Belonging to a Highlander

by K. M. Patterson

  Hugh scanned the party of less than a half score. Two rode ahead and directly behind was McAlison with one more rider flanking him on each side and still two more bringing up the rear. Unless some of his men rode far ahead out of sight, those present summed up the contingent.

  He closed his eyes hard. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relief that Catriona was not with the enemy, but at the moment he would rather see her alive in his sight than not at all. His insides twisted. He watched them a moment longer, hoping—no, praying—she would appear.

  But she didn’t.

  "I do'na see her," Hugh said at last.

  Alaric looked across at him. "What do you want to do? We hold the high ground."

  Hugh clenched his jaw. "We take them. Now."

  Alaric gave the signal and their men lurched forward. All mounts charged on the McAlison troop with mighty warcalls to chill the dead.

  McAlison and his small contingent were surrounded within an instant.

  Hugh charged off the hillside, and his beastly sized horse reared before McAlison's front men. He drew his blade as his warhorse pranced before the enemy, the great hooves of the destrier sinking into the wet earth.

  McAlison's men drew their weapons.

  Hugh stared at the man he had once called friend.

  "You took my wife."

  McAlison bent his head and planted a kiss to Tamsin's mussed, black hair. "'Tis no your wife I hold."

  Hugh trembled with rage. "Nay, she is no my wife. But I'll be kenning where you’ve put Catriona." He leveled his blade at McAlison. "And I'll be kenning that now."

  McAlison scoffed. "Or I suppose you'll kill me."

  "I'm going to kill you either way."

  McAlison glowered at Hugh, considering his odds, then motioned to one of his men who came off his mount to lift Tamsin down.

  The poor lass cried against the material that had slipped between her lips it was tied so tight. The warrior who took her in his arms held her close, an arm branded across her shoulders. She reached up to pull at his arm, begging Hugh with her eyes.

  Hugh dismounted at the same moment as McAlison. The other laird drew his sword.

  "'Tis a mistake you are making," Hugh said, taking steps toward McAlison.

  McAlison scoffed. "If you are to be believed, I'll be killed either way."

  "Surrender now and tell me where my wife is and I'll be quick aboot dispatching you to hell."

  McAlison made a face then shook his head. "I'll pass." He made the first swing at Hugh.

  Hugh parried the blow and swung around. At once, all McAlison's men jumped into the fray. A stupid mistake, indeed. Only five of Hugh's men stepped forward and took on the attackers. Within moments, McAlison and his men were down. Alaric pulled his blade from the man holding Tamsin and then proceeded to see to the lass.

  Hugh dropped to his knees beside McAlison and took the man's head in his hands. "Where is Catriona?"

  McAlison laughed. "Go to h—" A gurgled "ell" finished off the word on the man's dying breath.

  "Laird McCross," a feminine voice cried. "Laird McCross, we have to hurry."

  Hugh glanced up sharply to Tamsin. "What is it?"

  "There was one more mon," she cried, pointing behind them.

  Hugh scanned the forest and in the distance spotted a lone rider fleeing, disappearing from view.

  "He's going back to McAlison's keep. They'll kill Catriona if he makes it there first."

  Alaric swung onto his mount and dug in his heels, dashing off after the man.

  Hugh let out a string of curses. "Take her back to the keep," he ordered one man as he pulled up into his saddle.

  "Nay, I can ride." Tamsin shouted, tromping through the mud and muck of the battle scene to Hugh's horse. "I can lead you back the way we came. Surely that route will be fastest."

  Hugh didn’t waste another moment, but pulled her up behind him.

  "That way," Tamsin said, pointing.

  ****

  Catriona shivered in the cagey underground room the guards had tossed her inside of when McAlison left with Tamsin. A single candle—and she was surprised she had been offered so much—lit the entire space. But then, that was not surprising either, as small as the room was. The place was as short in height as it was shallow in length, and empty except for a rickety stool the candle sat on and another stool for her.

  She cupped her hands around the flame, seeking any warmth and praying no draft would put out her only source of light. At the same time, she didn’t remove her eyes from the large rodent in the opposite corner.

