Highland Resurrection (Blades of Honor Book 2)

by B. J. Scott

  “You may dress like a cleric, but you dinna look or act like any monk I have ever known.”

  “Should I be flattered or offended?” Lazarus grinned.

  “Neither. I have also never seen a monk fight off attackers with the skill of a trained warrior the way you did.” She tried not to make eye contact with him, but it was not easy. It was even harder not to stare at his handsome face, rugged chiseled features, and strong chin. He was a tall, muscular man with broad shoulders and raven hair hanging loose about his collar—not shortly cropped like most monks. He did, however, dress in a monk’s robe, leaving her imagination running wild as to what lay beneath the garment. And when he smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth, her heart skipped a beat.

  “It appears your memory of the attack has returned,” Lazarus pointed out, changing the topic of discussion. “While in your delirium, you called out a man’s name. Do you know either of the blackguards who assaulted you?”

  “Nay. I have never seen them before.” She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut as the events flooded back.

  “If you can identify the men who did this to you, perhaps the local magistrate can see they are punished,” Lazarus said. “You mentioned the name Roderick several times.”

  Her eyes flew open, her blood running cold. Had she actually called that out in her sleep? “I know no one by that name,” she lied. “Perhaps you were mistaken.”

  “Your words were very clear. Quinn said he’s heard you cry out the same name when dreaming in the past,” Lazarus replied.

  “Then he was mistaken too,” she declared. “I’m feeling very tired and would like to rest. So if you would take your leave, I would appreciate it.”

  Lazarus placed his hand on her shoulder. “I already told you that I have no intention of going anywhere until you’re well enough to care for the lad and yourself. If you dinna wish to talk about the attack right now, fine. But I left you once when you needed my help and willna do it again. Not until I’m certain you’re well.”

  Being touched by a man caused a shiver of trepidation skittering up her spine, but she’d show no fear. Sheena nibbled on her lower lip as she stared back at Lazarus. The stubborn man was not going to yield. Yet having him here made her most uncomfortable. She hadn’t trusted a man since she was seventeen and she never would again.

  “Are you all right? Have you remembered something that might help us bring the men who accosted you to justice?” Lazarus asked.

  Instead of answering, she absently stroked the scar on her chin and tried to shove the unpleasant memories of the past to the back of her mind, but failed. The day she was raped, then marked as a whore, suddenly felt like yesterday.

  Her stepmother, Lillian MacLean, moaned then dragged a shaky hand across her lips. Heavy with child and about to deliver any day, she’d spent the better part of the last nine months hovering over a bucket, unable to keep much food or drink on her stomach.

  “Are you feeling any better?” Sheena asked as she cupped her stepmother’s elbow and helped her to stand. “It willna be much longer. The babe will be here soon and this bothersome stomach ailment should pass.” She escorted Lillian to her bed and waited for her to sit.

  “It canna be too soon for my liking,” Lillian replied. “I know your da is hoping for a son, and pray the babe will be a lad. I have no intention of going through this again. Your father can take a mistress if he wishes, but I’ll not warm his bed in future.”

  Sheena offered a sympathetic nod and patted the back of Lillian’s hand. “I know this hasna been an easy go of it for you. But once you hold the wee one in your arms, you will forget all you’ve had to endure.”

  It took her father’s third wife four summers to finally carry a babe this far along. After three stillborn births, then this time suffering from nonstop stomach queasiness and almost losing the babe twice, Sheena could understand Lillian’s decision to abstain.

  Her da was getting on in years, having seen more than two score, but like most men, he was determined to sire a son. Sheena, an only child from his first marriage, served as a constant reminder of his failure to produce a male heir. He never missed a chance to tell her so, or that she was a source of disappointment. She prayed this babe would be a lad and her father would finally be happy.

  “I need you to go into the woods and fetch the herbs that settle my stomach.” Lillian lay on the bed with her forearm draped over her brow.

  “I’d be happy to do your bidding, but it is late, the sun having set several hours ago. Could I na wait til morning?”

  “You heard your mother. You will go now and make haste.” Her father, Donald MacLean, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “This is the perfect time to pick the herbs,” Lillian said. “For them to be effective, they must be gathered under the light of a full moon. Otherwise, I wouldna ask you to go.”

  Sheena set no store in superstition, but if it would appease her stepmother and keep her father happy, so be it. “Very well. I’ll get my arisaidh and leave right away.”

  As Sheena entered the forest at the edge of the village, a shiver of dread skittered up her spine. Uncertain if it was caused by the chilly night air or the sense of foreboding she had the moment she left the footpath, she tugged her woolen shawl over her head and clutched the fabric at the throat.

  Rays of moonlight filtering through the trees illuminated the mist-covered ground. And while she was alone, she could not shake the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her. She quickly gathered the herbs, then headed for home.

  “Where are you going on this fine evening?” a man asked as he stepped out of the shadows.

  Startled, Sheena gasped, then turned to run, but another man blocked the path. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “Why you, my dear,” the first man said as he moved into view. “Do you know who I am?”

  Sheena offered a hesitant nod. “Aye, you’re Roderick Morgan, son of the laird.”

