“It’s nae because I consider maself duty bound either, so dinna let that notion take root. I have been drawn to ye like a fly to honey, and I am a better mon for it because now I have found a woman I love, and for some reason utterly beyond me, loves me back.”
“I do love ye, Tav.” She stepped back between his thighs, and he pulled her onto his lap.
She cupped his face in both hands and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, each cheek, and at last his lips. It was a slow burning kiss. Neither was in a rush to escalate it beyond the exchange of love and devotion. It was a kiss fueled by love not lust.
“I dinna ken how the king kenned we would suit, but I am glad he did. When can we--”
Ceit’s words were cut short by a noise that floated to them. It was the whinny of another horse. Whisky’s ears flickered, and he raised his head to listen. He silently nodded and pranced in place.
Tavish pulled Ceit up with him and led her to Whisky. She was in the saddle before she realized what was happening, Tavish mounted behind her. He maneuvered Whisky to an outcropping of rocks they hid behind. It did not take long before ten men rode into the clearing where they sat speaking only minutes before.
“I ken they must be near. Ma horse sensed the other one. We spread out and find them since they canna be far.”
“Does the mon who finds them get the biggest reward?”
Ceit and Tavish sat frozen as they listened. Ceit was proud of her horse for being so well trained as to not move even a tail hair.
“Let’s find the chit before ye worry aboot who claims what. If we dinna find her, they willna be aught to enjoy. The king and her father willna pay for naught. Without her, there is nay ransom.”
Tavish’s arm tightened around Ceit as her fear made her rigid. They listened to the sounds of horses moving about and held their breath that no one would ride towards their hiding place. Both understood it was unrealistic that they would not be found. Tavish reached beneath his plaid and pulled his dirk free. He was down to just his one dirk he kept strapped to his thigh. He had no other weapons and desperately wished he had grabbed a sword before riding out from Closeburn. Ceit could tell from his movements and pulled her own dirks free. She still had all of hers and was certain she was about to need them. Tavish took the reins from Ceit’s hand and nudged Whisky to step back from the rocks. He would have the horse ready to gallop when the time came. It was inevitable, but Tavish crossed his fingers they would outrun the mercenaries. He kept backing Whisky until there was enough room to turn around or bolt in either direction. It was not long before the nose of a horse peeked around the rocks and the cry went out. Tavish spun Whisky and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. Ceit buried her hands into the horse’s mane and leaned flat against his withers. Tavish huddled low to them and pushed the horse faster. They sped across the meadow as their pursuers chased. Tavish did not dare look back even though he wanted to determine whether they were gaining any distance. His broken arm held Ceit while his good arm controlled the horse. Whisky responded to Tavish’s silent commands in only a way a trained warhorse would. He could not imagine why Ceit would have a warhorse, but in that moment, he would not look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.
“Dinna let them flee. He doesnae have a sword. He canna fight!”
The voice carried across the open glen they raced through. Tavish tucked his chin to look under his arm. He saw two men chasing after them. One had a bow strapped over his back.
“There are three more on the other side.” Ceit whispered.
Tavish swore and scanned the horizon for anywhere to hide or any way to outrun their would-be captors.
“To those hills. Whisky can make it. Even with us both.” Ceit pointed to their left, and Tavish saw a rocky slope that seemed uneven and steep. “He’s a Highlander too. He will make it. His mother was a Highland pony. Ye canna tell from his height, but he’s stout and sturdy like her.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tavish steered them in that direction and hoped against hope that Ceit was right and not overestimating her steed. They came to the rise only a few furlongs ahead of the three men who rode to their left. Whisky took to the slope sure footed and agile. He broke his stride as he galloped up and over the rocks, straining against his bridle and bit. Tavish loosened his hold on the reins and gave the horse his head. Whisky surged forward and picked his own path until he reached the summit. Tavish and Ceit looked around and found that the horizon held more hills that were tiny mountains. It would be easy for them to become lost within the peeks, with only the moon and stars to guide them, and that was what they wanted to do in that moment. Tavish looked back to see their pursuers were still making progress, albeit slowly. The bowman had his bow poised with an arrow nocked. Tavish pushed Whisky forward just in time to avoid an arrow through his shoulder. The horse cantered down the far side of the hill, and Tavish led him through a winding crevice between the hills before nudging him up another long incline. The horse’s gait impressed Tavish as he and Ceit held on, trusting the horse rather than guiding him. When they crested the summit, Tavish once again looked back. The men were still following them, moonlight reflecting off their horses’ harnesses, but their horses were not as prepared for the climb as Whisky.
