My Hunted Highlander

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  The witch stood, nodding, then gestured with her bony arm for them to come closer. “I shall take ye at yer word, Highlander.”

  Blair stepped in front of Niall and took Keegan into her arms. “This child is sick. Have you any aspirin? I mean, willow bark?”

  “Aye, lass, ‘twill make him right as rain.”

  “Too bad it’s snowing,” Blair added, trying to smile.

  Niall helped her settle Keegan on a dry spot of grass beneath the tent, and she brushed snow off his head. The storm had grown worse, outside the tent. “Tell us what ye know, old woman.”

  “Call me Dorcas. I have certain gifts. Place yer trust in me. The lad will be fine.”

  “Thank you for saying that. All I can do, is pray.” Tears sprang to Blair’s eyes, as she gently stroked her son’s cheek.

  “I will make a potion to fix what ails him. Back in yer time, I sell potions and herbs.”

  “Back in my time? What do you mean?” Blair rose, and walked closer to the woman, then knelt to warm her hands by the fire. Dorcas puffed on a pipe, its smoke smelling more of herbs, than tobacco. Niall grew near, and the old woman glanced up at his towering figure.

  “Yer sire has done much damage, and needs conquering.”

  “Ye know Laird Angus Sinclair?” Niall crouched beside the women.

  Dorcas shook her head. “He is no’ laird at present. His son has that honor, though he does no’ wish it.”

  “Gavin? He leads our people?”

  Dorcas puffed on her pipe, again, and turned a spit of roasting meat.

  Niall’s stomach rumbled.

  “Gavin has had his hands full, since ye disappeared off a cliff, in battle. He fears for yer safety, yet had to choose between searching for ye, and saving a woman’s life,” Dorcas whispered, “Seems his sire thought she had stolen Gavin’s heart.”

  “The bastard figured controlling her would, in turn, control Gavin.”

  “Aye.”

  Blair placed her hand on the woman’s bony wrist. “What happened to the woman from my time?”

  “She has returned to Castle Ruadh. She stands at Gavin’s side, and is the best of her kind. Methinks ye will like her. She comes from a place called Lincoln.”

  Niall glanced at Blair. “Did ye no’ name yer village New Lincoln?”

  She nodded. “I’d like to meet her, but first, we must cure my child.”

  “Yer…child? He reminds of this Sinclair lad,” Dorcas said, pointing her chin at Niall.

  The old witch dove into an old leather satchel, leaning against a tree at the corner of her tent. “Let us cure the lad, now. A potion will heal him quicker than willow bark.”

  “Nay! Doono’ use your witchery on the lad!” Niall nearly slapped the tankard from her hand.

  “Calm yerself, Highlander. ‘Tis a cure.” Dorcas waved her other hand, and Niall slammed backward, pinned against an oak tree a few feet outside the tent.

  A shower of snow, and dead leaves, fell on his head. He blinked. The woman was a powerful witch. The stories he had heard were true.

  “Are you okay?” Small, warm hands brushed the debris from his hair and face. Blair was so close that her delicate fragrance replaced the pungent smoke of the witch’s pipe.

  “I be fine, just surprised. I dinno’ want her to harm the lad.”

  Blair smiled at him. “I know, but I trust her. Here, in my gut. It’s the same feeling I get whenever I’m around you.”

  “Ye trust me? After I ripped ye from yer village, and made ye a fugitive from yer own crew?”

  “You didn’t do that. Raven forced me to choose between my people, and you. He was going to kill you, against my orders.”

  Niall wrapped his arms around her, lowered his head, and kissed her. She stiffened, then slowly softened. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her curves into his chest and groin.

  A soft chuckle reminded him they were not alone. Niall set her away from his trembling body, and turned to the old woman. Her sly smile was non-threatening, but the power in her small hands made him pause. “Dear lady, I will no’ harm ye. I worried for the lad, ‘tis all.”

  She nodded. “Let me treat the bairn, then ye can be on yer way.”

  Niall took a deep breath, and glanced at Blair.

  “I trust her,” Blair said, “and if I was home, I would take Keegan to a hospital, but I’m stuck here.”

