A Highlander's Destiny (Digital Boxed Edition)

by Willa Blair

  “I think I know just the man,” Angus said, chuckling. “Brodric is always telling tall tales. This should suit his talents very well.”

  Angus leaned toward the man next to him and gestured to another nearby. Ah, the man who’d warned that the Healer could cause serious shrinking. Toran watched the whispered conversation as Angus told his man what they wanted. A grin split Brodric’s face. He clearly relished the challenge. Angus turned back to Toran.

  “Brodric is ready whenever Donal arrives.”

  Laughter drifted over from the bonfire, and Toran wished that some of the heat it generated would, as well. Glad he was to be wearing breeches instead of a kilt. At least his manhood suffered no immediate danger of shrinking from the cold. He rested his arms on his knees, and dropped his chin, making his upper body as compact as possible for a man as large as himself. It would be a long day, and an even longer night, even if he wrapped his plaid about him.

  But the position had the added advantage of allowing him to worry at his bonds with his teeth while appearing to simply rest his head on his hands. He’d made some progress when riders leaving camp had awakened him at dawn, but the damage he’d done to his wrists was greater than the damage done to the leather before the Healer arrived.

  As for what she’d done when she’d seen the condition of his wrists, Toran didn’t understand what he’d been feeling then, but even the brief touch he’d allowed her had helped heal the worst of the damage inflicted by the leather. In hindsight, he should have let her finish the job. He’d be in better shape, and he might have a better understanding of what exactly she could do.

  Or perhaps not. If she used magic, her methods would be past his kenning. But if she truly used magic, surely it was benign or even good magic used to heal and help, despite the warlike setting. Perhaps her life depended on providing aid the invader by keeping his troops sound. If so, why was he, a captive, given to her to heal? Ah, the torc. If they thought he ruled as laird here, they would think he kenned a great deal about the lay of the land and the capabilities of nearby clans. Indeed. The invader wanted to learn more about the area.

  Several hours passed. The guards handed out a midday meal. While they ate, Toran questioned the men around him about the battle the day before and the invaders who now held them.

  “No one has seen the MacAnalen since the battle,” Angus told him, grief plain on his handsome face. “He’s the only brother left to me and I fear he’s among the dead. The men are calm for now, but their rage over their losses will not be denied much longer. When your men come, the fighting could start again.”

  “Nay,” Toran advised, “there are not enough of us to take them all. We need to get away so that we can return to fight on our own terms. Where are they keeping their horses?”

  “On the other side of camp,” Angus replied. I saw a line of them tied out in the trees when I was brought here.”

  “All together? That’s convenient, and sloppy. It will be easier to cut them loose. Steal those ye can. Scatter the rest. If ye make for the hills, ye can hide out where ye can re-arm and strike at a time of yer choosing. We’ll stand with ye o’course. But it may be as ye said. With their leader out of action, or dead, this army may disperse on its own, saving us all the trouble.”

  “Ye speak sense. We’ll be glad of the chance to chase them south into the arms of the Sassenach.”

  “And if they won’t go, we’ll take care of them, together.”

  Angus, thoughtful, nodded before speaking again. “Most of these guards pay little attention to us, preferring to stay by the fire. We could let the men farthest from them start to slip into the woods when they get free of their bonds.”

  “Nay,” Toran answered. “The risk is too great. If they’re seen, the guards will stay closer and more alert. Better the guards are lax in their duties. Donal will have time to cut several loose to help the others before we’re noticed. And my men will be armed and able to defend us.”

  “Aye, that’s sensible,” Angus agreed, still tugging and twisting his bonds to stretch and loosen them.

  Toran approved of the young MacAnalen lieutenant. If the MacAnalen was truly among the dead, Angus would be a suitable successor to lead his clan, though that must be confirmed by what remained of his people—if they could win free from the muddle they were in now.

  Toran’s thoughts returned to his own situation and that of his home half a day’s ride away. The fact that the invader chief languished here meant he had not been able to carry the battle on to the Aerie in Toran’s absence. That would be ironic indeed, to waste his effort attacking its walls, when he already held its laird, and did not know it.

