Fate of a Highlander

by Baker, Katy

  Any sane person would return to the camp but the thought of Balloch sent a cold shiver down her spine and spurred her deeper into the woods. The velvet sack hung over her shoulder and she was damned sure it was getting heavier by the minute.

  Somewhere ahead she heard movement. Eleanor froze. There it was again. A faint rustle as something brushed against a branch. Her heart began hammering. Was it Balloch? Her only weapon was the metal brand so she hefted the sack, grabbing the heavy bronze through the velvet and holding it up like a poker.

  Sudden movement behind her. She yelped, whirled, and swung the brand with all her might.

  A hand caught it.

  "Easy, lass. Ye damn near took my head off," said Finn with a lopsided smile.

  Eleanor gaped for a second. Then she dropped the bag and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his hard shoulder.

  "Thank God it’s you!”

  He held her close for a moment then pushed her to arm’s length. "Lord above, woman, ye know how to give a man a scare. What are ye doing out here? When I found ye gone from the tent I feared the worst."

  "Change of plan," she muttered. "I had to make a run for it. How did you find me?"

  He held out a scrap of material that looked like the hem of her dress. "I’m a tracker, remember? Yer trail wasnae hard to follow once I found this on a branch near camp.” His eyes fell to her wrist, to the mark where Balloch had grabbed her. His expression darkened.

  "What is that?" he demanded. "Has somebody hurt ye?"

  She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. "It doesn't matter. What matters is this." She grabbed the velvet bag and opened it, revealing the brand inside. It glinted like burnished copper in the moonlight.

  Finlay's eyes widened and he stepped back a pace. He reached out a hand as though he might touch the cool metal but then snatched it back.

  "How did ye get that?"

  "I stole it. From Stewart when he got called away, but, holy shit, Finn, we’re in trouble now. I knocked Balloch out with it and when Stewart finds out I've got it they'll both be on our tails. We have to get out of here. Now."

  Finn nodded. "Agreed."

  A rustle sounded behind them and they spun, Finn’s hand going to his dagger. Donald and Rob rode into the clearing and dismounted.

  "They've beaten off the raiders," Donald blurted. "The men are returning to camp. They'll arrive any minute."

  Finlay swore under his breath. "Stewart?"

  "Unharmed,” Donald replied, his eyes flicking to Eleanor. “It willnae be long before they discover Lady Eleanor isnae in her tent. Ye need to leave now, sir."

  "I know that," Finn replied. "Curse it all! They'll pick up our trail easily."

  Donald and Rob shared a look. Then Rob grinned. "Nay, they willnae," he said. "Because we'll make sure they dinna. We'll cover yer tracks so they canna pinpoint which direction ye've gone, then we'll cut the horses loose, send them stampeding to the west. It'll cause chaos. More than enough cover for ye to get away."

  Finn shook his head. "Nay. It’s too great a risk."

  "Any greater risk than riding into battle against the MacAuleys?" Donald asked. "Ye are our commander. Our friend. I would most likely have starved had ye not taken me into yer command and taught me to be a tracker. If I can repay that favor then I will. And besides, we willnae let Lady Eleanor come to harm."

  Donald's voice was firm, resolute, and he suddenly no longer looked like an unsure youth but a confident young man determined to see this through. By his side Rob nodded to show he felt the same.

  Finn strode over and laid a hand on each lad’s shoulder. "I willnae forget this. If by some miracle we all come out of this alive, I will find ye, and repay this debt."

  He pulled Donald into an embrace, slapping the lad on the back, then doing the same to Rob. Eleanor, feeling tears gathering in her eyes, kissed them both.

  "Please stay safe.”

  They nodded, then without a word, turned and disappeared into the night.

  Finn watched them go for a moment then took her hand and led her over to a thicket where a horse was tethered, saddled and loaded with Finn’s weapons. The horse lifted its head, snorting a greeting.

  "Easy, boy," Finn said softly, taking the reins and leading him out of the thicket.

