Artair's Temptress: Highlander Fate Book Five

by Knight, Stella

  Think. As a solicitor, she was used to solving complex problems, but those problems didn't involve dangerous men from a different time period. She needed to rescue Artair and get them both out of here—to somewhere she could safely perform a Transport spell. If I can even manage that, she thought, with a surge of frustration. What if she ended up transporting them to somewhere far more dangerous? But with the way things were going, she didn't have a choice.

  She didn’t know what they were doing to Artair at the moment, but she had no doubt in her mind as to the intentions of Iomhar—the creepy sod had done nothing but leer at her. Her skin crawled at the thought of him touching her, and a hard resolve settled in. She wouldn’t let him come near her.

  Diana whirled as the door swung open and Tamhas entered. She swallowed and took a faltering step back.

  “There’s no need tae be frightened of me, lass."

  “Isn’t there?” Diana returned, raising her eyebrows. “You’ve taken me and my husband hostage.”

  “I just need tae ask ye some questions."

  “We mean you no harm,” Diana insisted. “You were the ones who found us. We just want to be on our way.”

  “But that’s what we’re struggling with, my lady,” he said. “How is it ye ended up where ye did?”

  “We told you,” she said. “We lost our way—"

  “Which is a lie,” he said with a sigh, raking his hand through his hair. “Just tell me the truth, lass, and I’ll let ye go.”

  We traveled through time from the twenty-first century.

  “I told you,” she repeated, hoping that she sounded truthful enough. She met his gaze and held it, something she did whenever she was trying to gain a client's trust during a case. “We are telling you the truth.”

  He studied her for a long time, as if trying to ascertain the truth of her words. She kept her gaze steady, praying that she was convincing him.

  "Yer husband said something odd earlier. He said, ‘I donnae care if they see ye vanish.’ What did he mean by that?"

  Diana froze, her mouth going dry. Why did he have to be so bloody perceptive? And why did Artair have to say that in front of Tamhas?

  "He just wanted me to run," she said, hoping that she sounded calmer than she felt. "I—I keep telling you nothing but the truth."

  “No, ye’re not, lass.” He took a step toward her, and she took another step back. He stopped, holding up his hands to show her he meant no harm. “Will ye tell me one thing that’s true? Is Domnall yer husband?”

  She blinked at the name 'Domnall' before remembering it was the false name Artair have given him. She thought of Artair, his warm blue eyes as he silently urged her to trust him, how he'd tried to protect her from these men, even though he barely knew her, and the awareness that coursed through her whenever he was near.

  “Yes,” she said, and his expression softened. "He's my husband. He means more to me than anyone."

  “Finally, the truth,” he said, giving her a nod of satisfaction, and surprise roiled through her—surprise she had to hide. Maybe there was some benefit to her attraction to Artair after all.

  “Please,” she implored him. “Don’t harm my husband. We just want to be on our way.”

  “Yer husband is alive and well in the cellar. We have no intention of harming him, lass—as long as he tells us the truth.”

  He turned and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and she heard the lock turn. She sank down onto the narrow bed, shaking.

  Think.

  "Magic is the flow of our need, what we truly want," her mother had once told her, as she performed a Levitation spell on a grimoire while a young Diana watched in awe. "All you have to do is direct it where to go—and what to do. It's a part of you. Remember that, love."

  Diana stilled, her heart picking up its pace. She thought of Iomhar, his leering gaze.

  And she knew exactly what to do.

  She moved to the door and called for the guard. He opened the door, glaring at her.

  "I'd like to speak with Iomhar."

  * * *

  Iomhar entered moments later; she heard him order the guard to leave before stepping inside the room. She took a breath as she faced him, setting aside the disgust that filled her stomach when his eyes raked over her with a sickening thoroughness.

  “Greetings, my lady,” he said, giving her an exaggerated bow. “Ye wished tae speak tae me?”

  You’re doing this for the greater good, she told herself. She licked her dry lips and stepped forward, giving him what she hoped was a seductive smile.

  “I want to offer you a deal.”

  He raised his eyebrow, his eyes dropping down to her breasts. "A deal, aye?"

  “Yes,” she said, lowering her eyes to hide her revulsion. “If you agree to let us go, I’ll show you my gratitude.”

  He straightened, pleasure filling his eyes, along with a slight trace of suspicion.

  “And why would ye do that, lass?”

  “I see the way you’ve been looking at me,” she said, hoping her voice was light, playful, even though she had to force each word past her lips. “Things have been . . . difficult between Domnall and I.”

  “Aye?” he asked, stepping forward. It took everything in her power not to step back.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “But you have to agree to let us go. Perhaps I won’t even want to leave . . . after.”

  His smile widened, and he stepped closer to her, reaching out to touch her cheek. He reeked of sweat and old ale. She forced a smile and reached up to grab his hand before he could touch her.

  “Do I have your word?”

  “I donnae have tae guarantee ye anything, lass. I could just take what I want,” he growled. A jolt of fear struck her, but his expression relaxed. “Yet it will be more pleasurable for us both if ye’re not struggling. I'll talk tae my brother about freeing ye. Tell him ye’re telling the truth. But only after ye please me.”

