Her Highland Protector (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 2)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “No!” Irmengarde yelled back. “That’s madness. We’ll never have time.”

  She grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the side gate. Behind them, the guards had emerged and fanned out, and were now in hot pursuit. Irmengarde had no idea if they could outrun them, but they had to try. She prayed the gate was open.

  They burst through at a run, the iron bars clanking as she pushed it aside. The habit of Mrs. McNeal had always been to use the forest gate when she went out to collect herbs, and as luck would have it, she had left it open.

  “Milady!” Brogan yelled. “We cannot outrun them.”

  “Into the trees!” she screamed back. An idea had suddenly fallen into her brain – a crazy one, but an idea nonetheless. If she could remember where the place was, they might evade them.

  Brogan ran with her and together they crashed through the bracken. “There’s a…river…here,” Irmengarde panted. “Not…big.”

  Brogan nodded, to show he understood. She drew in a long breath and then started to run again. They headed deeper through the trees.

  “We can’t make it,” Brogan gasped. “We have to…make a stand. Stay behind me.”

  “We’re almost there!” Irmengarde called back. “Don’t be a fool. Go left!” she screamed, as she saw something she recognized. She hadn’t been here for so many months, but she was sure that outcrop was something familiar.

  Brogan followed her and she grabbed his arm and led him into the water.

  “We’ll be trapped here,” he warned. She felt her dress start to cling, soaked through by the water that reached her knees. It was bone numbing cold.

  “Keep walking,” Irmengarde panted.

  She knew this place. It was a bit further to their left, and then they would come to a cave, hidden by ferns. They just had to keep going. “And…there!”

  She felt her heart leap as she recognized it again. She hadn’t been here for months, but the flat expanse of rock was unmistakable, the base of the hill eroded by the water which, many centuries ago, must have been a bigger river. She grabbed his hand and dragged him ahead, under the ferns.

  “We can’t…” he murmured. “Oh.”

  They were alone in a cave now. The place was dark, the smell of cold and damp, and the walls and the river swallowed the sounds outside. In here, everything was peaceful.

  Irmengarde looked at him. He looked at her. They were alone in the hiding place, but for how long? Outside noises were utterly swallowed in here, the river and the thick walls eating the outer noise, making the place silent.

  “We made it,” Brogan said.

  Irmengarde just looked at him. So many things went through her mind at that moment: regret, fear, anger, annoyance, triumph. Within all of them was the added intensity of feeling that he always brought out in her.

  “We don’t know how long,” she whispered.

  He took her arm in a firm grasp. “How far back can we hide?” he asked.

  Irmengarde looked around. She wasn’t sure. She’d been here only once, collecting herbs with Ettie. How big was this cave?

  “I don’t know.”

  Brogan tensed and looked out at the entrance. Irmengarde followed his gaze and flinched as a shadow passed across the entrance. Somebody had ridden past. How close were they?

  She looked up at Brogan and he looked back. They waited. She felt as if her heart was beating so loudly that it would come out of her chest. She felt like the riders outside would hear it and come running, descending on the cave. As it happened, nothing happened. She watched more shadows pass. Then, after a long while, there was nothing.

  She noticed Brogan’s fingers were still clamped on her wrist. Feelings flared in her – an intensity of response that made her body ache, replaced – almost as swiftly – by shame.

  She tensed, and he let his hand drop.

  “Milady…forgive me,” he whispered.

  She said nothing, just turned around. Somehow, she felt angry with him – whether she was furious because he’d come to rescue her, or furious because she’d thought he never would, she couldn’t tell.

  “Let’s look around.”

  Brogan nodded and turned around and they walked to the back of the cave together. She stared about. It was dark, the rock was black, ridged and cold. She breathed in the scent of stone and damp and shivered, realizing how cold she was.

  “It’s freezing.”

  Brogan nodded. “We need to make a fire,” he whispered back.

  “And risk being seen?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s see how big this cave is.”

  Wordlessly, Irmengarde followed him further. The ground sloped sharply upwards, and she thought it might be too narrow for them to pass any further in. She felt a cold hand of fear grip her, imagining what it would be like to be stuck in here until she died.

  Brogan was close by and she gripped his hand wordlessly. The touch made her feel stronger. She strode back into the cave.

  The two of them went on ahead into the silence.

  As they explored, the cave seemed to open out a little more. There was a passage that was almost like a corridor, and it led to another cave beyond. This one was dry, and light came in from somewhere. Irmengarde shivered. The place seemed like a church, a holy place.

  “We should go,” she whispered. “It’s dry in the outer cave.”

  “We could sleep here,” Brogan offered.

  Irmengarde looked at him. The enormity of the statement struck her. She was here alone, on the run with Brogan in truth. She had already been condemned for it by Clovis, who would kill her if he saw her again, on the suspicion she had broken her vows. Why should she not do it, if he was going to assume that anyway?

  Brogan was close in the darkness, and all the immense feeling that had built between them came back to her now.

  “Let’s go out,” she said.