  Finn grabbed Eleanor around the waist and hoisted her into the saddle. A second later, he swung easily up behind her, the saddle creaking as he settled his weight. He held her close with one arm across her stomach, grabbing the reins with the other. Clucking lightly to the horse he nudged him into motion through the dark wood.

  The horses' hooves, Eleanor noticed, were wrapped in leather, meaning they made not a sound against the forest floor nor left behind much in the way of hoof prints in the thick leaf-litter. If they were lucky, and if Donald and Rob were able to hide their tracks, there was a chance, just a chance, that Stewart wouldn't find them.

  They’d managed to escape Stewart's clutches but now they were on the run for their lives. Something told her this was far from over.

  Chapter 14

  Finn felt as tense as a bowstring. As he crept slowly through the woods, he started at every little sound, jumped at every shadow. He peered into the dark with wide eyes, his ears straining for the slightest hint of anyone nearby. He heard only the night time sounds of the forest.

  He knew this was deceptive.

  He’d instructed Eleanor to wait with the horse in a holly thicket several hundred yards behind whilst he carried on alone. Somewhere around here were Stewart’s perimeter guards and it was imperative he and Eleanor got through unseen. If they didn’t, they would have no chance of escape.

  Finn halted and went very still, back pressed against a tree, and listened. Somewhere an owl hooted and rustling in the undergrowth indicated some night time predator out looking for a meal. For a while he detected nothing untoward, but his neck prickled, warning him that something was nearby. This area, with its thick ground cover would be the perfect place for Stewart to set his pickets. They could observe anyone sneaking around the camp without being seen themselves.

  So Finn waited. Several tense minutes later a sudden break in the clouds let through a shaft of moonlight. It caught on something that flashed in a thicket up ahead before being quickly stifled. Finn smiled grimly. He recognized the flash of a metal blade.

  Moving silently and swiftly, Finn crept up on the thicket. As he drew closer, he made out the silhouette of a man standing in the dark, so still he was barely visible. Finn drew his dagger and crept forward on cat’s paws until he stood directly behind the man. He tapped the guard on the shoulder, then, as the man spun in alarm, smacked him in the temple with the hilt of his dagger. The guard’s eyes rolled back in his head and Finn caught him as his legs buckled, lowering him silently to the ground.

  Finn looked around, checking he hadn’t been seen. Satisfied, he dragged the guard deeper into the thicket then hurried back to Eleanor. He nodded to indicate he’d dealt with the picket and they mounted in silence. Moving carefully, they wove their way past the unconscious guard and out into the unguarded woods. Finn let out a sigh of relief but didn’t relax his vigilance.

  What was happening back in camp? he wondered as they rode. Had Stewart discovered they were missing yet? Likely. He only hoped Donald and Rob had managed to create a diversion to slow Stewart down.

  In front of him Eleanor was sitting upright, her shoulders tense, her eyes scanning the woods. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the clearing. It had been a tense and terrifying night but she was free. They both were. His eyes strayed to the velvet sack tied to the saddle. He struggled to comprehend what she had done. How had she managed to get the brand away from Stewart? It was protected by Fae magic. Only its master, Alasdair Stewart, could touch it, and yet Eleanor had been able to snatch it from right under his nose. It made no sense.

  He knew he was holding Eleanor tighter than was strictly necessary but he couldn't help hi
mself. Balloch had almost hurt her again and he would die before he let anything else happen to her. So he clutched her tight, fierce protectiveness filling him.

  The clouds parted and the starlit sky allowed him to navigate their route and keep them traveling well into the night. When the moon finally set, he pulled the horse to a halt on the summit of a wind-swept hill to inspect the land behind them for any signs of pursuers. He saw none and decided it was safe to stop for the night.

  He’d scouted this area many times and knew of an isolated croft, recently abandoned when news of the impending battle had spread. If Finn had his way they would keep traveling, putting as much distance between them and their pursuers as he could. But Eleanor looked exhausted and needed rest. It would do for one night.

