Page 406 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Twenty-Two

A chill washed over Iain and he shuddered. At the sound of voices, he snapped open his eyes. A shadow fell across his body. He blinked, the setting sun blaring in red streaks behind the figure standing over him. His arm curled around thin air where Victoria should have lain beside him. Alarm shot through him and he started to rise, but halted at the sword point that appeared a hair’s breadth from his heart.

“Iain!”

He jerked his head in Victoria’s direction. She struggled in the hold of a Robertson warrior. His heart pounded against his chest as if to break free. Iain pushed upward. The sword bit through the thin fabric of his shirt, gashing the flesh above his breastbone. He jerked back and dropped his attention to the wound, confused by the lack of pain despite the red spreading in a small circle on the snowy-white shirt.

Iain startled from the strange trance at sight of riders emerging from the trees. How had they approached without so much as the snap of a twig?

He sneered upon recognizing the lead man. “David Robertson.” The sword dug into his flesh. He shifted his gaze onto the sword’s owner, the lack of pain almost comical. “Take care, laddie.”

The Robertson chieftain halted his horse beside Iain. “You had best be the one to take care. You may find yourself impaled on Callium’s sword and that would leave the lass to him.”

David motioned to another man who stepped forward and withdrew the sword from Iain’s scabbard. Callium removed his weapon from Iain’s chest, allowing him to rise. Iain gave Victoria an assessing look. She had ceased her struggles, but appeared undaunted.

Iain was shoved toward a horse and forced to mount. While his hands were bound to the pommel, Victoria was lifted onto on another horse. Eight men, he counted as they started forward; five surrounding him and three in the rear behind Victoria. He could overpower three, perhaps four before they were upon him, but no more.

He glanced at the sun as Robertson motioned the party forward. Bare minutes had passed since he’d closed his eyes. How had he fallen into such a deep sleep and been caught unawares in only a few minutes?

Instead of veering east to Robertson territory as Iain expected, David kept south on MacPherson land.

Darkness closed in, but Iain recognized when they entered Menzies territory. He cast a glance at David Robertson’s silhouetted form in the lead. Why Menzies land? The MacPhersons had encountered no trouble with them since—his chest tightened—since the rumors that sent him to Montrose Abbey…the day he took Victoria.

The temperature dropped, bringing a wind that chilled him to the bone.

* * *

They entered a village unknown to Iain. Impossible. He knew every village within ten day’s ride of Fauldun Castle. Clouds skittered low in the sky, and he studied the cottages illuminated by flashes of moonlight. All seemed small, shabby, cheerless. A shiver ran over him. Never had he seen a village so devoid of animation.

A sudden halt, and Iain realized the cottage before them was their destination. Callium dismounted and approached him. Their eyes met and held as the warrior cut his bonds, then stepped back to let him slide from the saddle.

“The woman,” David ordered.

Callium cast a knowing glance at Iain before turning to do his laird’s bidding. His step faltered, however, with Iain’s whispered, “Careful, lad.”

The warrior’s surprise turned to scornful amusement. Iain froze when the sneer twisted into a perverse grin like that of a wicked one risen to demand sacrifice for the Druid’s Samhain day. Iain blinked and Callium’s expression turned to one of suspicion.

Another warrior pushed him in the direction of the cottage. Iain twisted to look at Victoria, and the man yanked his arm behind his back. Iain spun, but another man seized the other arm and propelled him through the door. He stumbled forward and onto his knees, then shoved up in time to catch Victoria as she was thrown into the room after him. Wood scraped across wood as the bar fell across the door from the outside.

Victoria clung to him. “What are we to do?”

An unfamiliar feeling of helplessness reached so deep, his bones ached, but he said, “It is plain they have plans for me. We are safe, at least for the moment.”

He scanned the room. Moonlight seeped through boards that covered a window at the far side of the room. He distinguished a pallet in the corner and guided Victoria to the bed. When he gently pushed her onto the edge of the mattress, she tried to rise.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and eased her back down. “Rest easy, love, there may be a way out.”

He crossed to the window. Placing a palm in the middle of the board at the top, Iain pushed. The board creaked against his weight. He braced his feet, taking a deep breath to lean his body into a heavy shove when muffled voices outside their door halted him. In four long strides he reached the pallet.

The voices drifted off in the distance before Iain could discern the speakers. He lowered himself down beside Victoria and stretched out on the pallet. She curled up to his side. Iain slipped an arm beneath her neck and pulled her close, his concentration on the quiet outside. Had their captors bedded down for the night? Victoria pressed closer and gave his waist a gentle squeeze. Running his hand along her shoulder, his body jolted with the awareness of her feminine curves as he slid his palm down her side and along her waist. Christ. Now was not the time to bed his wife.

“But it is.” She brushed his jaw with her lips.

“How did you—?” Iain began, but was cut off as she pulled his mouth to hers.

What he intended as a chaste kiss turned hot when a soft sigh parted her lips and he tasted the recesses of her mouth. She tugged on his breacan and Iain consigned caution to the devil. He yanked at the ribbon that tied the bodice of her dress as he trailed wet kisses along her cheek to the spot below her ear where her pulse quickened. The laces loosened and, cupping a breast, Iain flicked her hardened nipple with his tongue until her soft cry brought him up for another feverish kiss. Her hands skimmed his chest. Iain jerked up her skirt and found the moistness between her legs. She arched and gave a low moan.

Iain nuzzled her ear. “Take care, sweet.” He slipped a knee between her thighs. “We must not alert our jailers.”