Highland Barbarian

by Howell, Hannah

  “Easy now, lass,” Artan murmured in what he hoped was a calming voice as he lifted her up and set her on his horse.

  He was speaking to her as if she were some nervous pet or ill-tempered horse, she thought crossly. She considered hurling herself off the horse, then scolded herself for even considering such a foolish idea. There was a very good chance that all she would accomplish was to hurt herself. About the only way such an action could harm Sir Artan was if she fell on him. Considering her somewhat small stature, she could not even be sure she could do that.

  Artan mounted behind her. “Now we can remove these bonds,” he said as he untied her ankles so that she could sit astride the horse. “Just wanted to be sure ye didnae try anything foolish like running.”

  It was a little late to run now, she thought crossly. The time to run had been the first time he had kissed her. In fact, she should have immediately informed her kinsmen and her betrothed about the insult. They would have tossed him out of Dunburn after beating some manners into him. But, no, she had been intrigued, delighted, and deeply stirred by his kiss, and the feeling had just grown stronger with each embrace. Just thinking of how stupid she had been made her so angry she proceeded to vilify his character, his manhood, and his ancestors.

  “Now I ken that ye are a wee bit angry at this rough treatment, but ’tis only until we get away from Dunburn,” Artan said as he started to ride, eager to get out of the Lowlands.

  Cecily wondered if having visions of staking a man out in the dirt and slowly gutting him could really be called being a wee bit angry. She sincerely doubted it. She was feeling bloodthirsty and was heartily frustrated by the gag that prevented her from telling him so.

  Artan could not see her eyes, but he was fairly sure that she was not simply asking for an explanation. The gag made her words impossible to understand, but the tone of them was fairly clear. For a moment after he had tied and gagged her she had looked so hurt he had almost freed her. Only the knowledge that her life was in danger kept him from doing so. Anger was better. He could deal with anger. However, just in case she was demanding why he was doing this, he decided to give her a partial explanation.

  “I am taking ye to Glascreag. I couldnae wait any longer to persuade ye. Now, we have to ride hard for a while as I need to put as much distance between us and Dunburn as possible, but when we stop for a rest, I will tell ye everything.”

  When he spurred his horse to a greater speed, Cecily was thrown back against his chest. She did not want to go to Glascreag. She did not want a full explanation. All she wanted was to get back to her bedchamber at Dunburn and lick her wounds. When they stopped and he untied and ungagged her, she would make that very clear to him.

  And then she would kill him.

  Chapter 8

  “Pestilent swine! Overbearing ogre! How dare ye do this to me!”

  Artan looked down at the furious woman berating him so colorfully and idly wondered if he ought to put the gag back on her. Her fine green eyes sparkled with fury, her smooth cheeks were flushed with the heat of her anger, and her lovely breasts heaved as she spit out insults so quickly she could barely catch her breath. She was glorious and he felt his whole body go rigid with lust. Here was the spirit he had caught the rare glimpse of back at Dunburn. Here was his mate. He hastily bit back a smile, knowing that it would only enrage her more.

  Cecily caught the glint of amusement in his eyes and felt bloodthirsty. “Are ye laughing at me?”

  “Nay,” he replied.

  She did not believe him. “This isnae amusing. Ye will take me back to Dunburn immediately and mayhap, just mayhap, I willnae demand that they hang ye in chains from the walls to be food for the crows.” When he grinned, she kicked him in the shin and felt a sharp pain go right up her leg. “Brute!” she nearly screeched as she hopped around until the pain began to ease. “Ye are made of stone, arenae ye! Jesu, ye have crippled me!” Cecily reached out to rub her sore foot and realized her hands were still wrapped in cloth and her wrists were still tied.

  Artan did not think he had ever heard a woman growl like that. It was the kind of noise that could make a whole pack of dogs tuck tail and run. He grunted softly when she hit him on the chest with her bound hands. For a moment he let her pound on him. He felt he deserved the abuse. She had come to their tryst ready to be his lover and had ended up his prisoner. If the same thing had happened to him, he would be very eager to kill someone. When he sensed her weakening, he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her away from him as he struggled to think of the best way to begin his explanations.

