A Warlord's Prize: A Medieval Highland Romance (Highlander's Honor Book 3)

by Avery Maitland

  “Get up,” he growled.

  The man groaned in response, seeming to only just realize that he was not alone. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  “Where d’ye come from,” Lachlann demanded.

  The stranger lurched forward, but caught himself on the rocks. His knuckles were white with the effort of keeping himself upright, and his body shook. The water that rushed through the forest was cold, and there was no telling how long he had been unconscious. His tunic was stained with blood, and his face was swollen and cut. He’d been badly beaten. Left for dead in the woods.

  Lachlann called out for his men and sheathed his sword.

  “What are’ye doin’?” Cat hissed desperately.

  “What does it look like, woman? He’s wounded. He’s no threat tae me.”

  He strode through the water and braced himself on the slippery rocks before bending to place his shoulder beneath the stranger’s. The man groaned thickly and his eyes rolled back in his head as Lachlann lifted him up to his feet.

  Mackenzie and three other men came out of the trees and helped Lachlann bring the man back to camp. They half-carried and half-dragged the man between them. He was tall, and heavy, with the solid muscle of a warrior’s build. He was no farmer as Lachlann had originally thought. What Cat had said about him being one of Manus’ men resurfaced in his mind.

  They were close to Oban. Too close for comfort now.

  * * *

  “How long are ye going tae tend this broken whelp?”

  Graham Eliott’s expression was hard, and Lachlann was not overfond of the tone of his commander’s voice.

  “As long as it takes for him tae come ‘round.”

  “It’s been two days. I’m not one tae complain, but we must move on. Argyll is waitin’ and yer men will be wonderin’ what has happened tae their leader when y’do not appear at yer mother’s keep.”

  “Aye,” Lachlann agreed ruefully. “You know as well as I do that keepin’ Ginny Mackay waitin’ is like takin’ yer life in yer own hands.”

  Eliott chuckled briefly, but then his mood sharpened once more. “Will we leave him?”

  Lachlann frowned and looked over at he stranger’s prone figure. Cat hovered nearby with a bowl of water. She had tended his wounds and bandaged him as best she could, but there was not much they could do for him. The ride to Argyll was hard, and even if they could spare a horse, it was doubtful he would survive it. He was unconscious now, and had only spoken a few words. None of them intelligible.

  “If he doesnae wake and start talkin’ sense by mornin’? Aye, we’ll leave him.”

  Eliott seemed satisfied with his answer, but it did not sit well with Lachlann. He still had not decided whether they would go on to meet his mother and the men she had gathered for him… or appease his wife, who would most likely be slow to forgive him if he ignored her plea to find her sister first.

  As much as he knew how foolish it would be to ride into Oban without a plan, he did not want Morag’s blood on his hands, or his conscience, if Manus reacted to the news of a betrayal by ordering her death.

  It was a possibility, and one that he did not want to bring to his wife’s attention. It would do her no good to consider such things. She was preoccupied enough with the wounded stranger.

  Lachlann called out to Mackenzie. They would have to put together a hunting party, but it would be their last one in this forest. No matter what, in the morning, they would move on.

  “Lachlann! He’s awake!”

  At Cat’s shout of alarm, Lachlann strode to her side. She knelt beside the injured man. His wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, but he still looked as though he was not far from dining at death’s table.

  Cat reached up to tug on his arm and pull him down to kneel beside her. “He spoke— I dinnae know what he said, but he spoke.”

  Lachlann leaned close. The man’s eyes fluttered open and he coughed weakly.

  “Where did ye come from,” Lachlann asked. “What direction?”

  “Oban,” the man croaked.

  Cat’s nails dug into Lachlann’s arm and he shook off her tight grip. “Go get some water,” he commanded. Cat frowned, but did not argue with him. He watched her grab a wooden bucket and stomp into the woods before turning his attention back to the stranger.

  “D’ye ride with Manus?” he asked.

  The man let out a choked laugh. “I did.”

  “And now?”

