Highlander's Fierce Wolf (Beasts 0f The Highlands Book 4)

by Alisa Adams

  What was she missing in this silent communication between these two men?

  She saw Wolf give a jerk of his head to the side to Keir, and heard Keir’s surprised laugh as he moved away. Swan slowly turned back and forth, pointing her blade at one and then the other as Keir moved further and further away from her.

  “Stop!” she shouted to him, holding out her hand.

  Keir instantly stopped and looked at her in surprise.

  “Ye are about to step back into the bog!” she called to him.

  Keir looked slowly behind him, then back at her with surprise.

  “That was kind of ye,” Wolf said carefully as he spread his hands wide and took a slow step towards her.

  Swan spun back to him and whirled her tosg back to the blade.

  “No closer Wolf!” she said fiercely as she pointed it at him.

  Swan felt something beside her and glanced quickly to her right. There was Kaithria with her tosg, also pointed at Wolf. Kaithria quickly turned at a movement from Keir, pointing her tosg at him.

  “Now may I? The little one, in the hood? Is it a nun?” Keir asked Wolf. “Though it may be but a child, I cannae see what is under the baggy, black cloak it wears,” Keir said with a hint of humor. “Perhaps a young boy I should think.”

  Swan heard a small shriek come from Kaithria.

  “He is toying with you. Stay calm,” Swan whispered to Kaithria.

  “Well?” Keir asked Wolf.

  Wolf nodded once, his eyes still on Swan.

  “Let us go,” Swan said firmly. “Tis the least ye could do for twas I that saved ye and yer horses from the bog,” she said in a low, fervent voice.

  “Let you go? Where? You and one old man, two women, one of whom looks to be a nun, and a couple of children?” he asked her.

  “Four children,” Keir added as four of them came closer. “Och, make that five.” He paused, “No, wait. Six.” He paused again. “Yes, six children. How many children can ye fit on a horse? Are there more?”

  Swan did not look at Keir though she shook her head no. She stared only at Wolf, just as Beans did. She did see the children coming towards her. She made a move to shoo them back and Wolf moved forward quickly.

  She slashed her tosg at him.

  He knocked it aside.

  She spun back and thrust at him again.

  He knocked it aside once more, advancing closer towards her.

  She jabbed and thrust and slashed but he managed to knock them all away.

  And took a step closer each time as she was forced to back up.

  She was panting, out of breath, while he looked calm and relaxed, almost as if he was enjoying this.

  “Ye are playing with me,” she said accusingly. She swung her tosg at him again, her arm weakening.

  “No,” he said in a husky voice as he knocked it easily away again.

  “Ye attack women and children often?” she said as she jabbed the staff at him.

  “Ye forgot to add the nun, and an old man too.” He paused, glancing to the side at something while he knocked her staff easily away from him. “Apparently one that is intent on attacking me with a...is that a golf club?” he asked incredulously as he ducked a small leather ball that the old man had hit with his club right at his head.

  “Beak! Stay back! Take the children!” Swan called out.

  “Lady Swan we will not leave ye,” Grissy called as she came hurriedly forward with the other girls, all brandishing large sticks.

  Not to be outdone, the little boys came quickly forward as well.

  “We are warriors too, remember?” shouted Bhric as he waved his wooden stick with the knob at one end. It was the one that he used to hit the small balls that Beak had given him.

  “Sards!” said Swan with a roll of her eyes. Then she focused on Wolf again. “I dinnae want to hurt ye!” She spun her tosg to the blade end and pointed it at him once again.

  “A true warrior must fight to win,” Wolf said calmly as he put his fist on the shaft of the tosg. His lips tipped up into a small, crooked smile.

  “I will not cause blood in front of these children,” she hissed quietly and fervently up at Wolf.

  Wolf tightened his hold on the shaft and effortlessly pulled her to him, right up against his chest. He looked down at the fiery redhead who held her back so rigid, her chin so high in determination. But in the mysterious depths of those incredible blue eyes he saw fear, exhaustion, and worry.

