His Highland Surprise (The Clan Sinclair Book 1)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Do ye ken why the Sinclairs are always victorious? Do ye ken why all four brothers and our da live despite the battles we’ve fought? We survive because we dinna go off on our own. We fight back to back, never alone.”

  She understood now what Tavish meant all those days ago. Ceit paused and realized that it had not been that long, and when it seemed like ages, it was actually a couple of days prior.

  She strained to see who approached and did not understand why all the men relaxed until she saw the Sutherland plaid approaching. There was also something brown riding in front of one of the Sutherland men.

  Isla!

  Ceit nudged her horse forward and forced her way through the ring that protected her. When the riders stopped before them, Ceit was livid.

  “Isla, what are ye doing here? Ye are supposed to be at the castle by now?” Ceit’s gaze shot to the men who rode with her friend. “Ye were given orders to take her to Lady Sutherland, nae gallivant around the Lowland countryside. Why the hell are ye here, Isla?”

  “Tis always a pleasure to see yer temper, Ceit.” Isla chirped at her friend. She had seen Ceit fire off a tirade more than once and took it with many grains of salt. “Laird Sutherland, it is ma doing that we are here instead of at the castle. Yer men were obstinate aboot following yer orders, but when I kept slipping away from them, they relented and saw the wisdom of ma ways.”

  “Laird, she has more dirks on her than we were comfortable searching. We even tied her more than once and took each dirk she used. She kept producing more. We gave in and decided it was safer to escort her to ye than let her wander aboot on her own.”

  “That still doesnae explain why ye rode back rather than go to the castle.” Hamish spoke softly, but the warning was clear to everyone within earshot.

  “Ma laird, it is ma fault yer men defied ye, but I couldnae go to yer lady wife when I ken I can assist ye. Ye willna be able to gain entry without ma help. The guards ken me, and most will oblige. I treat them kindly and sneak extra rations to them and blankets. Buchan can be generous just as he can be miserly. The men ken I am untouchable, but they appreciate the danger I put maself in to help them. I dinna like to see anyone suffer, but I also kenned a time would come when I would need the loyalty I quietly bought. I intend to call in those debts. Once within, ye can do what needs to be done, but I would urge ye to wait until I can distract John from seeking the disturbance ye are bound to cause.”

  Ceit did not miss the use of Isla’s captor’s given name. She scowled as she considered what that distraction entailed.

  “Absolutely nae. Ye were to go to the castle, so ye wouldnae have to distract him anymore.” Ceit bit out for Isla’s ears only. She could not help that the man who sat behind her heard. She watched as he tightened his hold on Isla and drew her back into the protection of his body. She turned her head and squinted at the gesture. Ceit looked up at Isla and saw she did not resist the warriors hold. Instead, she rested her hands on his forearm and leaned back. She and Isla exchanged a look that conveyed their ability to understand one another without words. Ceit was not pleased at the notion, but she was pleased to see the strength of will in Isla she had experienced since childhood. They both were often in trouble as children because they were just as stubborn and reckless as the other.

  “Vera well.” Ceit stepped beside the warrior’s horse, and Isla leaned forward. “I dinna ken what happened in the hours since I saw ye, but if that mon mistreats ye for even a breath, I will carve off his cods with the oldest, rustiest blade I can find. If he makes ye happy and accepts yer past, then I will stand beside ye.”

  “Thank ye. He and I have had hours to speak aboot ma past, and I dinna understand it, but it’s just right.”

  Ceit nodded and looked up at the handsome man who held her dearest friend as though she were more precious and more delicate than anything else he had ever beheld. He looked down at Ceit and nodded once.

  “Ceit,” Isla called back to her as she moved towards her horse. “I meant I will drug him.”

  Ceit pivoted around and glared at her friend for misleading her. Isla’s laugh was infectious, and Ceit gave in to the smile that tugged at her mouth.

  “I willna forget that,” she mouthed as she swung back into the saddle.

  The party rode out and were quiet the rest of the way to Closeburn. Ceit watched Isla and her unnamed suitor whispering, and she spoke to Hamish as needed. When Closeburn was in sight, they pulled into a low glen that would afford them the privacy needed to refine their plan for Tavish’s rescue.

