As much as he wanted these men to suffer, they would be blessed with such a death by his hands. For Ceana's sake, he was willing to give them that.
He moved swiftly, dagger in hand. The man never even uttered a sound against the hand Blane clamped over his mouth as he ran his blade across his throat. Stickiness coated his palm and the Englishman sagged. He lowered him to the ground and moved on.
Would there be many more watchmen? Or were the English so confident in their hideout that they only stationed one man to keep watch?
He found out soon enough. Another man at a wider opening. There was a brief scuffle and the sound carried. He prayed it sounded like no more than someone taking a tumble or scuffing their feet on the ground out of boredom. The man died in much the same way as the first, however, a slice to his throat taking the life from him. Blane took the time to push the body aside into the dark, damp recess of the cave. From the voices that carried along the tunnel, he was close to the main camp. It wouldn't hurt to hide the evidence of his deeds this close to them.
Blane tucked away his dagger and drew out his blade. He was going to get Ceana back.
Chapter Twelve
Dampness seeped through her skirt. Ceana bunched up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. A dripping sound and the feel of wet rock against her back told her well enough about where they were. The voices of the Englishmen echoed off the rocks and she tried to picture the inside of the cave. Dark, damp and inhospitable probably. A fine place to hide, though.
She tried to listen to their conversations but her English was not good enough to keep up with them. So far, no one had spoken to her except to tell her to hurry up or to bark a curse at her while she was dragged along. Her feet pounded and the scratches on her arms and legs from where she'd tumbled several times stung. Fatigue made her eyes gritty and an ache had started up at the base of her skull. She put her head to her knees and closed her eyes.
Sleep would never come. As much as she needed to keep herself healthy, she knew it would never come. All she could think on was how furious Blane would be. Would he hate her forever for making this decision?
Even though her muscles tightened every time footsteps came near and the few whispered threats that had been hissed at her when she struggled to keep up still rang through her mind, she couldn't bring herself to regret her decision. She was the head of her household. It was her duty to see everyone safe. As much as she'd wanted Blane's help, she certainly never wanted him to put himself in danger for them. She was valuable to the English, he was not. It was the only way.
But she doubted he'd see it that way. Had he not scolded her for trying to do things alone? Oh, Blane. How she wished she was warm and comfortable in his arms right now. An empty sensation sat in her chest and she knew it was because of him—or because of the lack of him. Somehow, that man had worked into her heart and she needed him as much as air.
Ceana drew up her chin and stared into the darkness to try to make out the positions of the men. She heard a fire and felt tiny tendrils of its warmth but no one came to draw her over to it or offer her sustenance. They would have to at some point surely? If they wanted their ransom money, they needed her alive. Her stomach grumbled and she prayed she was right about that. Much longer without food and rest, and her composure would crumble.
“Here.” Something was flung at her—a thin blanket of some kind—and she grasped it tight. Footsteps and the squeak of leather boots. A hiss of breath near her face. “Keep warm. We’ve a long way to travel on the morrow. If you can’t walk, I’ll drag you.” It was Wolf or a man she’d come to know was named Gervase.
Ceana draped the blanket over her shoulders and tugged it tight. It was worn and she felt spots of cold through what had to be holes. If she didn’t rest, it was very likely Gervase would have to drag her on the morrow.
So far, none of them had paid enough attention to discover her lack of sight. They cursed her for being clumsy and laughed when she stumbled and fell. Unknown terrain was too hard for her to walk on, even with the limited vision daylight gave her. Hopefully the cave was too dark for her captors to realise she couldn’t see them.
A slightly strangled noise came from the left of her. She scowled and heard Gervase’s curse. There was the sound of a struggle and then the clang of metal upon metal. She cried out when someone’s foot knocked into her and a burst of pain wracked her ribs. What was happening?
Before Ceana could come to her feet, a hand wrapped around her arm. She couldn’t help but cry out again as she was hauled upward, her arm wrenching painfully.
“Kill him!” Gervase commanded.
Her heart stilled in her chest. It couldn’t be. Oh sweet Mary, was it? What was he thinking? More clangs, more scuffling feet. Curses and cries of pain. She wished she could see. Was it really Blane?
Then the release on her arm eased and she tugged away to flatten herself against the wall. The entrance way was to her left. Should she risk moving that way? Where was Blane? Would she get in the way? She shuffled over and heard a thud in front of her. Pausing, she put out her foot and slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her whimper. It was a body. Blane’s?
“Ceana.”
Relief washed through her. A warm hand clasped her own and tugged her along.
“Trust me,” Blane told her as she flinched when the clang of metal rang out.
He had to know she could see nothing and had no idea how close to death either of them were. She didn’t even know how many Sassenachs were still alive.
“I do,” she managed to say back before being pulled along again.
And she did. She trusted this man with her life...with her heart too. Here she was, vulnerable, sightless, stumbling across sharp rocks with the enemy at their back, but she knew he’d keep her safe. Together, they’d triumph.
“Quickly now,” he urged. “Not far to go.”