  Cecily blew aside a lock of hair that was hanging in her face and glared at Artan. She knew hurt was part of the fuel that fed her anger, but she refused to let it show. The man had tricked her in the lowest, most despicable of ways. She had believed in his attention and his kisses and had been willing to risk so much just to be held in his arms for a while. If the depth of the hurt she felt was any indication, she had also allowed him to creep into her heart. She could not believe she had been such a blind, credulous fool.

  The way he so effortlessly held her at a distance also told her she had been a fool to think she could hurt him in even the smallest of ways. Her toes hurt and her fists stung, yet he did not look to have suffered even a bruise from her assault. It was utterly humiliating.

  No, she thought, what was humiliating was the fact that she had let this man touch her. Even after riding all night she could still feel the touch of his hands on her body and the warmth of his kisses on her mouth. She had allowed him to make her weak and blind with passion, while he had obviously just been waiting for the right moment to bind and gag her and toss her over the back of his horse. Hanging him from the walls of Dunburn was too gentle a punishment, she decided.

  “Now, lass, there really is a good reason for what I am doing,” Artan said.

  “Ye have obviously taken far too many blows to the head,” she snapped as she continued to glare at him.

  Artan ignored that. “I am doing this to keep ye safe.”

  “Safe? Safe from what? The tedious chore of having to share a table with Anabel and Sir Fergus?”

  “Anabel and Sir Fergus want more than to bore ye at your meal. They are all cheating you and have been for years. Nay long after ye marry that chinless fool Sir Fergus, he intends to make verra sure that ye are nay longer in the way of him, Anabel, and Sir Edmund living grandly off your inheritance.”

  “Dinnae be ridiculous. I dinnae have any inheritance.”

  “Aye, ye do, although I cannae be sure of what and how much. Whate’er your legacy is, the Donaldsons and your betrothed dinnae want ye to enjoy any of it. Never have.”

  “Ye are just trying to justify what ye have done.”

  “Nay, I heard them, all of them. Lady Anabel, Sir Edmund, and your betrothed. They have been lying to ye from the verra start. Dunburn and whate’er coin it brings or your father had should all be yours, but they have left everyone, including ye, thinking that Sir Edmund was the heir.”

  “Of course he was the heir. He is the closest male relation.”

  “It doesnae have to be the male. Your da wasnae a laird. Aye, he has some rich lands, but he still wasnae a laird, wasnae the head of the clan. He could leave his holdings and his coin to ye if he chose. Did ye really think he would leave ye naught?”

  Of course she had never thought that. It had been one reason she had been so hurt when she had been told that she was no more than a poor orphan who had to depend upon the kindness of her unkind relations. She had simply thought that her father had not made his intentions clear or had neglected to say what should happen if both he and Colin had died. Cecily felt the tickle of belief and quickly smothered it. She had accepted matters as they were for so long, she did not dare think otherwise. If nothing else, it would mean she had been the greatest of fools.

  Just as she had been for Artan, she suddenly thought and scowled at him. Standing in front of her was hard proof of just how big a fool she could be.
While that meant he might be telling the truth, that she had been lied to and cheated for years, it also told her that she had to be very careful about heeding anything he said.

  “I think he ne’er thought that both he and Colin would die, that is what I think. Everyone kenned that Colin was his heir, but no one said who should take my brother’s place if he too died. I was too young to discuss it all with Da. And there may weel have been something set down that placed Sir Edmund as my guardian if my father died. Aye, probably of Colin as weel.”

  “So your father liked and trusted Sir Edmund, did he?”

  Cecily felt the urge to kick him for simply asking that question, but then she recalled the injury to her toes when she had kicked him earlier. She had been only a child when she had lost her father, but she felt very sure that he had never liked or trusted his cousin Edmund. Sir Edmund had no morals, and that alone would have disgusted her father. However, he might have had no choice. There were few other close Donaldson kinsmen, and someone, specifically some man, had to be named as guardian to the children in case her father died before they were old enough to care for themselves. Better a bad guardian than none at all.

