Heart Of A Highland Warrior

by Anita Clenney

  But that would be even more intimate. They were in a prison dungeon. Did it matter? They both rose slowly. “I wish there was a bed.”

  In the darkness, she saw him glance at her breasts. “Aye. The floor’s not much for sleeping. I’d rather have the ground and soft leaves.”

  It would be an improvement over stone. They chose a spot near the corner of the cell. He spread the blanket, and she lay down near the edge. Without words, he lay next to her on his side, close, but not touching. He pulled the remaining half of the blanket over them.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Your chattering teeth tell a different story.”

  “Guess they don’t want to pay the heat bill.” She’d never been this bothered by cold. It must be the drug.

  “I can move closer, if that’s all right.”

  She would have let him lie on top of her to get rid of this chill. Or maybe it was the drug. She wouldn’t have minded letting him do more than just get rid of the chill. That wasn’t like her. “Thank you,” she said, and he shifted closer. She turned on her side, and he tucked the blanket tighter around them. She could feel him brush against her, but not pressing. “There must be someone wondering where you are.” Maybe a wife who might be upset that his body was tucked against hers. If she loved him, she’d be more upset at what they’d done to him than who he was sharing his body warmth with.

  “I would hope.”

  He sounded so lost, Anna’s heart broke a little for him. With no memory of who he was, he was completely alone. “It must be terrible not to remember your name or where you came from. Where your family is.” Not that she had a family now. Her only family was her friends. Did they even know she was missing? Were they in danger? Lance’s buddy could have already attacked them. If something happened to them, she would be as alone as the prisoner.

  “Aye,” he said softly. “It is that.”

  She wanted to help him. All she could do was share her body heat. “When we get out, I’ll help you find them.” And she was determined to get them out.

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  She lay there feeling his heart beat against her back and the movement of his chest as he breathed. And she was glad she wasn’t alone.

  After a moment, his voice brushed her ear. “I’ve no memories of my own. Perhaps you could share something of yours with me? Tell me about when you were a child.”

  She never talked about her childhood. But somehow here in the dungeon with this stranger who had no memories, it seemed safe. Whatever she had, good or bad, it was more than he had.

  “I lived with my mother. I never knew my…father.” Her mother hadn’t either. “My mother was a powerful woman at one time. Very strong.” Strong enough to make tough decisions. “And kind. But something terrible happened, and it destroyed her.” For years she’d believed her mother had died at the hands of a demon when she’d really killed herself. The clan hadn’t told Anna. That made her angry, but she understood in a way. She had just started her duty. Knowing the truth would have destroyed her. She would never have known if Angus hadn’t found her mother’s death certificate. “I miss her.” There were times when she’d felt her mother’s love. When they’d almost felt normal.

  “I’m sorry it was bad. Didn’t your mother tell you anything about your father?”

  “No. She never spoke of him.” And Anna learned not to ask.

  “Do you live nearby?” he asked.

  “No. I have a flat in London, and I spend a lot of time in Scotland.”

  “Scotland?” He sounded the word as if testing it.

  She suspected he knew Scotland well. “I travel a lot for work.”

  “What do you do?” he asked, and she thought she heard a note of suspicion in his voice.

  “Um, it’s hard to explain.” As much as she wanted to open up to him, she couldn’t say much until she was sure he was a warrior.

  “Why do you have to work?”

  Odd question. “Everyone has to work if they want to eat.” Her job just wasn’t typical. Not many humans got their orders from an angel. “My friends help me.” She thought of the others—Ronan, Sorcha and Duncan, Faelan, and now Bree, Shay, Cody…Angus. They were her family now. And she’d abandoned them to stew in her grief over Angus. Angus would be pissed if he knew. Maybe he did know. Maybe he was watching her now. Watching them. Maybe she was loopy with drugs. She definitely wasn’t herself. She almost felt drunk. She snuggled closer to the warmth at her back, wishing the prisoner would hold her even tighter. God, what did they give me? she thought, as the weight of her lids pulled her under.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A GROAN WOKE Anna. A strong arm, bruised and laced with cuts, was wrapped around her waist. Her instinct was to fight, but she felt a warm breath caress her ear and the body at her back, and she remembered where she was and who held her.

