Highlander Unchained (Highlander Trilogy 1)

by Donna Fletcher

  He ripped his mouth off hers and took several steps away from her and paced shaking his head.

  She suddenly felt vulnerable just as she had when they had been in the hut. He could have done whatever he wanted to her there, no one would have stopped him and no one would stop him now. She was more a prisoner than he had ever been and she would never know freedom.

  He walked over to her and grabbed the back of her neck, his grip firm. “I know not what you do to me but know this... you are mine until I say otherwise.”

  With that he stormed out the door.

  Dawn felt her legs go weak and she wisely got herself to a chair to sit. How could she find such comfort and yearning in the arms of a man who with one command could decree her fate?

  She glanced around the cottage. There was so much room for one person and the furnishings in good shape. It was truly a lovely place. And she need not worry about food; she would have as much as she wanted and then there were her new garments.

  She got up and hurried into the other room lifting the lid to the chest at the foot of the bed. She could not believe her eyes. There were soft wool dresses and plush velvet ones that were not fit for the likes of her. She was relieved when at the bottom she found wool skirts and linen blouses and a pale blue shawl so tightly weaved that she could not resist wrapping it around her shoulders. She brushed her cheek against it, the wool so soft that it tingled her skin.

  Dawn closed the chest and sat on it, tugging the shawl more tightly around her, needing its warmth.

  Tingles.

  All Cree had to do was look at her and her flesh would tingle. Most would say that the devil was introducing her to sins of the flesh and if she was not careful she would lose her soul to him. The thought sent the shivers racing through her and she stood ready to return to the other room and fix herself a hot brew.

  She stopped and glanced down at the chest of clothes. Where had he gotten them from? Who had they belonged to and who were they intended for?

  She didn’t want to think of the possibilities; she wanted to run as far as she could and not look back. But there was no place for her to go. The village Dowell was and always would be her home.

  Her stomach gurgled and she realized that she had not eaten all day. She could go to the kitchen and get food as Cree had instructed. But it did not seem right for her to simply enter the kitchen and take what food she wanted.

  She could however see if she could get Flanna’s attention and request a few items so that she could cook her own meal. Her stomach gurgled again and she smiled. She had no voice but her stomach certainly did and was protesting loudly its hunger.

  With a quick deposit of her shawl to the chair and grabbing the wool cloak off the peg, she hurried out the door. She sniffed the air as she hurried to the kitchen... rain... you could smell its crisp scent and it was not far off.

  Dawn smiled seeing Flanna outside the cookhouse and hurried over to her.

  “Good lord, are you all right?” Flanna asked cringing at the sight of Dawn’s bruises.

  A nod and a smile assured Flanna that she was fine.

  “Stop your gossiping and hurry with those onions, woman,” came a rough shout from inside the kitchen.

  Flanna shook her head and grabbed a basket from the stack outside the kitchen door. “Come with me so that we can talk.”

  Dawn frowned and pointed to the basket as they walked to the wild onion patch in a field beyond the kitchen.

  Flanna shook her head. “I am nothing more than a helper now and Turbett is not an easy task master. He works everyone until bone-tired, though I must admit that his food is quite tasty. And he is generous in feeding his helpers. But what of you?” she asked reaching out to take hold of Dawn’s hand. “Tongues are wagging about your attack and how Cree has punished Dorrie and how now you serve the—” Flanna bit her tongue.

  Dawn slipped her arm free and brought her hands to her head and stuck two fingers up on either side.

  Flanna nodded. “The devil.” And then whispered. “Do you serve the devil?”

  Did she serve the devil? She wasn’t sure and so she shrugged and taking Flanna’s basket from her, plopped down in the field to gather wild onions, wishing to talk of anything other than Cree right now.

  Flanna joined her and wisely spoke no more of Cree, but rather of Turbett and his dictatorial ways, which had Dawn smiling since he sounded not much different than Flanna when she had been in charge of the kitchen. And though her stomach continued to gurgle with hunger, she didn’t want this time with Flanna to end too soon. It reminded her of life before Cree had descended on the village and changed everything.