  After Dorcas and Blair fed the potion-laden wine to the child, Dorcas grabbed a blackened kettle from its perch on the fire, and poured hot liquid into another tankard, adding crushed powder. “Drink this, lass. Ye doono’ want to overtire yerself. Yer bairn will need ye, once his fever breaks.”

  “Thank you.” Blair drank, without asking what was in the concoction, then settled near her sleeping son.

  As he stood outside the tent, barely registering the snow, as it drifted down through the branches, coating his head and shoulders, the witch waved him over. Crouching, he joined her beneath the tent. A quick glance at Blair found her snoring softly.

  “She will sleep. ‘Twas a simple tincture of chamomile tea.”

  Relieved, he rubbed his cold palms together. He worried that they should leave before the pirates found them. His concern must have shown on his face.

  “Yer the rightful laird of the Sinclair, or shall be once yer sire is…under control.”

  Niall chuckled softly. The witch was a knowledgeable woman. “Aye, and we are headed toward a safe haven. We canno’ linger here. Dangerous men be following us.” Even as the words left his mouth, the raised voices of several were heard, causing Niall to draw his weapon.

  “Nay, Highlander. Stay quiet. We be safe, beneath my tent.”

  Niall glanced from the woods filled with men, to the old woman. She had closed her eyes, but her lips moved as she spouted eerie words. He suspected a spell swirled about them, and it took all his courage to stay still, and trust in this woman’s statement. Her eyes flickered open, and a smile graced her lips.

  “We be safe. My bubble keeps us invisible to others, and we can talk normally.”

  The pirates entered the clearing and walked right past them. The growling men headed south, as Niall became a true believer in her awe-inspiring power.

  “Bloody Hell! ‘Tis a miracle!”

  Dorcas chuckled. “Nay, ‘tis magic, and a simple spell I learned from yer brother.”

  “Gavin?”

  “Have ye another?”

  When his gaze flicked toward the sleeping Keegan, then back to the witch, her expression softened.

  “Aye, I suspected the connection, yet I doono’ believe the lass is his mother.”

  “She says she found him, starving, hidden on her ship. He claims his mother sickened and died. The woman shared the name of the lad’s father, before she died. Blair has adopted him.”

  “And ye have adopted them?”

  “I travel to Castle Ruadh with them. Pirates followed us. Now, they march between us and the castle.” He untied his eye patch, sweeping his fingers through his damp hair. He sat on the ground close to her. “Can ye explain this?”

  “About yer brother and his sorcery? He is quite talented, and used his spells to travel to the future. A future, from where I believe, yer lass hails?”

  “The future?” Her words struck him as the truth. They made sense. Blair was different from the women he knew, her speech was similar to other women, said to come from another time. If true, how could he help her return to the life she knew. Should he?

  No’ until I taste her again.

  “Ye wear yer yearnings on yer face, young Highlander. Perhaps Blair might be persuaded to stay?”

  ***

  Blair’s eyelids flickered at the mention of her name, but she moved nothing else. She used to feign sleep around her husband, to keep him from demanding his husbandly rights. Gazing from her vantage point near her sleeping child, she spied on Niall. He sat close to the old woman. Their hushed tones kept her from hearing the rest of their conversation. She
wasn’t sure why they were talking about her, but she had placed her trust in Niall. His keeping secrets from her upset her at first, but she understood. He had fallen into their midst, and self-preservation was the name of the game.

  Reaching out, she rested her palm on Keegan’s forehead. The fever had diminished considerably. Exhaling a sigh of relief for the first time since they had escaped New Lincoln, Blair sat up and stretched.

  “The smile on yer face must mean the lad has recovered?” Niall crawled closer, his hand raised as if he meant to brush a stray hair from her forehead. When he withdrew it, she bit her lip. Why did she wish him to touch her in public?

  He had removed his eye patch. The swelling and bruise had subsided. His hair was damp from the snow, and his cheeks reddened from the wind. His older scar, bisecting his other cheek, only added to his attractiveness.

  “My son’s fever is gone. When he wakes, we can continue on our way.”

  Niall shook his head. “While ye slept, yer pirates passed our location. Be no’ afraid, for they did no’ see us. The witch cast a powerful spell. We are in her debt.”