  “No,” he whispered. “They’ll forget.” His arm tensed, and his breath came faster, harsher. “No!”

  Anna strained against his arm, and he tightened his grip, making it hard to breathe. She broke his hold and rolled over, putting her hand on his face to calm him. His arm came out, catching her in a blow that knocked her against the wall.

  Winded, Anna crawled back to him. “Wake up.” He continued tossing, throwing the blanket aside. He smacked his head on the floor, and she wondered if some of his injuries had come from fighting his dreams. Ducking to avoid another blow, she dove between his fists and grabbed him. If he didn’t stop, he would reopen all the wounds on his back. He grunted and tried to swing again, but she kept her arms tight around him, avoiding the injured areas. It wouldn’t help for long. He was as strong as a bull. “Wake up!”

  His eyes opened, but they were vacant. There was a damp trail at one corner. She released his arms and leaned back. “Are you OK?”

  He didn’t speak. He covered his face, and Anna could hear his labored breathing. He lowered his hands, and the look in his eyes was so lost, she couldn’t help but touch his face. He pressed his cheek against her palm.

  When his hand touched her side and moved over her back, winding in her hair, she didn’t resist. Not when he gently pulled her face to his or softly touched her cheek. His breath was warm as his mouth met hers. She felt the rough edge of a healed cut at the top of his lip. He tilted her head and kissed her. Neither hard nor soft. Just desperate. Like a man lost at sea, clinging to the only spot of dry land. Sensations curled in her belly, spreading outward until she was wrapped in the taste and feel of him. His warm tongue, his beard tickling her chin, his hands tangled in her hair and bare legs against hers. He rolled, putting her underneath him, cradling her head.

  She was afraid of hurting him, but she needed to touch him. Gently, she held onto his shoulders, feeling the power and strength in the muscle and bone. He had no restraints. He was touching every part of her that he could reach. Part of her brain was sending off alarm bells, but her desire was too strong. She wanted his skin against hers. Him inside her. She moved her hips against his and he settled deeper between her thighs. His kilt had lifted, and all that separated them was the thin cloth of her panties.

  A moment of clarity dulled her passion. What was she doing? The drug must be lowering her inhibitions. She didn’t react this way. She knew the dangers involved with sex. She put her hands on his chest. “Stop.”

  He leaned back and looked at her. His eyes were glazed and he was breathing hard. “Stop?”

  “This is too fast. I’m sorry.”

  “Forgive me.” He started to roll off her.

  “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” The guard stood outside the cell with his gun pointed at them. “Don’t stop now. It’s just getting good.”

  “Bastard,” the prisoner muttered, shifting his weight off Anna. “What do you want?”

  The guard looked at Anna. “I’d like
some of that.”

  “Over my dead body,” Anna said. Or his.

  “I’ve never tried it that way, but I’ve heard there’s some appeal,” the guard said.

  A low growl came from the prisoner’s throat. Anna knew the guard was as good as dead. The only question was when, and who would get to him first, the prisoner or her.

  “Don’t touch her.” The prisoner’s voice was hard.

  The guard sneered. “Or what? What will you do?”

  “I’ll drive my dirk straight through your bloody heart.”

  “But you don’t have a dirk, do you?”

  “Then I’ll do it with my bare hands. I’ll tear your chest open with my fingers and rip out your heart.”

  Hatred seethed from his eyes. “You’re not so special. I don’t know why he bothers with you. This experiment will fail, just like the other one. And you,” he said, glaring at Anna. “I’d kill you now if you weren’t worth more to me alive. If you don’t want me, then you can do him. I’d just as soon watch anyway.”