  No, she would not be making friends with this feisty looking creature. Not unless she wished to catch the plague, and she didn’t.

  Not yet.

  That all depended on what became of her here and McAlison's plans for her. If he intended anything remotely cruel, plague could be a definite option.

  "Hugh," she breathed his name as a sound of hope in the cold, damp cellar. She shivered.

  Too much time had passed.

  Or maybe it hadn’t. Time was hard to tell when she hadn’t even heard a single sound from above.

  She should sleep, but there was nowhere to do that unless she wanted to curl up on the dirt floor, and since doing so was out of the question…

  A noise startled her, and she looked up at the rafters.

  She had been tossed into a cellar of sorts under the main floor of the keep where the flooring above in the hall served as the low ceiling in the cellar. Boots walked by. More boots. A lot of stomping and what sounded like a scuffle. Clanking. Yelling.

  Catriona jumped up and began to whack her fists on the ceiling, which wasn’t a hard feat. She didn’t consider herself tall by any means, but the small place was not very high.

  "I'm here!" she cried. "I'm here." She jumped and slapped her hands on the ceiling over and over, then fell back as a drop hit her cheek.

  She wiped the trail running down her face, and crimson blood stained her fingers.

  She should have screamed, but hope swelled in her breast.

  Hugh had come for her at last.

  "Hugh," she screamed as loud as her lungs would allow.

  "Catriona!" came the muted reply.

  She heard her name called from above.

  "Hugh! Alaric! Tamsin!" Catriona screamed.

  A moment later the door to the cellar jostled as someone tried to open it.

  "In here. I'm here." Catriona pulled up her skirts and hurried across the room, but then flew back as the door was kicked in.

  Hugh appeared, stooping to get in the door, but he quickly went down on his knees in relief, his arms wide as Catriona threw herself against him.

  "You're safe now, lass." He stroked her hair, and Catriona sobbed into his shoulder.

  "You came." She breathed a sigh of relief and absorbed every ounce of his touch. Cupping his face in her hands, she offered jubilant kisses.

  Hugh chuckled. "Did you doubt I would?"

  Catriona pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes. "Is Tamsin—"

  Hugh nodded at once. "She's above with Alaric. She led us here."

  "Tell me what happened."

  Hugh glanced around at their surroundings, then to the hissing rat balled in the corner. His brow furrowed at the creature before he set Catriona from him, only long enough to stand—albeit bent over—and pulled her by the hand from the cellar.

  "I shall, after we depart from here, lass. McAlison's men have been dispatched, but I'd rather have you home, far away from this place."

  Catriona smiled and allowed him to do just that.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After a long day's travel back to his keep, and some vigorous lovemaking that took up the remainder of the night and caused the bedchamber to become quite humid, Hugh at last relaxed back in bed and drew Catriona's arm across his chest, lacing his long fingers with hers. He smiled down on her in the morning light spilling through the shutters they had been forced to open.

  "I've some
thing to admit, lass."

  She propped her chin against his chest and smiled in return. "And what would that be, highlander?"

  His eyes smoldered on her. "For all the battles I've fought, I've never felt real fear in my life until the moment I was told you were missing."

  Her smile spread into an impish grin. "Why, Hugh McCross, what great lengths you've come in loving me."

  "Och. 'Twas no easy conquest, I assure."

  Catriona yanked her hand free and jabbed him in the ribs, then just as quickly snuggled close again.

  Hugh feigned a wince.

  She giggled, then sighed. "I'm so glad this is all over. I'm ready to start our life together."

  "We've already begun it."

  "You ken what I mean. A life of peace, withoot threats and danger." Hugh stiffened, and Catriona noticed. "What?" she asked.

  "'Tis no over yet."

  Catriona looked up at him. "What do you mean? McAlison is dead."

  "Aye, but he was only one enemy. We've still the threat of Barnaby."

  Catriona soured at the reminder. "How could I forget?"

  Hugh pulled her closer and turned her in his arms. "I can endeavor to make you forget again." He chuckled at her response and bent to nibble at her lips.