  “Are all of these children yours?” he asked her quietly as he looked down into her face.

  He was standing so close now, the only thing between them was her tosg, which they both had a firm grip on. She looked up into his steely, odd-colored eyes, for they were neither grey, nor truly blue, but some glittering combination of both.

  She felt the heat of him.

  She inhaled the spicy scent coming off of his skin.

  She watched as his pupils dilated.

  Watched as his nostrils flared as if inhaling her.

  Watched as his lips parted slightly as he leaned closer.

  Watched as his lids lowered, just slightly, as he looked down at her.

  She saw the pulse in his throat throbbing.

  Felt his muscular thighs against her own.

  “The children are not your business,” she said in a husky whisper as she tried to yank her tosg away and pull backward from him. His fist was like steel, however, and she could not pull it away.

  He looked down into her eyes. His long black lashes shuttered once, twice, over his eyes. When he opened them again, his stare was hard once more.

  “Is the little one a nun?” he demanded.

  At her confused look he repeated the question. “Is she a nun, or perhaps a prioress?”

  “I dinnae know,” she stated defiantly. “We are no Jacobites if that is what ye are asking!”

  “Where is your man?” he demanded, staring down at her, pulling the tosg, and her along with it, even tighter against his wide chest.

  “I have no man.” When his lips started to tip up into what was almost a smile, or a snarl, she added, “I need no man!” she answered firmly.

  She watched as his eyes studied her. Thinking.

  “Brough? This is all the people that are left from Brough?” he asked carefully. “The castle and village at the vera northernmost tip of Scotland?”

  “Aye,” she whispered brokenly. “I told ye this.” She watched as something changed in his eyes as he looked down at her.

  “I didnae mean to frighten ye when I stopped ye from getting on yer horse,” he said, his voice deepening as he held her eyes.

  “Ye dinnae frighten me. Ye hurt me,” she said, lifting her chin. Then she looked away, for that movement had put her lips too close to his.

  His eyes registered surprise. “I dinnae,” he said gruffly.

  “Ye did,” she said. She turned back to glare up at him.

  “Show me yer arm, push up yer sleeve that I may see,” he demanded as he glared right back at her.

  “I willnae!” she said, aghast.

  “You will.” He simply stared at her. Waiting.

  “The other men!” called out Beak from atop Eckle.

  Swan glanced at Beak. He sat there as comfortable as a man in his favorite chair, leaning on the head of his saddle with one arm, his pipe held in his mouth with the other, puffing lovely smoke rings. His golf club was put away, Beak having decided it was no longer needed as he stared with avid interest at the huge Highlander. One smoke ring hovered above his head like a white, blurry halo.

  Beak smiled. “They grabbed her arm and pulled her off Peigi. They hurt her, not ye Lord McKay.”

  “Men hurt ye?” Wolf said angrily. “Now ye will show me your arm. I command it,” he said authoritatively.

  Swan sighed loudly in a huff of breath, ignoring his command. “Ye have no right to command me.”

  Wolf frowned fiercely at her, but Swan ignored him.

  She turned to Beak. “Beak, I dinnae need your
assistance aboot me arm. I needed ye to take the children and go!”

  “As ye can see the wee ones refused. They are behind ye now. Your defense line,” he croaked in what was almost a chuckle as he blew out another puff of smoke, watching the whole scene avidly.

  Swan frowned fiercely at him and turned to crane her neck behind her to see the children, all brandishing sticks, ready to come to her aid. “Beak!” she yelled, wondering why he was not in the least concerned about these two warriors. Then she saw Neely walking up behind him. She had gotten off of her horse and was now leading Teeth. “Neely—the children!”

  “The children are uncontrollable, incorrigible, irregular, irritating. Ignominious!” she said, pointing her finger to the sky. “Little monsters is what they are. They dinnae ken. I couldnae stop them!” She huffed her messy hair out of her face. “I have had my hands full with Teeth here!” she declared, pointing to the horse behind her. “Sorry yer Ladyship,” she said, yanking her torn sleeve out from between the horse’s teeth.

