“Hallooo!” she called out. Before going in, she shouted for Broc. But the weeping became more frantic, and Seana didn’t wait to see if Broc had heard her. She went in after the child, carrying the torch before her. Its light cast dancing shadows along the ancient walls, making eerie shadows leap out at her. The cave was small, but very deep, and Seana hurried through the passage, thinking it must run perpendicular to the cairn.
“Och, God!” she exclaimed, spying the child at the end of the passage. Her heart twisted to see her. She was bound, her little hands behind her back, her feet as well, and her mouth, too, though the cloth had worked itself free just a bit. Seana set the torch against the wall, willing it to remain upright, and untied the muzzle first. It was soaked from tears and saliva, and the little girl shook with fear as Seana moved to untie her hands.
“It’s all right, dearlin’!” she crooned, peering over her shoulder at the entrance. “It’s all right. All is well now… all is well… dinna worry.” She reached out to pat the child’s head, hoping Broc had heard her and was on his way.
In truth, she didn’t feel all was well at all. Someone had left her here and whoever it was was certain to return. Making quick work of the ties at her wrists, Seana then untied her legs, wincing at the sight of the markings the bindings had made upon her tender flesh.
The poor child was filthy and frightened, and looked vaguely familiar though her face was far too dirty to recognize. She wanted to call out to Broc again but didn’t dare. What if her abductors were near. The child continued to cry, and Seana lifted her up, then the torch and comforted her as she carried her out. The child clung to her, sobbing hysterically.
“Shhhhh,” Seana said. “Shhhhh, dearlin’… let’s get out of here, then ye can tell me everything. Shhhh…”
She hurried out of the cave, exhaling a breath of relief when she emerged into the foggy night air and there was still no one in sight. The entrance to the cave was far enough from her home that she doubted anyone would look for them there, thus she started toward the cairn, hoping no one would come upon them in the meantime, hoping Broc had heard her cries. She didn’t dare call for him now, didn’t dare draw attention to herself. Whoever could do this to a gentle child could not possibly have a heart.
“I want… I-I want my brother,” the child whined, and it was the first thing she had spoken.
Seana patted her back, soothing her. “We’ll go’n find him soon,” she promised. “Dinna worry!”
She began to run as best she could, carrying the torch and the child.
She was in such a hurry and the fog was so thick that she didn’t immediately see her visitors until it was too late. They spied her first, their gazes drawn by her torch. Seana’s heart very nearly leapt from her breast in fear before she realized it was Colin… and someone else.
“Och, God!” the boy with Colin exclaimed. “Constance!” He rushed at her, but Seana wouldn’t have given the child up had she not shrieked in recognition and very nearly leapt into his arms. She clung to him, sobbing frantically.
“Where did you find her?” Colin asked.
Seana couldn’t help herself; she cast herself into Colin’s arms, her heart beating frantically. “Hidden in a cave,” she said, clinging desperately.
She was so happy to see him, so glad he had come! She didn’t know what had brought him, but she didn’t care at the moment. She needed him to hold her.
“Broc and I heard her weepin’ from within the cairn,” she hurriedly explained. “We went in search of her. I found her in a small cave, bound with rope and gagged.”
Colin winced, and peered about. “Go inside,” he told Cameron, nodding toward the cairn and the faint light that shone within. “Take her with you and put out the light!” he commanded the boy.
For once, Cameron obeyed and ducked within the cairn, soothing his wee sister as they hurried inside. He held her so tightly, Seana thought he might break her.
“Who could have done such a thing?” Seana asked, shivering.
“FitzSimon,” he told her, holding her close.
Seana never wanted him to let her go.
Colin swallowed the knot that rose in his throat.
God help him, he never wanted to let her go.
He pressed his chin against her temple, daring to hold her, daring to breathe in her scent, wanting to protect her.
Always.
“Where is Broc?”