“Is there aught this horse canna do? He runs and handles like a warhorse on flat ground and moves like a goat in the hills.”
Ceit patted her horse’s neck.
“Do ye hear that, lad? High praise from a Highland warrior. I kenned ye were the best horse when I insisted upon bringing ye to court. Ye shall have all the treats yer belly can hold once we are safe.”
They continued to plod along at a steady pace, but even though Whisky was hardy and nimble, he was carrying the weight of two people and slowed as his mouth and withers lathered.
“We canna keep going much longer if we dinna want him to drop. There has to be a cave or hidey hole somewhere in these hills we can duck into.” Tavish kept scanning the hills, searching for any irregular shading or dips in the moon’s shadows. His head was on a swivel looking for a place for them to hide while trying to keep a sense of where the five men were.
“Do ye see aught? If ye do, willna those men see it too?”
“They may, but they dinna ken what to look for. The ones who spoke have a burr, but they arenae Highlanders. Nae real ones. I would venture they may hail from the Midland Valley near the Highlands. If that’s the case, they arenae used to traversing land like this. They willna ken, most likely, how to read the hills. It’s why they dinna ken how to guide their horses, and the horses arenae making as much progress.”
As though his words needed confirmation, there was a wild scream that only belonged to an injured animal. Whisky nickered and sidestepped but kept moving. Tavish looked back to see an empty saddle and a horse laying on its side. He shook his head with remorse for the injured horse but relief that there was one less man after them.
Ceit and Tavish continued weaving their way through the hills in search of a place to hide. Tavish realized Ceit had to be growing cold as they climbed higher into the hills. His own skin had goosebumps since most of his chest and back were bare. He unpinned his extra length of plaid and pulled it to cover his back before pulling Ceit against his chest to allow him to wrap her into the wool. He pressed his lips to the cold skin of her cheeks. They needed to hurry, and his sense of urgency grew when Ceit slumped against him. He sensed her exhaustion from the fear and the physical strain.
They continued to ride in silence, Tavish periodically looking back. Their pace was a walk now, and Whisky’s head hung low as he plodded along. It was late into the night, and Tavish needed to make a decision soon. He was ready to dismount and lead Whisky by the bridle, saving the horse his extra weight and allowing Ceit to sit more in the saddle. He would find them somewhere to hide within the hills even if not in a cave.
“Is that something over there?” Ceit said through chattering teeth as she raised a finger to point. Tavish noticed her blue fingernail before
following her finger. He was not sure if what she saw was a cave since the moon was obscured by a cloud. He dismounted and led Whisky over a series of hillocks within the larger range. He wanted to whoop with glee when they found the entrance. He stopped Whisky and looked up at Ceit who looked half asleep and half frozen.
“Wait here. Dinna come in until I say it’s safe but keep a look out. If there is anything within, I need ye prepared to ride. The men might catch up soon, but there may be a wildcat or wolves within.”
“Then I dinna want ye to go in alone.” Ceit scrambled from her horse’s back, but Tavish’s hand landed across her backside.
“Can ye nae just listen for once? Must ye always have yer way? Ceit, I willna bend on this. Stay on the bluidy horse, or I really will skelp yer beautiful arse.”
Ceit interpreted the unbending resolution in his voice and chose not to test him. She pulled herself back into the saddle and nodded.
“Tav, just be careful please. Dinna leave me alone.” Tavish inferred she meant more than the few minutes it would take for him to inspect the cave. “Ye are stuck with me for life, lass. I already warned ye as much.”
