Samantha Holt (Highland Fae Chronicles)

by To Dream of a Highlander

  Or who she was meant to be.

  Catriona scanned her surroundings, bile rising in her throat as the Viking drew nearer. His furs swung about, filthy hair trailed behind, and it felt as though the ground shook with his every footstep. She curled a hand about a loose rock and backed away, stone held aloft. By some miracle it did not slip from her clammy fingers.

  Unable to keep her gaze from it, she stared at the bloodied tip of the attacker’s sword. The blood of a highlander. She had not seen it, but he must have struck down one of the men. Would he strike her down too? Or mayhap he would pin her to the ground and start what the other man never finished? The trembling in her hands increased and the desire to run made her legs judder but she held firm. Finn’s great courage gave her courage too. For these strangers who had shown her kindness, she must be brave.

  The odour of the man reached her before he did. Just as he was to leap upon her, he darted sideways. The stone dropped from her fingers. She stared on as the Viking toppled to the ground. Only when he twisted did she realise Finn had tackled the man. They wrestled briefly but Finn easily matched his strength. With a blow from the hilt of his sword, he rendered him senseless, mayhap dead.

  Catriona failed to summon any sympathy for the man. Only relief swam through her body, rendering her weak. She put a hand to the rocks for support. Finn clambered to his feet, a grin cracking his face, before turning to view the other Norsemen retreating. When he faced her, his smile dropped and he hurried to her side.

  “Ach, yer white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting her voice to work.

  “I told ye we’d no’ let ye come to harm, did I not?”

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  He sheathed his sword and she forced herself not to contemplate the blood dripping from it. With one hand, he enveloped both of hers and held them still, and with the other he tilted her chin up.

  Blazing blue eyes, that could not even compare to a clear sky seared into her. The touch of his rough hands warmed her—made her skin prickle. Another violent shudder and he dropped her hands to take her into his arms. Though not the first time he had held her, this time she did not think him her kidnapper. She sank into the embrace. Without even thinking, she flung her arms around his waist and buried her nose into his chest. No tears came, which surprised her. Only awful images of blood and terror played behind her eyelids. The scent of man and sea, a confusing mix of musk and salt mingled and she drew it in. Beneath her hands, she became aware of taut skin and muscle. Gradually, the world returned to her, mostly in the form of Finn. The scratch of his linen and plaid made her skin sensitive to his touch. One hand had come up to her hair, pinning her to his chest while the other smoothed over her back, just above her rear. Each sweep of his fingers sent a spiral of tension into her belly. Gone were the awful memories. Instead she pictured those fingers elsewhere. On her skin, her lips.

  Catriona jerked, but only moved a little, as his hands still held her tight. What was she thinking? His fingers on her skin? She barely knew the man. And not a few moments ago, believed him to be a Viking. He offered her comfort, nothing more and yet she now swooned in his arms like some damsel.

  She tugged back and this time he released her. Hands clamped in front, she licked her lips. “I thank ye, sir. I owe ye a great debt, it seems.”

  He flexed a hand and glanced at it briefly, his brow furrowed. “Ye owe me naught. Save yer thanks for yer betrothed.”

  “Well, I offer my thanks regardless. Pray—”

  Logan came to Finn’s side, his features weary. “We’ve seen them off. With no losses either. Gerard took a swipe but ‘tisnae deadly.”

  “Aye, thank ye, Logan,” Finn replied distractedly, his gaze still firmly on her.

  What she saw in that gaze, she could not be sure. Confusion, it seemed, for even though he smiled, a line flexed between his brows as if unable to make her out. What confused him about her? Had he figured the truth? Surely not for there was no telling her and her sister apart. With their dark hair and gentle faces, only those who knew them well had ever been able to say who was who.

  “Come then.” He snapped his head away suddenly and laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Tend to Gerard and we must be on our way. Who is to say they will no’ return with a larger force. It seems, my lady, that ye are a fine prize.” His gaze flicked over her. “Fine indeed.”