“Still searching. We separated,” she explained, “to search more quickly.” She clung to him, and Colin’s heart pounded against his ribs. “Who is FitzSimon?” she asked, shivering again.
“Page’s da.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, clutching him and Colin reveled in the passion with which she embraced him. She was afraid, he knew, but the reason didn’t matter. He relished the feel of her in his arms.
She peered up at him. “MacKinnon’s bride?”
“Aye.”
Her expression screwed with confusion, and she tilted her head. Christ, but he wanted to kiss her in that instant. He wanted to take her head in his hands, and lower his mouth to her lips and taste the sweet nectar of her mouth.
“He wants his daughter back,” he explained, “and will stop at nothing to reclaim her it seems—Sassenach bastard!”
She clutched him suddenly in a moment of terror. “Are they coming? Dear God—Broc!” she exclaimed, and Colin’s heart twisted to see her dread at the thought of Broc faced with FitzSimon and his men. “He doesna know, Colin! What if they should happen upon him?”
The last thing he wished to do was leave her, but Broc was his friend as well, and he’d not see him come to harm. He slid his arm around her neck, drawing her close, daring to embrace her, knowing it would likely be the last time. She was not his woman, never had been.
She didn’t love him.
“I’ll find him,” he swore. “I promise I shall find him. Dinna worry, Seana!” The wind lifted her hair, striking him like whispers against his face.
He would find Broc, because he loved her.
Because he wanted her to have everything she deserved and all that she desired.
For the longest instant, he couldn’t tear himself away. His heart ached over the loss of her, though in truth he’d never had her to begin with. He wanted to remember the feel of her in his arms, the scent of her skin… the feel of her hair in his face. He wanted to kiss her…
He couldn’t restrain himself. God strike him down, but he couldn’t stop himself. He lowered his mouth to hers and took her lips without asking.
She cried out, and tried to push away, but he groaned in protest. “Please,” he begged, whispering feverishly against her lips. “Just one kiss, Seana…”
Seana was too weak to resist him.
She wanted it far more than he could possibly know—more than she dared reveal. She melted against him, trusting him to hold her because her legs suddenly would not. His kiss seared her lips, his tongue hot against her mouth…
She opened to him, letting him taste her, letting him in—and och… God… it was the sweetest surrender she could ever imagine.
Her head reeled and her heart pounded, as she dared to kiss him back.
Colin shuddered at the feel of her tongue against his lips… he suckled it hungrily… greedily taking all that she would give.
A rotten bastard he might be for doing it, but he hoped she remembered this kiss every time Broc held her in his arms.
He hoped she remembered the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue…
He tore himself away, pecking her lips one last time with a soft kiss, whispering into her mouth…
He thrust her away, then, lest he never go. “I’ll find him, Seana,” he promised, “but he’d better treat you well, or I’ll bloody well kill him, too!”
He left her standing there, watching him go, her eyes glazed over the words he’d whispered into her mouth.
Seana lifted her fingers to her lips, bruised now from the passion in his
kiss.
Her heart beat madly, and her head reeled.
I love you, he’d whispered.
I love you, Seana.
She blinked, certain she’d only imagined it.
He couldn’t possibly have said those words to her… It had to be the wind playing cruel tricks… it just wasn’t possible.
Her lips still tingled with the feel of him… It bewildered her so that she forgot to go inside.
She stood there, staring into the darkness long after he’d disappeared from her sight…
And dared to hope.
Chapter 28
Colin was too late.
He hid at the forest’s edge, in the shadows of the trees, watching the scene unfold upon the meadow, not quite ready to reveal himself.
There were four of them, heavily armed, to Broc’s one. Broc was far bigger than any of them, but against all four his size was nothing. Broc had nary a chance unarmed as he was, save for the dagger at his belt. Colin had little more. He hadn’t left Meghan’s home intending to do battle. He hadn’t intended to leave Meghan’s at all… had it not been for Seana.