  He nudged the horse into a trot down a wide trail between the towering peaks of two bald hills. As they rounded a bend in the valley bottom he finally saw it: a small, lonely cottage with a barn standing out the back. Finlay slowed the horse to a walk, alert for danger. But the croft was deserted, the windows of the little cottage gaping like dark eyes in the night. He reined in the horse.

  “We’ll stay here tonight.”

  ELEANOR FELT EXHAUSTED. It took a supreme effort not to doze off in the saddle and she was pretty sure that Finn’s tight grip was the only thing that kept her falling off the horse. She was mighty glad when he pulled the horse up by a deserted cottage and announced they were going to stop for some rest.

  He dismounted and made a circuit of the tiny house. "The roof has fallen in," he announced. "We'll have to sleep in the barn."

  Eleanor nodded. She didn't give a damn where she slept as long as it was warm and dry. Awkwardly she swung her leg over the horse’s back and slid to the ground, staggering a little. Finn caught her arm, steadying her.

  "This way."

  He took the horse’s reins and Eleanor followed him into the barn. There was space inside for several horses although it was empty now. A ladder led up to the hayloft. Finn saw to the horse whilst Eleanor pulled off the saddle bags, slung them over her shoulder, and climbed the ladder into the hayloft. A thick bed of dry hay still filled the space. Right now it looked as good as a feather bed in a plush hotel.

  She dropped the bags and began rifling through the provisions. There wasn't much, only what Finn had been able to grab before he left on his scouting mission. She found a skin containing weak ale, some hard biscuits, a round of cheese wrapped in muslin, and some dried meat. Eleanor unwrapped the muslin and used it to lay out their supper.

  The ladder creaked as Finn made his way up. He seated himself cross-legged in the hay opposite her and she handed him some food. He took it with a nod of thanks and they ate together in silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horse munching on his nose-bag below.

  It was a cold night and Eleanor cursed herself for not thinking to bring a cloak. Her dress certainly wasn’t designed for camping and the icy air sent shivers across her skin.

  "We canna risk a fire," Finn said, noticing her discomfort. "If we’re being tracked, it would give away our position. And besides," he smiled wryly. "It isnae a wise thing to do in a hayloft."

  Eleanor nodded. "Are we safe here do you think?"

  "We aren't safe anywhere,” he replied with a shake of his head. “And we willnae be as long as we remain on Stewart's lands. Get some sleep. I will keep watch."

  "N...now, that sounds like a g...great idea," Eleanor stammered, her teeth chattering.

  A frown of concern creased Finn's face. He moved close, kneeling in front of her. "Ye are freezing," he said. "Here."

  He hitched her dress up to her knees and began rubbing her calves. “Yer skin is like ice, lass. Why did ye not say anything?”

  “B...bigger things to worry about than my cold f...feet.”

  A ghost of a smile quirked his lips. “Aye. Fair enough.”

  “You’re g...good at that,” Eleanor said, leaning back on her hands. His touch felt good. Really good. Already she was beginning to warm. “If you l...lived in my time you’d make one hell of a masseur.”

  “Really? I dinna have the first clue what they might be but I’ll choose to take it as a compliment.”

  Eleanor laughed and some of her tension uncoiled. There was something about Finn that made her relax, despite the situation. He had an easy way about him, a way of putting her at ease and making it seem like everything would be all right.

  He continued to rub her calves, working up towards her knees and Eleanor had no desire to stop him. Her muscles began to thaw and a warmth to spread through her, one that she was sure had more to do with Finn’s proximity than anything else. She felt the roughness of his skin against hers, the callouses on his fingers from his years of working with a bow.

  He paused suddenly and looked up at her. Their eyes met. Eleanor froze.

  WHAT WAS HE DOING? What had possessed him to touch Eleanor like this? Didn’t he realize the effect it would have on him? Apparently not, because now Finn found himself staring at her, captured by those beautiful eyes. His palms tingled where they touched her skin.