  Catriona struggled to find a response. The way his voice lowered sent a curl of pleasure through her and her cheeks heated. Before any words came to her, he stomped off to check on his men. She regarded his back with a sigh. So broad and powerful. At least she knew she wasn’t in danger of falling for her kidnapper. Nay, now it seemed she might fall for her hero instead.

  Chapter Three

  With the fire lit and the men bedded down for the eve, Finn focused his attention on the lass. He tried not to question why he’d offered to take first watch again while knowing Katelyn did not yet sleep. The woman needed rest but she seemed unable to find it. She tossed and turned, the rustle of the furs the only sound for many miles. He plucked at the grass in front of him and lifted his head to the stars. No clouds followed them once again. The sky proved clear and pricks of light blanketed the heavens. He drew in a long breath and squeezed his hands together.

  By God, he could not forget the feel of Katelyn’s body beneath his palms. The slight curve of her rear had taunted him—nay—begged him to splay his fingers across it. Her sweet curves flattened against him made his body ache. He intended to offer comfort and instead he had startled her, mayhap even worse. What man took a woman in his arms after such an ordeal and considered stripping her bare and parting her thighs? Ach, but he disgusted himself.

  He tore another chunk of grass from the ground and flung it into the night. He did not need to be thinking of such things. If only his dream lass returned to him. He’d not thought of her since meeting Katelyn. The woman in his imaginings might not be real but that did not matter to Finn. At least he did not have to fear for her safety. Katelyn had come too close to death once again today. Obviously these past days had planted much fear in her mind for her to consider running from him. He had failed her too many times now.

  She muttered something and tossed again. Even though his mind begged him not to, his heart reached out to her. Coming to his feet, he edged his way over and sank down beside her. What a fool he was. His duty was to get her safely to Kilcree. He had no other obligations. So why did it pain him to see her restless and weary?

  His admiration for her grew too. She had insisted on walking many miles barefoot. He had tried to persuade her to wear his boots, but they were too big and cumbersome. For some of the way, she’d allowed him to carry her. He enjoyed that far too much. A strong attachment to a lass was dangerous. The connection was too easily broken. He’d learned that once from his wife and he did not wish to repeat the experience.

  Shaking away the memories, Finn touched her arm. She rolled and gazed up at him. He had yet to decide on the colour of her eyes. In some lights they appeared green, in others, a darker shade more like that of a loch. He stared at her as if he could break through the night and study them once more. Why they had him so interested, he knew not. He surely had more important things to think on than her eyes.

  “Ye cannae sleep?” he asked softly.

  “Aye.”

  “Are ye cold?”

  She shrugged. “A little.”

  “Shall I…” He coughed. “Shall I lie with ye for a wee while?”

  Was it relief or disappointment that jabbed at him when she shook her head and pushed to sitting?

  “Nay, but I would appreciate the company. I cannae seem to… my mind…”

  “I understand.”

  “Have we far to travel? I have never visited Kilcree.”

  “Aye, some eighty miles. But our mounts await us at the next village. We shall travel the rest of the journey on horseback.”

  “And what…
what does Lady Lorna expect of me, when we arrive?”

  “Ye clearly dinnae know my sister. She wants for naught, save to ensure yer safety until the marriage arrangements are settled.”

  “I dinnae understand. I had no word of yer impending arrival. We thought we would receive a missive at least before ye arrived.”

  “Laird Gillean had word of the imminent attack and decided it best he bring forward his plans to wed ye.”

  “And pray tell why ye joined the rescue?” Katelyn drew her feet up and began massaging the soles of feet with her thumbs.

  “Well ye will understand when ye meet Lorna that no man can say nay to her. Especially her brother.”

  “I must thank ye for yer kindness. Ye risked much.”

  “I confess we didnae expect to meet with an army of Norsemen.”

  She nodded slowly. “I am grateful ye at least arrived before…” She trailed off and even in the gloom, he saw her skin turn to ash.

