The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Adrienne Basso

  Though a twinge of disappointment remained. Their relationship had grown and flourished these past months, blooming like the crops in the fields. She wanted nothing more than to give herself to him, to belong to him body and soul.

  James professed to want the same and while Davina believed him, a small part of her wondered how he always managed to control himself, to stop himself before they consummated their desires. Though she had little experience with men, she did know that most would greedily and swiftly take what she was so eager to give.

  Yet James had not.

  These worrisome thoughts swirled in her head as they walked, clouding out the beauty of their surroundings. James lifted a branch and Davina ducked under it. She strolled ahead, halting at the edge of a grove of trees. Gazing down, her eyes followed the looping river as it meandered through the valley and then emptied into the loch.

  ’Twas a beautiful, tranquil scene. A blush rose to her cheeks with the month-old memory of the morning she had spied James swimming in those clear, blue waters—wearing not a stitch of clothing. Concealing herself behind a tree trunk, she had boldly watched him traverse the entire width, swimming with long, powerful strokes, before rising from the water like a pagan god of old.

  Beads of water had rolled from his broad shoulders down his lean, hard, muscular arms and legs, sliced over a taut stomach, and finally trickled through a whorl of springy hair at the juncture between his legs. Her breath caught and held, for cradled there was the most fascinating piece of male anatomy she had ever seen.

  The image of that proud display of manhood had raised her maidenly curiosity to a fevered pitch. Lacking the courage—and confidence—she dared not approach James, but instead retreated into the anonymous safety of the woods. Yet the memory of what she had seen had kept her awake for more nights than she could count.

  At the sound of a snapping branch, Davina pulled herself back into the present. Feeling an odd sense of guilt, she turned her attention back to James.

  He took a step toward her, extending his arm. “Davina, give me yer hand.”

  She smiled and set her hand in his and his warm, strong fingers closed around it. Eyes locked with hers, he went down on one knee and then bowed his head respectfully over their clasped hands.

  Merciful heavens! Davina’s heart began pounding in an erratic rhythm. Could this truly be happening?

  “Davina Armstrong,” he said, “my dear, sweet, lass. The affection I held fer ye has grown into a deep love. Will ye make me the happiest man in all the Highlands and do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  For an instant she couldn’t think straight. The emotions and intensity of the moment were almost too much to bear. She squeaked. A short, nervous yelp. James lifted his head. Their eyes met again, and Davina experienced a burst of joy so pure, so profound it brought a rush of warm tears to her eyes.

  She tried to calm her heart, to capture this nearly perfect moment in time, when everything in her world was filled with hope and bright with promise.

  “Aye, James, I’ll marry ye. Gladly.”

  He leapt to his feet. She threw her arms around him, pressing herself so tightly against him it felt as though the heat of his body entered her own.

  “Ye must promise me one thing,” he said solemnly. “Ye are not to be too biddable a wife.”

  “What?” Davina lifted her head to gaze at him, deciding that he had to be teasing her.

  James combed his fingers through his hair and gave her an embarrassed grin. “Pay it no mind. ’Tis something my brother Malcolm once said to me, but I realize it has nothing to do with ye. With us.”

  Not caring that she didn’t understand, Davina nuzzled into James, savoring this incredible moment. James was holding her heart, along with her body, and it made her feel like the luckiest woman alive.

  Her mind raced with plans for their future. How quickly could the wedding be arranged? It need not be a grand celebration, though the McKennas would expect something befitting a son of the laird, even if James was not the heir. Her uncle would not be pleased to spend a great deal of coin on her wedding, especially with his own daughter still unwed.

  Yet he could not appear miserly and he would be pleased with the alliance. The McKennas were wealthy, respected, even feared. This would bode well for the Armstrong clan.

  “Now then, lads, what do we have here?” a booming male voice inquired.

