Highland Games Through Time

by Nancy Lee Badger

  “Stop mumbling. Stay on yer feet or I’ll drag ye by the hair.”

  She no longer cared if he pulled out his dirk and sliced her throat. Stuck in this time, without Kirk to return her love, she might as well lay down and die.

  Would Reid miss her? He, alone, knew the tribulations she’d endured. He, alone, knew she wasn’t from this time or place. Would he expect her to disappear without a word? What about the spy?

  Gavina’s poisonous gossip and half-truths came to mind. The jealous young woman thwarted their relationship at every turn. Gavina wanted Kirk for herself, but would she risk his life? Mackenzie expected Kirk to try to rescue her.

  He might die. Gavina wouldn’t risk Kirk.

  Yanked into a clearing, Haven stumbled and fell into a heap beside a small campfire. The heat licked at her naked calves. Smoke irritated her eyes. Mackenzie laughed when she clutched at her clothing, attempting to cover her breasts.

  Leaves rustled, tethered horses whinnied, and voices rose. Surrounded by warriors, she caught snatches of murmured threats and several disgusting plans for her, after Kirk arrived.

  All except Mackenzie.

  He stood to the side, a wistful look on his face as he glanced in the direction they all traveled; toward Castle Ruadh, and Lady Fia.

  Two men grabbed her and held her down. She screamed. The exhilaration of being able to warn the camp made her smile until one of the men kicked her in the side. “You said I could scream.”

  “Let her go. They can’t hear her. When I am ready to set the trap, we shall haul her closer to Kirk.”

  She rubbed her bruised ribs as she looked around, then glanced back in the direction of Kirk’s camp. The forest looked impenetrable. Her scream probably traveled no farther than the closest bird’s nest. How would Kirk hear her warning?

  A sudden dizziness made her stomach lurch. She should’ve eaten some dinner, then remembered the blood trickling down her throat. Crushing her arms to her chest, a thought popped into her head. The ancient text she’d discovered in her aunt’s herbal shop had pages of odd little incantations.

  Each one said it was natural to use nature to aid a person in need. One group of words she remembered quite well. Was this the type of incident to which the book referred?

  What have I to lose?

  Turning her head away from her kidnappers, she uttered the memorized words and hoped they worked.

  Breath of hope, oh monstrous breeze.

  Open a path among the trees.

  Hear my plea, so mote it be!

  Before she could repeat the words, Mackenzie stormed closer. Had he heard? Haven screamed at the top of her lungs.

  As he raised his hand to strike her across the face, branches above them snapped and waved. Mackenzie stayed his hand, turned, and drew his broadsword.

  “Spread out.”

  His men obeyed.

  * * *

  “I tell ye, my laird, ‘twas a scream. A woman’s scream.”

  Kirk questioned the guard at length after the stricken-faced man had raced into camp. The sentry swore no animal could make such a sound. He believed him. His clansmen were wary hunters, worthy of his trust.

  “My laird, ignore his hysterical words. We are within the boundaries of Castle Ruadh. The Keiths are barbarians,” Gavina chimed in, smiling up at him. Several men grunted in agreement.

  “My men are to investigate all noises too close to our camp.”

  “What this man heard might simply be two young lovers, rutting. Screams are part of such pleasures, aye?”

  “Return to yer duties, woman.”

  When she hesitated, Anice grabbed Gavina’s arm and hauled her away. As each warrior gathered weapons, Kirk scanned the confines of their camp. Something felt wrong.

  “Where is Lady Haven?” The moment the words left his mouth, his body snapped to attention and he ran to her tent. Empty.

  Something terrible had happened. He could feel it in his bones. Kirk shouted several commands and his men searched every corner of the camp while he marched to his tent.

  Once inside, he stripped naked to the waist, grabbed his broadsword, and slipped his dirk inside his belt. Reid appeared at his side. He ordered the lad to collect his hunting bow. Kirk listened to the cries of his men as they called out Haven’s name. His eyes clamped shut when she did not answer them. No matter how deep her hatred toward him had grown, would she have left the safety of the camp?

