Highlander's Heart (Clan Matheson Book 2)

by Joanne Wadsworth

  From the top, she selected a pale blue riding habit with a lacy cream shirt. She donned the shirt, fastened the skirt at her hips then tugged the jacket on. The sturdy leather boots within the bag would be far more useful than her slippers in traipsing through the woods. With the riding boots on, she took one last look at her deliciously sleeping mate and although she didn’t wish to leave him, ducked outside.

  A fresh breeze blew in from over the loch and fluttered her hair about, which was likely a complete mess following her night with her mate. Pale colored canvas tents dotted the length of the clearing, the forest rising high behind them while a fire still glowed within the pit in the center of the camp. A good sixty warriors slept around its warmth and two men from amongst their number rose from their bedding, stretched and wandered down toward two warriors on guard at the water’s edge.

  A glorious loch, private and perfect for her to use lay not far from here, only a short walk through the woods. The loch also sat on their Matheson land and was quite safe, their border patrols always firmly in place between them and their enemy MacKenzie clan.

  She set out along the forest trail meandering through the towering pines. Low brush crowded the pathway and she skipped over trailing tree roots in the moonlight before veering off the trail just before the loch. She found the perfect spot and after crouching behind a prickly brushwood, tended to her needs.

  Back on the trail, she snuck between two large trunks and halted right before the shimmering waters of a beautiful pool. Small and flawlessly round, the water danced with the reflection of the swaying trees encircling it while high above through the break in the leafy canopy, the stars glittered like diamonds within a peaceful layer of beautiful black.

  Along the mossy water’s edge, she strolled and passed the odd boulder protruding from the embankment. In a clear spot, she knelt, scooped water and splashed her face then with wet hands, ran her fingers through her hair and tried to tame her golden curls as best as she could.

  This loch was so enchanting. She would bring Tor here and show him this most magical—

  A clomp and a rustle sounded within the bordering trees close behind. She held still, her moonlit shadow shimmering over the water and the shadow of another moving in behind her on horseback flickering over hers. Not Tor. For certain. Her mind was still deeply entrenched within his and he slept on. ’Twas likely one of her kin on duty and patrolling this area.

  “Well, well. This is a rather fortunate encounter, finding you all alone.” Donnan’s gravelly voice made the hairs on her arms and neck stand up. Booted feet thumped on the ground and a horse whinnied. “Turn around, Layla.”

  She pushed to her feet, turned and gasped, clutched a hand to her chest. Blood coated the front of his great plaid and dripped from the dagger he held, the man before her appearing every inch the blood-thirsty warrior he was. “Whose blood is that?” she demanded.

  “A hungry wolf. ’Twas either him or me and since I’ve a great desire to continue living, his life instead came to a fast and sure end.”

  “Where’s Gerald?”

  “Gerald is currently tied high within the bow of a tree and unable to get down.” Reins in one hand, he tethered his sleek black mount to a low branch, his horse snorting frosty air. He crossed the distance separating them, knelt at the water’s edge, dunked his blade in the water then wiped it across the mossy grass and sheathed it at his wrist. The back of his tunic gaped in a diagonal line from one shoulder to his hip, along with a single claw mark scoring his flesh. Blood seeped from the jagged wound.

  “You’re no’ the same man who I spent time with at Dunscaith.” He was far more ruthless than he’d ever allowed her to see.

  “I’m a warrior, Layla, and you were the one I wanted in my bed. I had a great need to procure a signed betrothal agreement with you, and I did, very successfully at that.” He dunked his hands into the water then splashed his face and wiped all trace of the blood from his skin away. “You’re also well aware I repudiated my vow when I had no desire to.” He rose back to his feet and loomed over her. “Do you wish to make clan MacDonald your enemy?”

  “Nay.” She shook her head, forced herself to remain standing strong and not show any possible weakness to him. His arrival here was unexpected, yet also expected, which meant she’d been given another chance to make amends, however she could. She certainly wasn’t allowing him anywhere near her mate. She’d deal with Donnan on her own this time, her mind connected with Tor’s and ensuring she knew exactly where he was. “There must be a way around our current issue, Donnan.”

