Faced with his imminent death, the man quickly lost control of his carriage, and instead of continuing onward, the horses changed direction instead. Now shocked back into consciousness, Elizabeth pulled her head back inside and grabbed the edges of the window, preparing herself for an imminent crash. Rumbling, crackling and tumbling, the coach jumped and trembled underneath her. This is it! I am going to fall down a ledge! She gritted her teeth, trying to persuade herself that she had made her choice, and that there was no room for regrets. It did not work at all, and she could feel her whole body shiver in response.
Then, after a good deal of rattling, the carriage abruptly stopped. The force of the halt had propelled her forward, and only a timely interception of both her hands had prevented her from breaking her nose when she hit the seat on the other side. Has the coach fallen into a small ditch, then? The thought was comforting, but the idea of being surrounded by barbarians was far less so. What are they going to do to me? She bit the inside of her lip, causing it to bleed just a little bit. Footsteps could be heard from the outside, a clear indication that the wild men had no intention whatsoever of leaving her be. Perhaps there may be room for regrets yet…
A shadow went over her window, apparently belonging to a man who was not quite close enough to stick his head inside and look. A moment later another one followed. Someone will look inside any moment now. The image of her coachman being shot through the throat showed up in her mind, and continued repeating again and again. Is that what they are going to do to me? Or is it going to be… worse? She could feel her heart pounding faster. Her breathing would have increased in pace as well, had she remembered to do it at all.
“Top of the day tae ye, lassie!” A voice could be heard, right from the outside of her window. It was masculine and powerful, yet melodic in a strange way. She had never heard a Scotsman speak before, and the way he rolled his R’s would have sounded comical to her, were she not in her dire situation. Having been completely overtaken by instinct, she did not reply. Instead, Elizabeth sat on the floor of the coach, pressed her back on one side, and hugged her knees with both arms. She had no plan, and by all accounts, had consigned herself to her fate. Whatever that might be…
“Are ye going tae step out? I dinnae wish tae drag such a bonnie lassie out by th’hair!” The man spoke again.
The Lord help me. She made herself rise, and felt that she did not shake as much as she expected to. This man’s voice, wild though it might be, does seem to calm me somewhat. She grabbed the side of her window again, and started to pull herself out. Almost momentarily, a pair of strong, hirsute hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out effortlessly. Just what is he trying to do? she asked herself as the man lifted her up, but as she found herself staring into the man’s green eyes, she found herself unable to do anything else.
He was beyond handsome, although in an unusually rough way. His face was strong, with a week-old red beard. His hair was of the same shade, albeit significantly longer. His body rippled with bulging muscles, and nearly every inch of it was covered in thin, fiery hair. He wore one of those skirt-things, yet it was amazing how it did not detract from his appearance.
“Now, is it nae better out here?” He asked as he put her down on what passed for ground in this wayward country. It was uneven and rough, and she was certain that would have cut into her feet was she not wearing her shoes.
“Who are you and what are you going to do to me?” She asked, unable to comprehend just how disrespectful her tone had made her sound.
“That isnae the way tae speak to th’Laird! Show proper respect, or I’ll chop off yer tits n’ slap ye with ‘em!” One of the men exclaimed from the side. The man who had pulled her out of the coach did not say a word. Instead, he stared at her with a mixture of amusement and… something else.
Oh, Lord… he hasn’t taken a liking to me, has he? She had undertaken her journey to escape from a man, not to leap into the hands of another. Despite how strong those hands might be. She shook the thought from her head, causing another bemused reaction from the man.
“Since ye asked nicely, I’ll indulge ye. This man we’ve shot through th’neck was a regular blackguard. Works with one of ‘em ransom-asking clans way up north. If we dinnae stop him, he’d have sold ye to them the way one’d sell a hen!” The men laughed at his remark, and he smiled as he talked.