  “I was too young to ken exactly what my father felt about his cousins.”

  She was lying, Artan thought and sighed. “The way ye try to ignore the truth is just why I couldnae wait and talk to ye about it or help ye find out the truth for yourself. Once ye were married to Sir Fergus, your life would have been in imminent danger.”

  “If I am such a great heiress, why should my life be in danger? The mon willnae wish to kill the fatted calf.”

  “He will if all that calf owns then comes to him as her husband.”

  He nodded when she paled. It was easy to see that she was valiantly fighting that fear, pushing aside his truth for the one she had believed for so long. It was a start, however. The very fact that she felt that fear, no matter how brief, told him that she did not have complete faith in the innocence of her betrothed or her guardians. Cecily was too smart not to see that none of them was a good person, that they each lacked any true morals, and it was but a short step from that to seeing that they could indeed be plotting her demise.

  Deciding to let her think on all he had said so far, Artan fetched the bag she had brought to their tryst. He spread out a blanket, then gently urged her to sit down on it. Ignoring her scowl, he tied their ankles together before he untied her hands so that she could eat and drink. Artan felt sure she would not try to attack him again, but he suspected she would still try to run if he gave her a chance. Until she accepted the danger that awaited her at the hands of her guardians and betrothed, he could not allow her too much freedom.

  The silence that held while they each had something to eat and shared some wine was not a comfortable one, but he let it stand. Even if she did come to believe him about the threat from ones she had long considered her family and the man she had been about to marry, there was still the matter of how their romantic tryst by the burn had ended. It would be a while before she began to forgive him for that. He just hoped it was not too long, for just thinking about those heady moments they had shared in the moonlight had him aching for her.

  Cecily was surprised she could eat anything she was so knotted up with fear, anger, and doubt. Being kidnapped obviously gave one a hearty appetite, she thought crossly, then sighed. Looking beyond her hurt over what she saw as Artan’s gross betrayal, she had to admit that he had not really hurt her. If he really believed what he was saying about Anabel, Edmund, and Fergus, then he had truly been thinking only of her safety.

  She inwardly shook her head. It could not be true. Not one of those three people was a particularly good person, but she could not believe they would actually steal from her for twelve long years and then want her dead. And how would Sir Fergus have become a part of all this? He had never been close friends with Edmund or Anabel, so Cecily could not believe they had suddenly taken the man into their confidence. And if they truly had been cheating her for so long, they would hardly willingly hand everything over to Fergus.

  “Just how did ye happen to hear all of this?” she suddenly asked. “I cannae believe Anabel and Edmund wouldnae be verra, verra careful if they were hiding something.”

  “They were careful. After all, ye havenae heard anything and ye have lived with them for twelve years.”

  “And yet ye come to Dunburn and within four days hear and know all?”

  “I dinnae ken all, but I was simply in the right place at the right time and heard them. I think Lady Anabel’s voice could cut through steel,” he murmured, and caught the briefest flash of amusement in Cecily’s eyes. “As I passed by her solar, I heard her complaining that I wouldnae leave. Since I had been set upon several times since arriving, I was curious to hear if she spoke of any further plans to see me gone.”

  “What do ye mean ye were set upon?”

  “From the verra beginning I have been attacked at least once a day, most often twice. Ere we left Dunburn, the number of men set after me had grown to eight.”

  “But I ne’er saw any wounds on ye, nay e’en a bruise or two.”

  “There were a few after that last attack, but, nay, I was ne’er seriously wounded. Your uncle taught me weel, and the men sent after me werenae verra skilled in battle.”

  He sounded so arrogant it made her teeth clench. Then Cecily recalled his entrance into the great hall that first day and decided he may have the right to be so arrogant about his fighting skills. She doubted any of the Donaldson or Ogilvey men could have gotten past all the guards and so casually held two men by their jupons, then tossed them aside with such ease.