  The man grimaced as he rose up on one elbow. “Now? I ride for no one.”

  “Why are ye here?”

  “In the woods? The bastards dumped me here. Left me for dead.”

  “What were ye tae Manus?”

  The man choked on a laugh and then coughed and spat a mouthful of blood into the grass. “Why do ye want tae know?”

  Cat rushed out of the woods, sloshing water out of the bucket she carried. “What did he say? Was he with Manus?”

  The man’s bruised face twisted as Cat approached and Lachlann glanced up at her briefly.

  “Aye,” Lachlann replied.

  Cat almost dropped the bucket in her haste. “Was there a woman with them? A woman with dark hair—she was taken—” She grabbed the stranger’s shoulder and he let out a strangled groan.

  Lachlann pushed her hands away and the stranger fell back onto the grass. “Get on wi’ye, woman. Give the man some water.”

  Cat glared at him furiously and dipped a small wooden bowl into the bucket. She held it steady while the man drank, but did not take her eyes off Lachlann as she did so.

  The man coughed and Cat pulled the bowl away from his lips. “I know who y’are,” he croaked. “Manus has been waitin’ fer ye.”

  “What about the woman?” Cat demanded, but the stranger only glanced at her before looking back to Lachlann. His wife would not abide being ignored much longer, but Lachlann was enjoying the fire that flared in her eyes.

  “How many men does Manus have with him?”

  The man sighed heavily and lay back in the grass. Cat fumed silently while they waited for his answer, and then she struck him sharply on the side and the man cried out in pain.

  “Answer him!” she cried.

  “Hundreds,” he croaked. “With more comin’ down tae join him every day.”

  “And the woman,” Cat demanded. “Did ye see her? Long dark hair…”

  The man coughed again. “Aye, there is a woman with them. Several women. Several with dark hair.”

  Cat narrowed her eyes and Lachlann shook his head. She would not be satisfied with that answer.

  “How long will Manus stay in Oban?”

  “Not long,” the man said. “He plans to move south—”

  “Why should we trust you?” Cat demanded.

  The man winced and pushed himself up against the trunk of a tree. “Manus is my brother.”

  Cat let out a cry and scrambled away from the man. Lachlann laid a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “What did you say?”

  The man winced and chuckled ruefully. “Manus… he is my father’s eldest son. A bastard son. He has taken my father’s name as his own.”

  Lachlann shook his head, bewildered. “Why would he do this to ye? To his own brother.”

  “He doesnae know.”

  Cat’s eyes were wide and Lachlann did not know what to think.

  “But why help us? You betray your own blood!”

  The man’s face twisted. “Betrayal? I thought Manus was lookin’ tae take some land and establish himself— But his ambitions are far beyond anything I had ever expected.” The man grabbed for Lachlann’s arm. “Ye have tae warn Nathan McArthur. Before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “Manus will march south with his army—they march for Argyll.”

  Cat seemed to have recovered from her initial surprise, but Lachlann needed Graham Eliott to hear what this man had to say.

  He turned to look for his commander, but Cat’s quick movement caught his eye
. She was on the man in an instant and pulled roughly on his tunic. “My sister!” she cried. “Manus took my sister. You’ve seen her, I know ye’have.”

  “Cat!” Lachlann lunged forward and pulled her away, but the man’s expression was pained.

  “Aye,” he croaked. “I’ve seen yer sister. Ye’have the same eyes, and the same fire—” he chuckled thickly and coughed again. The broken ribs would slow him and make riding almost impossible and Lachlann wondered how long he could delay their departure. He would have to bring the man to Nathan McArthur. The laird would never believe him otherwise.

  Cat struggled against his grip on her shoulders, but he did not release her. “Is she still alive?” she cried. “Tell me the truth or… Or—”

  The man spat blood into the grass and smiled wryly, his teeth stained red. “Or what? Do ye plan tae sneak intae Manus’ camp and steal her away? Right out from under his nose?”

  “Aye!” Cat’s reply was furious and Lachlann wished he could clap a hand over his wife’s mouth. Unwise to even think of such a thing. Her teeth were sharp. And quick.

