Soul of a Highlander

by Melissa Mayhue

  What to do, what to do?

  Her mind raced but found nothing. She could feel the rate of her breathing steadily increasing. Her heart pounded in her ears and her foot throbbed in time with the pulsing of her heart. She needed to think clearly, but that seemed beyond her at the moment.

  Wait. Calm down. Don’t let the fear control you.

  Jesse had taught her self-defense. Made her run through the drills over and over until she’d thought her body would give out on her. Why couldn’t she remember even one of the moves he’d made her learn? She’d practiced them countless times.

  She scanned the room, fighting back the encroaching panic. Though shadows masked the corners, she seriously doubted she’d find anything there to help her. No weapons, nothing. She briefly considered going for a piece of the rubble in the center of the floor, but quickly remembered how the rotted wood had crumbled under her step.

  “Think, dammit!”

  As soon as the words slipped out, she clamped a hand over her mouth. She was losing what little sense she had. They mustn’t think anyone was in here.

  “Open the door,” a hoarse whisper hissed at her.

  She held her breath. How could the MacPherson already have reached the top of the stairs? His voice had sounded too far away.

  “Open the bloody door and let me in before it’s too late, Mairi.”

  That didn’t sound like any MacPherson. And he knew her name? Impossible. There was no way…

  “Now.” The sharp whisper was accompanied by a huge push against the heavy oak that sent her tumbling.

  From the floor where she’d landed, she peered up at the man who’d come through the door, watching him as he quickly closed it behind him. He was tall, but he blended so well with the dark of the room, she couldn’t make out any of his features.

  “Mairi? Are you hurt?”

  “How do you know my name?” Her head spun, making it hard to concentrate.

  “I’m here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

  “Home? But who are you? How do you know—”

  “Are. You. Hurt.”

  He ground the words out slowly, one at a time, as he narrowed the distance between them, speaking to her as if she were a simpleton. Whoever he was, she wasn’t sure she liked him very much.

  “No. Not really. But who—”

  This time the interruption came from outside the door, metal pounding on the wood.

  “Open up, you wee ghosties! Ranald MacPherson has come to drive you out.”

  Her breath froze in her throat. “A MacPherson,” she squeaked.

  The man in front of her dropped something from his shoulder, leaned down, grabbed her by her elbows and hoisted her to her feet, all in one quick movement.

  “I need you to trust me, Mairi,” he whispered as he pulled her close. “Trust me and follow my lead. I’ll protect you. I swear it. Okay?”

  She couldn’t think, and when she stood, the room seemed to swirl around her. Trust him? Hardly. Still, if the choice were this man or a MacPherson, there was no choice at all.

  “But who are you?”

  “I am Ramos,” he whispered, sliding his hands to her back and down.

  Down lower still, lifting her up as he walked. She threw her arms around his neck to secure her perch. Holding her sandwiched between his hard body and the stone wall, he used one hand to lift her skirt, pulling it up between them, before dropping his hands back down to encourage both her legs up around his waist. Without thought, she hooked her ankles behind him.

  “Perfect,” he murmured as he slanted his mouth over hers.

  Sensation exploded through her body, overwhelming her. The wall, hard and cold behind her. The man, hard and hot in front of her. The way his hands felt, moving up her arms, across her shoulders, onto her neck, cupping her face. She breathed him in and wanted more.

  A taste. One tiny taste.

  Her tongue darted out, as if it had a mind of its own, tentatively testing his lips, only to be captured by his and drawn into the warmth of his mouth an instant before the door crashed in.

  Her eyes flew open in time to see a brief smile dance across a smoothly handsome face bathed in the glow of the moonlight before he turned and yelled at their intruder.

  “Out, you filthy heathen pig. Can you not see I’ve my arms full here?” He lowered his lips back to hers, but now she could only think of the hulking man swaying in the doorway, torch in one hand, sword drawn in the other.

  “And who might you be?” their unwelcome visitor demanded.

