Marti Talbott's Highlander Series, Volume 4 Read online

  The buttons and loops were cumbersome for a man with large hands and he struggled with each. First, he undid her gown and then her under garment until he could at last, pull the material apart enough to see most of her back. Then he gasped, “You have been beaten.”

  Bethia took a deep breath. “The English call it a flogging. It has already stopped bleeding and it will heal.”

  He could not stop staring at it. Some of the marks were welts that had not yet lost their swell, but others were cuts and two were quite deep. He slipped the material off her left shoulder; saw that the back of her arm was not affected and then checked the other arm. “Are there cuts farther down?”

  “Nay, please fasten me back up.”

  “Bethia, this is serious. Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Of course I am.”

  He pulled the material together again and started to button her under garment. “You said you were not hurt and you lied. Are you being honest now?”

  “I am just as honest as you are.”

  He decided to ignore that comment. He doubted she could stay on the horse if she were hurt further down so she probably was telling the truth. “Who did this to you?”

  “‘Tis not important.”

  “‘Tis important to me.” Fastening the buttons again was even more difficult and especially now that he wanted to avoid touching her back. “With what did they beat you?”

  “A leather strap. Truly, ‘tis not that sore.”

  He finished with the last button and then walked around to see her face. “Did I hurt you when I lifted you?”

  Exhausted and humiliated, she finally let her head drop. “You did not mean to hurt me.”

  He wanted desperately to hold her and comfort her, but even if she let him, there was no way to do it without hurting her. Suddenly he remembered how he grabbed her from behind at the loch and closed his eyes. “I am very sorry.”

  “I know.” She did not trust herself. She wanted to go into his arms, but she could not bear holding him for a little while, knowing she could not have him forever. “Perhaps tomorrow we can find a place to bathe. The water will soothe my back.”

  “Does the wine help?”

  “Aye, but we will run out soon if I drink more.”

  “I will get us more.” He helped her sit down and then untied the flask from around his waist again. He let her drink while he sat down on his own bed and when she handed it back, he left it nearby in case she wanted more. Then he watched her try to undo her braids. He could tell it hurt to lift her arms that high. “Would you like some help?”

  “I can manage.” She was beginning to feel sorrier for him than for herself. He seemed to be feeling her pain more than she was. Hannish just saved her life and the least she could do was try to calm him down. “You might pull my hair and then I would have to hurt you.”

  He half-heartedly returned her smile. “Who hurt you?”

  She knew he would keep asking, but she also knew the truth would enrage him, he would want to go back to seek revenge, and that was the last thing she wanted him to do. She stopped working with her hair and looked into his worried eyes, “Hannish, I want to go home where I can feel safe again.”

  For a long moment, he thought about her words. He would honor her wishes. She was hurt, she needed to feel safe and he intended to see that she did. All his life he heard there were men in the world, who hurt women, but he had never seen it and he was horrified. Indeed, he would honor her wishes and take her to safety—then he would kill the man who did that to his beautiful Bethia.

  CHAPTER V

  HE WAITED FOR HER TO fall asleep and even though he was exhausted as well, he still woke up every time she moved and moaned. Finally, he put his bed next to hers and took hold of her hand. It seemed to soothe her and both of them slept soundly for the rest of the night.

  The next morning, he again sat nearby and watched her sleep. When she left Scotland, he did what all men do, he tried to work away his pain by cutting wood until his hands were sore and his muscles ached. It was the only way he could get to sleep at night.

  He just couldn’t understand how she could leave without talking to him first. Her kisses the night before did not tell him she intended to marry another man, and there was no hint in her embrace. In fact, their passion had never been so intense. Maybe she thought he would become enraged and lose control if she told him. Maybe she was right.

  Yet not once had he suspected an English husband would beat her and the thought made his blood boil. A man like that did not deserve to live and Hannish MacGreagor had killed for far less.

  HER INJURIES CHANGED everything and when they got ready to leave, he interlaced his fingers and made a stirrup. Then when she put her foot in, he hoisted her up on her horse. It seemed to cause her a lot less pain. Once they were on their way he could not help but look back often to see if she was alright.

  The farther they got the more secure Hannish began to feel. If the Fergusons were after him, he would know by now and the English, he was certain, would not follow them this far into Scotland. All he really needed to worry about was the Camerons. Twice he led her off the path to let several Cameron warriors pass. Twice they remained unnoticed.