  “I tried tae do it. I tried tae free her—and Manus made a pretty mess of me for my trouble.”

  “Why didn’t ye help her?” Cat seethed. “Are you a coward as well as a betrayer?”

  The man shrugged. “I love Morag,” he said.

  Cat struggled against Lachlann’s hands again, but he did not release her. “Then why did ye leave her with that… that bastard!” Her voice was choked with unshed tears and his heart ached for her. Morag was so close, he could not imagine the pain she was in.

  “Look at me, d’ye not think I tried tae get her away?”

  “Not hard enough,” Cat snapped. She wrenched herself out of Lachlann’s grasp and stalked toward the horses.

  “She will not be angry forever,” Lachlann said. “But it will feel like it.”

  The man chuckled and Lachlann crouched down to bring them face to face. “What do I call ye?”

  “Donnal.”

  Lachlann nodded. “Ye’ll come with us to Iveraray.” It was not a question, but Donnal did not seem affected.

  “Aye, ye’ll need me.”

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  “Ye cannae trust him,” Cat whispered as she slid between the sleeping furs. “How d’ye know he willnae lead ye straight intae a trap?” She rested her chin on her hands and looked up at him.

  Lachlann sighed and stripped off his tunic before he lay down next to her. “Why would he do that?”

  “He betrayed his own brother,” she said. “There’s nothing tae say he willnae do the same to ye.”

  Lachlann snorted. “Did ye not see his face, woman? He has broken ribs, and cannae see out one eye.”

  Cat muttered something he could not hear, but he was not in the mood to argue with her. He pulled her close and she wriggled against his side. She was warm and soft and he smiled in the darkness.

  “Will ye ride in the morning?”

  Lachlann pulled her closer. “If Donnal can bear it.”

  “He has a name now?”

  “Aye.”

  “Did he tell ye how far it is to Oban?”

  Lachlann gritted his teeth. She would never let this go. “We ride for Inveraray.”

  Cat rose up and glared at him. “But we’re so close— Ye cannae just… ride away!”

  “I can and I will,” he said tersely. He had had almost enough of his wife’s stubborn ways, and he would not put his men in harm’s way needlessly. “Morag has survived this long, Donnal says she is well and cared for—”

  “Cared for?” Cat snorted. “She is a prisoner of that murderous bastard and y’expect me tae believe that she’s bein’ ‘well cared for’? I didnae take ye for a fool, Lachlann Mackay.”

  With a grunt, Lachlann turned and pulled Cat back into his arms, rolling to press her back against the sleeping furs. She let out a quick breath of surprise and her eyes widened as she was pinned beneath him. “Ye’ve said enough for tonight, wife,” he growled.

  Cat struggled briefly, but it was half-hearted, and he could already see a flare of desire in her eyes as her legs came up around his waist to grip him tightly.

  “Have I?”

  Her tone was teasing, and he heard the catch of her breath in her throat as she felt the press of his cock against her. With a sly smile she reached between them to pull his tartan aside and stroked her hand over his quickly hardening length.

  Lachlann bit back a groan and moved his hips to encourage her touch. She had made him a prisoner, and there was no way he could disguise his passion for her. This was no time for sweet and slow lovemaking, and she was just as eager for release.

  She tilted her hips and guided his cock to her slick opening and he groaned against her throat as she welcomed him into her sweet heat.

  They moved together in a rhythm that left them both breathless, his strokes were quick and sure, and her soft moans and whispered encouragement spurred him onward. Their argument was forgotten, her anger toward him transforming into eager passion as she clung to his shoulders and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts.

  His own climax was building, tight and strong in the pit of his stomach, but he wanted to be sure that Cat was close. As though she had read his mind, she slipped one small hand between them to tease at the hard nub at the center of her pleasure, and her heard her moans change as the motion of her hand quickened, rubbing in small circles that inflamed and excited her all the more.

  She whispered his name and wound her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer for a heated kiss that left her gasping as her body tightened and the velvet walls of her pussy clenched around his cock.