  He nodded and followed her out into the corridor. She sat down, wrapping her arms around herself. The fever that had held her bedridden for two days seemed dangerously close to returning. She looked up at Brogan and felt herself start to shiver.

  “I’m cold.”

  “I’m going to see if I can see any firewood.”

  “No,” Irmengarde said firmly. “If they see you, they’ll know where we are.”

  “They’re not on the hunt for me,” he whispered back.

  “They are. Don’t think they didn’t see you. Clovis knows.”

  He looked into her eyes sadly. “That means all this is my fault,” he whispered.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  He was miserable, his brown eyes staring down into hers with such an expression of pain in them that she reached for his hands. He held them and she felt herself drawn into his grasp. His arms were so strong around her, his chest firm and hard against hers. Oddly, for all her fear of Clovis, none of the memories came back to her now. This was entirely different. This was Brogan, and he cared for her.

  She breathed in, smelling the scent of him. She breathed it in, finding it exciting to her. Her body responded to his and she pushed against him, feeling proof of his arousal pressing against her waist. She drew him close and he looked down and his lips met hers.

  The gentleness of his kiss made her want to weep. It felt so perfect, so soft. His lips brushed hers, followed by his tongue, which gently licked along the line of her smile, without imposing on her.

  She felt herself start to want more than kisses and tensed.

  “Brogan, we need a fire.”

  He laughed shakily. “Yes,” he said, turning abruptly away as if to hide the intensity of his needs from her. “Yes, we do.”

  He went into the main cave. She sat there in the darkness, feeling numb and cold.

  What have I done?

  She had no idea. The whole experience was so surreal, and none of it was actually her fault.

  All she knew was that she had never felt anything like she did when Brogan kissed her.

  AN UNEXPECTED INSIGHT

  Bro
gan smelled the stifling smoke that came from wet wood. He gasped in a breath, eyes streaming, and fanned the flames. Behind him, he heard a voice.

  “I had to come and see what the racket was. You’re not dead, are you?”

  “Just about,” Brogan wheezed.

  The fire was burning fitfully, but it was alight now. He reached for the dry twigs and added them to the blaze from the wet branches. The fire flared and he saw the firelight paint her face, showing him white skin and huge eyes.

  “Is it hot enough?” she asked, crouching down. He noticed that her teeth were chattering and felt his heart stop.

  “Milady…I need tae get more wood. You need this.” He reached up for his damp cloak, which he’d lain on the stone shelf of the cave wall, in the hopes it might dry. The inside was still warm and water tight. He draped it about her shoulders.

  “N…no, Brogan,” she whispered. “What about you..?”

  He noticed that she hadn’t let go of the cloak, and he left it on her shoulders before, shivering, he went out onto the hillside.

  It was raining out there, sheets of cold gray rain falling from a gray sky. It was good, because at least the rain would deter anybody coming out to look for them. Doubtless they were still searching, but mayhap they wouldn’t come out this far.

  He found some twigs that seemed drier than the rest, and carried them down.

  Standing in the cave entrance, he looked across the fire. Lady Irmengarde had her hands out to the blaze. She was crouched over the fire, a shadow with long, tangled hair that hung about her face. She held her hands out and he stared at them, thinking about how thin and long the fingers were.

  She is so frail, and yet so strong.

  She had lived a life he couldn’t even imagine, married to that evil man. He shuddered, remembering those soulless, killer’s eyes.

  “I’m so cold,” she whispered.

  Brogan went to her. “I brought more sticks,” he said. He started to lay them on the fire, while she rocked and shivered and tried to get warm. He reached for her instinctively and held her.

  She tensed. After a long moment, she leaned back against him. He held her tight.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Adultery is a crime.”

  “I know,” he whispered back. He held her close to him, aware that his hands were clasped around her chest and he could feel the roundness of her breasts over them. “But right now all we’re doing is embracing.”

  She grinned at him. “I know,” she whispered. “But…but nobody else would see it that way. I made vows, Brogan.” She was crying now, slow tears rolling down her cheeks. “It matters not that I made them against my will.”

  “Aye, lass,” he whispered. What else was there, to say? “I know.”

  She turned and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt like his heart was going to melt.

  “You don’t know how hard this is,” she whispered back. “You cannot know how I feel inside.”

  Brogan nodded. “Aye,” he whispered, aware of how his body was starting to tingle and throb, just thinking about that. “I know.”

  She leaned back against him and he held her, closing his eyes as he tried to fight the desire that was setting his loins alight. He could smell the wet, wild scent of her, and feel her body in his tight arms. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

  I cannot make her break her vows. I would be condemning her to Hell.

  He’d seen enough of village life to know he would not be the first to break vows. It seemed ridiculous, to live in a world that would condemn Irmengarde, but praise Clovis. How could that be called justice?

  “I understand,” he whispered. “Are you warm?”

  “Yes,” she whispered back. He could feel her shivering was less. She was lying perfectly still against him. After another minute, he felt her body start to relax. Her breathing went slow and even. He realized she had fallen asleep.

  “Och, lass.”