He hurried to the entrance and found a large stone. He tossed it in, aiming for the interior wall. It banged against the rock surface, and the sound echoed within. Tavish was poised with his dirk in case anything emerged. When no sound came back, and nothing came forward, he found three more stones and threw them into the dark center of the cave in quick succession. There was still no response, so he entered the darkness and scraped the blade of his dirk along the wall. The high-pitched grating sound of his blade sent a shiver along his spine, but it would alert anything lurking in the cave to his arrival. He continued back, using one hand to drag his blade while the other swept back and forth to protect himself from walking into any walls. It did not take him long to make his way to the end of the cave, and since nothing stirred, he was confident it was safe to bring Ceit and Whisky inside. He returned to Ceit and helped her down. He looked around once more before leading them in. He did not see nor hear anyone or anything coming from the direction which they traveled. He was unsure if the men had given up and retreated down the hills or if they stopped for the night too. He was uncertain if they all still lived or if anyone else perished.
“I canna take Whisky’s saddle off in case we must flee, but I will look to see if I can find grassy tufts to bring back for him. I’m afraid there isnae any water for any of us. I will look for any saplings with dry enough branches to light a small fire in the vera back. Ye can stay by the entrance, so ye have light, but dinna leave.”
Ceit was too tired and still too scared to argue. She nodded her head. Tavish took a step away but turned back to her. He opened his arms, and she rushed into them. He kissed the crown of her head and ran his hands up and down her back before he settled for just holding her. She clung to him, but she did not tremble. It scared Tavish more that she barely moved. Her chest rose and fell, but her breaths were shallow. If he did not need to care for their only means of safe travel and did not need to warm them, he never would have let go. He led her to the wall and pressed her shoulders to lower her to the ground.
“I willna go far, and I willna be long, but call for me if ye need aught. Dinna worry aboot alerting anyone. If ye need me, call for me.”
Ceit’s distant look and tiny nod scared him more than the men pursuing them. He made quick work of scouring the ground for anything to feed Whisky. He brought back small tufts of wild grass and then hurried to find branches from the scraggly trees that grew near the cave. He brought them inside and moved towards the back of the cave. He realized it would not allow the smoke to ventilate well, but he did not want it or the light from the flames to give away their hideout. He dumped the wood and arranged it to build the fire. He struck his flint kept in his sporran and blew on the tinder he had brought with the wood. The spark grew into a small fire, and with the light, he looked around the cave for the first time. He spotted a few rocks scattered about and moved them to encircle the fire. He brought Ceit to the warmth, and she reached out her hands but soon snatched them away as the blood flowing back into her fingers stung like tens of needles pricking her skin from the inside out. Tavish took her hands in his and blew on them before chafing them together. He pulled her back into his embrace and once again wrapped his plaid around them both. They stood beside the fire, both watching the flames lick the branches that hissed and popped. Ceit rested her head against Tavish’s broad chest.
“It is a mighty good thing ye are so braw,” her hushed voice echoing in the small space, “because ye are carrying the weight of the world for us both.”
Tavish looked down at her, and his chest tightened when he saw how small she seemed leaning against him. She appeared younger than Tavish had ever seen her before, and he did not like the defeated tone in her voice. It worried him she was ready to give up. Exhaustion coupled with fear and hunger were enough in this clime to put her to sleep never to awake. Tavish sank to the ground and pulled her into his lap.
“Ye think me braw, do ye? What else do ye think of ma charms?” He attempted to sound playful, but Ceit did not respond. She leaned against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his waist still mindful of his injuries.
“I think ye far too handsome for yer own good or mine at that. I think yer charm has gotten ye far too much already. And I think I couldnae ask for a better mon to care for me if I must be stuck in such a place.”
“A fire burns in ye, does it? Is it in yer loins?” He chuckled as she leaned back to look at him. He would do anything to perk her up.
“Ma loins? I amnae a side of pork. I dinna have loins.”