  “Only marriage between us will suffice. Your ability is one of the strongest of the battle skills. I want my sons carrying your blood.”

  “I spoke handfast vows last eve with Tor.” She met his gaze, ensured hers remained unwavering. “I will never be your wife.”

  “Your spirit is strong and rather commendable, although handfast vows can be broken.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “Did you consummate those vows?”

  “Aye, we did, and I’ll never break those handfast vows.” She gave him her sternest look to ensure he was left with no doubt of her current intentions, that she would not bow down to him or allow him to hold any sway over her. “You may no’ have my fae blood in your line, but you still have the aid of my kind when you go to war, provided you dinnae allow our broken betrothal to cause the alliance between our clans to falter. My father will see things made right. He’ll fight at your clan’s side, just as he’s always done and always will. You’ll have lost naught if you but allow it.”

  “That fact is the only thing keeping me from stealing you away right this moment.”

  “No one can force one with my skill to go anywhere we dinnae wish to go.” She lifted herself up, swept backward out over the water and hovered beyond his reach.

  “Magnificent.” He smirked, hands firm on his hips. “I’m no’ an ogre or a tyrant, Layla. My temper is fast to rise but I would never have laid a hand on you during our earlier argument. You are safe with me, likely as safe as you are with your warrior, whether you believe it or no’.”

  “My warrior holds the other half of my soul, just as I hold his. There can be no separating that which will always be destined to be.” Now that she’d joined in all ways with Tor, she had a true sense of exactly how deep the bond ran. She’d always known of course, having seen the mated bond taking form between couples within her own clan, but to experience it for herself was something quite different.

  “I speak the truth.” Frowning, he scrubbed a hand over his whiskered jaw. “My actions during the battle on the beach clearly alarmed you, and for that I humbly apologize. Over the hours since, I’ve had time to consider all you’ve spoken of and in truth, I wouldnae wish for a wife who yearned for another. You are right in that regard, although I do demand remedial payment for the broken betrothal. I want a wife who holds fae blood and your father must provide me with another lass in your place. There will be no other satisfaction otherwise. When I leave your land, ’twill be with the fae lass I’ve wed. A bride for a bride, you could say.”

  “My father is the one you’ll need to speak to on this matter. He is one of Gilleoin’s captains, as well as one of the leaders of the village, and he will need to meet with the others to determine if there is a suitable lass for you amongst my fae kind.” She hovered back toward him and lowered herself onto the embankment. “Your enemies are still our enemies, the ties between our clans having been in place for an age. Dinnae allow that to falter.”

  “You are the one who allowed the ties to falter.” He slid one callused finger under her chin and slowly leaned in. “I now ask for your aid. Return with me to the keep and stand at my side as I speak to your father.”

  “I cannae leave my husband behind.” Although waking Tor and explaining all she and Donnan had just spoken about would likely rattle him. Tor had already proven he had no tolerance for Donnan, would likely rally against any attempt of negotiation. She’d also been the one to cause thi
s dilemma, and now she’d been given the chance to rectify it, she would. She also needed to ensure the most suitable lasses from the village were chosen for him to pick from, that those lasses were willing to wed him, knew all they needed to know about Donnan before they agreed to speak vows. His bride would certainly need to hold a skill that would allow her to stand strong in her own right alongside him. That she could ensure if she did agree to go and stand at his side as he spoke to Father.

  “I willnae have your handfast husband disrupt my upcoming negotiations. We leave now, you and I, and as swiftly as you first brought me here, through the air. The negotiations will take place, and then I’ll leave with my bride once she’s been chosen, to both my satisfaction and hers.”

  She couldn’t pass this opportunity up. Carefully, she touched her mind to Tor’s, found him still blissfully asleep. She nodded at Donnan and gestured toward his horse. “You’ll need to leave the horse behind if we’re to take the route through the air which you’ve suggested.”