  Ramos lifted his head only slightly. “A guest of the MacKiernan and Lady MacAlister. Now go away.”

  Over his shoulder, Mairi watched the figure watching them. She didn’t like the fact that he kept the sword in his hand. Or that she could smell the alcohol on him clear across the room. You couldn’t reason with a drunk.

  “If yer such a high and mighty guest of such as the likes of them, what are you doing here?”

  Again Ramos barely lifted his mouth from her lips. “I’ve come here for privacy. Something I’m finding to be in short supply in this part of the country.”

  “Who’s the strumpet? How do I ken yer no the castle ghostie trying to fool me?” The man pointed his sword their general direction.

  This time, as Ramos lifted his head he let go of her face and slid his hands to her legs, lowering them, and her skirt, to the floor. Eyes like liquid turquoise caught and reflected the moonlight, holding her in thrall. Before he turned to face their intruder, he winked at her.

  “You’ll know I’m no ghostie because of this.”

  This turned out to be the tip of Ramos’s sword held at the man’s throat. Mairi blinked. He had moved so quickly she hadn’t been able to follow the action. The dark shadows in the room and the fear must be clouding her mind. That and the man, Ramos.

  “As for the lady,” Ramos said the word with emphasis, holding the man at sword point, “she is no concern of yours. She belongs to me. Are we clear on that?”

  Mairi’s legs shook as she leaned back against the cold stone. Whoever this Ramos was, she would have to remember to be irritated with him later over that remark, as well as for the strumpet routine. But for right now, she simply felt grateful for his protection.

  “Aye. Begging yer pardon, sir, but we—the lads and me—dinna think to find anyone here at the auld castle.”

  “Neither did I.” Ramos nudged the man with his sword and nodded toward the weapon MacPherson still held. “I’d advise you to drop that. Now.”

  “Och, aye, of course.” The man’s sword clattered to the floor.

  Without lowering his own weapon or turning, Ramos held out a hand Mairi’s direction. “It’s gotten far too crowded here for my taste, my sweet. Shall we leave now?”

  With effort, she pushed herself away from the wall and tried unsuccessfully not to limp as she walked over to take the hand he offered.

  He gave her fingers a quick reassuring squeeze and then let go long enough to pick up the bag he had dropped earlier, hoisting it by the strap onto his shoulder before drawing her close, his sword still held in front of him.

  “After you, my good man.” He angled the point of his weapon toward the door.

  It was all the encouragement MacPherson needed. He scurried out of the room and down the stairs ahead of them.

  “Yours?” Ramos motioned with the tip of his sword to the bag she’d completely forgotten. At her nod, he let go of her once more, adding her bag to his shoulder before reclaiming her hand.

  “Can you walk?” he asked into her ear.

  Apparently he saw much better in the dark than she did, noticing every detail.

  “I’ll be fine.” If only she didn’t feel so dizzy and disoriented.

  He grimaced as he glanced down at her feet, again dropping her hand. This time he slid his arm around her waist, lifting her, carrying her down the stairs with her feet dangling above the ground.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, putting her cheek to his
shoulder. The man was totally amazing. At only two inches under six feet, Mairi had never deluded herself about being petite. Yet Ramos carried her with one arm as if she were tiny.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he set her back on her feet, pulling her by the elbow to keep his body between her and the five men standing together in the room watching them.

  A wave of sadness hit her at the sight of the Great Hall. Only a couple of the long tables remained, along with the massive one on the dais at the front of the room. It looked as though some of them had been chopped up, probably waiting their turn as kindling in the huge fireplace.

  Mairi brought her attention to the men approaching them as Ramos backed her toward the entrance. One of them pointed at her feet.

  “Some fierce spectre you cornered, Ranald.” He laughed. “I’ve no seen a ghostie bleeding before. How did you manage that?”

  Ranald, still swaying as he tried to stand straight, shrugged. “I had naught to do with the lady’s injury. And they sounded like ghosties to me, being in the Witches’ Tower and all.”