  “Of course,” she said, keeping the smile pinned on her face, ignoring the bile that rose in her throat.

  “No more talk. I want tae taste ye,” he grunted, reaching out to grab her by the nape of her neck.

  She acted fast, training her eyes on his, putting every ounce of her fury into the spell.

  “Codladh anois, codladh domhain.”

  It worked. All too well.

  The bastard immediately lost consciousness, and she took great pleasure in seeing the brief moment of panicked fear in his eyes before they shut. She hurried forward before he could crash to the floor and create a noise that would surely alert the others.

  She caught his bulk in her arms and lowered him to the floor, glowering at him. She had a feeling she wasn’t the only woman he would have forced his attentions upon. Kensa had taught her a spell that could cause death in the direst of circumstances, but she'd cautioned Diana to only use it if her life—or someone else's—was in mortal peril. And as much as she loathed the man, she didn't think she could live with his death on her conscience. If her spell held, he'd sleep soundly for the rest of the night—and the next day—before waking.

  She reached down and took his dagger from his sword belt, expelling a breath. This wasn’t the hardest part of her plan. Artair was in the cellar—she had to get to him.

  She slipped open the door, peeking out. The hallway was empty, and relief swept over her that Iomhar had sent her guard away. She heard no noise; given how long they had imprisoned her in the room, it should be the middle of the night. The inn was still and quiet.

  She crept down the hall, praying that the guard was nowhere nearby. But all remained silent, and she made her way down the stairs, hurrying across the main room of the inn to reach a second set of stairs, which led down to a dark cellar.

  She found Artair there, tied up next to a sack of barley, and the relief that coursed through her was so great she swayed on her feet.

  He turned toward her and she saw that he sported a bruised jaw, along with a swollen left eye. Anger cour
sed through her; she should have done more damage to Iomhar.

  “Diana?” he whispered, paling at the sight of her. “I told ye tae leave.”

  “And I told you,” she returned firmly, kneeling down to undo his binds, “I’m not leaving you behind.”

  “How did ye get down here?”

  “I’ll tell you later. We need to go.”

  He nodded, and she handed him the dagger she’d taken off of Iomhar. Together they made their way back up to the main room.

  As soon as they emerged, Diana froze. Loirin stood there, holding a fussy baby in her arms. Loirin stilled as well, her eyes widening at the sight of them.

  Diana’s heart leapt into her throat. This was it. Loirin would call for the others, and they would kill her and Artair.

  But Loirin didn't move. When she spoke, her voice was low, barely above a whisper.

  “There’s a horse in the stables and a bag of supplies ye can use behind the counter. I never saw ye.”

  And with that, she turned to leave, disappearing into a side room.

  Chapter 6

  Artair gripped the reins of the horse they’d taken from the back stables of the inn, kicking the sides of the horse’s flank to urge him to gallop faster. Diana had her arms wrapped around his waist from behind; he could feel her quick breaths against the back of his neck. He’d never ridden a horse so quickly in all his life, but he was eager to put as much distance between him, Diana, and those bastards as possible.

  They’d been riding for just a short time, but the village was already far behind them. He didn’t have a destination in mind as he still didn’t know exactly where they were. Their surroundings only consisted of stretches of vast glens and patches of forest.

  He drew in a sharp breath, wincing as a sharp pain from his bruised jaw pierced him. Tamhas, Iomhar, and the other men had demanded repeatedly that he tell them who he truly was, and why he'd come to the Scottish border. He’d maintained his story through every blow they’d rained down upon him, knowing that he could never tell them the truth. He’d been unable to fight back given his binds, but if he ever crossed their paths again . . . a dark pleasure filled him at the thought.

  Diana tightened her grip on him, and a surge of protective anger raced through him, erasing all thoughts of dark pleasure. He didn’t want to think about what Diana had done to get free, but if Iomhar had touched her . . .

  He swallowed, clenching his jaw to stymie his fury. Now was not the time to dwell on thoughts of anger and revenge. He needed to find them shelter for the night and a place for Diana to get herself out of his time.

  They soon approached a lone farmhouse with attached stables. The house appeared empty. No smoke billowed from its roof, and the windows were dark. Still, he had Diana linger behind with the horse as he ventured forward to check. It was indeed empty. They could stay for the night in the empty stables and leave at first light, hopefully before the owners returned.

  He tied up the horse just outside the stables before he and Diana entered. It was still chilly inside, but it would have to do for the night.

  “All right,” he said, turning to face her. “Ye need tae get yerself out of here.”

  Diana blinked at him in surprise. “What?”

  “Ye need tae use yer witchcraft tae get yerself out of here and back tae yer own time,” he repeated. A surprisingly sharp jab of pain struck him at the realization that he would never see her again, but he ignored it.

  “I’m not going to leave you in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t gotten you back to the right place, and we still don’t know what year this is,” Diana protested. “I promised Kensa that—”

  “From their dress and manner of speech, I think we’re in the correct time. We're near the border, Tamhas all but confirmed it when he was questioning me. I think he and his men may be one of many border gangs around this area—they're thieves and murderers," Artair interrupted. "Ye need tae get back tae yer own time—and tae safety. I still have the coin that yer aunt gave us. 'Tis a good thing she put hidden pockets into our clothing—those bastards would have taken it all. I can take care of myself as I make my way north.”