He winced as they forced Broc to his knees. One of them kneed him in the back and he crumpled at the blow. Colin started after them, his fury welling. But he hesitated, weighing his options, his body rigid with anger.
His choices were few: He could walk away and let them kill his best friend… the man Seana loved… or he could wail off a battle cry and fly at them, take his chances and fight beside Broc… and likely die beside him as well.
The second was certainly an option, distasteful as it was, but the first, not at all. He couldn’t leave Broc to their mercy. And neither would Broc have left him, he knew. Still, even with the two of them, the odds were high against them.
Neither was there time to leave and get help. Broc would be dead before Colin ever returned, and the Sassenach bastards long gone.
Nay, whatever needed be done, needed be done right now.
He could hear them speaking, but their voices were too low. One of them drew a sword and moved to Broc’s back. “Bastard!” Colin whispered fiercely. Coward! He couldn’t even face a man when killing him!
The image of Seana weeping over Broc’s death wrenched at his gut. She had suffered far too much already.
What could he do, unarmed as he was… what could he do?
Tension overwhelmed him as he watched them questioning Broc, pressing him. One of the men kicked him in the back, knocking Broc forward while another kicked him in the face. Colin’s fingers dug into the bark of the tree he was hiding behind.
When the man at Broc’s back raised his sword, Colin didn’t think, he merely reacted.
“Stop!” he called out.
All four men, and Broc as well, glanced in his direction. They couldn’t see him, he knew, hidden as he was. He swallowed, suddenly afraid though he’d never felt such a weakness before. Then again, he’d never handed himself over to be murdered in cold blood without the least chance to put up a fight.
Strength, he reminded himself. Never bargain from a position of weakness.
“Sassenach bastards!” he spat at them, and their gazes sought his voice.
The man with the sword took a step forward, lowering it, but only slightly. “Show yourself, coward!” he shouted at Colin.
Och, but Colin bloody well felt like a coward at the moment. His heart pounded faster than a virgin’s on her first night. His sword arm was good, but he’d hardly spent the time practicing as he should have—not nearly as much time as he’d spent wielding a more private sword. That one he wielded verra well, but that one wasn’t going to get him out of this mess.
“Come get me!” he taunted them, and laughed. “But do so and you’ll find yourselves with a bloody arrow through your black hearts! You might get me, aye, but I’ll take ye all to hell with me when I go! Sassenach bastards!”
They stood there, looking from one to another, and then back into the woods.
Och, but he hoped this worked. If it didn’t, he was going to end up with a bloody sword up his arse.
“Come on, now! Give me a reason to let this fly!” he demanded of them, hoping they would think he carried a crossbow.
None of them moved.
Colin’s heart pounded fiercely. “Let him go!” he shouted.
The man with the drawn sword scoffed at his demand. “Why should I?” he asked, and Colin searched his brain for a response.
Why should he, indeed?
Och, but how the hell was he supposed to know! Were he in their place, he hardly thought he’d give in to some bowman hidden in the woods. Not so easily, anyway.
Gadamn, he was in a predicament.
“Because you’re a smart man!” he replied, and winced at the poor response. He was going to get them both killed at this rate.
“Is that so?” the Sassenach leader scoffed.
“Aye, FitzSimon,” Colin countered.
“’Tis not FitzSimon!” Broc shouted suddenly. “’Tis one of his stupid lackeys!” For that he was kicked in the head. He fell over and Colin knew Broc was nearing his breaking point.
If FitzSimon was not with them… they would need return to him with something. Seana and Cameron had the child safe… Broc had no idea where the child was, nor would he have revealed it had he known… but did they realize the child was gone?
He doubted it… They must have happened upon Broc on their way to retrieve the child…
“I have the child!” he blurted.
He could tell that caught their attention. Adrenaline shot through him, as they at once began to confer with one another. Unable to read a damned thing from their body language, Colin continued. “We’re alone for the moment,” he warned, “but not for long! MacKinnon will see your arses flayed and skinned,” he promised, and wished like hell Cameron had gone after help.