  “She is gone, and not willingly,” Reid whispered inside the dark tent.

  Kirk’s eyes snapped open. “Aye.”

  Without waiting for his men, Kirk crept through the trees and past the last place Haven had stood. If Gavina had not waylaid him, Haven would still be safe. Scanning the darkness, Kirk listened. A high-pitched scream rang out, echoing throughout the forest.

  He froze.

  “There it goes again, my laird.” The sentry who had reported the first scream knelt at Kirk’s elbow, pointing.

  “Lady Haven.”

  Kirk listened again while a slight breeze grew into a powerful rush of air. The trees bent apart with an ever-increasing roar as limbs clacked against other branches. Leaves rustled and an owl screeched. A shaft of moonlight pierced the darkness, revealing a trail. Someone’s feet had scuffed the ground, as if dragged.

  “This wind blows with an eerie breath, my laird. ‘Tis unreal.”

  Kirk grunted in agreement. He reached down and wiped his fingers in a small puddle of dark red ooze. When he brought his fingers to his nose, his stomach roiled. Fear wrapped his body in a tight fist when he smelled the metallic tang of fresh blood.

  Her blood.

  “Make haste.” Muffled footsteps announced that the rest of his warriors approached. Who had grabbed her? His worst fears would come to life if Mackenzie had a hand in her abduction. The likelihood of a trap came to mind. The man had once used Cora as a lure.

  Back then, Kirk had placed a spy in Mackenzie’s camp who had warned him of the bastard’s plans. Kirk’s warriors had attacked first and won the battle, but not before beautiful Cora lay dead.

  Mackenzie harbored a deep animosity, yet Kirk had been the one injured. His heart lay broken, his face disfigured, and his future had looked bleak.

  Until I met Haven.

  Kirk raised a fist, signaling his men to stop. Another hand sign, relayed to several men at the back of the contingent, ordered them to return to camp.

  “If this be a trap, perhaps the treasure wagons are the real prize. Not the woman. Why kidnap a plain-dressed wench? She has no money, no rank, and no connections. She has no value.”

  Except to me.

  * * *

  Haven’s head ached and her throat burned. She awakened bit by pain-wracked bit, then recalled the horror of her abduction. Captured by Cal’s lookalike, the man had threatened to throw her to his men. Before she slipped into unconsciousness, her words from the ancient text and subsequent screams had thwarted their plans.

  Mackenzie had shoved her into the dirt as the treetops bent under a gust of unearthly wind. She’d uttered words that seemed to cause the trees to spread apart, allowing her screams to travel far. When she had tried to scream again, someone knocked her on the head with the hilt of a sword.

  Mortal danger lay in wait because of her. Kirk’s desire for her had been evident to his clansmen and to whoever spied on the camp.

  If any harm comes to that pig-headed, muscle-bound, two-timing Kirk, I’ll never forgive these bastards.

  Or, herself.

  The news of his pending nuptials cut her like Mackenzie’s blade, and the memory made her groan.

  “She awakens, my lord.”

  Why pretend to sleep? She had to warn Kirk. Especially since she sensed he travelled closer. She snapped her eyes open and screamed an ear-splitting shriek from her gut. A hand clamped around her mouth.

  Pinned to the ground, unable to scream, in an unknown forest with men she most assuredly would never want to meet in a dark alley, she struggled. They d
ragged her to the far side of the camp then pushed her back down. The campfire spit when a man doused it with the contents of a water skin. The sudden, total darkness concealed whether the trees were still parted. She felt the breeze against her skin, and smelled the stink of fearful men.

  “What is yer name, wench? How did ye come to be the mistress of Kirkwall Gunn?” A man’s hot breath danced along her skin, below her right ear. Haven clutched her tattered dress tight to her chest before answering.

  “How many times must I tell you? I am no man’s mistress. Let me go. I’m no good as bait. Kirk couldn’t care less about what happens to me.”

  “I find these words hard to believe,” Mackenzie whispered in the dark. His scent was more pleasant than his men and reminded her of smoke, spice, and leather.

  “Let me up.”