  Anna’s throat dried. “No,” she croaked.

  “Your choice. Him or me.”

  “No.” The prisoner’s body was tight with anger. “I’ll tell the master what you’ve done.”

  There was a flash of fear in the guard’s eyes, but he just laughed. “What’ll he care? That’s what you’re here for anyway. Feeding and breeding. That’s why I like working here. I get to watch the breeding.”

  Breeding? Anna met the prisoner’s shocked gaze. They were going to breed him.

  “Get on with it,” the guard said. “This is better than what you’ll be bred to later.”

  “No,” the prisoner said again.

  The guard aimed the gun at Anna. “Do it or I’ll kill her. Then I’ll kill you. I’ll tell the master the hybrid killed you both. He’s killed plenty of others. The master will believe it. Now pick up where you left off. Show her what women are good for.”

  The prisoner looked at Anna, his face hard. “We’re in a mess here.”

  Anna nodded.

  “If I could just get to him without that bloody pistol,” he whispered, but they both knew it was impossible. “We can pretend. With what we’re wearing, we might fool him. I don’t know what else to do.”

  They had no choice. “What if you act like you’re having…trouble. If you go slow, maybe he’ll get frustrated and come in here himself. We can grab the gun and kill him.” Her stomach heaved at the thought, but if it got him within it would be worth it. If they didn’t kill him now, he wouldn’t stop at one show, and he might want the next turn.

  “All right.”

  “Stop your whispering and get on with it,” the guard ordered.

  The prisoner squared his shoulders and turned to the guard. “I’ve been wanting to do this anyway.” He whispered to her, “I’m going to kiss you. Pretend to struggle.” He took a breath and lowered his head. His lips were stiff against hers.

  She pushed at his chest, and it wasn’t just an act. She was working hard to stave off a full-blown panic. Pretend you’re sparring with him.

  “That’s it,” the guard said. “Take her clothes off.”

  The prisoner lifted his head, putting an inch between their mouths. “No,” he called out. “I like it better this way.”

  “How are you going to do it with her panties on?” the guard asked.

  “Panties?” The prisoner stilled. His fingers brushed the side of her hip where the elastic of her panties was. “These?”

  He didn’t know what panties were? Her crazy theory might not be so crazy after all. “Yes.”

  He tensed as he slid his hand underneath her gown. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do it.” Anna felt the last of her strength draining. If they didn’t get this over quickly, she was going to panic and start struggling for real. That could get them both killed. “Hurry,” she whispered. “Let’s get this over.” She managed to pretend she was struggling while helping him get the panties off.

  “Bollocks.” He looked shaken. He moved his arm behind her neck, the other supporting his weight. He let his leg slide between hers and pressed his lips to hers. Anna wiggled back and forth as if struggling.

  “Lift your kilt,” the guard ordered.

  “I’m going to kill him,” the prisoner whispered as he lifted the front of his kilt.

  Anna looked up at him as he lowered himself between her legs, and she knew from the deadly look in his eyes, this man was a warrior. A very old warrior if she was right.

  They were flesh to flesh now, but with their bodies so close and his kilt covering his backside and her thighs, the guard couldn’t see what they weren’t doing. She gasped for effect. “Grunt or something,” she whispered.

  The prisoner grunted and pretended to thrust as she continued to struggle underneath him. She felt him growing hard against her. If they weren’t careful, they’d be doing more than pretending.

  “Raise your kilt,” the guard said. “You’re covering the goods.”

  The prisoner cursed. He lifted his kilt and pressed closer.

  “What are you waiting for, warrior?” the guard growled.

  “It’s not easy with an audience. Maybe you want to come in and try.”

  Anna’s whole body tensed, though she knew this was part of their plan to trap the guard.

  “I’ll get Lance to hold the gun,” the guard said. “Maybe he’ll want a turn too.”