  This was hardly decent, his hand resting just below her knee like this, her dress hiked up, revealing tantalizing glimpses of a pale thigh. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to move away. Desire stirred within him, heat rippling through his body like an ember glowing in a blacksmith’s forge.

  Eleanor had gone very still, staring at him. A strand of hair in front of her face stirred with her breath. Lord help him, but she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The sight of her, tousled and breathless, stirred his blood, sending it roaring to life.

  If he was any kind of honorable he would back off. He would take himself over to the other side of the hayloft, or even better, take watch downstairs with the horse. That would be the sensible thing to do. But Finn was no longer sensible where Eleanor Stevenson was concerned. He could barely think straight for the rampant desire running through him.

  Ye shouldnae be doing this, a voice in the back of his head warned him.

  But he didn’t listen. He didn’t back away. Instead, he found himself scooting closer, placing his hands on either side of her face and kissing her.

  HE WAS KISSING HER. Oh god, he was kissing her again. Eleanor had a nanosecond to process this before desire sparked in her veins, just as it had when they’d first kissed in the glade, just as it had the second time in Finn’s sick room.

  His touch was electric. A jolt went through her from top to bottom and her blood roared to life, sending tingles racing along her nerves.

  Finn kissed her softly at first, his hands to either side of her face but then, as she responded, moving her lips against his and letting out a soft moan, his kiss deepened, became harder, more insistent. He bit her lip, teased her lips apart and forced his tongue into her mouth. She let him, allowing her desire for this man to rampage through her.

  She placed her hands against the hardness of his chest and pushed him backwards until he was lying in the straw. She followed him down, not breaking their kiss for a second. His fingers trailed the length of her spine to her waist and he lifted her easily, onto him so that she straddled his waist, her dress riding up past her knees, the hardness of his desire pressing against her in a way that sent her thoughts spinning out of control.

  Conscious thought evaporated. All she knew was that she wanted this man, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything. She tugged at his shirt and Finn obliged her by pulling it over his head and tossing it away. With a low hiss she ran her hands over his naked chest, the tips of her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles and the slightly raised lines of his scars. The edge of his tattoo peeked over one shoulder.

  Finn watched her, his eyes dark, his hands resting lightly on her waist. Then he grabbed her, pushed her onto her back in the hay and began kissing her neck, her shoulders, his lips trailing a line of fire across her skin. At the same time his hand found her inner thigh and worked its way upwards.

  Eleanor gasped,
arching her back as his touch found its way to the warm core of heat between her legs and gently began to massage. What was he doing to her? It was too much. She couldn’t stand it. Surely she would break apart.

  But she didn’t. Finn brought her to the edge of losing control and stopped, leaving her teetering on the brink, gasping for more.

  “Nay, lass,” he growled. “Not yet. Not until ye are mine.”

  He reached under her, grasped the hooks of her dress, expertly unfastened them then pulled down the dress. Eleanor wriggled out of it and yanked hard at Finn’s plaid, desperate to have nothing between them but heat. Finn kicked away their clothing and Eleanor had a second to take in his glorious naked body before he was pushing her down into the hay.

  He nudged her knees apart and then dropped his hips atop her. His weight pinned her down and she felt a sudden explosion of fire as, with one hard thrust, Finn drove himself into her, plunging deep inside and burying himself into her warm core.

  Eleanor cried out, back arching as indescribable sensations rocked her body. This was not possible. It was not possible for anything to feel this good. But as Finn began to move inside her she realized this was real. This was happening. And it felt...perfect.

  Eleanor clung to him, her hands sliding down his back, gliding over his tattoo, to where his buttocks bunched and released to the rhythm of his movements. Eleanor moved with him, her body instinctively shifting to meet his, their hips grinding together.

  Finn’s hair fell forward to brush her forehead and his breathing by her ear sounded more like a growl as their tempo increased. Eleanor heard the sounds coming from her own mouth, gasps and moans of pure ecstasy as the fire burning in her core began to spread, licking along her nerves like flames.