  “Not until ye tell the truth. Your name!”

  “He shoved me against a wagon only a few hours ago and I’ve the bruises to show for it. He detests me and the danger I’ve brought his men. My name’s Haven MacKay.”

  “Ha! A Gunn would never keep a MacKay in his camp unless it be strung from a tent pole.”

  She slumped back and quit her attempts to sit up. All movement made her dizzy. Mackenzie knelt so close, he could easily choke her into unconsciousness. Or, he might slash her in two with his sword. She had to bide her time. Kirk would save her.

  When Mackenzie got to his feet, slithered away, and issued orders she eavesdropped. Nothing made sense. It sounded like he wanted Kirk to find them. Footsteps took off into the dark in several directions. Groping hands bound her own hands in front and then a prickling sensation passed over her nipples. She rolled to her side, away from the foul stench of a mercenary. A cool breeze proved her dress’s bodice lay open to the weather. Had they touched her while she’d lay helpless?

  Would Kirk care if they had?

  “Kirk doesn’t care about me.”

  “Should yer words ring true, I will let ye go.” Mackenzie crouched beside her once more.

  “You lie.”

  “Believe what ye will. All I want is for Kirkwall Gunn to die.”

  “What has he done to fill you with such hatred?” She squirmed on the hard ground. She sensed him draw closer and she pulled at her bonds.

  “I explained. With his death, my love will be free to marry me.”

  She let the words sink in while his men muttered nearby.

  “The night grows cool,” Cal’s evil lookalike droned. Gloved fingers slithered over her hip as she tried to scoot away. He circled close to her breast. She tensed, disgusted.

  His laughter reverberated across the small clearing.

  She had to act with one purpose in mind—to make these bastards think she had no interest in fleeing or doing them harm. A sharp pain pressing into her hip kept her from rolling further. If she could sit up, she might find a way to slip her dagger out.

  Let him think I’ll submit. I still have my knife.

  A gloved hand stroked her head, and her shoulders tensed. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her to her feet and into the moonlight. She couldn’t reach her dagger.

  * * *

  Kirk peered through shadows at the scene unfolding on the other side of thick brambles. Neck muscles tensed while both fists clenched his weapons. A man clad all in black stood too close to Haven. With his back to him, the beast had forced his woman to her feet by the hair.

  My woman?

  No, he must not think, thusly. Haven had no place in his life, now or ever. Destiny insisted he marry a Keith for whom he felt nothing in order to bring two clans together. Lady Fia, awaited him at journey’s end. He had nearly convinced himself marriage to such a comely creature would not be too great a sacrifice.

  Until I met Lady Haven.

  Clan Keith needed a warrior clan to aide them in times of turmoil. Simply announcing their alliance with Clan Gunn would keep their village safe. The bride price had been steep.

  As a laird of more than thirty summers, his need for an heir could no longer be denied. At the time he had signed the betrothal contract, the choice had been clear.

  “Now my path is curved and muddied.” Kirk sighed. First things first. How to save Haven without putting his men in danger?

  He counted mercenaries once his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Kirk was right to send men back to camp to guard the wagons.

  The bastard’s missing numbers means men are attempting to steal the treasure while Haven acts as bait.

  “Could the woman be part of the deception, my Laird?”

  Kirk clamped his teeth together then shook his head at the man who must have read his mind. Haven could not be part of this. Not while suffering such abuse. He held his bow, sword, and dirk, as did others. He snapped his eyes shut, amazed he could no longer picture the face of the golden-haired wench destined to fill his bed and his life. The only face that sprang to mind was a black-haired, loud-mouthed beauty in constant need of rescue.

  Movement beside him brought his attention back into focus, reminding him others depended on his next move. Plastered flat as possible under the bushes, he explained his plan and ordered his men to stay hidden.

  Kirk stood and called out to the group surrounding his love. When the men turned in his direction with swords drawn, Kirk feared only for Haven’s life. He prayed his men timed their attack well as he strolled into the enemy camp.

  Alone.

