Journey with Joe (Middlemarch Capture Book 5)

by Shelley Munro

  “You’ve caught yourself a thief, Joe.”

  Mungo ceased her fight, going limp. Her gaze encountered two bare feet, two muscular but bare legs and thighs. She gasped. The rest of him was equally naked.

  Surprise rendered her voiceless and not even a croak escaped her gaping mouth.

  The weight on her back lessened, and she sprang to her feet, intent on escape.

  “Not so fast, thief,” the naked man snapped, his hand gripping her arm. Due to her voluminous cape, he misjudged his grip, and she whirled, determined to flee. She took two steps before the cat sprang at her. The feline growled fiercely, its ire directed at the man. An exclamation of disbelief escaped the man, and he stopped just as suddenly as she, watchful while the cat shifted its weight off her.

  Was the man afeared of the beast, too? Did the clawed beast intend to eat her? Was he guarding his dinner?

  Preferring to meet her maker head-on, Mungo twisted to face the threat. She stared at the creature, her heart beating so fast she could hardly hear herself think. The beast was a big, brutish cat with fur the color of the blacklight. It sat on its haunches and glowered at her in distaste. Everything about the cat was black, apart from its jewel-green eyes that held clear intelligence. No, not quite correct. She swallowed as she monitored its white and sharp teeth. Black with green and white accessories.

  “This thief must have confidence in his abilities if he came alone,” the naked man said. “What shall we do with him?”

  Why was he speaking to the cat? Where were the other men who’d dealt with her brother? She’d seen four driving her coos from the keep.

  The cat prowled toward her without warning. Mungo squeezed her eyes shut and waited for those wicked teeth to sever her neck. She steeled herself for the rip of the sharp claws. Her pulse thumped in three hard beats before panic tightened her chest, and she wheezed again.

  “Joe?”

  Mungo’s eyes popped open to find herself nose-to-nose with the cat. Cool fingers of fear tiptoed down her spine. She struggled to draw breath. The creature was toying with her. A punishment for trying to steal back her coos. The cat sniffed her neck and pulled back. Mungo could’ve sworn the creature suffered from confusion.

  “Joe?” the naked man prompted again.

  The cat growled, and Mungo was in no doubt as to its irritation. She tried to crawl backward, but the creature noticed and snarled at her. She froze.

  It stared at her, and she gawked back, fascinated despite herself. The creature hadn’t eaten her yet, although that might happen still if she didn’t extract herself from this mess.

  Without warning, the cat backed up. A strange light emanated around the creature, and in the next minute, a naked man stood before her. Unbidden, her gaze zapped straight to his groin and her mouth dropped open.

  Oh nay. Nay, nay, nay!

  She knew what his erect nakedness meant, and it didn’t bode well for her.

  “Joe?” Amusement colored the first naked man’s voice.

  The cat-man snarled, and he didn’t sound friendly.

  The first man froze, his head tilting to the side. His gaze traveled from her to Joe and back and he grinned. “Bugger me.”

  “Tell me about it,” Cat-Man snapped.

  “What will you do with him?”

  Mungo gasped. They thought she was a man. She bit her bottom lip, her gaze returning to the Cat-Man’s groin. She swallowed hard, her heart jumping into a frenzied beat, one that signaled fear. Adair would search for her once he found her missing. Wouldnae he? Reilynn would force her son to hunt for Mungo. The womenfolk of the keep liked her even if Mungo’s father and her brothers considered her worthless.

  Nay, wait. Adair had told his friends he had a plan and intended to steal the cattle before they reached the coast. Her brother to the rescue, then.

  “Keep him until we have the cattle home,” Cat-Man said. “Get the horse. It will come in handy.”

  “Nay!” Mungo cried.

  She’d been lucky. She kenned that, but that didnae mean she wanted others or the steed to suffer needlessly.

  “Think you have rights after this stunt?” Cat-Man growled. With disgust on his face, he grabbed her cape. He clutched it and tugged it from her person. Mungo struggled, but he removed the garment in a trice and seized her arm from behind. Strong fingers banded her right wrist, and in a blink, he’d gathered her left wrist in his grip too.