  Sharp teeth bit into his shoulder as Cat’s climax shuddered through her body and he felt his own release build and burst through him as he thrust into her again, and again, drawing every ounce of pleasure from their connection that he could before pulling her tightly against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. She was his, and nothing would change that, he had never thought he would love the stranger his mother had chosen to be his bride—but Cat was not that woman, and he loved her fiercely in spite of all his misgivings and reluctance. She was brave, wild, and unpredictable, and he would do anything to protect her.

  He kissed her gently and relished the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as her eyes closed with satisfaction.

  “Will ye sleep now?” he whispered.

  Her reply was a soft murmur as she nestled against him under the sleeping furs. If they could lie like this forever, he would be content with that—but there would be no contentment until Manus was brought to heel. He had to face the laird’s justice, then he could return to Narris with his wayward wife and begin their life together in the highlands surrounded by green hills and the mist from the loch. That was what he wanted. That was what he was fighting for.

  * * *

  ***

  * * *

  He slept fitfully, his dreams full of uncertain roads and strange shadows between the dark trees. A sharp noise startled Lachlann from his dream, and, half-asleep, he reached for his wife’s comforting warmth.

  But instead of her soft body, his fingers only touched the chill of the furs. His eyes flew open and he sat up, fear tightening in his chest. Her bundle of clothing and the long knife she had brought from Narris were gone.

  She could be at the stream… Donnal’s abrupt arrival had interrupted her washing—

  He leapt up from the sleeping furs and called out for one of his men, but they were all still rolled in their own sleeping furs. He realized then that it was barely dawn and the sky had only just begun to lighten.

  “Mackenzie!” he roared. “Get up!”

  Angus Mackenzie groaned and rolled over. He blinked at Lachlann sleepily and then scrambled to his feet as he registered the expression on his leader’s face. “What is it?”

  “My wife,” he said through gritted teeth. “She’s gone.”

  Mackenzi
e’s mouth dropped open. “Gone?”

  “Aye. Check the horses. If the mare is missing—”

  Mackenzie struggled to pull up his breeches and strap on his sword belt. “Where would she have gone?”

  Lachlann narrowed his eyes at Donnal’s motionless form as Mackenzie ran toward where the horses had been hobbled for the night. He waited, frustration seething in his chest, for Mackenzie’s shout.

  “The mare is gone!”

  Lachlann rubbed a hand through his hair and strode quickly over the grass toward Donnal. The man opened the one eye that was not swollen as he approached.

  “Lost somethin’?” he asked.

  “Aye,” Lachlann snapped.

  Donnal chuckled. “Ye should have known that would happen,” he said.

  “Aye.”

  Mackenzie ran back across the grass. “What do we do now?” he asked.

  “We ride for Inveraray,” he said tersely. “You will ride for Oban and bring my wife back to me before she does something dangerous.”

  Mackenzie’s face fell, but his expression hardened at once and he nodded. “Aye, I’ll bring her back tae ye.”

  “Get ye gone, then.”

  He looked down at Donnal as Mackenzie went back to his sleeping furs and began to pack for the journey. “Can ye ride?”

  Donnal coughed. “I dinna have a choice,” he said. “Ye’ll need me to make Nathan McArhur see sense.”

  “I will,” Lachlann agreed.

  “Aye, then I can ride.”

  Lachlann’s smile was tight and he turned to watch Angus Mackenzie mount his horse and gallop away through the trees. Cat could not be far away, and once she was back in his arms, he would never let her out of his sight.

  Chapter Five

  Oban was so close now. Close enough that she thought she could smell the salt of the ocean on the air. Her mare seemed to know that their journey was almost at an end, and her strides lengthened as Cat urged her faster.

  She had left before dawn. Lachlann had fallen asleep quickly, sated by their lovemaking, and though she felt guilty for leaving the warmth of his embrace she had to go on to Oban alone. He would never have allowed her to leave, and Cat could not shake off the image of her sister trampled in the mud… She had no choice.