  ****

  Though he fought to stay alert, Toran was nearly dozing from fatigue when the sudden flicker of shadows in the trees at the edge of the encampment caught his attention. Under half-closed eyelids, he began to study the perimeter of the camp, watching for the tiniest hint of movement in the weak sunlight of early afternoon.

  Nothing happened. He began to think it had been only a stray breeze, when the leather thong binding him to the tree suddenly went slack. Donal’s familiar low whistle sounded behind him in the brush. Toran carefully studied the guards at their fire. They were paying no attention to the cluster of prisoners. The rest of the camp seemed quiet. It was time to go.

  “Angus,” he hissed. “Tell Brodric to start.”

  Angus straightened up and glanced around. “Donal?”

  “Aye.” Donal’s whisper came from the brush at their backs.

  Toran motioned for silence as a guard started in their direction. But after only a few paces, the man turned back to the fire, called by his compatriots to answer a question. Toran exhaled.

  “Donal, send one of the men to cut the lines to their horses and lead them quietly into the trees,” Toran ordered. “Angus’s men will retrieve them. And stay put where ye are until I signal.”

  “Already done, Lathan,” Donal responded dryly. In other circumstances, Toran would have chuckled. But there was too much at stake now.

  “Always a step ahead of me, are ye?”

  “Who trained ye, lad?” Donal answered simply.

  At that moment, Brodric, only a dozen feet away from Toran, began to moan then doubled over, feigning agony. Others in the group called for a healer. Toran leaned back against the tree he was supposed to be tied to. One of the male healers approached with the same three guards.

  “Here, now. What’s this?” the man demanded. He bent to examine his moaning patient, and Brodric’s cries of pain escalated. The healer sent one of the guards away and Toran’s pulse quickened. Angus slanted him a look, then went back to watching their drama play out. The healer continued his examination for another moment, then sat back on his heels, waiting, while Brodric writhed and moaned.

  Soon she approached. The Healer. Toran’s senses went on immediate alert. He studied her as she hurried up, noting how the sunlight brightened the red in her hair, how gracefully she moved, even in haste. Even the guards by the fire turned to watch her pass, Toran noted. That worried him until most of them turned back to the fire, used to her presence.

  As she passed under the trees, she flipped her heavy braid over her shoulder and down her back before kneeling by the groaning man. Toran’s palms itched with the desire to unbraid that wealth of hair and fill his hands with it. Mayhap he’d have the opportunity, once they returned to the Aerie. That thought cheered him as much as the knowledge that Donal waited behind him for the right moment to make his move.

  Toran watched for long minutes as she ran her hands lightly over the torso of her patient, pausing as if to listen, before continuing her odd regimen of stroking, then pausing again, occasionally looking puzzled. It was a strange thing to see, but Brodric quieted as if she was having some effect, and she coaxed him to uncurl. Two guards, bored with the process, left. The male healer followed on their heels to the fire. Only one guard remained with the prisoners.

  Toran nodded. Better and bet
ter.

  Brodric sat up suddenly, red-cheeked and smiling. He reached out to grasp the Healer’s hand. If he was playacting, Toran thought, he excelled at it. He seemed genuinely relieved of pain. The Healer quickly pulled her hand away, frowned, and stepped out of his reach, but closer to Toran. “My pardon, lady,” he said. “I only meant to thank ye.”

  She nodded and spoke to him, so quietly that Toran had to strain to hear her. “No one touches the Healer, man. Rest well.” She turned to step away.

  Toran gestured urgently for Donal to move, and the snap of a twig broke the stillness. The undergrowth around the prisoners suddenly sprouted six armed men. Donal’s gruff greeting sounded sweet as he darted around the tree to cut Toran’s hands and feet free. So did the sight of the men he’d feared killed in the fight yesterday. They’d gotten away and brought help. One of them, Callum, silenced the guard behind Aileana, then moved to cut Angus’s bonds.

  “Get moving, lad,” Donal hissed. “We’ve only these few to break ye out and hie to the hills, not an army to take on this whole damned camp.”

  But the Healer still stood only a few feet away, wide-eyed, frozen in place by the abrupt appearance of dirk-wielding strangers. The opportunity was just the one Toran had planned for. He gained his feet, then scooped her up, clamping one hand over her mouth to stifle any scream before she attracted the attention of the guards and roused the rest of the camp.