  “Duncan, do we have rope?” Cat-Man asked.

  While he waited, Cat-Man pressed his front against her back with only their hands to separate their bodies. He sniffed at her neck, and her mouth tightened. These were strange people indeed, although decisive.

  Mungo found herself trussed and tied to a stout tree. Cat-man had bound her with quick efficiency and even given her back her cloak to ward off the cold. Dread had her quailing, but she refused to weep and show weakness. After all, she’d had plenty of practice hiding her distress from her family. Instead, she focused on escape and tugged at the rope trapping her arms behind her back.

  The naked men, now wearing trews and tight shirts that clung to their chests, settled the coos and studied the steed along with a third man. The steed sniffed and nuzzled the men with affection. It seemed they had a kindness, a way about them that made other beasts accept them. Her coos, while recognizing her, seemed content with their lot.

  Stupid tears pricked her again and one spilled over and ran down her face.

  Mungo spotted two black leopards guarding her coos, although to an observer spying on the group, they’d be hard to spot. Five cat-men in total.

  Adair hadnae kenned, hadn’t suspected. She would’ve heard of the amazing news at the evening meal. Her brother might’ve captured the men, wanting to add them to the clan’s fighting force. One thing was for sure, a surprise lay in store for Adair and his reaving party.

  Joe tied the thief with quick efficiency, barely able to look at the man who the feline part of him insisted was their mate.

  Satisfied the man had no weapons, apart from the bow and arrows, which Joe confiscated, he’d tossed him back his cloak and gone to join his cousins. The tight knot in his throat made it difficult to speak, so he remained silent while his mind jumped around in a tizzy, shock foremost.

  His feline wanted this skinny male as a mate.

  The idea rattled Joe so much, he’d made a visual search for weapons then ripped his gaze away. An impression of red hair and tan skin remained with him. A skinny body. A grubby face. Baggy clothing. The man had a way with the cattle though. At least that was one thing they had in common.

  But a male…

  Joe hadn’t, didn’t swing that way.

  He pushed out a heavy sigh, torn in directions he’d never, ever considered.

  “Joe, what are you going to do?” Duncan asked.

  Judging by the sympathy in his voice, Sam had filled him in on developments.

  “I have no idea,” Joe said, not even trying to deny what he accepted as truth. “I’ve seen the way my brothers are with their mates. You’ve heard Saber’s stories. Hell, Leo wanted to kill Betrys. They’ve told us it’s impossible to fight the feline’s urge to mate.” A grunt of frustration scraped up his throat and landed in the sympathetic silence. “Until now, I never understood the compulsion. The urgency. Hell.” Joe dragged a hand through his hair. “My brothers will laugh themselves silly when they see me with this man.”

  “He has a way with cattle,” Sam said, his lips quivering with suppressed merriment.

  “Fine. Laugh all you want, but this isn’t funny.”

  “Ability with cattle is an excellent attribute for a mate.” Duncan, too, pressed his lips together, glee reflected in his expression.

  “But he’s a thief.” Joe groaned. While his family would accept a male mate, one that stole for a living—not so much.

  Duncan shrugged. “So cut him loose.”

  Even hearing the words, thinking them set his feline growling.

  “Perhaps he has an a
cceptable reason for trying to steal the cattle,” Sam said, cutting through Joe’s feline spitting. “We must discuss the matter with our thief. Either Duncan or I can question him for you.”

  “No.” Joe never hesitated. “I’ll do it at first light. My gut tells me we should push the herd as much as we can. The werewolves warned us of the Scothage clans. We should heed the advice.”

  “If you bring the thief with us, at least you have the horse to cart him,” Sam said. “Do I have time to hunt for micelets? My owl is making hungry cries.”

  “Sure,” Joe said. “I’ll keep watch, but don’t stray too far in case trouble finds us.”

  Joe checked in with Max and Kenan and offered to watch while they grabbed a few hours sleep. It wasn’t as if he’d rest with his mind a mired tangle of regret and hope. Shock.

  At first light, Joe allowed himself to approach the prisoner.

  His mate.

  Throughout the night, he’d battled his feline half. Now, exhausted, Joe gave in, his footsteps taking him closer to the man his feline craved.