They moved at a fair pace and she stumbled several times but he caught her. She heard footsteps and shouts behind them. Fingers of horror crept up her spine at the idea of them following. Not all of her captors were dead then. Exertion and fear made her heart pound but the reassuring strength of Blane’s grip eased her fear and kept her courage fired.
Faint flashes of golden light occasionally highlighted her vision but they weren’t enough to tell her of their position in the cave or to allow her to see their surroundings. Finally, a waft of cool air struck her face and they spilled outside.
“We’re being followed.” Blane pulled her into his chest, and she gripped his plaid. “Hide and I shall ensure they dinnae continue to do so.”
He guided her to what felt like some trees and bid her to crouch down.
“Blane, dinnae be harmed,” she begged. “Come back to me.”
“Aye. Aye, I will, mo gràdh.”
Her heart spasmed at the words but she had no chance to respond. His footsteps told her he was gone. Ceana had little idea how long she waited. Time seemed irrelevant with only the distant sound of a wolf and her pounding heart for company. Come back to me, come back to me. She recalled the scent of him and the feel of his strong body. How she longed to feel and smell him again.
The crack of a tree branch made her head spin. She crouched lower. Cold leaves touched her skin and a branch pressed into her side but the slight sting of it seemed irrelevant. What if the English had killed him? How would she go on? And she had never told him anything. There was no doubting it now. She loved Blane.
“Ceana.”
She stood and nearly collapsed again when her head span and her knees trembled. Warm arms wrapped about her.
“Yer alive.”
“Aye.” He flattened her against his chest and let her absorb the warmth of him.
Ceana put a palm over his heart to feel the steady, reassuring throb of it. Her breathing evened and her head began to clear.
“The Sassenachs?”
“Dead.” He pushed his fingers through her hair and lifted her face. She longed to see him. “All dea
d. Yer safe now.”
“Forgive me. I had to.”
“Aye, I know.” His fingers skimmed her face. “Yer a foolish lass but I understand ye.”
She smiled up at him and imagined his gaze warm on her face. “Yer a foolish man for coming after me, but I understand ye too.”
“I wish to kiss ye and hold ye, Ceana. I thought I might not get the chance to do it again. But we must come away from here and find somewhere to shelter for the night.”
“I cannae believe ye were no’ harmed.” She paused as he took her arm to guide her out from the trees. “Ye were no’ harmed, were ye?”
“Nay. A scratch or two ‘tis all. I had something worth fighting for.”
Making their way down the hill didn’t give them much time to talk. She longed to ask what had become of all those Englishmen, how he defeated them, what her sister had said, but focusing on remaining upright on the uneven ground took all her concentration.
“This way,” he told her and led her along flatter ground. The sound of water rushing told her they were near a river. She gripped his arm.
“I’ll no’ let ye fall.”
The river had to be deep or a sharp drop, but her movement had been instinctual. She knew Blane wouldn’t let her fall.
“I know.”
“Do ye?” he asked, his voice almost as harsh and as desperate as the sound of the water gushing past. “Do ye know that I would do all I can to protect ye, Ceana? That ye’ve given me something to fight for again? Killing those men was no longer about revenge. It was about ye and only ye.”
Ceana swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to his impassioned words. Aye, she longed to say. And giving herself up had not just been to do with her sister but also protecting him. But she hardly knew how to explain her feelings while they were moving at a brisk pace. She needed to stop, touch his face, feel his body around her and take the time to gather her thoughts.
“Here, this will do.”
Though everything remained dark, she felt cool darkness close around her. Another cave. She shuddered against the blanket still tangled about her shoulders.
“Och, I know ‘tisnae the best place for ye, but we cannae stay out in the wild. There’s wolves about.”
“’Tis well enough, Blane. I am no’ afeared.”
“Good. I’ll no’ be able to light a fire.” She felt him ease down beside her. “Everything is too wet, so we shall need to stay warm together.” An arm wrapped around her shoulders and drew her into him. “Ye should rest.”
Ceana nodded. The warmth of his body seeped through the blanket and her mind grew fuzzy quickly. “How is Kate?”
“Unharmed.” He chuckled. “Though she isnae happy with ye.”
“I thought ye would no’ be either.”
“I find myself too grateful to have ye safe in my arms to worry about being angered with ye. Though I’ll say that ye must never scare my again like that.”
“I have no intention of doing so.”
“Whatever we face, Ceana, we do it together, do ye understand?”
“Aye,” she said softly. She closed her eyes. Did that mean he wouldn’t leave her? That he’d stay by her side always? She hoped so.
Chapter Thirteen
Blane observed Ceana sleeping with a mixture of envy and admiration. He couldn’t claim to have slept much and he was paying for it now. His muscles ached. His head throbbed. The few small cuts stung and he was fairly certain he had a nice collection of bruises from the scuffles yesterday.
But the English were dead. Catching them by surprise, they’d been little match for him. He’d slaughtered three within moments and another as he grabbed Ceana. The rest had met their end after he’d seen her to safety. The spluttered last words of one of the men still rang in through his mind. What are you?
He’d always been a good fighter. Brutal and swift. But he knew what he was, who he was and why he’d been able to dispatch them with such ease.
He was a man in love.