  “Quiet,” he warned her. “Ye ken what will happen if we don’t get out of here. Colbridge will kill us all.” Still stunned, she nodded.

  Some of Angus’s men slipped their bonds from their wrists and bent to untie their feet. “Donal,” he hissed, “cut Angus and the rest of his men loose. Arm them as best ye can and silence the guards.”

  “Aye,” Donal answered, motioning to the Lathan men. “Kyle’s waiting in the trees with the mounts. Take the lass and go.”

  “Nay, I’ll hand her to Kyle and bring back more weapons.” With that, he ran into the trees as hard and fast as he could with the burden of the dazed woman in his arms.

  “Toran,” he heard Kyle call softly, “this way!” He dodged small saplings and ran into Kyle, already mounted and holding two other horses—Donal’s and his. More horses waited just beyond Kyle in the trees. Toran was happy to see extra swords in scabbards tied onto several of them.

  “What have ye there, Laird?” Kyle asked.

  Finally, to Toran’s amusement, the woman found her voice.

  “Put me down! What do you think you’re doing? I’m a Healer. You can’t take me hostage!”

  “Aye, lass, I can,” Toran countered. “And I have.” With that, he set the Healer on her feet, grabbed her arm, and moved with her to the horses.

  “I’m glad to see Banner made it home,” Toran said, freeing one hand to stroke the big horse along its neck.

  “’Tis how we knew ye were in trouble and not just delayed by a wen…” Kyle stuttered and then cut a glance to the woman with Toran. “Uh, until Callum and Brian got back, that is.”

  “Give me yer spare sword and dirk,” Toran commanded, ignoring Kyle’s gaffe and gesturing for him to dismount. “Keep her here until I return. Tie her to a tree if ye must,” he said, giving Aileana his sternest frown, then warned Kyle, “But don’t let her touch ye.”

  Kyle nodded and handed over his weapons. Aileana, he was glad to see, stood stock still, watching them.

  He glanced around as the sound of fighting filtered through the trees, then turned back to Aileana. “Stay with Kyle.” He took a few steps back toward the fighting, and then turned back. “He won’t harm ye,” Toran promised her with a mirthless grin, “unless ye give him reason to.”

  Aileana’s eyes widened. He decided the message had been delivered clearly enough.

  A shout behind him in camp alerted him that their escape been discovered. Toran ran back in time to see his men and several of Angus’s doing battle with the guards. Toran moved fast. He stooped quickly to cut another of Angus’s men free and gave him the dirk he’d used. Then he ran toward the clump of combatants. He got there just the last guard fell. But help from the rest of the camp was starting to arrive a few at a time. They were quickly dispatched by the combined force against them. Toran glanced around. All of the MacAnalens were free of their bonds. Some, weaponless, were already moving into the woods. Several picked up the fallen guards’ weapons and waited with the Lathans. Shouts echoed around the camp and Toran knew more men would arrive soon. They had to get out now or take the chance of being overwhelmed and killed or captured again.

  Toran exchanged nods with Donal and Angus MacAnalen who signaled to the remaining prisoners.

  They ran.

  Angus paced Toran stride for stride. “Take yer men and go,” Toran ordered. “Split up. Make for the cave on Penwyms Hill. ’Tis hard to find if ye don’t ken it’s there. My men will take care of any who pursue ye ahorse.” Toran gave Angus the sword he carried. Angus passed it to Brodric on his other side.

  “What about ye?” Angus asked.

  “I ride for the Aerie with our prize,” Toran told him. “I’ll send out scouts to find and supply ye as soon as I have her secured,” he promised.

  “Aye,” Angus agreed, then raised his sword and shouted, “MacAnalens to me!”

  Toran returned to find Kyle and Aileana where he had left them. They were eyeing each other cautiously, but Toran was pleased to see that Kyle had not found it necessary to tie her up.

  “Kyle, let’s go. Healer, with me,” he commanded.