  “You’ve a name?” A large man with a white scar the length of his face leaned toward them, his hand on his sword.

  “I do,” Ramos replied, a look of assurance on his face that Mairi certainly didn’t feel. “But I believe all you need to know is that I’m taking my lady and leaving your company now, pleasant as it is. I trust that our mounts are still below?”

  Mounts? We have mounts?

  “There were none to be seen when we arrived. And besides, what makes you think we’ll be allowing you to scamper off so quickly? I’m of a mind our new employer may be interested in the likes of you, come from the MacKiernans’ as you have. You may have noticed, there’s more of us than you.”

  Ramos chuckled but with his free hand pushed Mairi farther behind him. They were almost at the door. She reached out to touch it, using it to gain her balance as another wave of dizziness washed over her.

  “There may be more of you now, but very soon there won’t be. I can promise you that, gents. I’ve had one sport interrupted tonight. I’d enjoy the opportunity to engage in another.” He swung the sword up in a mock salute and then held it straight out, pointed directly at the speaker. “Shall we have a go at it? See what you and the lads can do?”

  Ranald stumbled back away from the group, shaking his head. “No,” he mumbled. “I’ll no fight a demon.”

  The larger man, the one who had spoken earlier, looked assessingly at Ramos and then smiled, holding his hands up and away from his weapon.

  “I dinna believe that would be the best thing right now. We’ll let you go without a fight. You can tell the MacKiernan he owes Davit Graham a boon.”

  “Wise choice. We’ll pass that message along.” Ramos began to back toward Mairi. “Can you open the door?”

  “Of course.” What did he think? That she was helpless?

  She pulled open the massive door and stepped through, only to have him fasten his arm around her, once again lifting her off her feet to carry her down the stairs.

  “Now what?” She looked around. Five horses were tied to the posts at the bottom landing. “Do we walk to Dun Ard?”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Ramos slid the bags off his shoulder and hooked them onto the saddle of the closest horse. “I believe those nice men up there would be more than happy to lend us a couple of these animals, don’t you?”

  “I seriously doubt it. I think it much more likely they’ll come after us and bash your brains out for stealing their mounts.”

  “I can only hope they’ll try exactly that,” he murmured as he picked her up and tossed her onto the back of the second horse.

  After untying all the animals, he mounted the first and grinned at her just before he slapped her horse on the rump. The animal leaped into action, startling all the others into running as well.

  She barely had time to grab a tight hold on the reins. The trees whipping past only increased her sense of disorientation. Ramos caught up to and moved just a little ahead of her. She clutched the straps in her hands and closed her eyes, praying her horse would follow his. She jerked as his hand grabbed her reins, his shout seeming to come from very far away.

  “Are you okay?” He tugged at her reins, slowing her horse. “Open your eyes and answer me.”

  “Damnation,” she muttered. “I should have known.” She’d just recognized Ramos for what he was. How could it have taken her so long? She’d been surrounded by them her whole life.

  Travel seven hundred years and she still couldn’t escape the controlling men who thought they could take care of everything better than she could. Although perhaps just this once it wasn’t such a bad thing to have one of them around.

  “Fine,” she mumbled, or tried to. “You deal with it, he-man.” She closed her eyes again and allowed the darkness to overtake her.

  “Ah, bloody hell!”

  Ramos dropped the reins and grabbed for the falling woman, scooping her onto the saddle in front of him. Using his knees, he brought his horse to a walk.

  He looked around him, trying to decide which option was best. There had been a time not so long ago when he would have been thrilled to hold a beauty like her in his arms, but this wasn’t one of them.

  Well, that wasn’t completely true. He did enjoy holding her. He simply would enjoy it more if there weren’t so many other pressing matters.

  Like the wound on her foot that obviously needed tending.

  Like the men they’d just left who could even now be after them.

  Like getting this woman home in one piece.

