A Hellish Highlander (Clan Ross Book 3)

by Hildie McQueen

  Gisela closed her eyes, concentrating on the wonderful sensations, the caresses of his hands over her skin and the continuous movements and his heated kisses.

  The floating sensations returned and she grabbed Kieran’s shoulders, her fingernails digging into his body, using him as an anchor. Once again, she lost control and let out a hoarse cry.

  Tears pricked her eyes at the thought that once the moment was over, once again, they’d return to the distant relationship.

  He rolled to his side and held her against him, her head on his shoulder. “I will stay here with ye tonight.”

  She released a long breath. “Good,” Gisela replied.

  Cupping her jaw, he tipped her face up to his. She’d never seen him so relaxed, at ease. He studied her. “I meant what I said. Ye are perfect.”

  Gisela shrugged. “Do not be thinking that what just happened gives ye any rights over me.”

  “I would be disappointed if ye didn’t say that.”

  Unable to keep from it, she kissed him and he returned the kiss. This time, it was sweet and slow. “I do not expect anything from ye, Kieran Ross.”

  He seemed to ponder her words. “Moira will be disappointed.”

  Not him. Gisela pushed the thought away. After all, there were probably countless women who’d wished he be with them this night. She doubted she was his first virgin. Although it was on the tip of her tongue, she didn’t ask.

  “As soon as the guards return, we leave. If they do not bring news, then Ethan McLeod is in hiding.”

  “When do the guards return?” Gisela asked, hoping she’d have time to prepare herself for never seeing him again.

  “In a day or two.”

  “A day or two,” she repeated. Her chest constricted, confirming that, in her heart, she had been hoping he would ask her to stay.

  It would be best to follow her mother’s advice and seek a husband once she arrived back on Munro lands. Now that she’d given herself to Kieran, she knew it would be impossible to remain alone. And even though another man would never compare, it would be better than waiting for Kieran who would never come.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where is Gisela?” Kieran asked Moira the next day. The guards had returned that afternoon, so they would leave the following morning.

  In a way, he’d hoped Gisela would have asked to remain there. But more than once, she’d made it abundantly clear it was her desire to return home. The night before had been like no other. He desired her more than any other woman. As much as he wished to, he could not take her virginity, not without marrying her.

  He wondered if she’d understood that she remained unclaimed? Gisela was passionate and he’d almost lost control several times. Not claiming her had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But the memory of her undone by his hand was something he’d never forget. Never wished to forget.

  The minx had been brave asking him to stay with her. At the same time, it was probably because of his looks that she’d wanted to be with him and nothing to do with any feelings between them.

  “The flower field.”

  “Alone?”

  Moira studied him. “Nay. Ceilidh is with her. They call up to the guards and are watched. Tis safe enough.”

  He stalked out and rounded the house, going through a side gate to the field. Immediately, he spotted Gisela. As Moira had said, she was accompanied by Ceilidh.

  At nearing, the other woman walked a few feet away to give them privacy. Gisela’s gaze met his and her lips curved. Immediately, the picture of what they had done the night before formed and he pushed it away.

  “The guards arrived.”

  “Aye, I saw,” she replied, her smile disappearing. “When do we leave?”

  “At dawn.”

  She nodded. “Very well. I will be ready.”

  Nothing could be said that mattered in that moment, so he turned and walked away.

  “He makes me nervous,” the woman, Ceilidh, said.

  Gisela chuckled. “He is not so bad.”

  Kieran almost smiled.

  The familiar clang of sword hitting sword rang loud as the guardsmen sparred. Kieran was matched with Tristan that day. His brother was a fierce contender. Strong as an ox, the man often surprised his opponents with his fluidity and speed.

  When Kieran barely missed blocking a strike, he glared at his brother. “Are ye trying to kill me?”

  Tristan expression was stern. “Yer mind is elsewhere. Are ye already gone from here to track Ethan? Tis dangerous if ye cannot control yer thoughts.”

