Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8)

by Vonda Sinclair

  Aye, well, there was a chief and a clan somewhere who disagreed, and therein lay the problem.

  "So, you regret it," she said, her delicate voice disappointed.

  When he turned onto his side again, he found her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He would rather hurt himself than make her cry. "Nay, of course not." Gently gathering her close, he kissed her lips. "'Twas the best hour of my life." And that was the truth. He did not simply say things to flatter her. If life was balanced, the pleasure he'd just experienced was equal in intensity and volume to the pain he'd suffered two years ago.

  She blushed, her gaze dropping. "I don't wish to put you in any danger. When we part ways, no one will ken of it."

  Part ways? Those words stabbed at him like daggers. He did not ever want to part ways with her. But how to say that… how to explain it? "I'll protect you from the bastard." Always, for the rest of his life, if necessary. He could not say that, and knew he was foolish for even thinking it. If the man had forced her to marry him, he obviously wanted her badly. "How does Blackburn feel about you? Does he fancy himself in love with you?"

  She shook her head, her eyes growing troubled. "Nay. Far from it. He feels naught but greed. He wants to possess me like a thing. He has no heart, no soul. I was his rival's wife, and to make me his wife makes him feel powerful and victorious. For him to possess all that my husband had… 'tis like he is dancing upon his grave."

  What a brute. He would not rest until the bastard was dead. "I'll never let him have you. I promise you that."

  "I thank you, but I cannot let you put yourself in any more danger. I need to be away from here. But where shall I go?"

  When he imagined her leaving, anguish reached in and seized his heart. "Nay. I'm not letting you out of my sight. He's the one who will be in danger."

  "You are but one man. He has a garrison of several dozen."

  "Are you thinking that matters?" Neacal would take them all down, two or three at a time, if he had to. He had not clawed his way back from death for naught. For him to have survived… that meant he had a reason to be here.

  She was his reason.

  "You cannot fight so many men without reinforcements." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Please be reasonable."

  He couldn't fight them all at once; he knew that. He wasn't an idiot, simply determined. The important thing was that she was safe. "I'll take you back to Bearach, but in the meantime, I'll do whatever it takes to protect you from the beast."

  Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. "I wish I had never left Bearach. We were both safe there. Because of Chief Hamilton, I made a grievous error and I'm sorry."

  "Don't fash over it. Like you said, 'tis only by surviving the difficult things that we grow stronger."

  "You're the strongest person I know," she said, rubbing her thumb against his biceps muscle. His body quickened at the light pressure and he wanted her again. Already.

  He tugged her against him and kissed her forehead. "'Haps physically, but you have a strength of mind and spirit that I admire. After all the terror and grief you have suffered, you create beautiful music which is surely sent from heaven."

  He didn't understand it. Her soul wasn't clouded by the gloom as his was. A brilliant healing light glowed from her. 'Twas not only something he saw with his eyes, but something he felt. This same light burst forth with the songs her voice carried to float over everyone and give them a glimpse of paradise for a few moments.

  "But I was afraid," she said. "That's why I left Bearach and made things worse."

  He smoothed her golden hair back from her temple, then reverently traced the arch of her brow with his thumb. "You should've come to me for help."

  "I didn't know what you would do. I feared you would evict all of us, and Eli is too old to endure the elements."

  He frowned. "I would never do such a thing. How can you think I would?"

  "I didn't know you then like I do now. I have to keep reminding myself you're not like most men."

  He shook his head. "You have the right of it."

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, leaned forward and lightly kissed his lips.

  Lust blazed through him and he could not stop the low, breathy moan which escaped him. Drawing her close, he continued the kiss, turning it from innocence to a flash fire of carnal yearning.

  Saints! He did not see how he would ever get enough of this woman. She threw her leg over his hip, spurring his reckless urges. Lying on her back, she pulled at his shoulders. He needed no more encouragement. He was more than ready to sink down into her perfect bliss yet again. And again, if she would let him.

  She turned him into someone else… someone he did not know… someone happy.