  “Neely!” Swan said, trying to maintain her patience. “Ignominious indeed!”

  “Och sorry Lady Swan, er, Lady McKinnon!” Neely said with a huff, as she ducked and waved her hand at Teeth as he grabbed at her hair. “I am sure they are all wee angels…”

  “Teeth? Did she say Teeth?” Wolf demanded.

  “Aye, Lord McKay,” answered Beak from atop Eckle as he turned his laughing smile from Neely to the big warrior.

  “Teeth was the name of Gavin of Thurso’s horse,” Wolf said accusingly as he looked with new eyes at the four war horses.

  “Aye, he was, milord,” Beak said quietly.

  “Was?” demanded Wolf.

  “He is dead, milord. Tis sorry I am to tell ye,” Beak said.

  Wolf’s hold on Swan’s tosg fell away and he let her step back from him.

  “The others?” Wolf said, nodding his head towards the old war horses.

  “Dummernech,” Beak said as he pointed to Dummy. “Inchturfin, Mentieth, and Echlefechan.” He said their names as he pointed to each of the old, once-noble war horses.

  Wolf let out a small gasp and almost dropped to his knees. “Their riders?”

  Beak took his pipe out of his mouth and swallowed. “All gone milord,” he said quietly.

  “Ye knew those men?” Swan asked softly.

  “Aye, every one of them, tho twas long, long ago,” Wolf answered her. “I fought beside them when I was a new, young, brash warrior. Thinking I knew it all.” He swallowed and said drolly, “They taught me that I did not.” His lips tipped up slightly, “And in so doing, they taught me everything I know.” Wolf swallowed past the lump in his throat, once more. “Great warriors, and the best of men.”

  “Aye, they were, Lord McKay,” Beak said quietly.

  Wolf looked at Beak inquisitively. “They were going to go to the very north of Scotland to retire, they said. Where there were no wars to fight. Where they could spend their days fishing on a warm sandy beach and their horses could graze the heath for the rest of their days…”

  “They did,” came Swan’s soft voice.

  Wolf’s head spun to her. “At Brough?”

  “Aye,” she said. “They died in the second attack on Brough.” At his questioning look she added, “They were wondrous during the first attack. A sight to behold. But it was too much for them, the second attack being so close to the first. Too much for any of our men.” She started to reach out to touch his arm in condolence, but changed her mind, pulling her hand back quickly. “They died valiantly, trying to protect Brough.”

  “Where do ye think she learned to whirl that staff as she does milord?” Beak asked as he jabbed his pipe towards Swan.

  Wolf looked at her again with new eyes. “I wondered. It was familiar to me.”

  “I could tell,” Swan said wryly. “Ye knew me every move because they taught ye as well.”

  “But what kind of weapon is that?” Wolf asked, nodding to the tosg she still held.

  “Tis a tosg,” Swan answered.

  “I have never heard of a tisatosg,” Wolf said as he rubbed his hand over the whiskers on his chin.

  Swan grinned and said slowly, “It tis...a...tosg.” At his still questioning look she said with chagrin, “It is a peat cutter. A tosg.”

  “You fought me with a peat cutter?” Wolf said in a growl.

  “Aye,” she said, lifting her chin. The grin left her face. “The King took away all but our traditional auld Scottish weapons, if ye remember the Disarming Act?” Swan said with an arched eyebrow. “It left us helpless against his armies in the Clearances, no matter if we were Jacobites or no,” she said curtly.

  “Brough was caught up in the Clearances then? The attacks were Clearances?” Wolf asked with narrowed eyes.

  “Aye,” Swan said.

  “Who commands Brough now?” he demanded.

  “No one. They did not stay. Not the first army, nor the second, nor the third. They ransacked us and burnt it down.” Swan stared at him, still as a statue. Controlling the memories, the onslaught of horrible images that always flooded her mind when she thought of those senseless attacks.

  Wolf stared at the small group of children, old Beak, the three women, and the old, black war horses. “Who is the sire of Peigi?”