  “Correct,” he said, grinning, then closed the gap between them. “And what might your name be? You’ve caught my eye on more than one occasion and I have yet to learn your identity.”

  “Sheena MacLean.”

  “The merchant’s daughter?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m surprised to find you out at this late hour without an escort,” Roderick said, then took a step closer. “I guess this is my lucky night.”

  “My stepmother is with child and has been feeling poorly. She sent me to fetch some herbs.” Sheena held up a wilted bunch of greens and wildflowers. “She is waiting for me, so I ask that you please let me be on my way.”

  “I’m not ready to let you depart,” Roderick growled. “I wish to get to know you better.” He cupped her chin, raising it until their eyes met. “Much better.”

  Her chest constricted and she found it hard to breathe. She may be young, but she knew what he meant. “Please, I most humbly request that you let me go and dinna pursue this. You’re the son of a laird and I am merely the daughter of a commoner. Surely there are women of your status more suitable than me.” She fisted her hands in her skirt to keep them from trembling, but she could not hide the shakiness in her voice.

  “Aye, but it is you I desire. A man has needs and I mean to sate mine here and now.” He grabbed the neck of her chemise, then ripped it open.

  Sheena clutched at the torn fabric, but her attempt to hide her naked breasts failed when he grabbed her wrists. “Please, I beg of you—” she began, but her plea was cut short when his mouth crashed down on hers and he forced his tongue between her lips.

  She gagged at the pungent odor of whisky on his breath. He’d obviously been drinking and was well in his cups. But that did not excuse his abhorrent behavior. She struggled, but was no match f
or his brawn.

  “Make haste, Roddy, someone could happen upon us at any moment,” his companion warned.

  “Let them come,” Roderick hissed as he threw her to the ground, then rolled her beneath him. “I plan to take my time and enjoy the ride,” he said as he lifted her skirt, then positioned himself between her thighs.

  Sheena bit back the urge to cry out. The pain the moment he entered her unlike anything she could have imagined.

  “She’s a tight little wench, but I’ll loosen her up quick enough,” Roderick declared as he repeatedly pounded into her. “It has been a while since I had a virgin, and I forgot just how pleasurable it can be.”

  Pleasurable for who? She squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against the pain and humiliation of being taken against her will.

  The next few minutes felt like an eternity, but her body soon became numb, her mind blocking out what was happening. When he finally let out a guttural yell, then rolled off of her, gasping to catch his breath, she curled herself into a ball and turned her back to him, sobbing.

  Roderick climbed to his feet, then nudged her with the toe of his boot. “Get up and tidy yourself.”

  When she didn’t answer, he kicked her again, this time with more force. “Are you deaf? I said get up. Now.” He captured her wrist and hauled her to her feet.

  Her legs were so wobbly she thought they might give way, but she forced herself to stand. Unable to look the bastard in the eye, her gaze trailed the ground. She held the tattered remains of her leine together at the neck and backed away.

  Roderick quickly followed, then stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “I enjoyed our time together immensely.” He nipped at her ear, then whispered, “This was only the beginning. We will have many such nights.”

  She stared at him through tear-filled eyes. “What are you saying? You wish to marry me?” She found the thought of him ever touching her again repulsive.

  “Hardly. I’m already betrothed. And what you said was true. You are beneath my status. But I have decided to make you my mistress. And you’re to be at my beck and call day or night,” Roderick announced smugly. “I am to marry the daughter of a powerful laird from northern Scotland in a fortnight, but I like variety. Being tied to one woman for the rest of my life isna something I’ll ever consider. You will serve as a nice distraction.”

  “And . . . if I refuse?” Suddenly feeling as if she might be ill, she wrapped her arms around her middle and swallowed against the bile rising in her throat.

  “I am the son of Laird Morgan and will someday be chief of my clan. You are nothing but the daughter of a merchant, no one of significance. You should be honored that I want you in my bed.”

  “Have you no respect for the sanctity of marriage?”

  “As the future laird, it is my right to have a wife to provide me with an heir and a mistress for whenever I want to rut in wild abandon. And I choose you.”

  “I would rather die than be your whore,” Sheena spat. “When my father finds out what you’ve done—”

  “Watch what you wish for, lass. Tell anyone what happened here and you will rue the day. Besides, it is the word of a whore against that of the future laird. Who do you think they will believe?”

  His fierce scowl caused the hair on her neck to bristle, but she’d not cower before this brigand. “You may have violated me this night, but I swear on my mother’s grave, you willna lay hand to me again.” She spun on her heel.

  “How dare you turn your back to me?” Roderick took hold of her upper arm and whipped her around to face him. “I’m not finished with you yet. Nor do I recall giving you permission to depart.” He drew a dirk from a sheath at his side, then waved it in front of her face.

  “Threaten to kill me if you wish,” Sheena snapped, “but I will never come willingly to your bed.”

  Roderick’s expression darkened as he lunged forward. “If I canna have you, no one else will want you,” he declared. He slashed her chin before throwing her to the ground. “Now you may leave,” he hissed, then sheathed his blade and turned to his friend. “Let’s go. I fancy another wee dram before I return to the castle.” He placed his hand on his companion’s shoulder and the two men strode toward town.