“We all have loins, and mine are harder than a pike with ye sitting in ma lap.” To prove his point, he pushed his sporran out of the way and pulled one of her hands free to cup his cock. “It’s the only warm part of me. And ye still havenae told me where the fire burns within ye.”
Ceit squeezed his rod through his plaid, and his responding groan made her more brazen.
“I burn for ye deep between ma thighs just where ye should sheath this sword.”
“Ye sound mighty fierce for such a wee sprite.”
Ceit snorted. “Ye ken there is naught wee aboot me. I am too tall for a woman.”
Tavish’s hands moved to her breast and her backside and squeezed each.
“Definitely nae wee after all.”
Ceit made another unladylike sound as she twisted to straddle Tavish.
“I am serious, Tav, aboot what I said earlier. I willna ever share.”
“Ye would be ma protector, ma defender, then? I was so sure it was the other way around. I was yer ‘mo dhìonair’.”
“Of sorts. I will be ruthless.”
“Do ye promise?” Tavish smiled down and laughed when she snarled. “I rather like the notion of ye fighting for me. I dinna condone violence, mind ye, but I rather like the image of ye defending ma honor.”
“Defending yer honor? Aye, yer honor need nae fear. I will protect it and every other bit from anyone who would take ye from me, be it by force or seduction.”
Tavish tilted her head back and kissed her with a gentleness that belied his growing need. His hands kneaded the flesh that over flowed from his palms, and Ceit stroked him again.
“I dinna want to shock ye with ma cold hands, but I will as soon as they are warmer,” Ceit murmured when they stopped for a breath.
“Ceity,” Tavish breathed as he nibbled a path along her jaw until he found her neck. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth, alternating sucking, nipping, and flicking it with his tongue. Ceit writhed in his arms as she tried to press her hips closer to his.
“What’s yer full name?”
Tavish pulled back, his brow furrowed.
“What?”
“What’s yer full name? Ye are the only one to call me Ceity, and ye do it only in moments like this. We already agreed I canna call ye Tavvy, and I dinna want to. But I want a name that is only m
ine to call ye. So, what is yer full name?”
“Tavish Brodie Eòin Sinclair. I have a nephew with the middle name Brodie but nay one ever uses it. Do ye prefer that or Eoin?”
“Brodie. Ma brother’s name is Eòin.”
“Brodie it is then, Ceity.”
“Mmm,” Ceit agreed as she made it her turn to kiss his neck and then attach her mouth to his earlobe. She ran her tongue around the shell of his ear making Tavish groan. “Ye like that, Brodie?”
“Aye. Vera much. Lass, what is yer middle name?”
“Eithne.”
Their mouths found one another again, tongues dueling not to dominate but to arouse. Tavish groaned again when Ceit sucked his tongue into her mouth. She mimicked the rhythm she used on his cock only a few nights earlier.
“Mo ghaol, I shall come undone if ye keep doing that.”
“That’s what I intend,” she pressed her mouth back to his, and he surrendered his tongue to her.
Tavish pushed her skirts up high enough to slide his hands under but not enough to cause them to grow cold. His hands slid under her buttocks, and he pulled her mound against his straining cock. He longed to push that fabric aside too and dip the tip of his cock into her entrance. It would never be enough once his sword touched her sheath.
“Dinna keep making us wait.” Ceit spoke her desires aloud.
“We arenae wed yet. The king and ma da may have signed the betrothal agreement, but we havenae. We arenae even officially bound to marry yet.”
“Is a sheet of parchment that important to ye?”
“It isnae the parchment. It is the vows we havenae exchanged. I willna take the rights of a husband without being yer husband.”
Ceit huffed in irritation.
“Yer honor is becoming quite a burden. I am nearly certain it’s rather overrated,” she grumbled. “I am taking ye to the first kirk I find. I dinna care where it is.”
Tavish laughed and chucked her bottom lip as it stuck out in a pout.
“Would ye agree to a handfast, Ceity? It isnae sanctioned by the church like saying our vows before a priest, but we both ken it is a true marriage in the Highlands.”
His Highland Surprise (The Clan Sinclair Book 1) Page 19