  When he drove himself into her yielding wetness, the magnitude almost overwhelmed him. Holding himself still, he absorbed the moment, absorbed the heat of her. He never wanted to forget this flawless but brief instant, the most amazing of his life.

  Now he knew… she was the reason he'd survived.

  "Neacal?"

  "Aye?"

  "Are you…?"

  He withdrew, turning her words into a moan. Her hand clutched at his hair.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Naught," she breathed. "Just keep doing that."

  And he did, he slid back in, deeper than before. The little female growl she uttered only made him harder. His next withdrawal and thrust was quicker.

  She gasped. "Oh, aye. 'Tis amazing," she whispered.

  She didn't have to tell him. He was already near crazy with the pleasure and the wanting. Of its own accord, his body moved faster. Long, deep thrusts. Aye, he wanted to claim every inch of her. She was his now, and that was final.

  He captured her mouth and devoured it. He wanted her wrapped around every part of him. And she accepted him eagerly. He was thrilled to find her lustful greediness matched his own as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders.

  Saints, he had never felt such a need to possess, take and give. Rising over her, he pulled her legs upward and pounded into her harder. His thrusts were almost violent. Teeth grinding together, jaw clenched, he hammered into her. She cried out his name, still begging him for more. Harder. And he gave. Finally, she screamed, her inner muscles squeezing him tightly, clutching onto him. He could endure no more. His climax blazed through him like a quick fiery fuse and then the explosion hit. Something beyond pleasure. Every inch of his body was on fire. He jerked, shoving even deeper into her, holding her still as he filled her. Aye, she was his. Forever.

  He crashed to the bedroll beside her and drew her close in his arms. They both breathed hard, mouth to mouth.

  "Anna." He cursed, not knowing what to say. There were no words to express the intensity of what he'd just felt.

  "Aye, Neacal." Her slim arms surrounded him, held him tight. Her hands gently stroked the marred, tingling skin of his back. A giggle escaped her.

  He pulled back to see her beaming.

  "Oh heavens! That was astonishing," she said.

  "Your smile is so beautiful," he murmured, kissing the corner of her grin.

  "I feel like singing." Anna sat up, hardly able to keep her happiness under control. "Would you like that?"

  Neacal lay on his side and shifted his gaze to the low-burning fire.

  What had just happened? Her exuberance could hardly be contained within her body. She wanted to shout and sing from the mountaintops! But the sudden dimming of Neacal's expression ensnared her and squeezed the air from her excitement.

  "What is wrong?" she asked him.

  "Mayhap tomorrow. 'Tis late and we need to be as quiet as possible."

  He was right of course. Disappointment overshadowed her just as it did every time he left the great hall during her performance. "You truly don't like my singing," she stated, knowing the truth now.

  His gaze lifted, spearing her like sharp daggers. "I love it beyond words."

  "Then why…?" She was afraid to ask. Why do you leave? Why do you pul
l away?

  "Your singing… your lovely voice affects me in ways I don't understand." The words sounded wrenched and torn from him. He shook his head, hesitating, as if admitting something he didn't want to. "Sometimes your singing cuts to my soul and releases all sorts of demons. I feel as if a gale storm is ripping through me. So damned beautiful… there are no words."

  "Oh." How was it possible that she could touch him so deeply? She felt humbled. He must have locked away his emotions since the torture. She supposed most anyone would in order to survive, otherwise the agony might overwhelm.

  "It hurts, but it also heals and calms me." He dropped his gaze. "I'm sure you must think me insane."

  "Not at all." She touched his face and his whiskers scratched her palm.

  He placed his hand along the back of hers, turned his head and kissed her palm, his flame blue eyes meeting hers again. Her heart skipped a beat. Heavens, how could she guard her heart from him? She feared there was no avoiding falling for him. It had already happened.

  When he drew her into his arms again, she went eagerly.

  ***

  The next day, the wind blew colder and an icy rain hissed through the air. Neacal took a roundabout trek around the side of the mountain to gaze down toward the glen to see if any intruders approached. When he saw that none did, he returned to the cottage around noon. They ate the porridge Anna had cooked during his absence, then they bathed each other and made love well into the evening while the fresh pot of rabbit stew bubbled.