  In a bid to distract her, he settled in front and drew her feet onto his lap. “I should have allowed ye to tend to these sooner.” He wrapped a hand around her ankle, ignoring the way it made the hair on his arms stand on end.

  If he was not careful, those delicate toes in his lap might make something else stand to attention too. How could he find this woman so enticing when scarcely able to make out her features under her bruises?

  Katelyn released a tiny sigh, barely audible, yet his hearing immediately latched onto it. Her lips moved as if trying to say something but nothing came. Instead she closed her eyes and leaned back on both hands while he rubbed her feet. Even in the gloom, he knew they were sore.

  “Ye dinnae need to do that, sir.”

  “Ye may call me Finn, my lady.”

  “Finn,” she whispered, sounding as if she was experimenting with the sound. “Ye may call me Cat—Katelyn.”

  “I cannae call ye Kat then?” he teased.

  Instead of giggling as he expected, her eyes grew wide and she shook her head frantically. “N-nay. Katelyn if ye dinnae mind.”

  “I dinnae mind, Katelyn.” Ach, why did his voice drop low as if her were seducing her?

  Did she realise she had shifted closer? Her hand crept over to his forearm while her fingers drew circles on his arm, scalding him through the coarse linen of his shirt.

  The delicate hand stilled as she peeked sideways at him. Ribbons of moonlight broke briefly through the clouds, sending a sparkle into her full lashed eyes. Regret, deep and bitter, pulled at his gut as it also highlighted the crimson swelling on her cheek.

  A surge of protectiveness filled his chest. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he did not welcome it. It had been many seasons since he’d cared for the welfare of anyone but his kin. But he still had a duty to this woman so he would do what he must and ensure her safe arrival at Kilcree. If he could but force aside these invading thoughts, he would have no problem handling her with the same courtesy and teasing manner with which he always treated the lassies.

  “Will we see the Norsemen again?” she asked quietly, breaking his thoughts.

  “In truth, I dinnae know but dinnae fear. We have the strongest men my sister could offer.”

  “Yer sister was very kind to send ye. Ye risked much.”

  He offered a half shrug. “’Tis no matter. Ye are safe now and none were harmed.”

  In the dim light he saw her lashes drop, as if to conceal some emotion. He silently cursed his glib words. A delicate lady like Katelyn had no place amongst battle and had seen more than her fair share of atrocities.

  “I am only sorry I didnae come sooner. Ye should never have experienced that brute’s wrath.”

  A tiny shudder wracked her. He would not have made it out had he not been so close to her.

  “In the midst of battle, some men are consumed by bloodlust. I cannae speak for my enemy but I would never allow my men to mistreat a lass, lady or no’.”

  “Aye,” she agreed quietly.

  “Alas, I dinnae think ye believe me yet, but I dinnae lay blame with ye. My barbaric ways didnae do much to recommend me. Ye must forgive me for frightening ye.”

  Her lashes lifted, her gaze glittered and he found himself staring at her, his fingers moving leisurely over her feet. Ach, when had he ever sat and stared into a woman’s eyes? He was getting soft in the head in his old age. The only woman to ever draw his attention had been wee Alice. None could take her place and he did not wish them to. Aye, he was well enough on his own.

  If only his body agreed. It had been too long. He simply needed a warm lass in his bed. A shivering, frightened, beaten woman was far from the perfect bed mate. If she had any idea of the heat that was amassing beneath his skin, she would think him no better than her attacker. Finn had never needed to force a woman to bed and he refused to have her think that of him.

  In an effort to control himself, he retreated and released her foot. She made a tiny sound—like a noise of protest—but remained still. That puzzled him. Although her hand stroked his arm, seeking comfort, she did nothing else. After such a trial, would she not need reassurance from her rescuer?

  Damnation, now what was he thinking? He did not want the lass in his arms, let alone regarding him as some magnificent hero. Still mayhap it rankled his ego that she had not swooned with gratitude. Most women he knew would take any chance to be in the arms of the fair haired warrior and protector of the clan at Glencolum.

