Page 310 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Four

Victoria woke, having found no comfort in sleep. Despite the men sleeping nearby and the guards who stood watch on opposite sides of the camp, the weight of her attacker seemed to press just as heavily against her now as it had hours earlier. She closed her eyes and gripped her shoulders in an effort to halt the trembling that shook her. At last, her breathing slowed, and the world faded into the peaceful darkness preceding slumber. A warm body coming down beside her intruded on the relaxed state, wrenching a small cry from her.

“Shh, lass,” Iain soothed. “It is me.”

Bittersweet relief flooded Victoria as he turned her toward him and she wept against his chest. When she finally looked up, she found his intense gaze on her. Panic shot through her and she struck out at his face. His hold slackened and Victoria scrambled as far away as the tartan allowed.

Several moments passed before her heart slowed and she felt her voice strong enough to speak. “Where were you?”

“I had business to attend to. Go to sleep.”

“Are you in the habit of ordering people about?” “Aye.”

“I am not one of your men to be treated thusly.” Something rustled behind her. She twisted her head to discern the noise only to turn back and find Iain closing in on her. “Nay,” she cried when he hugged her close.

“Love, you are safe.” He stroked her hair. “I will not leave your side until we reach home. I give you my oath.”

“Your oath?” She uttered a humorless laugh, but cut it short, startled by the hysterical note in her voice. Tears once again threatened. “I will not let you forget that this is your doing,” she whispered.

“Aye,” he agreed.

Victoria stiffened. “What makes you any different from them?”

“This.” Iain wrapped his plaid around her. Pulling her close, he made no other move to touch her.

* * *

Another morning dawned, colder than the last, though it wasn’t the mist that chilled Victoria, but the numbness in her heart. She pulled the tartan tighter around her shoulders. Angry words from the Fraser prisoner broke the grim solitude. Her horse nickered when her grip on the reins tightened, and she jerked her head in the direction of the man tethered behind the packhorse. His malice filled gaze met hers and he snapped out a Gaelic word.

Iain snarled something back, and Nathan gave a hard yank on the rope that secured the man. He stumbled, fell to his knees, and was dragged several yards before managing to scramble back to his feet. Iain wheeled his horse around, and the odd desire to cry surfaced when he came up alongside her.

“He cannot get near you,” Iain said.

“A comfort, indeed.” Victoria turned her attention ahead. “How much farther have we to go?”

“Several hours.”

“We will not arrive today?”

“We will forge on tonight.”

Victoria nodded. Despite her trepidation, she would be glad to be among civilized folk again.

It seemed a lifetime before the sun began its descent. Victoria had begun to relax when one of the scouts was spotted riding back toward them. Iain halted as the warrior reined in alongside him. The man jerked his head in the direction he had come and Victoria straightened in the saddle, heart pounding as she scanned the hilly terrain. An ornately painted covered wagon rolled into view from the thinning forest. A second followed, then a third, a fourth, and a fifth. The band, escorted by a dozen riders seemed suddenly aware of the MacPherson presence and men looked in their direction.

Iain signaled to one of his men to follow and spurred his horse toward the strangers, who had halted. A wagon door opened and a woman stepped out. She strode to the men gathered in anticipation of Iain’s arrival. He halted in their midst and spoke with the men for several minutes before wheeling his horse around and heading back toward them.

The woman looked in Victoria’s direction as if meeting her eye. An odd sense of familiarity rippled through Victoria and gooseflesh rose on her arms. Excitement caused her heart to beat faster. Might she find aid with these strangers? She cast a furtive glance at the men guarding her, then raised her hand with the intention of signaling the woman, but she had disappeared. Victoria’s heart fell even as she realized any chance for help had been slim. What strangers would be willing to aid her against the MacPherson chief?

Iain arrived and motioned them forward as he brought his horse up alongside hers again.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“Gypsies.”

She cast another glance in the direction of the wagons. “Egyptians.” Suddenly aware the single word revealed her regret, she added as if in casual conversation, “I have heard of them. It is said they

possess powers.”