.

  “Raiders,” he said. “They cross over into England and steal then race back over the border. But they’ll steal on this side of the border too.”

  “I take it you didn’t find them,” Stratford said.

  “Nae. They ken well enough tae keep hidden. Did ye find the crofter’s cottage?”

  “I did. I have a plan too.”

  Duncan smiled tightly. “As long as it ends with me killing them.”

  Stratford explained the plan, and Duncan nodded in agreement. “But Duncan,” Stratford said, “if this is to work, you have to follow the plan. You can’t go in, ignoring everything I’ve said, like you usually do.”

  “I’ll already
be in, so it willnae matter, will it?”

  “Just follow the plan. Wait for my word.” Stratford looked at the sky. “We should go soon in case they arrive early.”

  “You haven’t explained what I’m to do,” Miss Wellesley said.

  Duncan turned on her. “Yer to stay here and nae get in any trouble. Ye’ve done enough for one day.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. It wasn’t her fault Ines had been taken.

  But instead of looking hurt or angry, she stood and walked to his side. She put her hand on his arm, and Duncan glanced at her warily. “I know you care for her,” she said. “I’m so sorry I failed you. I tried. I really did, but they cut her—”

  Duncan’s hand landed on hers. “What did ye say?” The red was back, and he saw nothing else.

  She looked at Stratford who closed his eyes. Clearly, there was something they were keeping from him.

  “When I asked them to release her, she started to struggle, and the man holding her nicked her with a knife.”

  His grip tightened.

  “It was only a nick,” she said weakly.

  “Duncan,” Stratford said, his tone thick with warning.

  Duncan lifted his hand. “It’s nae yer fault,” he told Miss Wellesley, his voice cold and deadly, even to his own ears. “It’s my fault. I’ll make it right.”

  “I know you will, but Mr. Murray, you can’t blame yourself.”

  Oh, how many times had he heard those words? It might have been a different time, a different circumstance, but the words were the same. But the ending would not be the same. He wouldn’t allow it. He was a man now, not a boy, and he had atoned for his past. He would save Ines if it was the last thing he ever did.

  “Then who is tae blame?” he asked her, but his gaze was on Stratford. “If they touch her, Draven will kill me. And I’ll ask him tae do it.”

  Duncan gathered his few things, wanting to be ready to follow Stratford to the house. He didn’t want to think of Ines right now. He only wanted to think of his plan. He’d been trying not to think about her for the past few days, trying to keep his distance from her. He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened that first night under the tree to happen again.

  Not because he hadn’t enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed it too much. Every time he looked at Ines, he wanted her mouth on his and her body pressed against his. And so he kept his distance.

  But now he wished he hadn’t. Now he might never see desire on her face or passion in her eyes again. He might not be able to make her his, but he could not be expected to go on if she wasn’t alive in the world somewhere. Ines had appeared in his life seemingly out of a dream. Not only was she beautiful and passionate and exciting, she was kind and loyal and steady. He hadn’t even known those were things he needed or wanted in a woman. She’d barely known him, but when he’d been shot, she had stayed at his side, alternately coddling him and shocking him. He’d never met a woman like her because there were no other women like her.

  Duncan knew a rare gem when he saw it. And he knew things of value needed to be protected.

  He should have never left her side. He should have known the dangers about and should have kept her close. If anyone knew what reivers were capable of, it was Duncan.

  He couldn’t lose someone else he cared about to them.

  “Duncan!” Stratford said, and Duncan looked up.

  “I’ve called your name three times,” Stratford said. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready.” He glanced at Miss Wellesley. “What aboot her?”

  She frowned at him. “Loftus and I are to stay here.”

  “Good.” Duncan nodded. “The dog will keep ye safe, and we dinnae have tae worry aboot them taking ye for a hostage.”

  She snorted. “They did not want me.”

  “Only because yer not an easy target, lass. They’ll take ye if they get the chance. Stay hidden, aye?”

  She nodded. Stratford walked past him, and Duncan looked back, saw he was going to speak to his cousin, and turned back around. This might be farewell. No one knew how the night would turn out. Duncan didn’t intend to die, but then neither did the reivers. He moved away, giving the two of them their privacy.

  When Stratford finally joined him, Duncan looked at him. “Are ye wearing yer dancing shoes?”

  Stratford nodded. “Bring on the devil.”

  STRATFORD

  Stratford stood in the open area in front of the old crofter’s cottage, looking out of place and impatient. At least that was how he hoped he looked. He’d made a show of walking up to the cottage by the main path and then looked all about him, like any man about to meet someone might. He was well aware Duncan was inside the cottage, crouched below a window, keeping watch. He just hoped that, for once, Duncan would listen to him and follow the plan. He hoped Emmeline would follow the plan and stay put as well. She was better at following plans, but only when she wanted to.