  Davina whirled her head so quickly it smacked James on the chin. Ignoring the pain, she felt her eyes widen as she beheld a group of men climbing up the hill toward them. Five, nay six, all heavily muscled and armed with both swords and dirks. They wore no clan colors; their clothes were worn and stained, their eyes bright with the haunted look of outlaws. She recognized none of them.

  Quick as a flash, James drew his sword and pushed Davina behind him. She stumbled on watery legs, yet managed to stand. Frantically, her eyes darted to the horizon, her heart sinking when she realized how far they were from the keep. From help.

  “What business do ye have here?” James challenged.

  “We want a taste of that fine morsel ye’ve got, laddie,” said the man standing in the lead. His lips parted in a perverted grin, revealing several rotting teeth.

  “This woman is a lady,” James snarled. “My lady.”

  His reply brought a chorus of hoots and jeers from the men.

  “Did yer mother not teach ye to share yer possessions, lad?”

  “Nay. But my father taught me how to defend what was mine,” James declared as he positioned his sword to strike.

  Davina swallowed back the fear that was closing her throat and willed her heart to slow its thunderous pace. James was studying the men with a watchful expression on his face. It gave her a momentary confidence, until she took the full measure of the six men he faced.

  They might be ill dressed and dirty, but they did not look undernourished. To a man they were broad of shoulder, each with a predatory gleam in his eye. If they attacked, James would be outnumbered and outmatched. She did not doubt that he would fight to the death, but that valor would end in tragedy for both of them.

  Davina’s throat tightened again. They had to get out of there. She put a hand on James’s back to steady herself and felt him draw himself to his full height.

  “Ye cannae fight them all,” she whispered.

  “I can. I will.” His voice was strong and reassuring, but Davina knew it was an impossibility.

  No longer able to restrain herself, she spoke. “Ye are on Armstrong land. If ye have business with the laird, then ride to the castle. If not, then ye best be gone before ye are discovered. My uncle does not take kindly to trespassers.”

  “I see no Armstrong soldiers, lass,” the tallest man sneered, his hand going to his sword in a threatening gesture. “Only a single knight and a frightened female, who doesn’t know when to stay quiet.”

  He let loose a merciless bark of laughter, but it was the gloating expression on his face that brought a shiver of fear to Davina’s heart. Struggling to ignore the desperation she felt, she faced the brigand with a cold stare.

  “Ye would be wise to heed my advice,” she declared steadily.

  Her words were met with more whoops and hollers from the men. As they were joking among themselves, James suddenly let out a bloodcurdling yell and charged them at a full run. The sound nearly scared the wits out of Davina.

  She watched in horrified awe as James cut the leader down with a single, deep sword strike across the belly, then punched a second man in the face.

  Davina heard the outlaw scream and clutch his nose. A stream of blood shot through his fingers before he swayed and crumbled to the ground. Swords drawn, two others charged James, but he managed to hold his position and deflect the blows.

  “Run, Davina!”

  Reacting to the sharpness of James’s voice, she followed his command, but one of the outlaws was fast upon her. Davina got no farther than a few steps before a strong arm snaked around her waist and
hauled her to the ground.

  Lancing pain shot through her body and she hit the dirt hard. She tried rolling away, toward the safety of the trees, but a beefy hand grasped her shoulder and turned her on her back. Davina opened her mouth to scream, and her attacker raised his fist and struck her.

  Stunned, she stilled momentarily. Pressing the advantage, the man straddled her waist. Her legs kicked wildly as she struggled against the brute who tried to pin himself on top of her, but she could not escape. She fought him with both her arms and legs, flailing, using every ounce of her strength.

  He grunted, then clamped his hand over her mouth, cutting off her air. She tried to gasp for breath, but the filthy hand tightened its grip.

  Davina batted at his chest and hands to no avail. Above her she could hear the clash of swords, the grunts and straining of the combatants. Fear and desperation combined and robbed her of the ability to do anything else but pray. Please, oh, please, dear God, dinnae let James fall.