  “You have my thanks.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement and she lifted them both up, swept them out over the shimmering pool of water then higher still until they soared above the forest’s treetops.

  With each mile she placed between her and Tor, her heart squeezed tighter. Leaving him hurt, and far more than she’d expected. “Which tree is Gerald restrained within?”

  “I managed to persuade him to stop about a half mile from the keep. I’ll alert the guards upon our return and they can fetch him, bring him back to the castle.”

  She’d make sure the guards were alerted as well and not leave it just to Donnan to do.

  Once well beyond the sight of the camp’s guardsmen patrolling the perimeter of their encampment, she breezed down and across the grassy moors abloom with wildflowers and clumps of purple and pink heather. Along the horizon, a shimmer of red hazed into the lightening blue. ’Twould soon be dawn and the beginning of a new day, one she intended now to make right.

  “Layla?” Tor stirred and touched her mind. “Where are you?”

  “Good morn, my fierce steward.” The sun breached the horizon and rose higher. She picked up her speed, her hair whipping about her face as she kept her mind partially closed off to him.

  “It would be a good morning if I awoke with you still in my arms, and you haven’t answered my question. Where are you?”

  She followed his movements through their merged link. He donned his pants and loose black shirt then slung his war coat studded with bits of steel over top. “There’s been a…development.”

  “What kind of development?” With his weapons strapped on, he snuck out of the tent and breathed deep. He followed her scent through the forest toward the loch and prowled the area.

  “Tor, I am no’ at the encampment, but on my way back to the castle.” She couldn’t allow him to worry over her. Alongside the stream, she swept then blazed down the trail toward the woods surrounding the castle.

  “Donnan’s scent is all over this place and there’s blood.” His low growl rumbled down their link.

  “The blood belongs to a wolf, and Donnan and I have spoken. Our broken betrothal is my fault and I must make amends and ensure the alliance between our clans does no’ falter. He wishes to speak to Father and if another bride of fae blood can be provided in my place, he’ll accept that as satisfaction.”

  “Damn it, Layla. How could you leave with him when he made his intentions yesterday so very clear? He wants you as his wife and not another.” Fury swarmed through from him then fear roared to glaring life. “Tell me you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine. Truly, I’m fine. I’ve already informed Donnan that we’ve spoken handfast vows. He has accepted that we are wed and I will never leave you. He cannae make me. One with my skill isnae so easily restrained.”

  “Anyone can be restrained. Don’t take your eyes off him. I’m coming.” He was on the move, racing back to camp. He grabbed Tavish from where he sat breaking his fast near the fire and the two of them bounded onto destriers and galloped from the encampment. Tor withheld naught from her, not as she had done with him while he’d slept and guilt consumed her.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Promise me that there’ll be no more secrets between us.”

  “I promise.” She opened her mind fully to him and a blast of warmth and reassurance flowed through from him. Along with it, he swamped her in his love.

  “We’ll get through this, Layla. I’m catching up fast.”

  “There is naught to worry about. Honestly, I wouldnae have left without you if I’d thought for one moment that there would be any danger in bringing Donnan to my father.” She was almost home, a peek of the castle showing through the trees ahead.

  “Set us down here, Layla.” Donnan gestured toward the end of the pine-covered trail as he opened his belted sporran.

  She halted at the edge of the forest and gently set them both back down. The House of Clan Matheson rose tall and strong before her and the morning sunshine beamed across the land and lit the fortified stone walls of the keep a glittering gold.

  “Raise the portcullis!” The call came from the guardsman standing atop the battlements. The portcullis rose, the clunky sound of its chains reverberating across the outer yard. Horses’ hooves pounded then a score of Matheson riders galloped out and rode away from them along the grassy path and up the cliff side trail between their keep and the fae village farther along the loch.