  The rest of Donal’s party arrived then and mounted up. Aileana chose that moment to begin protesting, backing away from Toran and shaking her head. Out of patience, Toran scooped her up and tossed her onto Banner, then swung up behind her. Toran pulled her upright before him and wrapped one strong arm around her waist.

  “Donal,” Toran called, “I need a sword.” One was quickly passed to him. He slid it into Banner’s scabbard. “Take the men and ride escort for Angus,” he continued. “He may need help with stragglers from the camp. I’ll take our lass on toward the Aerie.”

  “Aye,” Donal answered. “We’ll find ye. Just make sure none of that lot do,” he said, hitching his thumb over his shoulder toward the invader camp.

  “They willna,” Toran agreed and kicked his horse into motion. Kyle’s mount stayed on Banner’s heels. The rest of Toran’s men would follow as soon as they ensured the MacAnalens’ escape by harrying any invaders who managed to round up a mount. Gripping the reins one-handed, he increased their pace until they raced through the trees, ducking branches and flying down slopes, then climbing quickly to the next hill crest. Aileana struggled now and again, and Toran allowed it until Banner nearly stumbled on a downslope.

  Toran gripped her waist more tightly as she squirmed. Whether her agitation was from discomfort or an attempt to escape, he didn’t ken, but it mattered not. “Have a care, lass,” he warned her. “I dinna wish to drop ye on yer pretty head. A fall from horseback will likely spoil my plans for ye.”

  “Plans?” she gasped. “What plans? How dare you! Let me go!”

  “Why, lass? Do ye wish to stay with Colbridge?” Toran tensed, unwilling to accept the possibility that she could choose captivity with the marauding army over the freedom he offered her.

  “He has protected me.”

  “So far, perhaps.” Toran slowed Banner just long enough to capture Aileana’s chin with his hand and force her to look up at him. It took real effort to ignore the softness of her breasts against his arm. “But ye were never safe there, lass. Ye saw how sloppy his guard became when we wasna able to keep his eye on them. With him gone, ye’d be prey to all.”

  “Nay!”

  “Lass, even some of the prisoners had ideas ye’d no’ appreciate, could they but get their hands on ye.”

  At Aileana’s gasp, Toran returned his hand to her waist and kicked Banner into a gallop.

  “Ye’ll bide well with me,” he promised as she digested that bit of news. />
  “I can take care of myself!”

  Toran admired her heart as much as he decried her logic. She was actually arguing with him as they rode headlong through the woods, gaining speed as they went. But words would not free the beautiful Healer now. She was his.

  Chapter Four

  Aileana was quickly reminded that it was of no use to struggle against the strength of the Lathan laird. Despite his warnings to the contrary, she was in little danger of being dropped. He held her securely against his hard torso, one strong arm an iron band under her breasts. That he controlled his spirited mount with only one hand and the power of his thighs proved testament to his strength and skill, for they rode hard and fast.

  Despite the security of his grip, Aileana huddled deeper into Toran’s embrace and held on to his arm for dear, sweet life. As they flew faster and faster, she could not even summon her Voice to order him to stop, or to slow to a pace that would seem less fraught with chances for mishap. But being thrown from the horse, or dashed into trees or rocks, was one thing. She feared even more that Toran was right. If they were caught, Colbridge’s men would kill the lot of them. Even she could not count on being spared, since she now appeared to be a runaway. If Colbridge decided against her, he wouldn’t care if she had been carried off against her will. He wouldn’t believe her. And what he and his men might do to her before they killed her was not to be imagined.

  Toran’s grip on her never loosened as they bolted between the trees. They ducked overhanging branches. They bounded down the sides of gullies and flew over ridges until it seemed that they would race into the setting sun itself. Aileana clung to the strong arm wrapped around her. She alternated between squeezing her eyes closed and opening them because not seeing where they went frightened her even more than the sight of branches whipping by. One moment she was holding her breath and the next gasping with fear at an uneven jolt or when Toran’s weight shifted as he folded over her and ducked oncoming obstacles.

  Kyle followed them at a distance. Aileana might have thought him gone except for the pounding of his horse’s hooves behind them. He pulled even once or twice and exchanged a nod with Toran, then dropped back again. She supposed he served as rear guard and kept watch for pursuit.