  Somehow she managed to turn her head. She heard a loud cry and saw James’s opponent clutch his sword arm. Blood spurted through the fingers pressed against the wound. The man let out a loud curse before collapsing on the ground. Another brigand jumped into the fray. He was the largest of the group and it soon became apparent his skill with the sword was superior to the others.

  He struck relentlessly, pushing James back. Somehow, James managed to stay on his feet, but Davina could see he was tiring with each parry, blowing out a loud breath with each swing of his sword.

  James lifted his leg, planting it in the center of his attacker’s chest, and sent him flying through the air. The man landed on his back. Bellowing with outrage, he scrambled to his feet and picked up his sword. Davina could see the murderous intent in his eyes as he advanced on the unarmed James, but just as he drew near, James pulled a thin-bladed dirk from his boot and plugged it into his attacker’s chest.

  Davina felt her own heart explode with hope at the sight.

  James is winning! Seeing that stiffened her resolve to somehow escape. Gathering her wits, she planned her next move. Her blood throbbed wildly as she reared up again, swallowing back the revulsion that filled her when she caught sight of the brute on top of her. She renewed her struggles, straining away from her captor, but his grip was unyielding.

  The hope she had so recently found quickly abandoned her as she saw her captor once again raise his arm. She shifted her body, trying to avoid his fist a second time, but an explosive pain in her head let her know she had failed.

  Her ears rang, her brain scrambled, and the very last thing she heard before being plunged into darkness was James’s cry of distress, followed by a chorus of crude male laughter.

  James awoke with a start, wincing as a stabbing pain sliced through his throbbing skull. He turned his head only to find himself struggling to overcome an attack of light-headedness. Blackness whirled around him, forcing him to shut his eyes and press his head against the pillow.

  Deep breaths, deep breaths.

  Gradually, the fog surrounding him eased, replaced by an onslaught of agony so sharp it stole the breath from his body. Every inch of him, from his scalp to his toes, ached and throbbed with a fiery pain. Dizzy and sweating, James pulled himself into a sitting position, only to immediately slump back down.

  Bloody hell, what’s wrong with me?

  He did not want to open his eyes, but finally, slowly, he did. Thoughts churning, he lifted the blanket covering his naked body. James glanced down and cringed, his blurry eyes taking in the sight of bloody bandages swathing his arm, chest, belly, and legs. He blew out another puzzled breath, but then suddenly his throat seized as faint memories of the attack filled his aching head.

  “Davina,” he whispered.

  Tears filled the corners of his eyes. He eased himself upright, the ropes beneath the mattress squealing in protest when he moved. The sound tore through his head, but he fought through the pain.

  Leaning gingerly against the headboard, James searched his scattered memory for details. They had met on the hilltop, in their secret place. Davina had smiled and teased and kissed him with her usual passion and excitement. His heart had been near bursting with emotion when he asked her to be his wife and when she had agreed—och, his joy had been boundless.

  But then . . . then . . . they had been set upon by brigands. A foul group of outlaws intent on causing them harm. He had fought fiercely, had killed several of them, but there were too many to defeat. He remembered striking his final opponent in the heart with his dirk, but after that there was only blackness.

  What happened to Davina? Had she escaped? Been kidnapped? Been killed?

  Ignoring the pulsing pain racking his body, James again whispered his beloved’s name, then began shouting, “Davina! Davina!”

  The bedchamber door flew open. The silhouette of a burly man loomed in the doorway. “Are ye awake?”

  “Aye,” James croaked. He felt appallingly weak and confused.

  “I’ll get the laird.”

  The man left before James could question him. Frustrated, James forced himself to remain calm. Finally, Laird Armstrong entered the chamber, two men at his side. James recognized one of them as the captain of the guard. The other was unknown to him.

  “I see ye’ve decided to join the living again,” Laird Armstrong said, his booming voice rattling James’s aching head.

  Ignoring the expression of discontent clouding the laird’s features, James asked, “Where is Davina?”