  The man with his hand in Haven’s hair faced him. A single beam of moonlight pierced the canopy of branches and illuminated his face. The Mackenzie smiled. The bastard knew he had the upper hand.

  “So, Lord Mackenzie, we meet again, my friend. I should have known ye would be the man I kill this day.”

  “Quiet, and do not claim me as friend. If ye make another move ye shall watch yer lover suffer the stroke of my blade to match the scar I gave ye, though, I believe it lends ye an air of intrigue.”

  Haven gasped. Kirk squinted through the near-darkness and read the horror reflected in her wide eyes and pale skin. More moonlight filled the small clearing and he watched her eyes glance up and down his body. He had secured his hair with a thin piece of leather. A wide leather belt held his plaid low about his waist. He carried a broadsword in one hand, a dirk in the other.

  Seeing her among these heavily armed men made his blood run cold. His concern for her safety must have shown on his face. Several warriors raised their weapons and stepped closer. As he watched, two brutes grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her foreword.

  She fumbled to close the front of her gown with tied hands. A dark smudge marred the pale skin beneath her quivering chin. Blood.

  “Bastard! Ye cut her.” He spat out the words through clenched teeth and raised both weapons. When a black-gloved hand moved to grab her breast, his roar stilled Mackenzie’s motion.

  “Ye disapprove? Ye take from me so I shall take from ye.”

  “Make sense, man. I have nothing of yers. Lady Haven is not mine, but she is under our protection.”

  “Ha! Ye lie,” Mackenzie said, with a knowing sneer.

  Kirk could not meet her gaze. Had she understood his lie? Had Lord Mackenzie discovered the truth of his feelings? Had someone in his camp told him about the strange woman who appeared in the woods one day? Had a spy revealed his growing fondness?

  Who else knows she is mine and mine alone?

  After a large intake of breath, Kirk set his weapons on the ground. Two of Mackenzie’s men rushed forward. They sliced away his leather cuffs then bound his hands behind his back. The spiky rope bit into his skin while his gaze never left Mackenzie’s black glare.

  “Kill him.”

  “No!” Haven cried.

  The Mackenzie slipped into the forest with her. The mercenary nearest Kirk raised his weapon. Before he could swing the mortal blow, Kirk’s warriors stormed the camp. The night exploded with the clash of steel and the cries of dying men.

  CHAPTER 20

  Lord Mackenzie retreated from the g
lade with his arm grasped around his prisoner’s waist and his palm over her mouth, not in fear of the upcoming battle but with excited anticipation.

  “Your lover will die. My men will soon relay the good news at our designated meeting spot.” Pulling his trembling prisoner through the cover of gnarled trees and thorny bushes, he laughed at her sobs. His men would keep the bastards busy while he rethought his plans. The near-failure of his well-thought-out trap made him curious.

  “How did Kirk know ye were gone from his camp? He found us much too soon. He must have the ears, eyes, and nose of a wolf.”

  His captive struggled. “Let me go. I’ll only slow you down.”

  He ignored her pleas and dragged her toward their secondary camp. “No, ye come with me, sweet one. I still have delightful plans for ye. We must put distance between yer lover, quick like. His jealousy amazes even me.”

  “He doesn’t care what happens to me,” she whispered. She struggled violently until he squeezed her neck.

  Pausing to get his bearings, he whispered in her ear. “Careful, love. I might need ye still, though my men have the advantage. Others will decimate those left guarding the wagons. Ye and I have unfinished business, my lovely, but I will not be sampling yer delights. I have eyes only for Lady Fia.”

  When they reached the edge of the second clearing, Mackenzie pushed her to her knees. The wild-haired woman panted in the dark. Their run through the forest had added to her disheveled appearance, but her terror-stricken face only added to her attractiveness.

  “Listen closely, wench, if ye want to live.”

  “I’m listening,” she sputtered.

  “Do not utter any more of yer witchery.” At her wide-eyed response, he added, “I heard yer chant. I am familiar with the dark arts. Using it must have aided Kirk. Do not use yer powers against me again.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Keep quiet, or my spy will slit all yer friends’ throats, and we shall start with the young red-headed lad.”