  Instead of replying, he turned and thrust forward with his sword. Tristan effectively blocked it. “Ye’re becoming predictable.” Tristan flung Kieran’s arm away and sliced through the air, a move that often caught his opponents off guard.

  Although Kieran was able to block the strike, he stumbled back a couple of steps. Angered at his lack of ability, he growled and swung, aiming for Tristan’s side.

  His brother easily evaded the blow, jumping sideways. He swept a foot across that tripped Kieran, sending him down onto the ground hard. Then as fast as a lightning, Tristan pushed a huge knee into Kieran’s shoulder and pressed the hilt of his sword into Kieran’s neck.

  Even though he wouldn’t be cut, Kieran didn’t move. Instead, he glared at Tristan. “What are ye doing?”

  “Pointing out that ye should not be out there fighting right now. Ye need to wait and travel with at least four guards. Even if Ethan is out there waiting for ye, he can catch ye by surprise. Ye are being hunted, Brother…do not forget that.”

  “Neither of us has the upper hand in this,” Kieran gritted out. His shoulder was throbbing and he was about to attempt to get up when Tristan lifted up and then grabbed Kieran’s hand, lifting him off the ground.

  “Ye have no idea where he is. Tis a vast area out there.”

  It was true; the guards had brought no reports of anyone seeing the bastard anywhere. The McLeod lands were northeast of his lands, so taking Gisela home, it would be a good enough route to take.

  “I won’t rest until I find him. We cannot stop until he is dead.” He looked into Tristan’s eyes to see that his brother agreed. “Ye know it as well as I do.”

  “We will send another set of scouts to hunt for him. I promise.”

  Kieran nodded. Either he’d find Ethan himself this trip or upon his return, he’d find a report from scouts. But not doing something was not an option.

  Just as he went to leave, Tristan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Killing Ethan McLeod will not stop the pain.”

  “I tire of hearing it. I do not feel pain. I feel the need to avenge.” So angry that he had to explain it to Tristan, he rounded his brother and stalked away.

  Why did everyone say the same thing? Of course it would not end the pain, the loss, but he would feel better about having failed his father.

  Suddenly, he grew tired. He searched the courtyard for Gisela, but she wasn’t about. In all probability, she had gone to see about preparing to return home.

  The air stilled, as if in anticipation, waiting for an elusive answer that would release it to once again flow. That was his life. It was stilled.

  There would be no moving forward, no new beginnings for him. Once he found Ethan McLeod and killed him, only then would Kieran consider a future.

  The strong possibility he’d die was not something that would deter him. As a matter of fact, dying before killing Ethan first was the only thing he feared.

  Although not hungry and uneasy, Kieran attended last meal. He sat next to his uncle, Gregor, who was unusually somber. It suited Kieran perfectly as he wasn’t in the mood to make unnecessary conversation.

  “It will never be the same,” his uncle said, not explaining what he meant.

  Instinctively, he knew it was about his father. During the spring season, his father and uncle often went hunting together and spent many days out in the forest. He studied his uncle’s profile. It ached to look upon him because of t
he resemblance to his father.

  “Ye’re right.”

  “And yet, life continues. Soon, Malcolm will have a son or daughter, Tristan as well. And ye will one day fall in love and begin a family. Tis what life is about.”

  Not wishing to disrespect his uncle, he remained quiet. Scanning the room, Gisela’s absence was notable. She was not with Ceilidh at a nearby table. Was she preparing for their trip? It wasn’t as if there was much for her to pack.

  Deciding to check in on her, he stood and went to her bedchamber.

  The door was slightly ajar, so he knocked. When there was no reply, he opened it and peered inside. There was nothing amiss, but Gisela was not there. Her few belongings had not been packed.

  After inspecting the rest of the house and then the courtyard and garden, he wondered if she’d gone to the stables.

  He noticed three guards standing at the gate talking. One man held a woman’s shoe. His heartbeat sped up as he walked closer.