  That was his question? Swan stared curiously at him.

  “The great black war horse stallion, Ben Nevis,” she said.

  “I thought so. Your Peigi is unusually tall for her young age. Her sire could only be the giant Ben Nevis. The same black as night coloring and huge feathers around their hooves. Her tail will be dragging the ground in a year as Ben Nevis’ does. They also have the same long forelock that covers their eyes and falls all the way to their nose.” Wolf tightened his jaw and looked at all of them.

  “Ye know Ben Nevis? How?” Swan asked with surprise.

  “Greysteil McKinnon rides the great war horse stallion Ben Nevis. Is he yer brother or yer husband?” Wolf demanded, looking directly at her.

  “Aye, he is me brother. Ye know him?” she said excitedly. “Where is he? How is he?”

  Neely came forward in a rush. “Is he well?”

  “He is fine,” Wolf said in a clipped voice. It was filled with anger that hid his relief that Steil was only Swan’s brother. “He left ye then? With only four old warriors to protect ye?” he ground out.

  “There were more,” Swan said staunchly, defending her brother’s choice to join the Black Watch Army. “Truly, Steil is well?”

  “My word is truth,” Wolf said matter-of-factly in a curt, clipped voice.

  “Bu—”

  “But the men yer brother left ye with were not enough to withstand three attacks on Brough,” he said harshly.

  “We thought we were too far north to be bothered with!” she all but shouted back. “We are too isolated, the bogs too dangerous. The sea too rough. We have never been attacked! Not once in the hundreds of years that Brough Castle has stood on the tip of the peninsula!” Her voice cracked and she stopped.

  Wolf paused and scratched his chin. Then he rubbed the stubble of his jaw. He looked over at Keir, then back at Swan. “Why three attacks by three different armies, as ye said? What does Brough have to offer, or not offer, since none of those armies took occupancy of Brough Castle? What did they want?”

  Swan looked at him with wide eyes. “I dinnae know,” she whispered. “They destroyed everything, for naught that I could see.” She raised her chin again, but not before her lower lip trembled, just the tiniest bit.

  She was so exhausted.

  So tired of being strong.

  So tired of acting unafraid.

  So tired of being the brave leader.

  Her body waivered slightly.

  Wolf caught her before she knew what happened and had scooped her up into his arms.

  “When is the last time you ate something?” Wolf growled at her.

  “Put me down,” she tried to say firmly.

  “No,” wa
s all Wolf said as he started walking with her in his arms.

  Swan reached up to hold on as he started walking with her in his arms. She put her arms around his neck.

  It brought her face very close to his.

  Wolf stared down into her eyes as he walked. But then his gate slowed as he was swept into the mysterious depths of the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen.

  He leaned down slightly, just enough to almost touch her lips.

  Captivated.

  He slowed down even more.

  He breathed in her scent, and waited, his walk slowing further as he stared down at her.

  He watched as she lifted her lips, just the slightest bit.

  Watched as those perfect lips parted, just slightly.

  Heard her inhale and pause as she leaned up a bit more.

  It was enough.

  He lowered his mouth to hers as he exhaled a trembling breath. That alone shook him to the core. He had trembled at the thought of kissing this woman! He desperately wanted to kiss her.

  He had to.

  He could not stop himself.

  He tasted her lips.

  Once.

  And then again. Running his mouth back and forth over hers, tasting her breath, inhaling her. Then he let his tongue lightly plunge inside.

  At her quivering sigh, he pulled back, staring into those beautiful, deep blue eyes that were staring back at him, wide-eyed. Her breathing was fast as pink stained her cheeks. Her lashes fluttered closed as he watched, then opened again to look into his eyes once more.

  “Yes,” Swan said on a sigh. She put her hand to her forehead. It was spinning.

  “Yes what?” he asked in a quiet hoarse voice, wanting to taste her again.

  Swan stared blankly up at him. Staring at his rugged jaw with the slight stubble of dark hair, at his beautiful mouth that had just given her her first most magnificent kiss. At his steely eyes, that glinted down into her own.