  The wound would wait for another hour or so. He couldn’t say the same with any certainty about the warriors whose horses he had “borrowed.” He sighed and urged his mount forward, opting to head directly for Dun Ard.

  Though he didn’t need the backward glance to verify they were not pursued, he looked anyway. Just in case. He would feel it if anyone followed, but this whole time-change thing gave him the willies.

  No need for nerves, he reassured himself. She couldn’t be hurt too badly. The bleeding hadn’t been profuse, just enough to leave smudges where she stepped. He would check her foot carefully and deal with it when they reached her cousin’s castle.

  The thought of some medieval healer attempting to patch her up gave him momentary pause. Not a problem. He could handle anyone who thought to interfere with his care of her. The antibiotic he had brought along would be all she would need. He would see to her. After all, she was his responsibility. He was her Guardian.

  A quick glance down confirmed that his charge still slept. Sleep was apparently a common side effect of the time-travel experience. Cate had warned him to be prepared for that eventuality. She had also promised to prevent that from happening to him.

  His mind wandered back to the woman in his arms as he stole another glimpse at her. He had seen her photograph, studied her notes, learned everything he could about her in preparation for this mission. But none of it had adequately prepared him for the real, live Mairi MacKiernan.

  He had expected some sort of shy, studious woman who would certainly raise a protest at his little deception to fool those drunken idiots at the castle. Instead, when he’d backed her up against that wall, she’d played right along. She had taken him completely by surprise when her sweet little tongue had danced across his lips and into his mouth.

  “Any other time, Mairi, my dear,” he murmured into the wind. “Any other place.”

  He shook his head to evict such thoughts. Not that someone like her would be interested in a man like him. Besides, he had other plans for his life. And those plans began with patching her up, sending her safely home, locating whichever of his relatives was causing trouble here in this time and neutralizing him.

  His agenda was way too full for him to be distracted by a blond-haired, blue-eyed Faerie princess. No matter how sexy and appealing he might find her.

  “Who goes there? Halt and be recognize
d.” The order rang out into the dim light of the approaching dawn.

  Ramos pulled on the reins to stop the horse. He’d pushed the exhausted animal as fast as he dared all the way here. He was sure no one followed, yet he had the uncomfortable feeling that all was not as it should be. Perhaps it was only his perceptive senses dulled by magic overload. Still, he had never been one to doubt his gift of sensory guidance, so he remained on full alert as he called out to the men above him.

  “I’m a guest your laird will want to see immediately. This woman is a relative of his, and of Lady MacAlister’s, and she’s been hurt.”

  Ramos could picture the consternation and confusion his announcement caused among the guards standing up along the battlement. After what seemed an inordinately long time, he heard the clang of metal and the large grate in front of him began to rise.

  Not a moment too soon, to his way of thinking. The bundle in his lap was beginning to wiggle.

  The first thing Mairi noticed was that aroma. She was surrounded by it. Floating in it. Clean and fresh like a good herbal soap, yet entwined with another scent. A strong and soothing smell. A smell that called to her, drew her to it. It crept into her nostrils, cradled her, made her feel safe. She rolled her head, pressing her nose into the fragrance. Of its own accord, her hand lifted, searching, wanting to draw it closer. Her fingers encountered their quarry, flexed, and opened, exploring a massive plane. It was warm, firm and moving.

  Moving?

  She jerked awake as she realized it wasn’t a smell at all that cradled her but a pair of strong arms, attached to a wall of chest into which she’d buried her face, and which she was even now fondling. She looked up into a pair of the most intensely hypnotic pale green eyes she’d ever seen. She pulled her hand back down to her lap as if she’d been burned, not at all sure she hadn’t.

  Ramos smiled at her.

  “Good morning, my sweet. Sleep well?”

  She felt her mouth fall open, but couldn’t seem to do anything about it as she continued to stare, enthralled. Not really pale green, more of a turquoise, those eyes reminded her of something. Something important, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to remember what it was. All sorts of things swam just out of reach in her memory, like a grainy film all out of focus.