  Her bare thigh rode up his, and Catriona's fingertips traveled down his naked chest. Her hand slipped around his cock, eliciting a groan from him. "I could use another lapse in memory, and perhaps another and another often enough I might be considered senile."

  Hugh chuckled. "Stop talking, lass. Kiss me."

  He twisted his body under her until his weight rested atop Catriona's, stretched out against his, their legs intertwined intimately. Catriona eagerly received his kisses, and not that they hadn't already exhausted themselves a half-hour past, their appetite for more loving hadn’t decreased.

  Hugh's hand dipped low to squeeze a handful of Catriona's backside and brought her atop him. She sucked in a gasped breath, her legs slipping to his sides, and the hot head of his shaft pressed against her and brought an acute stab of need to her core.

  Hugh pushed her down, slipped inside her, taking his time relishing every inch until he buried himself to the hilt. His skin fevered with restraint as he began to slowly move inside her.

  Hugh's hands, still tangled in her hair, pulled her head back just as the chamber door flew open.

  Hugh's head jerked up at the same time he rolled Catriona over and fought to pull the bedcovers over them. He glowered at the intruder.

  "There better be a good damned reason for this," he growled between clenched teeth.

  The man reddened considerably and looked to the rafters. "Alaric sent me."

  Hugh glowered. "Of course he did, damn him."

  "He said you would want this missive immediately." He took a step forward, averting his eyes, and handed out the rolled parchment with its red seal intact.

  Hugh sighed and pulled from Catriona, muttering curses as he came from the bed, pulling the bed linen with him and wrapping the length about his waist as he went. Catriona made a squeak and pulled at the top cover to keep her nakedness from sight.

  Hugh yanked the missive from the man and dismissed him, then proceeded to slip his fingers between the overlap and tear the seal away, stomping to the window and threw open the shutters. Morning light spilled in.

  Moments later he crumpled the letter in his fist and ran a hand over the new growth on his jaw.

  "What is it?" Catriona asked from the bed. When Hugh did not respond, she slipped from the mattress and came to him. Her fingers touched his arm lightly.

  "'Tis a summons to court, from your uncle."

  Catriona stiffened her neck and looked away in confusion. Her hand went to her belly, and she sank down into a seat. "Did he say why?" she asked.

  Hugh didn't answer immediately. "Barnaby." He heard her sharp intake of breath.

  Her brows shot up with surprise. "He has been captured?"

  Hugh nodded in disbelief. "I suppose he must be."

  "But why are we needed?"

  Hugh shook his head. "I've nary a clue, lass."

  He bent to collect his clothing from the floor, donning his trews. They must both go and face the man who no doubt had tried to kill his wife more than once now. It was the king's desire, and MacAlpin must have a solid reason behind it.

  He could handle war. He had lived his life between one war to the next, but what he could not stand was having Catriona taken from him. Physically, as he had just learned with McAlison, nor by death. And death was certainly what Barnaby had had in mind for Catriona all along. He wasn’t altogether sure he would survive being in the same room with the man without tearing him apart himself.

  He glanced behind to catch Catriona's worried look as she nibbled her bottom lip. "It shall be all right, lass."

  She rolled her eyes. "You seem rather full of assurances this morn."

  Hugh snorted.

  Catriona rolled her eyes again. "We are actually going?" she asked.

  Hugh turned fully, his brows drawing together. He regarded her as though she had lost her mind. "MacAlpin is your uncle, but believe me, the mon is first and foremost the king. No one disobeys any king's request. I'm sure he has a reason behind this invitation." He stopped to nod in the direction of their trunks stacked together against the wall. "You should have Bess aid you in readying our things. MacAlpin requested we come to Scone with all due haste."

  "Hugh, I do'na think we should go." Catriona took his hand in her own, and her eyes turned pleading and filled with dread. "I've no seen Barnaby in years, and I do'na see any reason to now that he is imprisoned."

  "We have no choice." Hugh planted a light kiss to her forehead and turned her about. He gave her bottom a pat. "Now get dressed and find Bess. I shall see to making the other arrangements."