Elizabeth was so shocked she had to cover her mouth with her hand. So, those were his intentions… I was a fool. Then, having composed herself, she again took a posture that denoted her excellent breeding. “Then I am afraid that I have misjudged you, good sirs. Thank you so much for your assistance!” She took a polite bow as she spoke. The men did not seem impressed.
“Why, would ye look at that! We’ve got ourselves a proper English lass here! Tell me, lassie, dae ye perform tricks?” Another man spoke with a mixture of curiosity and outright disdain. Most of the others laughed. The man who had pulled Elizabeth from the carriage did not.
“That’ll be enough of that! We’ve a long way back home, and I dae not intent to waste it here! Move!” He announced as he directed a disapproving stare toward every present party, Elizabeth included. What little safety she could feel due to the way he looked at her had evaporated that very instant.
“Sir? What about me?” She forced herself into asking. The way everyone looked at her made her wish that she hadn’t.
“What dae ye mean, ‘what about you?’” He chuckled slightly as he posed the question.
“Well, I am down a coach, and I am afraid that I do not know this area… well, at all! I could do with some directions, given that the lot of you have just saved me from this man!” She spoke in the most courteous manner she could. Hopefully, that will soften them up a little bit. Then, she remembered the contents of her purse, opened it up and showed it to them. “I am not completely deprived of assets, as you can see. If anyone would be willing to escort me to the nearest town, I would be more than willing to offer adequate compensation!”
Like a cat grabbing a runaway mouse, the man who had helped her out pulled the purse out of her hands within an eye-blink. He took a single look at the contents, smiled a little bit, and closed it up. “Yer offer is mighty generous, lassie, but I’m afraid I’ll have ta refuse!” As if he had said something else entirely, he let the purse hang around his waist. On such a body, it appeared almost comical. Almost.
He has stolen my money! She could feel her nails bite into her palms once again. “What am I to do then? Deprived of money, and in a foreign land, surely I’ll expire! I urge you to reconsider!”
The men laughed in unison. “Oh, ye won’t expire, lassie! Although after a while, ye might wish that ye had! We’re taking ye with us!” He exclaimed with a wicked grin. The men around him seemed to approve, albeit their own expressions appeared even more sinister.
Just what have I gotten myself into? she tried asking herself. At the moment, the boring-yet-harmless William didn’t seem all that bad.
That night
It seems as if everyone is asleep. She opened her eyes, lifter her head up and observed the improvised camp. It had been dark for a good while now, but the moonlight was so intense she could practically see everything. The sound of many men snoring was strong in the area; a clear indication that she had a chance to run toward freedom. But where do I go? she asked herself. Her money had been snatched away by that man who appeared to have been their leader. Laird, they called him? What a stupid way to say ‘Lord’…
Despite her better judgment, she forced herself to slowly rise from the ground. Her heart pounding as she stood up, she took another careful look around. The snoring was as loud as ever. Just how do these men manage to sleep so soundly on such a rough excuse for a bed is beyond me! The path was clear. Having taken a deep breath, Elizabeth forced herself into raising one foot, and placing it forward. The sound was practically nonexistent by itself, but the snoring had made it completely undetectable. Yes! She made another step, closely followed
by another, each one quicker and more stable than the last.
That was intense. It most certainly took her a while, but by the time she was finally far enough to stop watching her steps, she felt infinitely better. Now it will be just a simple matter of retracing our steps. After looking back once, she considered going back for her money, but ultimately declared it a lost cause. Nothing can be done about that now. She was definitely fortunate to have gotten out of there, and pushing her luck any further was a bad idea. Once more, she turned her back toward the encampment, and started walking away.
“Goodbye, Laird,” she heard herself whisper unintentionally. Stupid, stupid girl! He stole your money! For all you know, you will starve because of that! Elizabeth tried to force herself into hating the man, but it would just not work. There was… something about him that outright prevented her from wishing him ill. Even more curious, she could swear that he felt the same way. Like that would ever happen! As I was saying, stupid girl. She chuckled at her naivety a little bit.
