KIDNAPPED BY THE HIGHLAND ROGUE Page 6

  Nor did she.

  ’Twas yet early in the day. The weather was clear and warm for a spring morning here. There were hours and hours before night would fall, but Fia doubted that her efforts to protect herself would wait that long. As he lifted the now-cooled pot and held out a hand to her, the very devil sparkled in his eyes. Deciding she must reserve her strength for when the time came, she accepted his hand and walked at his side.

  Fia kept thinking about the various paths and hidden places in the camp. The cooking pot might make a fine weapon if she needed it. Then she could hide until these outlaws moved on or help arrived.

  Chapter Six

  Ilysa.

  She was no more Ilysa than he was Iain Dubh, but both names would have to work for now. As she walked at his side, quietly and with her attention elsewhere, Niall wondered what she was thinking. Was she worried about losing her virtue to him? Or that she was facing an attack of some kind when they reached the stream?

  Her expression remained empty as they walked, even when he drew to a halt before the opening of the cave. A slight frown and gathering of her eyebrows were the only sign of concern from her.

  ‘I hiv need of a few things,’ he said. ‘Ye wi’ wait here?’

  Surprise that he phrased it as a question showed for a moment before she nodded in reply.

  ‘I do not think I have a choice.’

  ‘Och, aye, la... Ilysa, you always have a choice.’ If her glance showed surprise or confusion, he did not let it stop him.

  Niall did not give her a chance to get into mischief or try to escape—even if it would have been impossible. He grabbed the sack that held his clothing, meagre as it was, and a small jar from another sack and put them together in one. Ducking to leave the cave, he thought of one more item and put it in, too.

  He did not take her hand again, but she walked at his side in silence. She’d already taken this path down with Martainn so he did not need to tell her this way or that. About halfway down, he took the cooking pot from her and carried it. The sun broke through the gathering clouds just as they reached the stream.

  ‘I will wash that out,’ she said, holding out her hand.

  Niall gave it to her and sat in a spot where the sun warmed the ground. As she walked to the edge of the rushing water, he realised that it must have been the same place she’d used before for she moved directly to it. It was only as she knelt there that he got a clear look at her.

  She looked worse for the wear. Even though he could see she’d tried to clean herself up, dried blood yet remained on her head and down the back of her gown. But that was not what drew his eye. Nay, what caught his attention was the sheer and utter whiteness of her complexion. Her face had little colour in it at all, making those eerie green eyes appear even bigger. Her hands, with those graceful fingers, trembled as she struggled to complete her chore. And her body shook as she leaned down to dip the pot in the water.

  And, though she most likely did not know he saw it, he watched her eyes drifting closed several times as she saw to her task. He’d been so busy trying to keep up his façade that he’d never noticed her weakening condition. But now he had. Niall stood and strode over to her and took the pot from her hands, tossing it on the ground next to them.

  ‘I will clean it,’ she said, wiping her hands on her torn and ragged gown. When she met his gaze, she threw her hands up between them. In fear. He could see it in her exhausted eyes. ‘I will...’

  ‘Stop,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I will not hurt you.’

  ‘You will,’ she whispered. ‘If not you, then the others.’

  She thought he would take his pleasure on her here and now.

  ‘You need to wash and rest, Ilysa or whatever the hell your name is!’ he said sharply. ‘In my bag are some clean trews and a tunic. Wash your hair and the rest of you and come to me when you are finished.’

  ‘Come to you?’ She blinked several times at him and shook her head.

  ‘I will wait for you where the path rises. Do not do anything rash. Wash. Dress. I will be waiting for you,’ he said, pointing as he reached for his bag and tossed it to her.

  He dared one look behind him as he strode away and she sat clutching the leather bag to her chest and staring at him. Niall ignored all the things going through his mind and walked until he could not see her any longer. After kicking at the dirt for several minutes, he leaned against a tree and waited.

  Daft woman! Why had he seen her in the village? Why had he interceded for her? He’d seen a number of women involved in their attacks, most were simply shoved about in the mayhem. So what had drawn him? And why now?

  Niall was so close to discovering the true identity of the person behind this plan of aggression meant to cause strife once more between two of the most powerful clans in the Highlands. The King had made it clear he wished an enduring peace between them. So, someone was trying to cause problems for not only the Mackintoshes and Camerons but also for the King.

  Lundie almost trusted him. The man had made the quiet suggestion that Niall might be introduced to their sponsor soon. So, any misstep or mistake or anything that raised suspicions about him would jeopardise all of his work. And place his family and everything he had been promised in danger as well.

  He kicked the dirt again.

  Niall thought on how to manage this, how to manage her and keep his plan moving forward. Lundie would leave in a day or two to get new orders. He’d placed Niall in charge the last two times and hopefully, if the woman caused no problems, he would again. He’d been gauging the time it took Lundie to go and to return to try to figure out where the threat was coming from. If only...

  The winds shifted then and a chill entered the air. Turning towards the stream, Niall realised that some time, or rather too much time, had passed since he’d left Ilysa there alone. With growing alarm, he raced back to the stream, searching for her.