  As they were eating the evening meal, Dunn scratched at the door, obviously smelling their food. Once he'd devoured his portion of the stew, he lay down contentedly by the fire-pit.

  Since the weather had turned colder, he knew Dunn enjoyed staying inside with them.

  Sometime later, Dunn woofed low, waking Neacal. The dog leapt to his feet, sniffed at the door, then growled.

  "Damnation." Neacal jumped up.

  "What is it?" Anna whispered.

  "Someone is out there. Get dressed." Rushing, he belted his plaid in place at his waist and slipped on his boots, ignoring the rest of his clothing. He grabbed his sword, dirk and targe and hurried to the door. He placed his hand upon Dunn's head, hoping to quiet the animal.

  Neacal listened. Hearing footsteps, he muttered a curse. Had the MacCromars come for Anna, or was it some of his own clan, searching for him?

  "Release the lady and send her out!" demanded a voice outside the door.

  He met Anna's terrified gaze where she stood frozen in place by the fire-pit.

  "There is no lady here!" Neacal said in a disguised, elderly voice, hoping they would think him an old shepherd.

  Outside, something crashed against the door. Being barred with a wide, strong plank, it didn't budge.

  Neacal knelt, lay his sword aside, and pulled a heavy, flat flagstone across the floor, revealing a hidden tunnel. "Hide in here," he whispered to Anna.

  "Oh, thanks be to God." She hurried toward it. "Come with me."

  "Not yet. I want to off a few of them first."

  "What? Nay, you cannot fight so many." Her worried eyes pleaded with him. "Blackburn probably sent his whole garrison."

  "Get yourself in there, lass." He pushed at her gently. "You too, Dunn."

  The dog growled at those outside and scratched at the door.

  He dragged the dog toward the hole in the floor and pushed him inside after Anna. "Go, Dunn," he commanded.

  "Please hurry," Anna urged him.

  "Aye. Only a few minutes." With the two inside, Neacal replaced the large flat stone, concealing the hole, then picked up his sword. He kicked at the fire, extinguishing most of the flames. He didn't want his enemies to be able to see him should they burst inside.

  Something smashed against the door again and part of it splintered. He peered through the crack. In the torchlight outside, he saw that four men were drawing the log back to ram the door again. When they were close enough, Neacal thrust his sword through the opening, jabbing their hands which held the log. One of the men cried out, lost his grip and dodged back. The rest tossed the log at the door, then scuttled back for cover.

  "Go in there and drag him out by the hair!" their commander shouted, holding a torch about twenty feet away. "He has Lady MacCromar and we must rescue her."

  "Lady MacCromar, my arse," Neacal muttered. He was determined that Anna would be Lady MacDonald before the month was out. All he had to do was kill a murderous brute.

  Was Blackburn MacCromar out there?

  Neacal hoped the men would come in after him. The door was so narrow only one man at a time could enter, and he could off each one separately.

  Outside, the men held several torches aloft. He could easily see when three men charged toward the door of the cottage, their swords drawn. He held the advantage, for he stood in the darkness.

  When the first man burst through the door, Neacal aimed to the side of his targe and ran him through. 'Twas too easy. He shoved the screaming man backward into his comrade and that man's blade conveniently stabbed into him, too. Shouts of pain resounded. The second man pushed him aside and raised his weapon, but not in time. Neacal's blade was already slicing the man's throat. The third man suffered a similar fate and staggered back outside before falling.

  "Who's next?" Neacal shouted, battle rage surging inside him. Damnation, he was ready for more action.

  The men outside were in a tizzy, yelling and arguing amongst themselves. They reminded him of fishwives instead of warriors. He shoved the broken door closed but still watched them through the splintered hole.

  "Come on, bastards," he hissed quietly.

  Their commander strode forward and flung his torch onto the shieling's thatch roof.

  "Hell." 'Twas time to take his leave.