Easing his arm from around her, he settled her on the blanket and let loose a soft smile. With her dark lashes against her pale, slightly grimy skin, she appeared endearingly young. He wished he could sleep so peacefully but not when he had her to guard.
Blane had to bite back a groan as he came to his feet and inspected the cave in which they had spent the night. It had been pure luck there had been little cloud cover so he could find this place to shelter. He’d slept in the open by himself many a night but he wasn’t comfortable doing as much with Ceana. Glancing at her again, he assured himself he’d have her safe and warm in her bed soon enough.
And hopefully he’d be with her.
He stepped out into the daylight and peered around. Hand to his back, he tried to rub away the aches in his muscles. Och, if only he had the body of a young man still. He’d have hardly noticed he’d spent the night on a cold, hard floor, unwilling to move for fear of disturbing Ceana. Although he’d been foolish as a young man. Too easily riled and thoughtless. He doubted he would have succeeded in rescuing her without the years of experience on his side.
Blinking in the light, he eyed the river that wound past the cave. A deep pool was not a few feet from them and a small waterfall spilled into it. Slightly farther along, several large rocks that must have spilled from the hillside many decades ago acted like stepping stones into the water. He considered his dirty, painful body and the cool water in front of him.
Blane unpinned his plaid and removed the rest of his garments, before kicking off his boots and finding a relatively dry place to leave them. Cool air touched his skin and he shivered. The water would be colder but he couldn’t wait. He half-hoped it might numb his throbbing muscles. He took a moment to inspect the slice to his arm and the one that had managed to cut through his clothing on his side. They were all superficial cuts but could do with cleaning.
He made his way across the boulders and stepped into the water with a hiss. It was indeed as cold as he’d expected. Wading in, he dove under when it got deep enough and came to the surface not far from the waterfall. As he pushed his hair from his face, he twisted so as to keep an eye on the cave while water rained down on his back. Blane groaned at the feel of the water pounding his muscles into submission.
When he eyed the dark entrance to the cave, his heart did a skip as Ceana emerged from the darkness. He wasn’t sure how much she could see, so he called over. “Dinnae move.”
“Blane?” She scanned the area but he didn’t think she’d seen him.
“I’m in the water. Wait there.”
He swam over and climbed out. Her gaze suddenly latched onto him and he realised she’d caught his movement.
“Yer naked.”
He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised she could tell.
“We’re near the river’s edge. Dinnae move.” He took her hand.
“And yer wet.”
“Aye.”
“Is it cold?”
“Very.”
“Can I join ye?”
“Ye’ll get cold,” he warned.
“I need to wash, Blane. I need to—” Her voice cracked a little.
He understood it. She needed to wash away the touch of those Sassenachs. “Turn around,” he said gruffly.
The image of her being manhandled by the brutes sent a dart of hot fury through him, made all the worse by the scratches he spied on her hands...and the bruises on her body that he revealed as he stripped her down. Not even the sight of her milky skin and fragile figure could eat through his anger.
“Mac an donais,” he hissed.
“What is it?” She shivered and wrapped her arms about her waist as he pushed her garments to her feet and helped her step out.
He skimmed a finger over a bruise on her shoulder. “Did they harm ye?”
“They were no’ gentle, but ‘twas nae deliberate. I fell a lot mostly.”
Blane swallowed the hard knot in his throat. “Yer covered in marks.”
She turned to stare up a
t him, those eyes eating into his very soul. “Is it very ugly to look at?”
“God, nay. Never.” He drew her close and relished the feel of her gentle body against his. His fury almost forgotten at her vulnerable words, arousal began to simmer through his veins.
Grasping her hand, he guided her across the rocks, careful to ensure she didn't slip. Ceana hissed when her toes met the water.
“I told ye,” he said with a smile at her grimace when she stepped farther in.
“Och, the loch is colder.”
He wasn't sure he believed her but he admired her lifted chin and the way her eyes blazed with determination. He loved her courage.
He loved her. His heart pounded with the truth of it.
The cold water enveloped his body though he hardly noticed it when Ceana came close, her naked body brushing his. In response, Blane wrapped his arms about her and held her tight to him—reassuring himself, perhaps, that she was here, alive and well. That she was in his arms and he wouldn’t have to let her go again.
She gasped as their bodies touched. He wasn't sure how much she saw in the dappled light that spilled in little pools onto the water but she stared up at his face and he had to assume she saw something. She would never see the love in his eyes, however. He wasn't so sure he was good enough with words to tell her either. With his touch, though? Mayhap.
Moving his hands down her body, he took his time skimming them over her spine, up and down before curving his palms over her rear. Not even ice water would have been able to prevent his arousal, and a smile slipped across her face when she felt it prod her belly.
“Are ye no' a little tired?” she asked, wrapping her hands around his neck and nudging his shaft slightly. Ceana's way of telling him she certainly wasn't.
“Never too tired for ye.”
She released a low sigh. “What ye did was so dangerous, Blane. I cannae forget it. Ye could have been killed. By all rights, ye should have been. How many other men would survive such a fight?”
I Left My Heart in Scotland Page 27