  “You can take care of yourself?” Diana demanded. “Which one of us untied the other and got us out of there?”

  He scowled. “I would have been able tae handle it, lass.”

  She gave him a skeptical look, eyeing his bruised jaw. But her expression shifted, and she seemed to deflate, taking a step back from him.

  “To be honest with you . . . I don’t know if I can.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “I don’t think I can travel through time using just my magic . . . not without a portal. Kensa may be able to do that, but I’m still new to all of this.”

  “Ye can try,” he said, reaching out to take her hands.

  Her hands were cold, but they might as well have been hot irons for the sudden heat that seared him as he held them in his own. Her eyes remained locked with his, filled with uncertainty, until she gave him a jerky nod.

  “If yer spell works, and ye get back tae yer own time—thank ye for taking on the risk of bringing me back,” he said, forcing the words past his lips. She needs tae leave, he reminded himself. 'Tis not safe for her here.

  “I’d accept your gratitude if I got you back to the right place,” she said, though she gave him a wavering smile.

  Diana turned and stepped away from him, moving to the center of the stables. She closed her eyes, and he watched as she murmured the words of a spell.

  “Snàthain ùine, cluinn m 'ghairm. Snàithnean tìde, cluinn m'anam. Thoir stiùireadh dhomh gu sàbhailte tro do shlighe gu mo thìde.”

  He waited, tense, a strange sense of loss seizing him as he waited for her to vanish . . . but nothing happened.

  She tried again, speaking the words of a different spell, but still, nothing happened.

  Diana opened her eyes, frustration flitting across her face.

  “I knew it wouldn’t work,” she muttered. “I even tried a Transport spell to apparate to another location—nothing. I'll keep practicing, but it looks like I'll have to use the portal in Tairseach to get back.”

  Artair knew he should feel disappointment that she hadn’t been able to travel on her own, but it was relief that washed over him. Now they had to remain together until they reached the Highlands . . . and he’d have more time with the beautiful witch.

  He met her eyes, trying to school his features into a look of disappointment.

  “Very well, lass,” he said gruffly. “We’ll just have tae remain together till we reach the Highlands.”

  * * *

  They made two large beds of straw to lie down on for the night, but it seemed as if the stables had grown even colder by the time they were done; he could see Diana shivering. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her; their sack of supplies included a thin blanket, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  He straightened, eyeing her warily.

  “Please donnae misunderstand what I’m about tae say, lass,” he said. “But I think ’tis best we lie close together; our body heat will keep us warm.”

  Diana’s face flamed as she met his eyes, but he saw no offense there, only reluctant agreement.

  They found a comfortable position, their bodies pressed closely together, their arms wrapped around each other for extra heat. The feel of her lush body close to his caused an immediate reaction; he had to shift to make certain she didn’t feel the evidence of his arousal. Even though they’d been riding all day, she smelled of sweet honey, the scent teasing his nostrils. They lay facing each other, her face barely grazing his shoulder, and he had to look down at her.

  Her eyes were closed. As he studied her, he noticed a single tear fall from beneath her closed lids.

  “Diana,” he murmured, reaching out to tilt her face up to his. Her eyes flew open; they were indeed filled with tears. "What is it?"

  "I got us into this," she whispered. "I took us to the wrong place—and they
hurt you. If they come after us—"

  "Nothing that has happened is yer fault," he said firmly. "Ye got us out of there when I couldnae—as ye just reminded me. All we need tae do is get ye back tae Tairseach. It will be a long trip north, but I ken Scotland; I’ve traveled a great deal down tae the Lowlands and back.” He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “How did ye escape Iomhar?”

  “Oh,” Diana said, her face flaming as she lowered her gaze. “I—I seduced him. Well, I pretended to seduce him and implied I would lie with him if he let us go.”

  He wasn’t prepared for the ferocious wave of jealousy that swept over him. He had to take a breath to quell his raging heartbeat.

  “Did ye—”

  “No. I didn’t let him touch me,” Diana interrupted. “I cast a Sleeping spell on him before he could kiss me.”

  This did little to quell his jealousy—jealousy that he reminded himself he had no right to feel.

  “Artair?” Diana asked tentatively, taking in his stormy expression. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye,” he said, closing his eyes briefly to push aside the image of Iomhar touching Diana. “I just—I didnae want ye tae come tae any harm.”

  “I didn’t,” she insisted. “But thank God for that Sleeping spell.”

  Traces of anger still lingered within him; he needed to change the topic of conversation.

  "Tell me something about yer life. Yer aunt mentioned ye were restoring an old home in the Highlands?"

  "Yes. It's a manor that's belonged to my family for some time, but it's fallen into disuse. I like to visit it when my job and life in London get to be too much, and I need a bit of peace. It's a long way from being finished; I'll need to hire contractors to do the heavy lifting.”

  “What do ye handle in yer profession?” he asked. Kensa had told him that in the future, women had far more opportunities, and most of them had professions.