  Catriona nodded and silently went about collecting her clothing from the floor.

  Hugh turned back with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

  This news unsettled him greatly, though he had expected something out of the situation. He had not for a moment expected Barnaby would disappear and hoped against hope that the king would find the traitor before one of his attacks on Catriona was successful. He had at last discerned that the threats on her life had to be made by Barnaby, as McAlison had nothing to gain from them.

  The importance of their presence was a mystery though, a mystery he was eager to have solved so they could be on with their lives.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Catriona walked down the long, brightly lit corridor, a shadow to her husband's tall frame. King's guards escorted them to the throne room, to her uncle. When they reached a set of heavy doors, another pair of guards parted to allow them entry.

  "Laird McCross and Lady McCross."

  Catriona glided behind Hugh to the dais where Kenneth MacAlpin awaited them. The lean, tall, bearded man sat relaxed on a high-backed, fur-covered, regal seat. A wry smile came to Catriona's lips.

  It was a wonderful thing to have an uncle—even a half-uncle—for a king.

  She dipped into a low curtsy as Hugh bowed.

  "My only nephew-in-law and my favorite niece." MacAlpin stood and lifted an arm to motion a guard at the side of the room to his behest. The man moved at once toward another set of doors off the side of the large room.

  Light spilled in through high windows to warm the chamber. Catriona could feel the glow on her face, but her apprehension snaked around her, banishing any joy at seeing her uncle or this grand place he ruled from.

  Kenneth's eyes flicked sharply across the hall a hairsbreadth of a moment before the doors they had only just entered were closed. MacAlpin turned back toward his throne. "Come," he said to them both, motioning them with a flick of the wrist to mount the dais steps.

  Catriona ascended the stairs behind her uncle, Hugh at her side.

  She glanced curiously about as MacAlpin lifted a goblet to his mouth, motioning with his other hand to a guard.

  T
he doors at the side of the throne room opened with a clattering of metal mixed with raucous voices that floated out of the passage. The din grew steadily louder as guards brought a chained man before the king, to the front of the dais, where they tossed him down on his knees.

  Her belly gave a sudden lurch, and Catriona felt shaky at this new disturbance. No warning and a man in chains dropped at their feet.

  The stranger lifted his head to snarl on them. Blood ran down the side of his nose from a fracture at the bridge, into his shortly cropped beard of coarse honey-gold hair. Spittle from his yelling and cursing beforehand rested there, too. His shoulders heaved with great, angry breaths.

  "Uncle Barnaby?" Catriona asked quietly after a moment of recognition. His name was only a guess that escaped her lips before she could stop herself.

  "I am no uncle to the likes of you."

  Catriona was taken aback a moment and looked up past her shoulder at the king. He looked rather pleased for a man staring down on his own brother.

  Kenneth clasped his arms at his back, his stare trained hard on the beaten man before them. "Catriona, I do'na think you have met your Uncle Barnaby since you were but a wee child. Yet, here kneels the mon responsible for the threats against you. I wanted you to see him and he you for one reason alone—so he may accurately feel his place beneath the heel of my shoe before he meets his end. So that he may yet understand that I alone shall choose to favor whoever I wish. Surely he can recognize the good in you, and the evil in himself. You may yet again feel safe from his threats, niece."

  "I never wanted this," Barnaby said boldly. "Only what was best for Scotland. You were making too many unwise decisions."

  "And would one of them be in offering the hand of my favorite niece to a Saxon prince, despite her birth, when you have two daughters of your own?" Kenneth lifted a brow.

  The man smoldered. "'Tis no all."

  "Oh, the lands? I suppose my taking away lands and bestowing them on another was a blow to Scotland … that happened to only affect you."

  Barnaby offered no response, but his glower heated on Catriona as he looked up at her. He dangled forward from the guard's hands, his chains thick about him. He looked so defeated in that moment that Catriona wanted to reach out and help him. To offer some sort of aid. To plead with Kenneth for the man's life. Life, given a turnabout, Barnaby no doubt would not have granted her.