  “Where did ye find it?”

  “I just came from hunting in the forest and found this near the edge.”

  Another guard piped up, “A woman seems to have lost her shoe.”

  He motioned for two other guards to come to him. “Go through the entire keep and find Gisela Munro. The lass who came with Tristan from Munro lands.”

  One guard’s mouth fell open. “Yer betrothed?”

  He didn’t wish to argue. “Aye. Find her.”

  Long moments later, it was determined Gisela was gone. Something had happened to her. She’d not run off, not without her belongings and then losing a shoe. Someone had taken her.

  It was much later that Kieran and the guards returned from scouring the surrounding areas. Exhausted from riding for hours, Kieran trudged into the house.

  Too exhausted to think about what he’d do the next day, he walked into the great room to find only his uncle still up. He was sitting in front of the hearth with the hounds at his feet.

  “Any news?” he asked, already knowing the answer by the lack of enthusiasm in Gregor’s face.

  “Nay. A second set of guards has gone to search for the lass. I am up only because the hounds woke me.” His uncle looked from the fire in the hearth to him. “Rest, Kieran. Not much can be done until morning.”

  He lowered to a chair next to his uncle’s. “Why would anyone wish to harm her?”

  “Have ye considered that perhaps a lover left behind came for her?”

  The thought had merit and yet he knew for a fact that Gisela had not been enamored with anyone. She’d fought too hard not to be tied down. However, it didn’t mean she’d not left someone behind who held out hope of being with her.

  “Could be.”

  There was a serenity to his uncle that he sometimes envied. At the same time, Kieran couldn’t understand how he could be so calm when knowing his only brother’s killer was out there, alive and well.

  As if guessing his thoughts, Gregor met his gaze. “Ye will leave in the morning and continue on yer quest to avenge Robert’s death.”

  Kieran nodded. “I cannot rest until the bastard is dead.”

  His uncle let out a long breath. “He was so very proud of all three of ye, but often told me ye reminded him most of himself when he was young.”

  Although his father was a strong laird, Kieran didn’t consider him to be the vengeful type. “How?”

  “When yer father was young, before marriage, he was abrasive and rash. It often caused him to make the wrong decisions.”

  “What changed?”

  Gregor’s lips curved. “A lass. Her name was Aurora. She was the love of his life. I do not mean to disrespect yer mother. But yer father and mother’s marriage was arranged, as ye well know.” His uncle took a breath. “Robert planned to give up everything to be with Aurora, but she did not want him to lose the lairdship for her. So she married another to keep him from it.”

  “So she did not love my father as much as he did her.”

  Gregor shook his head. “On the contrary, she loved him so much that she married a man without love to keep yer father from losing his birthright.”

  Kieran scowled. “And he did not resent her for it?”

  “At first, aye. However, they loved each other too much and continued to be friends until she and her husband left here to live with his family in the south.”

  The hounds’ heads came up as four guards walked in. Once spotting Kieran and Gregor, they neared.

  “We went north. A farmer told us he saw a man riding with a woman. Although he was a bit far away, by the description, it could be Ethan McLeod.”

  Kieran jumped to his feet. “Where? What direction was he going?”

  “He was near Kildonan and heading northwest.”

  “Ye should not go until dawn,” his uncle stated.

  But Kieran was already heading to the door, sword in hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ceilidh rushed through the great room and then past the kitchen to the courtyard. She’d just heard the news of Gisela missing and wished to find Ian. A group of guards had left that morning to help search for her, but surely more would be sent. Gisela was in grave danger. Ethan McLeod was mad and didn’t hesitate to kill.

  Just as she exited the house, she ran straight into Ruari and stumbled backward. “Where are ye going in such a rush?” he grumbled.

  Instantly, her cheeks reddened. “To find Ian. I hope to get news about Gisela.”

  “Nothing new. Ian went with the group to search for her.” He gave her a stern look. “Ye should go back inside.”