  The cape covered him, but a whiff of metallic blood had Joe snatching the covering away in a blind panic.

  His mate was injured.

  His mate was bleeding.

  Joe gaped. A croak escaped him as he rocked back on his heels and hissed at the mass of red hair. Curls that escaped the skewwhiff black hat. Freckles dotted an up-tilted nose. Sun-kissed skin and tempting red lips. Long, sandy lashes that opened to reveal wary golden-brown eyes. Joe gawked, and the thief watched him fixedly.

  Slowly, a smile crept across his lips until the grin became so wide it hurt his cheeks.

  Joy was like a punch to his chest. A wallop to his heart.

  This was his mate, and he was a she.

  His whoop of celebration rang through the hills. It startled the cattle and set a roosting bird lifting into the air with a screech of alarm. It awakened his slumbering cousins and friends and had them leaping to their feet, studying the terrain for danger. Joe did a dopey happy dance and didn’t care how stupid he appeared. He didn’t care about his cousin’s derisive remarks, didn’t care about the thief’s flicker of fear. He didn’t care about anything beyond this second.

  His mate was a woman, and she was a beautiful thief who liked cattle.

  That, he could work with.

  “Tell me your name.” The blood aroma distracted him from his celebrations. He crouched by his thief and unerringly found the source of the scent. She’d struggled against the ties and injured her wrists. The rope had cut into her skin. “Name,” he repeated.

  “Mungo Caimbeulach.”

  Joe grinned as his cousins joined him. “I’m Joe Mitchell. My cousins.” He gestured at Sam, who carried his injured owl. “Sam Mitchell. And this is Duncan Mitchell.” Max and Kenan ambled closer. “My friends. Max Sinclair and Kenan McKenzie.”

  “A woman,” Duncan said. “Congratulations.”

  “Let me go,” Mungo said. “My brother will come for me.”

  “No,” Joe said, happiness leaking into his voice. “You’re a cattle thief. We caught you in the act. Now that we’ve captured you, I’ve decided to keep you. If your brother takes exception, he’ll need to discuss the matter with me.”

  4 – Fascinating Captors

  Mungo scanned the three men, their grinning faces. She studied the two black leopards, and even they appeared to wear smiles, their sharp, white teeth in evidence. An air of jubilance seized the men, especially the one named Joe.

  The hot glint in his eyes—it caused a peculiar sensation in her belly. She tried to keep her gaze off him, but they—he—fascinated her.

  “We’d better get moving,” Joe said. “If the Caimbeulach clan is coming after our cattle, we need to hustle to keep ahead of them. Let’s eat on the move.”

  The two men and the cats strode off to her coos. They dismantled the pen and set her herd in motion. Joe retrieved the steed, speaking to the creature in a soothing voice. Mungo’s chest tightened, and she feared her insides would spurt up her throat with the pressure. These men were so different from her brothers.

  The coos ambled where the cats directed them. After grabbing possessions, the two remaining men followed. One man—she thought he was Sam—carried a pink bird nestled against his chest in a sling.

  “Let me check your wrists,” Joe said. “It’s cooler here in the Highlands, but the temperatures will climb as we near the coast. I don’t want an infection to set in.”

  Mungo stared at his masculine face—the planes and angles. The bright green eyes surrounded by dark lashes that were thicker and more luxuriant than her own. His black hair stood up in tufts as if he’d run his hands through the short locks. His shoulders and chest pushed against the thin material of his shirt, disguising nothing of his broadness or his hard muscles. The Highland chill didn’t bother him or his friends. Tight trews clung to muscular thighs and snugged against a flat belly while leather boots covered his feet.

  A chuckle ripped her gaze from his body. “Seen enough, thief?”

  The name stung. “The coos belong to me.”

  “I paid for them. Mine,” he stated, his gaze drilling through her until she could no longer hold the connection. Mungo swallowed and ignored his chuckle even though, weirdly, his joy and excitement were infectious. He tempted her to join in the mirth. Instead, her forehead scrunched, and she concentrated on her resentment.

  “My brother sold them without the right of ownership.” Her frustration with the situation must’ve leaked through since his smile faded.