  As he dragged the large flat stone back from the opening, the popping and crackling of the burning thatch reached his ears. "Anna, they've set the roof afire." Without waiting for her response, he tossed their remaining supplies down beside her, along with his bow and arrows, her sack, clothing, and anything they might use. He crawled down into the cellar and pulled the stone back into place. Dunn nosed at him and whined.

  Neacal turned in the pitch darkness and almost bumped into Anna.

  "We cannot hide in here! The smoke will kill us," she said. Her fingers dug into his arm.

  "Nay. Calm yourself." He clasped her shoulders between his palms. "This is not just a cellar. An underground tunnel leads out."

  "In truth?" Her voice shook.

  "Aye. Three of the crofter's sons helped me dig it last year, before I stayed here." He refused to remain anywhere without an alternate escape route. "Do you have your things?"

  "Aye. 'Tis so dark in here, I can see naught. Where is the tunnel?" Anna asked, her voice anxious.

  He looped the quiver full of arrows over his neck and shoulder and took the bow in hand. His sword and dirk remained in their scabbards. "Over here. Hold onto my plaid." He felt his way along the stone wall.

  "Where does it emerge?" Right on his heels, she bumped into him.

  "Near a different trail down the mountain."

  "I'll be glad to get out of here."

  "I'll go in front," he said.

  They crawled along the tunnel. Seeing naught but pure darkness, he used his hands to feel his way along the muddy, damp passage. The air was dank and loam-scented, but when it turned fresher, he knew they were approaching the exit.

  He emerged into the night. The moon shone through scattered clouds. He took Anna's hand and helped her stand. "Are you well?"

  "Aye." She breathed deeply. "A little mud and dirt won't hurt me." She tossed the sack of clothing over her shoulder. "Where will we go now?"

  "I'll show you. Come, Dunn." After checking all his weapons and making sure they were in place, Neacal tucked her hand around his elbow. "A few hundred yards up the mountain, there's a hidden outcropping of rock with several bushes and boulders surrounding it." In the dimness, he helped her maneuver
through the rocks and heather until they reached their destination between two hills.

  He found a well-concealed spot behind the ragged outcropping. "You and Dunn will wait here."

  "Where are you going?" Anna asked, her hand tightening around his elbow. "We should all remain hidden until they leave."

  "Nay. Once the shieling burns and they don't find our bodies inside, they'll be searching for us. They may even find the tunnel. Right now, I have the advantage because they don't know we've escaped. Remain here, seated behind these rocks until I come back for you. Take this." He handed her the dirk. "Stab any man who tries to grab you."

  "What are you going to do?"

  Should he tell her he intended to fight a one-man battle with them? Nay, she would worry too much. "I'm going to remain hidden and see how many of them there are." That was true, at least. He didn't need to tell her the rest of his intentions.

  "Please, have a care." Her fingers gripped his hand.

  "I will." Neacal bent and kissed her quickly on the forehead. He wanted to kiss her lips but there was no time to enjoy it. "Sit down there." Taking her hands, he helped her sit on a flat rock, then petted the dog. "Stay, Dunn. Quiet," he commanded. "Stay with Anna. Guard." The dog was well-trained and should obey his orders even while he was gone. Dunn whined but lay down beside Anna.

  "Good lad. Anna, I'll return as soon as I can, mayhap in an hour." He hoped.

  "Aye, please do hurry."

  Carrying his sword, bow and arrows and a couple of smaller knives, he hastened around the side of the moonlit hill. Finally, the burning roof of the cottage came into view. He silently picked his way among the boulders, gorse bushes and small trees behind the structure then to the east of it, in the direction opposite Anna. He'd draw them away from her hiding place.

  The bastards surrounded the cottage, moving this way and that, some laughing, others shouting. As they stood back from the heat and flame, their silhouettes made them easy targets.

  He nocked an arrow, aimed and let it fly toward one of them. The whoreson yelled and dropped to the ground. Ducking out of sight, Neacal quickly nocked arrow after arrow, taking down an enemy each time and counting, for he'd had two dozen arrows exactly and he'd reclaimed the ones he'd used on the rabbits. Once he ran out, he'd have to use his sword on the rest of them.