  It was then she noticed a group of men lined up. None looked happy and by the looks of it, didn’t appreciate her presence.

  “What is going on out there?” Ceilidh craned her neck to look around Ruari.

  He remained silent and motioned to the doorway. “Go back inside.”

  Given no choice, she plodded back inside and then went right to enter the kitchen.

  Moira, along with several maids, stood at the window, peering out.

  “Ruari wouldn’t allow me outside,” Ceilidh said and hurried to squeeze between them.

  “They are going to be punished,” Moira replied. “They were on guard last night and I will venture to say that whoever took Gisela was able to get onto the keep grounds.”

  “Oh, no.” Ceilidh clutched her hands together and watched as the laird stalked back and forth.

  Laird Ross shouted at one of the guards, “Where were ye posted?”

  The guard replied and Laird Ross moved to the next man in line.

  As each man replied, some were questioned again.

  “How could this have happened?” Ceilidh asked. “Every time I have come here, I have always been encountered by a guard. This is horrible.”

  “Aye, it is. However, they must never become so comfortable that something like this happens. Those who mean harm are wily creatures.” Moira turned away from the window. “Come along, ladies. We must ensure first meal is prepared.”

  “What will happen to them?” Ceilidh remained at the window. “Will they be whipped?”

  Moira gave her a stern look. “Tis not our concern. It has not happened in a very long time. It will be the first time Laird Malcolm is faced with something like this.”

  Just then, Elspeth walked in, hands atop her stomach. She’d developed the habit since her pregnancy began to show. One day she had a flat stomach and it seemed that overnight it swelled to a soft mound. She let out a sigh. “Any news?”

  “Come sit, my lady.” Moira hurried to her and attempted to pull her to a chair. Elspeth held out her hands to stop the cook. “I sit too much already.” She neared the window where Ceilidh had remained.

  “This is horrible.” She frowned. “If not because Malcolm warned me against it, I would go out there and give those men a good lecture.”

  “I do believe they will receive more than that,” Moira replied, once again joining them at the window.

  After a few minutes, Gregor
walked in from the courtyard and past the kitchen. Ceilidh hurried to catch up with him. “What will happen to the men?”

  “All eight will be given five lashes and they will be restricted to their quarters when not on guard.” He made an annoyed gesture, throwing his hands up. “If it were up to me, all of them would be given ten lashes and the leaders would receive more.”

  When Ceilidh made her way back to the kitchen, one of the maids was crying. Obviously, a guard who was about to be lashed was important to her.

  With a bowl in each hand, Elspeth motioned for her to come to the table. “We must mix some poultice. The men will require healing after this.”

  “I think men should not be beaten. Although they were at fault, a reprimand and restriction would be enough punishment.” Ceilidh sighed and patted the crying maid’s shoulder. “Is one of them yer love?”

  “Nay, my brother,” the maid replied and began sobbing. “He was assigned to the ramparts. He should not be punished as much.”

  Moira placed a cup of hot liquid in front of the maid. “Herbs to calm ye down. Come now,” she motioned to the others. “Let us finish cooking.”

  By the time first meal was prepared and everyone ate, it was late.

  Most of the guards refused treatment, which annoyed Elspeth. They treated only three, all very young and unused to corporal punishment.

  “Barbaric,” Ceilidh said as she rinsed her hands. “Elspeth, ye should have interceded.”

  Her friend nodded. “Aye, if I had known. I did not expect this.” She wiped a tear. “I worry for Gisela. What she may be enduring.”

  “If she is alive.” Ceilidh said out loud what they’d both been thinking.

  “Poor girl.”

  They made their way back to the house, stopping upon finding a guard who’d been lashed and stood by a well, pulling up a bucket and then pouring the water over himself to wash the blood away.

  “Ye should let me put something on that. It will heal faster,” Elspeth said, placing her wooden healing box on the well’s wall. “Sit and I will see to it.”