  Stratford knew she blamed herself, though it was no more her fault Miss Neves had been abducted than it was Duncan’s. The men who had taken the lacemaker were the ones at fault. He’d told her that, again, when he’d left her for the crofter’s cottage. Her eyes had been wet as he’d said goodbye, and Stratford felt his heart squeeze at the sight of her tears. He hadn’t seen her cry since she was a young child, and even then she hadn’t cried very often. She wasn’t the sort of woman who needed reassuring or comfort. At least that’s what he’d thought. But in that moment, he reconsidered.

  Maybe that was exactly what she needed.

  He’d crouched before her and wiped a tear from her pale cheek. “We’ll find Miss Neves,” he said, voice low. “I’ll bring her back.”

  She nodded. “I wish they had taken me. Why couldn’t it have been me?” she said, her voice breaking.

  He cupped her cheek. “I thank God it was not you.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes very blue. “You do?” And then she sniffed and shook her head. “Of course, you wouldn’t want to have to tell your father in those letters you write every day.”

  “That’s not why.”

  Her gaze snapped to his again, and he saw the anguish in her expression. How could she believe no one wanted her? Was she so desperate for someone to want her that she would accept abduction from a reiver as a substitute? Desperation was not a word he would have ever associated with Emmeline Wellesley, but perhaps he had misread her all these years. Yes, she was opinionated and frank, but she was also no fool. She was amazingly clever. He of all people knew that. And so when she expressed herself so confidently and blatantly, she knew it would scare men away. He’d thought she hadn’t wanted to marry. But perhaps that wasn’t it. Perhaps her behavior was more a cry for attention. A cry and a test—anyone who could look past what Society would call her undesirable behavior and see the worth of the woman beneath passed the test.

  Miss Neves had passed the test. The two were friends, and the lacemaker never seemed surprised or offended when Emmeline began ordering everyone about.

  Stratford wondered if he had passed the test. He thought he had, but at this moment, it seemed another was set before him. He must not only pass it but beat the test back into submission.

  “The reason I am glad it was not you taken is because I am selfish.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You are one of the least selfish people I know.”

  “That’s because I hide it well,” he told her, still cupping her soft cheek. At least she had ceased crying. “But do you see the way Murray is behaving? It’s because he cares for Ines Neves. He’s terrified to lose her or that the reivers are hurting her.”

  “I am terrified of that as well.”

  “They won’t hurt her. They no doubt have wives or sweethearts at home. They’re after blunt,” he said, hoping he was right. “And even knowing that, if they had taken you, I would be beside myself with anguish and worry and blame.” He leaned close. “I am thankful it was not you,” he said quietly.

  Her lashes lowered then h
er gaze met his again. “You make me think you care for me.”

  “I do,” he said, his mouth a mere fraction of an inch from hers.

  “As more than a cousin,” she said.

  “As more than a cousin,” he said, brushing his lips over hers.

  “As more than a sister,” she said.

  “You’re neither my cousin nor my sister, thank God. Because, if you were, I would surely be damned to hell for my feelings.” He didn’t wait to hear her response. He knew she had one. She always had a rejoinder. Instead, he took her mouth gently and kissed her.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. She didn’t want to marry, and even if she had entertained the idea of marrying him, she wouldn’t once she knew the truth about him. These kisses they shared were exercises in frustration. They just made him want her more, and it was a want that could never be satisfied.

  But he kissed her anyway because he was a selfish arse who was happy she was safe and here with him. He kissed her because she needed to be kissed in that moment, shown that she mattered and was worthy and desired. And he kissed her because he needed to kiss her. He needed to kiss her every moment of every day, and at this particular moment, he was too weak to resist.

  He kissed her because kissing her was an experience like no other. He’d enjoyed kissing other women. He even fancied himself quite good at the act of kissing. He’d considered his technique and approach and refined it over the years. But he couldn’t think about performance or method when he kissed Emmeline. All he could do was feel the way her mouth fit his, the way her tongue flicked over his, the way she tasted. How she kissed him just the way he liked to be kissed—though before the first time they’d kissed he hadn’t even known there was a way he liked to be kissed.

  He might have lost himself in the kiss if Duncan hadn’t cleared his throat. He stood some distance away, far enough away that he couldn’t hear what they said, but he couldn’t have missed the fact that they were kissing. Duncan probably did not care who Stratford kissed, but the Scotsman was in a hurry to be away, in a hurry to put their plan into action and to save Miss Neves.