  “She’s confined to her bed.” The laird’s eyes grew dark. “She’s in a terrible, disgraceful state. Bruised and beaten. She shudders with nightmares, cries out in terror. My men found ye both miles from the castle, struck down and bleeding. What happened?”

  Davina lives! James’s heart beat with elation, followed swiftly by sadness. Alive, aye, yet badly injured.

  “We were attacked,” James replied.

  “By who?”

  “Brigands. Outlaws.”

  “My men saw no one. There was no looting in the village, no crops destroyed, no cattle stolen.” The laird lifted his brow. “What can ye tell us of them?”

  James took a deep breath, shuddering at the searing pain it caused in his chest. “There were six men. None wore plaids or carried shields with clan markings. They surprised us.”

  “I can only imagine what ye were doing in such a private, secluded place with my niece that caused ye to be so distracted,” Laird Armstrong growled.

  James grit his teeth and jerked his head in denial. He would not stand for Davina’s honor to be questioned, even by her own kin. “I love Davina. I would never do anything to compromise her honor or virtue.”

  Laird Armstrong snorted in disbelief. “Six men approach and ye heard nothing? I thought the McKenna trained his men better.”

  He did. Guilt, swift and sudden, stabbed through James. He lowered his chin in shame. “The men were on foot, not horseback. They had the advantage of surprise when they ambushed us.”

  The laird’s eyes sparked with sudden anger. “We’ve not had any trouble with brigands on our lands fer years.”

  “Not while Robert the Bruce was king,” the captain of the guard added.

  James nearly shouted in frustration. He had no care for the political implications of the attack. His main concern was finding the criminals and punishing them for hurting Davina.

  “It could have been a group of English scum,” the other man suggested.

  “We’re too far north for the English to be troubling us,” the laird insisted.

  “Nay, they were Scots. I could tell by their swords; to a man they carried Claymores.” James’s voice felt choked and tight. “I killed two of them and wounded two others. After that . . .” he said, his voice trailing off in confusion.

  “We found no bodies,” the captain of the guard challenged.

  James drew in a ragged breath, fighting the need to argue. “They must have taken the dead and wounded away.”

 
“Two men took four others away?” the laird asked incredulously.

  James shook his head and stared across the chamber. He had no answers to give, no explanations that made sense. “What did Davina tell ye?”

  The laird shot him a sidelong look. “She cannae speak of the incident without becoming hysterical.”

  James cursed. “The last thing I remember was an explosion of pain inside my head.”

  The captain of the guard nodded. “Ye’ve got a fine, swelling bruise on the back of yer skull. Ye must have been struck from behind.”

  James lifted his arm and ran his fingers over the growing lump behind his right ear. At the touch, he felt a ferocious, nearly blinding pain so strong that it turned his stomach. He bowed his head and fought the sickness, not wanting to disgrace himself further in front of these men.

  They were still scrutinizing him, some openly, some covertly, but all with grave suspicion. James saw the looks that passed between them. They spoke among themselves, their voices deliberately low, so he could not hear the conversation. ’Twas a stark reminder that he was not a member of the clan, but rather an outsider. No matter that he was a McKenna, the son of a powerful and respected chieftain. He had lost their trust when he failed to protect Davina.

  God, he needed to see her. But he feared he could not leave this bed without aid and he was too proud to show further weakness in front of these warriors.

  The discussion continued, with frequent glances in his direction. The chamber was soon brimming with tension, yet James found that he didn’t really care. He rubbed a hand over his brow, trying to ease the pounding in his forehead. His eyelids grew heavy and slowly closed. He struggled to reopen them, succeeding, but within seconds they closed a second time.

  He had the sensation of someone drawing closer to his bed, speaking to him, but the words made no sense. There were waves of pain crashing through his head. But even worse, over and over the image of Davina falling prey to those brigands flashed before his eyes.

  And then suddenly, mercifully, there was only darkness. And silence.