  He leaned back against the cave wall, feeling his hand start to go numb where her weight pressed on his shoulder. All the same, he felt like his heart was melting. He couldn’t have let her go if he tried.

  The flames danced and crackled. He could smell the smoke less now, the wood starting to dry in the heat. The ash drifted up and he watched it, feeling himself start to get drowsy. It was a miracle that he was here.

  I will regret nothing in my life, having had this moment.

  She stirred in his arms. He felt her coming slowly awake. She shifted round and, to his astonishment, she smiled at him.

  “Hello,” she said. She leaned down and kissed his lips, then gently moved away. She sat down opposite the fire.

  The light made her eyes pools of shadows. Her black hair hung down her front to dry. He watched her, feeling his heart thump with a frenetic beat.

  “Are you hungry?” he made himself ask. She shook her head.

  “Brogan, we need to do something.”

  He nodded. His mouth went dry. He knew exactly what she meant. She wasn’t speaking about something about dinner, or about the escape. She meant about them.

  “What can we do?” he asked. He felt impossibly cautious, as if he was standing on the edge of a rocky precipice, about to fall. He watched her every move, like his body was tied to her mind.

  “If we find the priests…” she paused, lifting a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes, “Mayhap we can ask for annulment.”

  “They would?” he was amazed.

  “In a case like this, perhaps. We have been married nearly two years, and there is no sign of a child.” She shrugged. “It could work.”

  Brogan’s mouth went dry. “I see.”

  “Then I would be a free woman.”

  He stared, unsure what he could think or say or believe. “Yes.”

  Her eyes held his. His heart thumped so loudly he could have sworn she would be able to hear it too, beating like the great drum that summoned troops to war.

  Her brow went up and she smiled.

  “Then,” she said, with some humor, “we can talk about important things.”

  He felt his throat tighten up. “Yes,” he whispered. It was a high-pitched sound. He cleared his throat, unable to keep the smile off his face.

  “Yes.” Irmengarde said. “But first, we have to visit the priest. Then we can talk.”

  He nodded and they laughed. He reached across to her, and she took his hand.

  They sat together a long moment. His heart felt happier than it ever had.

  She started to shiver again later, great big shivers that made her moan and her body convulse. Brogan stood, feeling frightened.

  “We need to get somebody,” he said. “We need to find something to eat. A blanket…” he was already running to the cave entrance.

  “Brogan,” Irmengade whispered, teeth still chattering. “Will you stop running about and just hold me?”

  Brogan blinked, finding the words hard to understand. He came over and sat down, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned against him. He wrapped the dry cloak around them both. The fire crackled and painted the ceiling of the cave in black and orange stripes.

  He must have been more tired than he knew, because the next thing he knew of was the pale gray light of dawn filtering into the cave on a wash of birdsong.

  “Brogan.”

  She shifted against him and he groaned. He was hopelessly aroused now, more than he had ever been in his life. He held her, breathing in the scent of her skin, and wondered why his life was suddenly so wonderful. He gripped her body against him and she sighed and slid her hand into his. He clasped her fingers, feeling they were cold.

  “Good morning,” he whispered.

  She giggled. “Yes,” she said.

  He laughed, feeling more complete than he had felt in his whole life. She was the most beautiful, strongest woman he had ever seen in his life, and here she was, spending the night in his arms.

  �
�Yes,” he whispered into her hair. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

  She grinned and stirred and turned around. “We need breakfast.”

  His stomach lurched. He hadn’t eaten all day, unless the stale bannocks in the kitchen yesterday counted. He didn’t know if she had, either.

  “Yes,” he said, “we do.”

  “We will need to go begging,” she said. “I have an idea.”

  Brogan’s brow went up. “You do?”

  “We need some monk’s robes. With a cowl on over my hair, we could pass as wandering brothers. Who would think of looking for two monks?”

  Brogan nodded. It was a good idea. “But where will we get them?” he asked. “The abbey is still a day’s ride away.”

  Irmengarde nodded. “Leave it to me.”

  Brogan frowned, but agreed. “You’ve been having all the good ideas,” he admitted.

  She chuckled. Then, as she met his gaze, she shook her head. “I never asked how you managed to find me,” she whispered.

  He laughed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “But we should tell it on the way. We have far to go. And an abbey to find.”

  “And robes to steal.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “And that.”

  They smothered the last embers of the fire and tried to leave the cave as natural as they had found it. They didn’t know when they might next be needing it. Then they slipped out into the morning.

  “This way.”

  Brogan followed her. They went across the hill and left, going down into the valley. He had no idea how she knew with such utter certainty where they were supposed to go. The dense forest seemed impenetrable to him, every byway seeming alike. She was confident, and he found himself taking her hand.

  “Tell me,” she whispered, “about how you found me?”

  He told her. When he got to the part about sneaking into the castle, she started laughing.

  “I’m surprised they fell for that,” she said. “But…what did you do about the guards?”

  “I set the barn alight.”

  “You what?”

  He grinned, shamefacedly. “Something had to happen, to make a diversion. So I set the hay alight. With my flint and striker.” He patted his belt pouch proudly.