  Isla slipped through the postern gate just as she slipped out the night before. The guard turned a blind eye and said nothing as she swept into the bailey. She prayed that Buchan had not been looking for her the night before. She had begged off when he came for her earlier in the day before departing Carlisle for Closeburn, pleading her courses started. She let herself into the kitchens after stashing her cloak in a storeroom that held barley and wheat in large barrels. No one paid her much attention. She lived in a tenuous position of being the mistress to the laird’s periodic guest. She traveled with Buchan when he demanded it or was left behind at his whim. This time, she traveled across the border and was thankful for his insistence. Everyone accepted her time as John Comyn’s paramour was not her choice, but there was no one willing to stand up for her or to free her. She did not blame the people of Carlisle for ignoring what was clear to them all. Buchan had beaten her more than once in plain sight, and he demanded what he asserted were his rights with no sense of discretion. Those who lived and served the former earl were keenly familiar with his temper and did whatever they needed to not bring attention to themselves. Isla wound her way through the keep up to her chamber. She crept in since hers was next to Buchan’s. It was still early in the evening, and she had neither seen nor heard him as she entered the Great Hall below. She scanned the room and when she was sure it was empty, she dropped the bar into place. She strode across the room to a chest that now lived in this chamber. They visited Closeburn and the Hermitage often enough that Buchan demanded she keep belongings at both places rather than having them carted back and forth. Once the trunk was open, she pushed aside her clothes until she reached the bottom. Using her nails, she pried up the false bottom. She kept extra knives, coins, a few jewels, and for that night’s purposes, a few medicinals that would serve her goals. She accumulated these items with each visit but had not been guaranteed a safe enough exit to put them to use. Once she mixed the ingredients together that would put Buchan to sleep for the entire night, she stashed the vial in her pocket and returned her chest to the way it had been. She was aware Buchan often searched her belongings, but he was yet to find any of the contraband she had stashed at their main residences.

  Isla exited her chamber just as she entered and listened at the next door. Someone moved about but there were no voices. She knocked and forced a warm smile when Buchan opened the door. Playing a part she learned early in her relationship, she ran her hands over his chest. He was still a handsome and well-muscled man. One she would have found attractive if he were not so violent with her and not coerced her into being his bed partner. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pressed her breasts against him.

  “Ma laird, I was mistaken aboot being indisposed to ye. I anticipated I wouldnae be available for several more days, but it would seem I can soothe that ache ye spoke of.”

  She kissed a trail up his neck to the shell of his ear. She forced herself to continue the charade even though she was so close to her freedom. Buchan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the chamber. He pushed her roughly against the door and squeezed her breast until she yelped.

  “I am most glad, ma pet. Ma cock is hard, and I was just aboot to find a serving girl to ease the ache.”

  Isla experienced the odd sense of jealousy that always coursed through her when Buchan spoke of bedding other women. She did not fool herself about what he did whenever she was not available, but the jealousy stemmed from fea
r that one day he would turn her out. She was ruined beyond repair in more than one way. If he turned her out, she could not imagine how she would survive. In the early days, she had longed for death, but she had grown stronger and was now willing to fight for her life.

  She pouted playfully as her hand slid down to grasp his cock. She handled him in the way he beat into her, and he groaned as he bit the skin of her breasts exposed above the neckline of her kirtle. He insisted that she dress in a way that was scandalous, but he insisted on easy access to her charms, as he called them. She whimpered as he expected. He enjoyed her pain and would be merciless until she gave him what he wanted. But just as cruel as he often was, in another instant he would turn tender. He soothed her skin with his tongue as he whispered in her ear.

  “I have missed ye, ma sweets. Ye have me out of ma mind with longing. I miss yer scent and yer cunny as I sink into ye over and over. Ye are the only thing that brings me relief from the strains of being Warden. Ye bring me to release faster than any whore ever has.”

  Isla swallowed her disgust at the backhanded compliment of sorts.

  “Ma laird, ye ken I am here to serve ye. I hoped to make up for ma mistake by serving ye just as ye like. Perhaps we might dine alone here this eve. I ken the evening meal is vera soon.”

  Buchan often demanded that they dine alone in his chambers. It was not romantic in the least. He expected Isla to pleasure him naked while he enjoyed a feast.

  “Ye must be most contrite, ma sweets.”

  “I am, ma laird. Can I begin by fetching ye some wine?”

  “Once ye free yer breast for me to enjoy along with ma wine.”

  Isla stepped around him and turned her back to him. He pulled her laces loose and yanked her gown to her waist. He pulled her around to face him again and ogled her. This time his touch was gentle and almost worshipful. He lifted them to his face and suckled on one as he rubbed his thumb over her other nipple. In moments like this, Isla closed her eyes and pictured herself anywhere but in that place. She now had someone else to let her mind wander to. She replaced Buchan with the guardsman, Adair, that she rode with earlier. Her body responded in a way it rarely did to Buchan, and she gripped his hair as he worked her breasts. It was only when he bit her again that she came back to reality. She moved away and went to the table that held a chalice and a carafe of wine. She eased the vial from her pocket and added several drops as he called out for someone to bring them their meal.

  Isla handed the goblet to Buchan and held her breath. She prayed she put in just enough to make him tired but not enough for him to taste the tincture. Buchan smiled as he continued to play with her breasts. He drank deeply, and by the time he was through, his eyelids were already beginning to droop. A knock on the door sounded, and Isla hurried to open it, pulling her gown up to her throat before the servant entered.

  “More wine, ma laird?” She took the goblet from his hand before he answered. She repeated the same process again twice more before Buchan sat to the table. His reactions had slowed, his eyes were glassy, and he had not tried to touch her again.

  “Something isnae quite ri—” Buchan did not finish as he slumped in his seat.