  Another group of warriors, all wearing the MacDonald plaid, marched through the gate and strode down to the sea-gate landing where their galley remained moored at the end. MacDonald men on board the galley already busied themselves as if they were preparing to leave. How odd. Searching the sea-gate for one of her clansmen and finding none, she said, “Is there a reason why your men appear—”

  Donnan grabbed her, shoved a thick wad of cloth into her mouth from his sporran, jammed a grubby sack over her head then hauled her hands behind her back and shoved her front up hard against the trunk next to them. She fought to move but he snagged twine around her wrists, bound them together. In her ear, he rasped, “I came back here to the keep after stringing Gerald up, told my men to be prepared to leave the moment I returned, hopefully by dawn, then I rode back to the encampment to find you. Surely you didnae think I’d truly ever accept another bride of fae blood, other than you?”

  He’d lied, outright lied to her. The bastard.

  “There is one thing you need to learn about me, Layla. I never break a vow. I agreed to wed you and I shall.” He stroked a finger down her arm and she shivered with disgust.

  “I am already wed to Tor,” she mumbled through the cloth although her words were almost indistinguishable and damn it, she was now without any sight. She couldn’t use her skill if she couldn’t see what she needed to move or manipulate. So very few knew exactly how her father’s and her skill worked. How had he?

  “Loss of sight, loss of skill.” He snickered in her ear. “You’re surely wondering how I knew. I’ve always known. My father instructed me well on all he’d discovered over the years having known your father as he did. And by the way, you will repudiate your handfast vow once we reach Dunscaith, and following that, you’ll be speaking true marriage vows with me afore a clergyman. ’Twill be those vows alone that shall count and none other.” He jerked on her restrained hands, tightened the knots. “I will bed you the moment that is done, then you’ll bear my sons who will be as strongly skilled as you are. I will accept no other satisfaction.”

  “Tor!” She screamed his name down their link as Donnan heaved her over his shoulder and her belly thumped into his rock hard shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldnae have trusted Donnan, nor taken my gaze off him. You must hurry.”

  * * * *

  Layla’s words echoed through Tor’s mind and made his heart stutter as he galloped across the moors toward the castle. He followed her thoughts, picked up that Donnan had shoved a gag in her mouth and blacked out her sight by hooking a
sack over her head. Her hands were bound and her belly jolted into Donnan’s shoulder with each step Donnan took as he carried her around the forest’s edge toward the sea-gate, just out of her Matheson guardsmen’s sight. She sensed the fresh breeze coming in off the loch then the crashing of the surf. Heavy footsteps clacked on the stone landing. Donnan’s. The rocking of the galley underneath her feet as Donnan set her down then strung her to the center mast and tossed a heavy covering of some sort over her. He tracked each of her movements, and that of their enemy.

  Hell, no one would ever hurt or terrorize his mate and get away with it. He gritted his teeth, faced Tavish as they rode. “Layla’s in trouble.”

  “What’s happened?” Tavish picked up his pace as he sat low in the saddle, bent his head over his destrier’s neck.

  “He’s blacked out her sight and restrained her, disabled her ability. What she can’t see, she can’t move. He’s now tossed her on board his galley and they’re about to set sail. I won’t lose my mate.” He thrust his knees into his mount’s flanks and flew alongside the stream and into the forest. Never had he ridden so hard or so fast. “See if you can reach Julia, Tavish. Alert her to what’s happening.”

  “I’m updating her right now.” Tavish grimaced and remained silent as he spoke to his mate along their merged link. With a glance at him, Tavish muttered, “She said Kirk and Cherub left earlier for Stirling to see Gilleoin and Nessa, a flying visit, one they’re not expected back from for another hour or two. Julia’s alerting the guard and searching for Gregor as we speak.”

  “Tell them to get down to the sea-gate now. If Donnan sets sail, I’ll have a fight on my hands to get my chosen one back.” The MacDonald’s stronghold on the Isle of Skye was one of the most fortified structures ever constructed and protected by a garrison of hundreds of men. He urged his war horse into a faster pace and whizzed through the forest along the beaten trail. Fallen leaves and pine needles whooshed about the forest floor and he jumped the odd log, ducked his head under a low branch and galloped on. “Talk to me, Layla.”