  Shocked by what had just happened, Sheena pressed her hand to her face, warm blood seeping between her fingers. After a few minutes, she rose, wondering how she would explain what had transpired to her parents. She feared Roderick was right, they would not believe her word over his. Had her stepmother not sent her for the herbs, she might have been able quietly slip into their croft and change before anyone noticed her torn clothing, temporarily avoiding a confrontation with her da. But Lillian was awaiting her return and there was no way to hide or explain the gash on her chin.

  Chapter 6

  “Are you feeling ill?” Lazarus asked, then touched her shoulder. “You’ve gone pale and are shaking.”

  Sheena sniffled, then scrubbed her fist across her tear-dampened cheeks. “I’m fine,” she lied. Every time she thought about Roderick and what happened between them, her world turned inside out. But that day was in the past and she was determined to keep it there. She’d deliberately put many miles between them after her stepmother died in childbirth and her father disowned her for being a whore.

  “Is there something I can get for you?”

  “Nay.” Sheena took a moment to compose herself, then peered up at him. “I’m fine. However, we havena come to terms with the fact you’re still here when I asked you to leave.”

  He shrugged. “I thought we had.” He picked up the mug and offered her a drink, but she waved his hand away.

  “I was clear that I wanted you gone.” Why this thrawn man refused to listen and insisted on staying where he was not welcomed was beyond her comprehension. She blew out a sigh of frustration. Maybe she was wrong about Brother Lazarus. No one had ever treated her and Quinn with anything but scorn and rudeness, yet he was kind and gentle, unlike anyone she’d encountered in the past. Were her situation different, she might have found him attractive and even considered letting down her guard.

  She drew in a slow deep breath. Fortunately, she hadn’t fallen prey to his charm. Just because she was starting to have fewer doubts about his motives, it did not mean she trusted him or wanted him to stay. He was also a man of the cloth and had pledged his life to the Almighty, so there could never be anything between them.

  “Now that Sheena is feeling better, can we go to town for supplies, then perhaps do some hunting like you promised?” Quinn asked, brimming with excitement.

  “That would be up to your sister.” Lazarus tousled the lad’s raven curls, then cast her a sideways glance.

  “Can we, Sheena? Please,” Quinn badgered.

  “I dinna think it wise,” Sheena replied. “I know Brother Lazarus has been here for a few days, but he is still a stranger. Besides, I’m sure he has more pressing things to do and needs to return to the monastery. They must be wondering what has happened to him.”

  Lazarus planted his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Your sister is far from healed and still needs our assistance. But she also requires a great deal of rest. Perhaps while she is sleeping we can set a few snares behind the croft, and with luck might catch a rabbit.”

  “Can we go to town too?” Quinn asked, then raced to his pallet and retrieved the sack of coins from beneath it.

  “Have neither of you heard a word I’ve said?” Sheena found her patience wearing thin.

  “If you’ll grant your permission, Sheena, I’m sure we’ll be able to get everything we need with this.” Quinn dumped the silver onto his palm, then held it out for his sister to see.

  Sheena gasped. “Where did you get that money?” She’d spent the last of their coin in the village the day she was attacked, and other than a ruby pendant that once belonged to her mo
ther, an heirloom she could not bring herself to part with, they were as close to destitute as humanly possible. Had Quinn stolen the money?

  “The man who brought you home when you were hurt gave it to me,” Quinn replied, then put the coins back into the sack. “When he saw we had very little food and lived in this shack, he told me to use it to buy what we needed.”

  “Where we live may not be grand, but we are lucky to have a roof over our heads. And you must never take things from someone you dinna know, Quinn,” Sheena warned. “Nothing is free in life and a kindness of this sort always comes with a price, or in the least, expectations we canna or willna honor.”

  “You’re being a little harsh on the lad. He meant no harm and was only trying to help,” Lazarus said. “I’m sure the man’s generosity was unconditional. And judging by the way he was dressed and his fine mount and weaponry, I’m certain he willna miss a few pieces of silver. He appeared to be quite wealthy and mentioned he was from a prosperous Highland clan.”

  Her gut twisted with dread. She’d gone to a great deal of trouble keeping her location a secret from Roderick. While she was sure he was married and had forgotten all about her by now, he had vowed to hunt her down and drag her back if she ever left.

  “So you dinna know this man before leaving me in his care?” Sheena narrowed her gaze. It was bad enough she could not rid herself of the monk, but being seen by the well-meaning stranger could have put her and Quinn in danger of being found.

  Lazarus shook his head. “Nay, but you dinna know me either. So in a sense we were both strangers to you.”

  “That is not the point,” Sheena hissed. “What if he was evil, like the men who attacked me?”

  “I’m usually a good judge of a man’s character. Ian Fraser offered his help when he could have easily passed on by and not given us a second glance. Instead, he stopped and asked if he could be of assistance and was very gentle in caring for you. When I asked if he could see you home safely because I couldna do it myself, he graciously agreed.”