  At first glance, he did not see her. Though he wanted to call out, he feared it would bring the others’ attentions, too. He crossed the distance from the path to the water’s edge in a few hurried strides.

  Had she run? Was she already a mile or more away from here?

  He stopped and stared when he saw her, his breath caught in his chest. She lay in the long grass there asleep. Though she was curled into a ball, her damp hair was unbound and lay loosely around her head, drying in the sun there. She’d donned his clothes as he’d told her to do and her own were washed and tossed over branches nearby. Niall stood over her, completely confused about why he was relieved to find her...safe.

  Minutes later he was no closer to understanding than he had been before.

  Niall should wake her but it took only a glance to know she needed sleep. Once they returned to the camp, they would expect her to do other chores and cook again. So, he gave her this time to recover her strength. And to give him time to plan how to deal with her.

  If the others thought they were gone for too long, they did not show it by seeking them out. No one came down the path. So, Niall waited. And waited.

  * * *

  He never knew he’d fallen asleep until the crunching of dried grass underfoot roused him. He’d dozed off in the patch of sunlit ground waiting for Ilysa to wake and now someone approached. Barely opening his eyes, he peered across the clearing and saw her approach. At first he thought she was simply walking up to him, but with a more careful look Niall realised she held the empty pot like a weapon, ready to bash it over someone’s head.

  And his head was her obvious target.

  Niall waited until she was close enough and swung his leg out in one motion, knocking her feet from under her. As she fell, the pot went flying off in one direction and he moved to catch her. She came down on him and he rolled until she was beneath him.

  She’d been biddable until now so this surprised him. She
struck out against him, aiming her nails for his face even while she tried to force her knee up between his legs. As he tried to protect the randy lad there, Niall grabbed her hands and pressed them back over her head on the ground.

  ‘Get off me!’ she said through clenched jaws, her body bucking under his. Unfortunately, his body had the opposite reaction to the one she was hoping for and the result was clear to her. ‘Let me go, you brigand!’

  ‘Stop trying to scratch me,’ he said, using his legs to capture hers and force her still. One of her legs broke free and she forced her knee up. Niall stopped it a scant few inches from his privy bits. ‘And stop that!’ he ordered.

  His words did no good at all, she squirmed and twisted beneath him in spite of the differences in their strength and size. She had not yet realised she could not win this kind of a fight once she’d lost the benefit of surprise.

  ‘Lundie wants to ken if yer done tupping the lass yet, Iain?’

  Her body stilled and her gaze moved to his at the sound of another’s approach and the reminder of the ever-present danger to her. He recognised Conall’s voice and lifted his head to look at him. The youngest in their gang, Conall was probably the least of his worries.

  ‘Almost, Conall,’ he called out, narrowing his gaze in warning at Ilysa. ‘We wi’ be along presently.’

  ‘Lundie said to fill the pot. There are rabbits to cook for our supper.’

  ‘Very weel.’

  Niall did not move other than to nod at the boy and watch as he retreated up the hill. Then he made the mistake of glancing back at the woman he held prisoner there. A tiny glimmer of tears gathered in her green eyes and, though she tried to blink them away, he’d seen them.

  ‘I pray you, let me go,’ she whispered.

  ‘Lass, I cannot let you go now,’ he said. ‘You can lead people directly back to us and we cannot allow that to happen right now.’ Niall released her hands and climbed to his feet. ‘Bide your time and I will see you released when I can.’

  He made the very serious mistake of watching her rise from the ground. In his clothing. In his trews that now outlined the curves of her hips and legs. Nay, that hugged those curves. It mattered not that she’d rolled up the extra length of them. His trews were touching her skin.

  And those legs were glorious to watch as she gained her balance. She was taller than most women and her legs were as long and lithe as she was. Now, as she faced him, anger filled her gaze and her eyes glowed green.

  ‘And you expect that I will submit to your...?’ She waved her hand as she thought about her words. He’d come up with several before she did but held them. ‘Your baser needs?’

  His mouth went dry at the thought of what his baser needs would like to do with her. He stared at her, sliding his gaze over his tunic and trews, watching the way her hair swung as her breathing laboured. It was as glorious as she was. Niall only knew he’d stepped towards her because she stepped away.

  ‘Surely Dougal has baser needs?’ he asked. ‘You must have seen to those for him.’ Had she seen to hapless Dougal? Did hapless Dougal even have any idea of how to handle or what to do with a woman like this one? He thought not. Her horrified expression and gasp told him what he wanted to know—she was a virgin.

  ‘Dougal? How did you know about him?’ she asked, glaring at him as she thought. ‘You were listening! In the village. Before the attack.’

  ‘You were quite entertaining, the two of you discussing marriage. Hapless Dougal trying to convince you to accept his offer.’

  ‘Hapless? How dare you insult him,’ she said, striding to him in only three paces. ‘He is kind and loyal and...’