  So she sat continuing to pick onions and smiling.

  ~~~

  “It is done and yet you continue to fret and scowl,” Sloan said, pouring him and Cree more ale as they relaxed at the dais. “Dawn is now well protected. The villagers think that her chore is to service you.”

  “A chore you say?”

  Sloan laughed. “Fear is a better choice since that scowl would send any woman running in fright.”

  “It didn’t send Dawn running; she bravely stood her ground fearful or not,” Cree informed him adamantly sounding as if he defended her. Not realizing it, though Sloan did.

  “So then she is your woman now?”

  “Yes,” Cree snapped.

  Sloan leaned closer so that the nearby servants would not hear and said, “You’re a bloody liar.”

  Cree’s dark eyes narrowed, his scowl vanished replaced by an ominous expression that had Sloan offering an apology of sorts.

  “My tongue runs before I think.”

  Cree simply nodded, more annoyed that Sloan had seen through to the truth, but he would not admit that he had yet to actually couple with Dawn, not even to Sloan. And he and Sloan had certainly shared many tales about the women they have bedded.

  Dawn, however, was different and he would not discuss the intimacies of what he shared with her and sully her character any more than it was already being tarnished.

  Has there been any news on the search for Seth or Goddard?” Cree asked letting Sloan know that they would talk no more of Dawn.

  “Not yet, though I cannot understand why Goddard would take the chance of returning to simply attack Dawn.”

  “He didn’t,” Cree said and Sloan stared at him waiting for an explanation. “Goddard and Colum are not men who would waste time on Dawn unless she had something they wanted.

  Sloan nodded. “Information.”

  “No doubt they thought she knew more than she had told them when I was held captive, a ruse that worked well for us, and Colum would not want to return to the Earl of Carrick without a stitch of useful information that would help the earl to regain his land.”

  Sloan grinned and raised his tankard. “And little does Colum know that there is a new Earl of Carrick.”

  Cree raised his tankard as well. “To us all, living and dead who helped to achieve land of our own where we will now know some peace.”

  They drank and then Sloan asked, “What do you think Roland Gerwan, former Earl of Carrick will say when he learns that he is to give you his daughter to wed?”

  “Gerwan is not a foolish man. He knows if he does not comply that the King will simply claim the rest of his land whereas his land, in a sense, remains with future heirs and he gains the extra advantage of having the infamous Cree as a son-in-law.”

  “And guarantee his safety and that of his holdings.”

  Cree raised his tankard. “And gain the King my presence in this area and firm obedience from the ruling lords.”

  “Do you think someone will try again to take Dawn?”

  His eyes narrowed again, the crease between them deepening. “Colum is no fool, though he is desperate and desperate men can do foolish things. The fatal mistake he made was harming someone who belongs to me. Now,” —he shrugged— “he will pay for it.”

  “You don’t intend to stop hunting for him,” Sloan confirmed.

&n
bsp; “His time is limited. I will find him and...”

  Cree did not need to detail what would be done to the man. Sloan knew all too well what happened to men who brought harm to anyone under Cree’s protection.

  “Have all the villagers been assigned chores?” Cree asked.

  “You assigned the very last one yourself,” Sloan smirked.

  Cree glared at him, though issued no threats. Sloan had a quick wit and would not disrespect him, though he would be honest with him and Cree counted on his honesty.

  “See how each fair at their chores and if any have any particular skills we can use. Have you taken Turbett to the miller yet?”

  “Turbett’s damn annoying to work with,” Sloan complained. “If he wasn’t such a great cook—lord his bread is delicious—I would run a sword through him.”

  “His bread is tasty because he works with the miller to produce a good ground grain. And see that the miller knows he is to follow Turbett’s instructions without question.”

  “You put this on me so you do not have to deal with the insufferable man.”

  Cree quirked a brow. “I put this on you, for if I handle it Turbett will end up dead and we will end up with tasteless food.”

  “I will see that it is done,” Sloan said without hesitation.

  “I thought you might.” Cree stood after downing the last of the ale in his tankard.

  “You will stay with her tonight?”

  “Since when do I have to keep you abreast of my actions?”

  “Since I have never seen a woman who ties you in knots as this one has.”

  Cree sat again. “You evidently have something to say concerning Dawn so say it and be done.”

  Sloan leaned closer so they could not be heard, more servants having entered the Great Hall in preparation of the evening meal. “We have each had our fill of women, not growing attached to any particular one knowing what we had to do. You still have to finish what we’ve started. You must wed a woman for what she can bring to the marriage; more land and more power. And she in turn will produce heirs to guarantee the future of your name and holdings and those to come after us.”

  “I know all this; I don’t need reminding.”

  “I think you do when I see the way you look at the silent one. You have not fully satisfied your lust for her. Be done with it, have your fill, enjoy and let her go. And be careful not to leave her with child and run the risk of having a son who cannot speak, for your enemies would take full advantage of it. Keep your heart as silent as it’s ever been or risk losing everything you have fought and sacrificed for.”

  Cree stood and without saying a word left the Great Hall. He made his way to the front of the keep and stood on the steps surveying the village and the land beyond that now was his. Sloan had been right, they had fought endless battles, lost many good men and made many sacrifices to have a home and Sloan had assumed that he had turned his heart silent in order to reach his goal.

  It had taken more than silencing his heart to become the infamous warrior Cree who killed, tortured, and conquered in the name of the King. His heart hadn’t turned silent, it had turned cold and had remained that way much too long now and he doubted he could ever care, ever love. And he believed it was for the best.

  Anger had been his steady companion along with frustration and annoyance and lust which he easily satisfied with a willing woman.