  He cocked his head before deftly turning her over. He released a hiss on seeing her wrists. With them tied behind her, she couldnae see the damage but, aye, they stung. Joe muttered nonsense beneath his breath. Unfathomably, her pulse raced as his cool fingers came into contact with her tender skin. She held her breath while he unfastened the rope from her wrists. He stood, his footsteps receding.

  Mungo’s head jerked up in stark panic, her breath hissing between her teeth when she saw he’d merely gone to collect something from his pack. He didn’t intend to depart and leave her tied to the tree.

  She jumped at his first cool touch, the gentleness of his fingers as he rubbed in a mystery salve. The ache in her wrists faded until all she was conscious of was Joe’s touch and his masculine scent. A hint of musky man filled her nostrils, yet there was a freshness that brought to mind forests and plants with flowers.

  “My brother will rescue me.” She hoped. Now she thought about it, it was a wonder her father hadnae ordered the cattle sold earlier.

  “Let him,” Joe said with a careless shrug.

  He hauled her to her feet and balanced her while he untied the rope securing her to the tree. With ease, he lifted her into his arms, his muscles flexing under her bottom. This close she could see the stubble on his jawline and his decadent scent filled her lungs.

  “I’ll leave your hands and feet free for now, but attempt to escape and I’ll catch you.”

  The warning in his tone didn’t go unheeded. The set of his chin told her of his steadfast determination. She recognized the signs since she glimpsed a similar expression in her looking-glass most cycles.

  “Where are ye taking me?”

  “Thieves don’t require information,” he said as he set her astride the steed and mounted behind her. He dragged her back until her spine pressed against his chest.

  “Never ye mind. I’ll have plenty of hours to plot yer demise.”

  He laughed at her threat, his chest muscles rising rapidly and quivering against her back. Clot-heid. He wouldnae chortle so once her brother caught them.

  “My brother willnae let ye take me. Neither will my father once he learns I’m gone.” What was meant as a threat emerged as a breathless string of words. Her confidence teetered. Father cared nothing for her. He’d not miss her presence. Mungo steeled herself at the shaft of pain the truth elicited.

  Joe clicked with his tongue and urged the steed into motion. Soon, they
caught the herd, and once they did, Joe pulled something from his pack.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Aye.”

  He handed her a piece of bright pink hide. She suspected her nose wrinkled as much as the hide.

  “Dried fruit,” he explained. “My mother makes it. We brought a mixture of dried fruit, vegetables and meat.”

  Mungo regarded it doubtfully, and Joe sighed. He took it from her, broke off half and shoved it in his mouth. “Yum. Try it.” He handed the other half back to her.

  The rumble of her stomach trumped her hesitance. Because of Adair, she’d had to share her food during the herb collecting excursion instead of stashing it for later. Tart sweetness sat upon her tongue. Delicious.

  “Lucky dip,” Joe said and handed her another strip.

  This one was bright yellow. While she expected sweetness, a full savory flavor burst through her mouth.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “Why?” she asked, wary at his interest. Most folks ignored her.

  “Don’t you want to scare me with tales of their might and bravery? Make me shake in my boots and return you post-haste.”

  “Ye talk funny.”

  “I could say the same about you,” he said cheerfully.

  Mungo decided chatting with him couldnae hurt. She might gain useful information. “I have three brothers.”

  “Younger? Older? Short? Fat?”

  “Three younger brothers. Half-brothers,” she corrected. “My mother died during the birthing of me.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. That can’t have been easy.”

  “Reilynn, my stepmother, is a loving woman. I’m lucky to have her.”

  “I have four brothers and a sister,” Joe said. “Three of my brothers are older, one brother is my twin and my sister is the youngest.”

  The note of affection drew her interest. He liked his siblings. “Why are none of yer brothers here with ye?”

  “They are with their mates,” he said. “Sly intended to come but a friend sent word of his arrival, and he stayed at home. Sly is my twin. We saved up together to purchase these cattle.”

  Mungo bit her lip, hating the sneaking sympathy creeping into her. This man—Joe—had purchased her coos in an honest transaction. She could heap none of the blame on his handsome head.