  Blair smiled, nodding at the old woman. She couldn’t put her thanks into words, for the way Dorcas had treated Keegan. She would have to take Niall’s word, that the old woman protected them from her crew. Since the pirates were still nearby, she was at a loss as to where to go from here. She desperately wanted to put her trust in the man crouched beside her, but he wasn’t who he initially claimed to be. He had already lied.

  “You expect me to trust you? You’re a Sinclair, and the rumors about your clan, and its evil laird, are well known.” Angus Sinclair’s rumored atrocities made her stomach twist.

  “The lad speaks the truth, about them pirates,” Dorcas added. “Ye be safe inside this tent.”

  “You, I believe.” Blair glanced back at Niall, but he turned his head away, and stared into the quiet snowy forest.

  “Once my son wakes up, we need to get somewhere safer than under a make-shift tent in the middle of a forest.” She set her hand on Niall’s forearm. “Our immediate plans?”

  “Rest. The pirates are between us and Castle Ruadh. I will track their movements, and return, when safe for us to leave here.”

  “You sound so calm.”

  Niall smiled, yet it didn’t meet his eyes. “I know these woods. We are near the cave where ye stored yer goods.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t realized. Her attentions had been on their escape, and then Keegan’s fever.

  Niall leaned forward, and brushed warm lips across hers, then turned back to Dorcas. The old woman whispered words of encouragement, and he quickly disappeared into the thick forest. Silence settled around her, except for her son’s soft snores. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

  “He be a Highland laird, or soon shall be. His sire is a wretched excuse for a man.”

  “Angus Sinclair? Yeah, I’ve heard of him. I understand Niall--who told me his name was Balfour--is the oldest of two sons?”

  Choking, Dorcas spit out her pipe.

  Blair slapped her on the back until she realized she was laughing.

  “He called himself Balfour? Aye, he be a jokester. ‘Tis the name of a friend’s old horse.”

  Blair fought back a laugh.

  Dorcas sighed and wiped tears from her cheek. “I also knew an ale master of the same name. He died in battle. He was a wonderful man, who told tales and sang songs, and is greatly missed.” Both women sat in silence, until Keegan stirred.

  “I be thirsty, mama.”

  “We need more water,” Dorcas said, grabbing an empty wineskin. “The creek is yonder. Take care, and keep quiet.”

  The pirates had passed close by, Niall had told her, so she slung the skin over her shoulder, kissed Keegan’s cool forehead, and trod carefully through the snow-covered brush. Weariness crept over her. She knelt in the soft moss, at the edge of the creek. The muffled gurgling of the snow-encrusted stream, and the coolness of the wintry air, were not enough to keep her eyes from drooping. As she filled the skins, an image of Niall arose. Recalling his untied sandy hair, as she rode him to ecstasy, made her tremble. Did the memory make her body tremble with desire, or was it the cold seeping into her bones?

  Blair opened her eyes, and stretched her back. The skin was full, and her wet hands were like ice. Returning to the tent, and her son, was her next move, but footsteps crunched through the snow.

  “What have we here? A wood nymph? Or, a whore, looking to earn a few coins?”

  CHAPTER 21

  Blair jumped to her feet, dropping the full wineskin to the ground. Icy water splashed over her boots and calves. A man stood three feet away, with one hand fisted on a long dirk at his side. His stomach hung over his wide leather belt, and a large gold pennanular clasp held his tattered plaid over one shoulder. His thick, silvered hair was damp with snow, and his pale jowls hung from his bones. He was older than Niall by about twenty years, but the eyes were unmistakable.

  “I’m not a whore. Step aside, and I’ll return to my friends.”

  “Friends, ye say? My men have combed these woods. We came across a nasty band of pirates, and taught them a thing or two, but no others. Are they the friends ye speak of?”

  “No.” Niall was gone and obviously well hidden, as were Dorcas and her son. Dorcas would keep Keegan safe. Blair had a big problem, though.

  “Who are you, sir?” Forcing a smile, Blair straightened to her full five foot ten inch height, and stared straight at him. Two larger men walked up beside him, and one whispered in his ear.

  “I be Angus Sinclair, the rightful laird of Clan Sinclair. It seems my man has spotted someone who could be my missing son.”

  “Oh, is Gavin lost?” Blair said, trying to sound uninformed.