  Isla counted to twenty before she approached. She did not care if she overdosed him. She hoped that she would kill him, so she tilted his head back, pinched his nose, and poured the rest of the vial down his throat. If it did not kill him, then she prayed he would sleep soundly for hours. She intended to be far from Closeburn and John Comyn, the former Earl of Buchan before anyone learned whether he slept or breathed his last.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Isla walked casually through the Great Hall and smiled at the laird who sat at the dais. She had never spoken more than three words to him, and she was more than happy with that. It saved her humiliation and kept others from speculating whether she would bed anyone or just Buchan. She tried not to grimace as she recalled her latest, and potentially last, encounter with him. It went better than she anticipated, and she did not feel as dirty as she usually did. Once she passed through the large doors and stepped into the bailey, she hurried to the guardhouse. She knocked and was relieved to find it was her cousin who answered. He had worked hard to make himself one of Buchan’s most favored warriors, but it also meant he watched over Isla. He smiled to her as she offered a quick embrace.

  “Andrew, ye most open the gates. The Sutherland is here for his nephew. Buchan is unconscious in his chamber and will nae be an issue, but we havenae long before someone tries to rouse him. We must get Lord Tavish out now.”

  “What have ye done?” Andrew hissed.

  “I have done what I have planned for months. Buchan willna stand in ma way to freedom, and we will do what is right. Ye ken Lord Tavish is in the pit, and ye ken he has nay business being there. Ceit is here, Andrew.”

  She awaited Andrew’s reaction to the last piece of news. Her cousin had been besotted with Ceit for years. Once upon a long time ago, Andrew had hoped to court Ceit, but with the events that followed, he had lost hope of seeing her again.

  “Ceit’s here?”

  “Aye, for Tavish. They’re to marry, Drew.”

  Isla watched as anger then sadness then acceptance washed over his face.

  “She is doing her duty then. Just as she always has.” Before Isla corrected him, he was moving towards the door. “Let’s be on with it then.”

  Isla stood within the doorway and watched as Andrew spoke to a few of the other guards and then listened as the portcullis cranked open. She thanked every saint she remembered that the Comyn guardsmen served alongside their host’s. It was the only way this had the potential to work.

  The sound of the large gate opening so late in the evening made many turn to look. There was no way to disguise who entered. They had agreed they needed their horses nearby to make a hasty exit. Leaving them behind and sneaking through the postern gate was not an option when they were unsure of what condition they would find Tavish. The men also wanted the advantage of being on horseback when the inevitable melee ensued. They were right in their estimation. It was only a matter of seconds before hell broke loose. Many of the Comyn guardsmen stood back and did not intervene, but the Closeburn men rushed forward with swords drawn. They came pouring out of the Great Hall and the barracks. They outnumbered the Sutherlands, but Isla watched in amazement as the Sutherlands deftly held their own. She waved to Ceit who scrambled from her horse. Ceit stopped short when she saw Andrew Comyn step next to Isla. It had been nearly a year since she had seen her best friend’s cousin. There had been a time when she imagined she fancied the young man, but there was nothing, but a familiarity bred from a lifetime of knowing one another. She looked at Isla instead.

  “Where is he?”

  “This way. Follow me.”

  “Ye will need ma help, Cathryn.”

  Ceit nodded, remembering that since she had grown into a woman, only Tavish and Isla called her Ceit. When the ladies at court and the queen did, it was not the same.

  The three of them weaved through the bailey until they reached the side of the keep cast in shadows. Ceit saw the metal handle welded to the wooden trap door. It was barely wide enough for her to pass through let alone a man of Tavish’s stature. She wanted to sob when she pictured how he must be suffering. Andrew reached the door first and looked around before sliding the latch back.

  Tavish listened to a battle going on above him. He crossed himself as he hoped that it was his uncle who had come for him and not some other inconvenient intruder. If the men who hosted him died, then no one would know he was in the pit. He would most definitely starve to death then. A heavy boot landed on the wooden trap door, and Tavish scrambled to grip the wall. He had left his boots tied around his neck as he prepared for his exit. He shimmied his way to just before the hatch. When the bolt move, he compressed himself as tightly as possible, preparing to spring forward. The door swung open, and Tavish launched himself up. It was more of an awkward scurry than an attack, but he pulled himself
out. He was ready to swing when a weight landed on his back. It was a weight that smelled of rosemary and thyme. He twisted the person who clung to him until he held her in his arms.

  “Mo dhìonair!” Ceit moaned as she clawed her arms around his neck.

  He lifted her off the ground with his good arm, and she wrapped herself around him and squeezed as hard as she dared.

  He let out a soft chuckle as his mouth sought hers. Their kiss was hard, and a battle born of desperation. Tavish forgot where they were and was ready to find a wall, anything solid, to take Ceit against. In the moment, he did not think about them not being married. He did not think about the battle that still raged around them. He did not think about the man he saw when the hatch opened. All he could think about was consuming and being consumed by Ceit.