  ‘He sounds like a faithful hound to me, lass,’ Niall retorted. ‘Not a red-blooded man who knows what to do with a woman like you.’ When she raised her hand to slap him, Niall grabbed it and pulled her into his arms. ‘Dougal would not know what to do with you if you were in his arms like this.’ He slid his hand into the length of her hair and wrapped it over and over until he held her head close. ‘Dougal would not kiss you like this.’

  He took her mouth in a searing, possessive kiss, wanting to show her the pleasure that could be had in exploring those baser needs of his. With her height, her body moulded to his at just the right places. He felt her breasts pressing against his chest and envied his tunic then. With her head in his hand, he tilted her face and fit their mouths together more intimately and kissed her over and over until she opened to him.

  His traced the edges of her lips with the tip of his tongue and slipped inside to taste her. Though he could feel her struggle against him, her body tense and rigid, Niall also felt the one moment when she did not. When she just accepted his kiss. He smiled against her mouth and gently rubbed his lips across hers. It was all he needed for now.

  Just knowing that, for one scant second, she did not fight it. Niall stepped away from her and saw the confusion in her eyes.

  She’d expected him to press, nay, push for much more than the kiss.

  She’d expected his ‘baser needs’ to overrun his control.

  She’d expected to be taken, her virtue torn from her by the rogue before her.

  ‘Fix yourself,’ he said, nodding at her wild, loose hair. ‘And get your things while I fill the pot. There is nothing more impatient than a gang of hungry men waiting for their supper.’

  At first she stood watching him with that enticing expression of hers that combined innocence, confusion and surprise. He would like to be the man who saw that expression in her eyes as she reached the peak of pleasure for the first time. And to hear her moan out in soft sighs and gasps would be wondrous indeed. If she continued to gaze on him so, he might find his control and common sense slip after all.

  ‘Now, Ilysa.’

  She startled and then ran to the bushes where her garments lay strewn and drying. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes as she ran her fingers through her hair, untangling it as best she could. A wince at one place told him she’d touched the injury there. Then with the speed of experience, she wove a long braid and tied it off with a strip of leather.

  He filled the pot and waited for her. She rolled her garments, now somewhat clean, and tucked them under her arm. Then, she turned and began to walk down the other path.

  ‘Ilysa? This way,’ he said, motioning to the correct way. As he watched, she shrugged and followed him up the path. Something niggled Niall’s suspicions as he waited for her to go in the correct direction.

  Though her legs were long, he slowed his pace so she could walk at his side. He could not help but notice the colour in her cheeks and the well-kissed look of her lips. From the brighter light in her eyes, he thought the rest might have done her some real good.

  They walked wordlessly back to the camp and he accepted the jibing of the men now that he had clearly taken his pleasure of her. Interestingly, the men did not harass her as much as they did him, for she had begun making their next meal. Martainn helped her, getting the various ingredients she asked for from their supplies and doing anything that required a knife.

  But the one thing that kept his attention, the thing that made him smile throughout the meal’s preparation and consumption—the way she would touch her finger to her lips. She seemed unaware that she was doing it and unaware that he watched her so closely. Several times, as she was tending the pot of rabbit stew or watching the oatcakes on the girdle, she would reach up and stroke her lip and a hint of a smile would curve the edges of her mouth.

  She was remembering his mouth there. He was certain of it.

  Feeling smug over that realisation, Niall looked forward to repeating it on their next encounter.

  Chapter Seven

  Stupid.

  Stupid and daft.

  Stupid and daft and witless.

  Fia would blame it on the head injury which ha
d muddled her thoughts and her good sense. As she sat away from the fire, eating her portion of stew and oatcakes, she tried to focus on making a plan to escape. And she tried valiantly though unsuccessfully not to think about the kiss.

  And she especially tried not to think of that one moment—small though it was—when she not only allowed his kiss but had nearly kissed him back.

  Stupid and daft and witless.

  Then, she had nearly exposed her knowledge of the area by taking the other way, the one he did not know about, away from the stream. For the moment, she did not think he was suspicious about it.

  She was never going to survive let alone escape if she did not pay heed to her situation and less attention to her captor’s attempts to take liberties with her. That he’d had ample time and opportunities to do his worst to her and had not only served to confuse her more than she already was.

  Fia dipped the last bit of bannock into the stew and scooped it into her mouth. Never in her imaginings could she have seen this happening to her. Cooking for outlaws hidden in the Mackintosh’s camp. She stopped herself just a second away from laughing aloud at it.

  All those times she’d dreamt of being kidnapped and saw it as a romantic escapade now seemed so childish. Brodie and Arabella had fallen in love right here in this place, she remembered. Glancing around the clearing, she could see where their tents had stood. For a moment, Fia could almost see those who’d lived here, making their way around the encampment. Her parents, their kin and others who’d gone into hiding with them.

  In spite of the terrible danger, those months had, in some ways, been among the best for her. For in that time and place, she learned about loyalty and honour and commitment in a way that most wee ones never know.

  And about love.

  Several relationships, other than Brodie and Arabella’s, had begun in the camp. Margaret and Magnus were married now after discovering their attraction to each other here. Only a lass of ten, Fia had not understood everything, but the unbreakable bonds formed here taught her to wish for the same in her life.