  The sound of a slight intake of breath dragged his attention back to Katelyn and he cursed himself again. This rescue had gone nothing like predicted. They were to go to the isle, take Katelyn with ease and place her in the hands of her betrothed.

  Instead he had been embroiled in two battles, had a fragile yet strangely strong woman in his care and a Norse army searching for them.

  “Ye should rest,” he murmured to Katelyn when another yawn wrested free from her.

  She shook her head. “I cannae.”

  “We have a long journey ahead of us. I will protect ye, have no fear.”

  “I dinnae fear for my safety, Finn. Ye seem a bold and brave warrior.”

  He grinned at her assessment of him. “Aye, bold indeed. Some would say too bold. It has brought me much trouble at times.”

  “Aye, but if ye hadnae been bold, I would probably be dead at the hands of that Viking.”

  His grin dropped. The thought of Katelyn—a woman he barely knew—coming to harm made his gut clench. When the rush of bloodlust had dimmed, he had no doubt the image of her attacker attempting to rut against her would linger.

  Katelyn touched his chin, the lightest of touches that sent an odd tingling sensation through him. He forced a smile again. How odd that even in the dark night she could make out his mood. Few people saw past his ready smiles and teasing wit.

  “I am very grateful to ye.”

  “Ye may save yer gratitude, Katelyn, for yer betrothed.” He didn’t know why, but he needed to remind her of Laird Gillean. Or was he reminding himself?

  “I shall surely thank him too, but it was ye who took the risk of dressing as one of the enemy and infiltrating the keep mid-battle.”

  “Ach, ‘twas no huge risk. I’ve been mistaken for a Viking many a time.”

  “Aye…”

  She sighed and tilted her head up toward the heavens. The moonlight that invaded the sky shone brightly enough to allow him to make out her profile. He swallowed. He had not noticed her true beauty until then but with her dark hair streaming down her back, even with the swelling on her cheek, he surely had a handsome woman beside him.

  Ach, moonlight and a beautiful woman. Fate was playing a cruel trick indeed on him.

  ***

  Finn pressed a coin into the hand of the villager who had stabled their mounts for their journey. There had been nowhere to leave them by the coast and knowing of their need to cross the sea, Finn had made the decision to stable their horses in the village.

  He rubbed a hand down Dìleas’s flank and grinne
d. “Ye look well, lass. I think ye’ve been enjoying yer break too much. Ye shall have to ride hard now.”

  “This is yer horse?” Katelyn’s asked as she approached from behind.

  “Aye, this is Dìleas—my faithful companion. She shall see us safely to Kilcree.”

  Katelyn blinked. “I shall ride with ye?”

  “Aye, we didnae bring an extra mount. Dinnae fear, she is a strong horse and can easily bear the burden.”

  Her throat bobbed lightly. What disconcerted her? The thought of riding with him? Mayhap it was the impropriety of their situation but it could not be helped. He had to admit the idea of having her pressed up against him sent a thrill through him in spite of himself.

  Mounting the brown horse, he offered her a hand and settled her up behind him with ease. She released a tiny gasp as he lifted her and the sound made him clench the reins hard.

  They set off at a steady pace, wary of tiring out the horses. Passing by the ramshackle cottages, smoke seeping from their straw roofs, Katelyn wriggled to get comfortable. Her slender legs rubbed his thighs and her fingers touched tentatively at his waist. Dìleas wandered to one side slightly, struggling against her added—wriggling—burden. By his reckoning, this journey would be a long, long one.

  “Ye have a fine steed, Finn.” Katelyn lifted her voice over the steady beat of hooves.

  “Aye, she is indeed fine.”

  “Ye have had her long?”

  “Aye, some ten years.”

  “Was she yer father’s?”

  Finn scowled. He’d forgotten how much women like to talk. When he spent time with lasses, it was rarely for conversation. He shoved aside one idea he had for keeping her quiet. Placing his mouth over her lips and—damnation. “Nay, my father died many years ago.”