  Anna dug her fingers into the prisoner’s arms. She knew her nails were digging into his skin, but she was afraid to let go. Afraid the guard and Lance would come and take his place. Their plan hadn’t worked. “No,” Anna whispered. “You have to do it.”

  “What?”

  “Do it,” she choked out. “Or he will.” That would be worse than death.

  “I don’t think I can,” he said.

  “You have to. I don’t want him, and I don’t want us to die.” She couldn’t let him die without him even knowing who he was. She knew who she was. Knew her path in life. He might have a family out there searching for him. Grieving. “We were about to do it before the guard came. Just pretend he’s not there.”

  His jaw clenched, and he slipped his hand between her legs. He touched her softly, but still she tensed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  A harsh breath left him as he gently opened her, and she felt a millisecond of something entirely unexpected as his warm flesh brushed against hers. His eyes widened, and she saw him swallow. “I’m so sorry.” Then a nudge for entry, and he slipped just inside.

  Anna closed her eyes, trying to block it out. It wasn’t the physical discomfort. He was being gentle. It was her mind that felt violated.

  The prisoner stilled, but his heart and his cock still throbbed. He was afraid for her, but his body was responding in spite of the danger. He had one quick thought that he should be glad his body cooperated, because if it hadn’t, the guard would have done it himself, and he wouldn’t have been gentle about it. If she was a whore, she was likely used to it, but he wasn’t going to let anyone treat her rough.

  The prisoner pushed farther inside. His cock should be limp as a piece of rope. But it wasn’t. He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t, so he looked at her hair instead. “God forgive me,” he uttered as he began moving inside her.

  He tried to be gentle, but she was upset. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were on his waist, but it wasn’t an embrace. Instinctively, she was trying to push him away.

  He slowed down, trying to block the pleasure surging through his loins, but he was already worked up from before, and he hadn’t been with a woman in too long. And never one so bonny. He didn’t allow himself to get close to beautiful women. They were dangerous. But his cock didn’t know that. He felt the tension rising. He had to stop before it was too late. Would the guard notice? The last stroke was too much. Pleas
ure erupted inside him, and he quickly pulled out, spilling his seed onto her thigh.

  He lay quietly between her legs, horrified at what he’d done. Would the guard want a turn the minute he moved off her? If he came in without Lance, that’d be just fine. He would kill the bastard and get it over with. She lay silent beneath him, her eyes wide with fear. He knew that she waited for the guard as well.

  “Not yet,” she pled when he started to move off her. Her hands gripped his shirt. In the dead silence between them, he heard the guard chuckling, then the sound of footsteps as he moved away. A trickle of sweat ran down the prisoner’s temple. He looked back to be sure the guard had left them.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered yet again. He moved off her and dropped his kilt, then gently pulled her gown lower. He grabbed the cloth she’d washed with before and awkwardly cleaned off her leg.

  She rose to her feet and tugged at her gown, though it wouldn’t go lower. Her hands were shaking as she reached for her undergarment.

  The prisoner put the cloth under his kilt and cleaned himself off, turning his back to give her a moment’s privacy to get decent. He heard her at the sink. When the water stopped running, he faced her. “Are you all right?”

  She stood with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes on the floor. “It wasn’t your fault. You had to do it.”

  But he didn’t have to enjoy it. He felt like an utter bastard, not knowing whether to comfort her or leave her alone. He reached out for her, and she flinched. “Lass, look at me.”

  She met his gaze, but her lovely eyes were flat. “I’m fine. Sex is better than death.” She retreated to the bench and sat on the far edge, tugging her gown so hard the prisoner thought it might tear. She stared at the floor, her face tight.

  He stood helplessly in the middle of the floor. He went to her again, softly touching her. This time she didn’t flinch. He rubbed her arm awkwardly, his own eyes stinging with shame. He’d spent himself in pleasure while she was in pain. He was no better than the guard.

  “I…I shouldn’t have…” He swallowed. “I’ve not been with a woman for so long…” But that was no bloody excuse.