  Lately though he’d been finding himself wanting only one woman... Dawn. The thought of her stirred him and he grew aroused and disturbed. Thoughts of rutting always aroused him, but lately all he had to do was hear Dawn’s name and he would grow hard.

  Perhaps Sloan was right. Perhaps if he took her and satisfied his cravings, enjoyed her for a while, it would be done and he would think of her no more. No doubt he would grow bored with her particularly since she could not speak, could not scream out in the throes of pleasure or release.

  He stiffened recalling the way her fingers had dug into his arms as her passion grew and how she bowed against him eager for more. And he could not help but wonder how she would respond if he buried himself deep inside her.

  Damn, if he didn’t swell more.

  He stormed down the steps as thunder rolled in the distance and went around to the side of the keep and stopped to stare at Dawn’s cottage. It nestled against the woods giving the place a modicum of privacy and that was why he had chosen it for Dawn or had it been for him?

  He shook his head and approached the cottage, entering without a knock or a shout to let her know he was there. He was surprised to find the room empty and he went to the small bed chamber and was annoyed finding that empty as well.

  Where was she? He thought she’d be resting.

  And that you could join her.

  Then he recalled telling her to make use of the kitchen. He turned and left the cottage. He must have been scowling since everyone he passed hurried out of his way. It was good they feared him; they would then obey him without question or suffer the consequences as Dorrie now did.

  It didn’t take him long to reach the kitchen and when he entered all movement ceased.

  “Is there something I can get you, my lord?” Turbett asked with a respectful bobbed of his head.

  Cree glanced around the room overcrowded with helpers and not seeing Dawn asked, “Has Dawn been here?”

  “I have not seen her but...” Turbett turned to his helpers. “Have any of you seen Dawn?”

  A young woman spoke up. “I saw her a short time ago.”

  “Where?” Cree demanded.

  The woman’s voice quivered as she answered, “With Flanna in the field beyond the kitchen picking wild onions.”

  Cree’s anger flared in his eyes and all saw it.

  “I appointed her no chore, my lord,” Turbett was quick to say. “And I will see Flanna punished for this.”

  “See that supper is prepared for two and sent to Dawn’s cottage,” Cree ordered. “And make certain that Dawn is greeted with no chore when she comes here looking for a meal.”

  Turbett bowed his head. “I will make certain that Dawn is kept well fed, my lord.”

  Cree left the kitchen his annoyance growing. He had not instructed her to return to her old chore, so why had she?

  He stopped at the end of the cookhouse catching sight of her in the field with Flanna and filling an already overflowing basket with more onions. She was smiling and again he grew annoyed. He could never make her smile like that or could he?

  He stood and watched her and let her have her fun.

  Cree caught the quick movement at the edge of the woods at the far end of the field. He remained as he was appearing as if his attention was focused on Dawn. But it wasn’t, his eyes were fixed on the spot where he saw the flash of movement and he strained to see more clearly.

  He caught movement again and this time there was no mistaken what he saw... a bow being drawn... the arrow aimed at Dawn.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dawn turned at the shout of her name and the next thing she knew she was on the ground flat on her back with Cree on top of her, his body covering every inch of hers. She heard him yell at Flanna to get down and stay down. And then he let out such a terrifying roar that Dawn was certain it would cause the devil himself to shiver.

  In no time they were surrounded my Cree’s warriors, Sloan the only one being permitted passed the human barricade.

  “A skilled archer in the woods, find him.” Cree’s angry demand warned that he would brook no failure. As soon as Sloan took his leave Cree summoned one of his warriors and ordered him to escort Flanna to the kitchen.

  Only then did Cree lift off her and not entirely so. He shifted his weight and lay partially draped over her, his hand remaining firm at her waist.

  Worry, anger, and was that a touch of lust she saw in his dark eyes? He lay there staring at her and it did not take long for him to grimace in disgust. She was aware she looked a fright with her tattered garments and bruised face. Not to mention the quiv
er that refused to stop running through her body.

  “Are you all right?”

  She was a bit startled by how concerned he sounded... almost as if he truly cared about her. She nodded and patted her chest to let him know that she was fine, though her confirmation did not ease the deep crease between his eyes.

  She furrowed her brow and shrugged.

  Cree was amazed by how her gestures appeared much like a voice. A shrug and a wrinkle of her brow was basically a question and it was easy to understand in this situation what she was asking. She wanted to know what had happened.

  “Someone took aim at you with an arrow.”

  Her eyes widened, she shook her head, and shrugged again.

  “You wonder why, as do I.”

  She gestured as if drawing back an arrow in a bow and shrugged.

  “A good question. Who would want to harm you?”

  She stared at him. Most of the villagers simply ignored her. Some would acknowledge her with a nod. Then there were those who would amuse themselves by making fun of her like Dorrie. But serious harm? What reason would anyone have to harm her?

  She shook her head letting him know that she had no answer.

  His eyes roamed over her with annoyance, though lust still lingering in them.

  He fingered her worn garments. “Don’t let me see you in these rags again.”

  With that he stood, held his hand out to her and when she took it, he slowly eased her to her feet.

  She swayed a moment, still a bit disoriented from him tackling her to the ground or had it been the way he had protected her with his body, keeping every inch of her covered with no concern for his own safety. The thought still startled her. No one had ever protected her so gallantly. And gallant was not a word anyone would use to describe the infamous Cree.

  His hands went instantly to her waist. “Take a moment and regain your strength.”

  She nodded attempting to gather and make sense of her confused thoughts and the best place to do that was alone in her cottage. Her cottage? How she wished she could go home to her small cottage. She had found comfort there. More so when her mum had been alive but even now it had been as if her spirit lingered there watching over Dawn and it made her feel safe.