Damn!
He could tell they were considering his words, because their conversation grew more heated. What the hell was he supposed to do now? In truth, he was only buying time. His only chance was for them to decide to let Broc go, and retreat…
“Let him go!” he shouted at them once more. “Let him go now while ye have the chance to leave with your heads and your bodies intact!”
The Sassenach leader lifted his head suddenly, staring in Colin’s direction. “Scots bastard!” he spat. “Who the hell do ye think ye are!”
A stupid man with no bloody plan, that was what he thought he was.
The Sassenach leader raised his sword. “Ye want him back?” he railed. “I’ll give him back!” He motioned to his men to restrain Broc, which they did easily enough, though Broc gave them a fight. “I’ll toss you his head and ye can carry it as a message for the MacKinnon! FitzSimon wants his daughter back, and he’ll not leave without her!” He spun toward Broc and raised his sword.
“Nay!” Colin shouted. “Don’t! Take me instead!”
The man stopped, and stared in his direction. “Why should I care which of your heads I remove?”
He had no idea where the hell it came from. “Because Iain MacKinnon is my brother!” Colin lied.
Broc tried to raise his head—in shock, Colin knew—but they kept him restrained.
But his lie had caught the leader’s attention. “His brother, ye say?”
“Aye!” Colin lied again, this time with more resolve.
“If that is true, why should ye wish to give yourself in return for this man?”
“Because he has a woman who would mourn him, and I have not!”
“Colin!” Broc shouted, enraged that they restrained him still, furious that he was helpless amidst so many. “Dinna do this! Ye canna trust the bastards!”
“Let him go!” Colin reasoned with them, ignoring Broc. “Let him go and I will drop my bow and walk out in plain sight in trade for his life!”
“What assurances have we that you’ll not turn and run?”
“Because I give you my word as a MacKinnon,” Colin replied, and thou
ght he must be half mad.
“Not good enough!” the Sassenach declared. “A Scotsman has no honor—and a MacKinnon even less!”
“And do you?” Colin countered. “You’re using a wee lass to fight a man’s battles! And if ye dinna let him go,” Colin bluffed, “you will be the first man to die! I’m an excellent marksman!”
Silence.
Colin persisted. “If you’ll release him, I’ll drop my bow and come stand where you can see me,” he offered, making note that they had no bows, only swords.
By Jacob’s stone—he was surely insane.
“Colin, nay!” Broc shouted. “Dinna be a stupid bastard! They’ll kill us both!”
“Nay,” Colin argued, shouting back at Broc. “They willna… because they no longer have Constance to barter with, nor Cameron either. They need to send a messenger back to Iain with their offer and the two of us are all they have! Let him go!” he persisted, shouting his demand at FitzSimon’s men. “And ye can keep me as your hostage, instead!”
The man considered it a long moment. And during that moment, the moorland was an echo of silence. The druid stones stood witness to his insanity.
Colin grit his teeth as he waited.
“And ye say ye are the MacKinnon’s brother?” the Sassenach leader shouted finally.
“Aye!” Colin replied, and hoped to hell that Broc would not call him a liar.
He suddenly needed to do this.
All his life he had taken, taken, taken—Seana was right. He had never given anything to anyone without expecting something in return. For once, he wanted to do something selfless. He wanted to show her he had changed.
Silence answered him.
His chest pounded, and his palms began to sweat. In truth, he had no one to mourn him. But Seana would mourn Broc and Colin’s life would not have been lost for naught if Broc would return to her. He had no delusions. He knew the chances of staying alive were minimal. Iain was hardly going to give up his bride, not for Broc or Colin either. Either of their lives would be forfeit. Colin’s was more expendable.
Damn, but it was.
“Very well!” the Sassenach agreed. “Show yourself!”
Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee Page 21