Suddenly, from behind one of the rocks to the side of whatever passed for a road in these parts, she could hear something move. Blood froze in her veins, and she could feel herself unable to take a breath. “Who—who is there?” She asked, uncertain of whether she should scream or try to keep quiet.
“Nothin’ more or less than a dirty, uncultured Scottish brute, I’m afraid!” A man spoke as he slowly rose from the shadows. He was large, although not as much as the Laird. After a few moments’ time, she even managed to recognize him. The man who was making fun of me! she concluded. But what does he want?
“Alright, sir! I’m afraid that you’ve caught me! I am deeply sorry for trying to get away. I will head back toward the camp now, and I will not make any more trouble. In return, would you be willing to let this go?” She could feel the cold sweat trickle down the side of her face. “Please?” She added with an awkward smile.
“Oh, I will be taking things in return, all right! I’m just not certain ‘bout everything else ye’ve said, though!” He said as he started advancing toward her. Immediately, she could see that something was amiss with him, and her gaze quickly fell down toward his groun. The skirt-thing appeared to be hanging just barely, as if something was pushing it up from beneath. No! Oh, no! Without saying a word, she turned around and started running. It took the man a whole second to catch up and toss her down on the ground.
“No! Please don’t! Ple-“ the impact of the man’s hand on her mouth instantly made her stop screaming. In horror, she couldn’t help but stare into the man’s face, completely paralyzed. So, this is what he is going to do to me, the words echoed inside her mind as he grabbed the sides of her long skirt and ripped them apart mercilessly. Stupid, stupid girl! Unable to watch, she closed her eyes, choosing to spare at least one of her senses from what was about to follow.
Surprisingly, even though several seconds have passed since she stopped watching, still nothing happened. Instead, the man’s touch had unexpectedly weakened, and she could feel something wet and warm splash the sides of her face. It was sticky, and smelled like metal.
Blood? The thought shocked her back into consciousness and she opened her eyes, regretting it instantly. The man was still standing over her, albeit his head was missing. A veritable fountain of crimson was there in its stead, erupting in a gory fashion. As if it hadn’t realized that it was dead, the man’s body contorted and twitched, burying its fingers in her nude thighs. Then, as if to make the whole display just a little bit more unpleasant, it collapsed on top of her, showering her in a fresh coat of red. Wheezing, she tried to catch her breath, but the man was massive, even without his head, and she found herself having to fight just to remain conscious.
However, just as she was about to pass out, someone had grabbed the body and removed it from her as if it weighed nothing at all. Still barely able to comprehend just what was going on, she found herself staring into the face of the Laird. His muscles, so beautiful by day, appeared even more splendid under the light of the moon. The claymore he had embedded into the ground just next to him seemed to help with the sight, reflecting just a little bit more illumination toward his features. To her, he appeared not unlike a god. Then, he did something altogether ungodly.
Having moved the body out of the way, the Laird lunged toward her, grabbed the back of her head with his bloody palm, and kissed her passionately. The taste of his tongue mixed with that of the blood, creating an electric feeling that caused her body to shiver, and her loins to stir. She wanted the feeling to last forever.
Sadly, he needed to breathe as much as she did, and, after a good while, they slowly broke contact. Then, for a single, divine moment, they shared an intimate stare. He appeared absolutely perfect to her. For her. And she knew for a fact that he had felt the same way. She could see it in his eyes. Then, one of the other men dared say something, and ruined everything.
“My Laird! What happened here!?”
“Connor overstepped his boundaries, and he paid th’price! That is all there is to it,” the Laird spoke, his face covered with the man’s blood.
In response, the other men took a step back, practically in unison.
The next day
Standing tall at the top of a hill, Angus MacDonnell observed his native highland. Her rough, untamed mountains towered over the rest of the world, eclipsing it with their beauty in more ways than one. Yet, rare was the foreigner who didn’t consider himself better in some way. As if their shite didn’t stink. Such arrogance angered him to no end. They were soft, the lot of them; soft, unmanly and impotent. Their sheltered lives had made them that way, and their reluctance toward change made sure that they would never overcome their sickness. But that woman, she is different.