  “Nay. Niall Sinclair is the lad we seek. That he might still live is a problem, but one we shall…correct.” Angus stepped closer, and twirled a loose strand of her hair. “Come with us, if ye please. Our conversation is no’ complete.”

  Blair slapped his hand away, turned, and ran. She headed toward the safety of Dorcas’ makeshift tent, but someone slammed into her back. She hit the ground face first, and all the breath in her lungs whooshed out. Dizzy and aching, she tried to push up on her elbows, but a large body pressed her deeper into the snow-covered dead leaves. With a quick thrust, she slammed her head back, and head-butted whoever caged her on the ground. She was treated to a satisfying crack. Wiggling out from under him, she struggled to her feet.

  “She broke me bloody nose!” Blood poured down the warrior’s face.

  Blair turned to run, but another man tackled her. As she wrestled him, her scream echoed through the trees. They rolled and twisted, until another person jumped on top of her assailant.

  “Doono’ touch me mother!”

  “Keegan, no!” Blair tried to pull him off the warrior, but Angus Sinclair grabbed the boy, and lifted him away. Keegan clawed at the man’s hair, while his legs kicked air. Blair couldn’t get close enough to protect him.

  “What have we here? Yer mama, is she? Mayhaps we have the means that will make ye follow my orders, aye lass?”

  “Doono’ hurt my mama, or I’ll tell Niall.”

  Angus caged her son’s hands behind his back, and pulled him close. Blair’s heart nearly stopped.

  “Niall? Ye know me son? ‘Tis true he is nearby? I wish to talk with him.”

  Keegan stopped wiggling, and glanced at his mother. Blair wasn’t sure what to do. Angus said he wanted to talk to Niall, but he most likely wanted to do him harm. “Niall left us. He said he’s heading to Castle Ruadh.”

  Angus glared at her, probably for interrupting his talk with her child.

  “Methinks this bairn resembles Niall a bit too much. Ye say yer his mother? Then, ye shall stay with us. Come.”

  The warrior holding her pulled her to her feet.

  “No,” Blair said, struggling.

  Angus dropped Keegan at his feet. Before she could protest his ill treatment o
f her child, his hand swung around and slapped her cheek. Blair wobbled, but stood her ground. She glared at the older man. He recognized the boy. Both had the same mossy green orbs. Her immediate concern was not the identity of Keegan’s biological father. They had to get away, before he harmed her son.

  “I said no, nope, nay. We will not go anywhere with the likes of you.”

  When one of his mercenaries grabbed her arm, just below her shoulder, and wrenched her back into his chest, she feared for their lives.

  “Ye will come with us, lass, or ye shall forfeit yer life, and the life of yer bastard son.” Angus turned. Two mercenaries tugged Blair and Keegan into the dark forest. “If Niall is near, we shall find him. Until then, I shall hide ye where he will never find ye.”

  “But, why? We are nothing to him. He left us behind.”

  “Ye might prove useful, and yer accent gives me an idea. I need to get my sons back under my control, so ye will stay with me. If ye mean anything to him, he shall follow.”

  Before Blair could voice more objections, a piercing shriek filled the sky. Glancing up, she saw the silhouette of a huge creature, straight out of a fantasy novel, fly by.

  “Is that really a dragon?”

  “My pet. Cease yer attempts to escape, or I shall send him after ye. He already attacked a pirate ship, and the castle.”

  Angus strode toward the west, away from the coast. The pirates had met up with Angus and his mercenaries. Were they dead? What about Niall?

  The mercenary gripping her shoulder tugged her through the underbrush. Branches tore her dress and clawed at her face. Keegan cried somewhere behind her, but she was too far ahead to comfort him.

  When they entered a small glade, Angus’s man shoved her to her knees. He was ordered to tie her hands. When her son was released, Keegan ran to her side, and wrapped his arms around her neck.

  “Ye two stay here.”

  The three men talked in hushed tones, too low for Blair to understand.

  “Mama,” Keegan sobbed, “what can we do?”

  “We must find Niall, but--”

  “Quiet!” Angus marched over to them, while his two men disappeared into the forest. Angus stood next to them, and searched inside his leather sporran. When he raised his left hand to the sky, his right hand clutched several potion bottles. His lips moved, and his eyes closed. The air changed.