  “But why should anyone want to attack ye, to make ye leave? Sir Edmund invited ye to stay after all.”

  “That doesnae mean he meant it. I come from your closest blood kin. It wouldnae be wise to cast me out, to refuse to allow me to stay for the wedding. Such treatment of your uncle’s emissary would raise questions, aye? And Sir Edmund doesnae want anyone asking questions.”

  “I cannae see that Sir Edmund would worry about my uncle asking questions. The mon hasnae cared what happened to me since the day Da and Colin were killed. ’Tis only because he is facing the end of his life that he e’en recalled me.”

  “Are ye sure of that?” Artan asked softly, and watched both doubt and hurt flicker over her face before she controlled it. “He says he has written ye and sent ye gifts, that he has often asked that ye be allowed to come stay with him at Glascreag. Ye say ye have written him and sent him gifts at Michaelmas, yet he got nothing.” He shrugged. “One has to wonder why when two people say they have done such things that neither of them received what was sent.”

  Cecily opened her mouth to say that her uncle was a liar but could not get the words out. Her memories of her uncle had always been clear, partly because they were all tied up with the tragedy of watching her brother and father killed. Every little thing about that time was etched into her memory. Angus MacReith was blunt to the point of rudeness. She simply could not believe he would lie about writing to her or not receiving her letters. The various messengers she had used had never mentioned having any trouble, but then she had never pressed any of them very hard for information.

  For a moment she felt almost panicked, but she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Even if it was true that Edmund and Anabel had deceived her about her uncle, had made certain that she believed the man had forgotten about her, it did not make the rest of what Artan said the truth. It could just mean that her guardians had not wanted Angus to try to interfere in her raising in even the smallest way.

  Sensing that he had hit the mark with that revelation, Artan hurried to continue, “And though it shames me to admit to it, that last attack did leave me marked.” He yanked up his kilt to reveal the wound he had taken on his right thigh. “That mon willnae be abusing any more of Dunburn’s guests,” he said with some satisfaction. “And the attack did allow me to leave Thunderbolt at the burn, though I ha
ted letting anyone think me fool enough to lose my horse.”

  Cecily stared at the wound on his thigh. There was no denying that it was a sword wound. Artan had been very lucky. It had been a shallow cut, so shallow that it had already closed, even the hard ride through the night not tearing it open.

  Once the shock of seeing his wound began to fade, however, she grew fascinated by the sight of his bared leg. Despite the long, thick hair on his head and the dark shadow of an emerging beard, Artan was not a very hirsute man. The covering of hair upon his long legs was light, revealing dark skin stretched taut over hard muscle. He even had attractive knees, she mused. Her hands actually itched to stroke that long, well-shaped leg.

  When he pulled his kilt back down, Cecily blinked and then had to fight back a blush. It was obviously going to take some time for her to conquer her attraction to this man. She quickly turned her thoughts to the matter of his claims concerning Angus and how he himself had been attacked several times while at Dunburn. Since she had, more or less, accepted that her guardians could have worked to keep her and Angus apart, she supposed it was also possible that they had tried hard to rid themselves of Angus’s emissary. They would not want to risk her or Artan asking too many questions. It still did not mean that there was some insidious plot to cheat or murder her. After all, Artan was still alive. She quickly said as much to him.

  Artan sighed but was able to push aside his annoyance over her continued disbelief. She was right. Just because her guardians might be guilty of keeping her away from Angus did not mean they plotted with Sir Fergus to kill her and keep her inheritance, one she still did not believe she had anyway.

  “I ken what I heard, lass,” he said. “Sir Fergus is to marry ye and he has signed marriage contracts that will allow your guardians to legally claim Dunburn and a hefty purse. For that generosity he gets ye and a small fortune. He intends that your widow’s portion will also become a part of the spoils the three of them shall share. After he tires of ye he means to become a widower. I heard him say so.”