She was a mystery to him. Everything about her screamed ‘spoiled, sheltered princess,’ yet for some unknown reason, she had decided to leave the great lie behind, and step into the highland. And th’way she looks at me… He conjured up the image of her wanting face, splashed with blood as it was. It was so different than the way other women saw him, of that he was certain. Oh, there was a definite want—a lust in their gazes, but more than anything else, what they desired from him was, above all, his title. They all vied for the position of ‘wife to the head of the Clan,’ and none of them got it. The fact that he considered an Englishwoman for the role mystified him to no end, yet felt as natural as it could possibly be.
Yet why should I be surprised by it? He closed his eyes to the scenery, moving his hands and remembering the way her things curved. She was so, so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but want her. Th’others will not be pleased. He formed his hands into fists, opened his eyes and prepared to turn toward the encampment. I dinnae care. She is mine, and whoever complains will have to take it up with me.
Just as he was about to take his first step down the hill, though, he noticed four powerfully built figures as they approached him from lower down. He recognized them immediately, even from distance. ‘Tis Dougal and his band. He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles and straightened his back. So it’s already underway. He grinned, donning an expression he reserved for a fight. Oh, he knew that they would not dare attack him in plain sight, but it couldn’t hurt to put on a fearsome display. He grabbed his claymore, strapped to his back as it was, pulled it out and embedded it into the ground before him. The earth was hard, yet the blade cut into it effortlessly. As it should.
“Stay yer blade, Laird MacDonnell! We’re here to discuss, nae tae fight! If I wanted tae pose a challenge to ye, I’d have done it proper!” The man at the head of the group spoke. He was taller than Angus, but older, wirier, and not as handsome. Dark, white-streaked hair covered his head, as well as his body. Rare is th’day that Dougal shies from combat! Angus thought, and his grin became even more pronounced. This should go easy, then! “Whoever said I wanted to fight ye? I merely enjoy th’feelin’ of a claymore in my hands, is all!”
“Aye, with what you did to poor Connor last night, I think ye en
joy the feelin’ a wee bit too much,” Dougal exclaimed, still not close enough for Angus to be able to hear him properly. Even so, it was obvious that he had planned for the rest of the men to hear him.
“’Tis what it is, Dougal. I’ve set my eyes on the lass, and he dared try and take her before me. Do you question my right?” He contorted his eyebrows, forming a snarl.
“Of course nae, Angus. I have served yer father with honor, and I will serve ye just as well. I am just worried about ye, is all.” Even though the older man gave his best to appear earnest, Angus could tell that Dougal was not pleased with his new Laird. Ever since I’ve succeeded the position, he had stared at me with disapproval. For all Angus knew, this man was planning on making a move against him sometime in the future. And I just might have given ‘em a reason… He gritted his teeth. No regrets, he reminded himself. It was the most important lesson his father had taught him.
“What is there t’be worried about, Dougal? As far as I can see, and it’s pretty damn far, everything is in the best of order. We’ve taken out one of our enemies’ vipers, and I’ve found myself a new plaything. Go ahead and find me a dent in that!”
“Plaything? Is that all the woman will be to ye, my Laird? If ye’d kill one of yer own for as much as a plaything, than I fear nae for ye. Nae, I fear for the entire clan!” Dougal spoke dramatically, but Angus could tell that every move he made had been planned out beforehand. Indeed, he had spent most of the night scheming. Far as I know, he might have even sent Connor to try and claim th’lassie. Angus tightened his grip on the handle, causing the men’s expressions to darken up just a little bit. They were well used to battle, but taking on one’s Laird was a different beast entirely, and they were all aware of it. As expected, nae one would dare.
Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3) Page 68