  For a second day she was quiet, she looked exhausted and he was becoming worried. She needed medicine and rest. When he finally found the small pond he remembered, he was relieved. He smiled, got down, went to her and began to make a stirrup.

  “I believe if you will put your back to me, it will be less painful.” As soon as he did, she lifted her leg over, put her hands on his shoulders and slid down. “That is much better, thank you.” Bethia made sure her dress was properly covering her and then walked to the pond. The meadow was peaceful, the water was inviting and she turned to look back at him. “May I bathe?”

  “Only if you promise not to drown.” He brought her sack to the shore and set it down. “Would you like help with the buttons?”

  “Aye.”

  He did as she asked, then turned his back and crossed his arms.

  Bethia unpacked her MacGreagor clothing, found her soap, undressed and then carefully walked into the water. It was not as cold as she expected and it felt good until it hit her injuries. Yet she held her breath and submerged anyway. Then she washed and rinsed her hair as quickly as she could and got out.

  She used her English clothing to dry off and it was a pleasure to put her clan clothing on. The MacGreagors rarely used buttons. At first, she was worried the belt would hurt her sore back, but it didn’t and she was relieved. By the time she finally let him turn around, she was smiling.

  “You look wonderful,” he said.

  “Thank you. Your turn, although I do not promise to stand with my arms folded to protect you. I would much rather dry my hair.”

  “Yet you will not look?”

  She giggled. “I believe we have had this discussion before.”

  His smile faded. “I remember.”

  He walked around her and soon she could hear him take off his sword and lay it down. Then she heard him splash in the water while she tried to concentrate on drying her hair.

  Was that hurt she saw in his eyes? If she did not know better, she would think the memory of their last night together was as painful for him as it was for her. Perhaps he regretted not telling her about Iona. Perhaps he even realized after his marriage he did not love Iona the way he loved her. If that were the case, she almost felt sorry for him...almost.

  Finally, he was dressed and standing next to her. “There is a village not far away. I will barter some food and medicine for your back. Are you afraid to stay alone?”

  She quickly looked around. “I am not afraid. It will be good to walk and let the horse rest.” He started to leave and she quickly called him back. “Wait.” She dug the necklace out of her sack and handed it to him. “Use the jewels to barter with.”

  “This means nothing to you?”

  “I kept it out of the hands of another. It means nothing more
than that to me.”

  He did not understand, but he did not question her. Instead, he pulled out his dagger, laid the necklace on a rock and dug out the ruby. Then he handed the necklace back to her. “This will be enough.”

  HE WAS GONE FOR A LONG time and she missed him. She missed him more than she should and scolded herself for it. He was not hers. Why couldn’t she get that into her brain? She walked halfway around the pond, smiled at the rare sight of a red fox and drank from a creek. Then she used her dagger to dig the rest of the precious stones out of the necklace. She tucked the gems into a small pocket in her belt and threw the setting into the water.

  When she started back to the clearing, she caught her breath. James and Baron Giffart were there holding up her discarded gown and searching the pockets. James wore a blue tunic with gold trim and red stockings, while Baron Giffart wore the more traditional red tunic, cloak and stockings with black trim. Both wore hats with feathers sticking up. Bethia had come to hate their English attire and she wanted to pull the necklace setting back out of the water and taunt them with it. Instead, she darted behind a bush and hid.

  How was it possible they were able to find her? Suddenly she remembered and closed her eyes—James had a special mark put in the horse’s shoe and she had forgotten about it. Now he was here, in the middle of Scotland searching for her, and believing his arrogance was enough to keep him from getting killed. What a stupid, stupid man.

  Bethia carefully scanned the woods for Hannish. It would take very little for him to assume these were the men who beat her. She did not care what happened to James and the baron, but she was not willing that anything should happen to Hannish. Even a great warrior can get hurt or killed and these two Englishmen were not worth it.

  HANNISH COULD SEE EXACTLY what was happening. He stood by his horse in the trees with just enough of a direct view to see the two men pawing over the contents of her sack. When they finished, the taller one said something Hannish could not quite make out and slammed the sack to the ground.

  Hannish did not like the English and especially did not like these two. He guessed it was the necklace they hoped to find and he was pleased they did not. He wondered if Bethia stole it as payment for her beating and he would be proud of her if she did.

  He could not see her in the clearing with the two men and hoped she had time to hide. To be sure they did not have her tied up somewhere nearby, he cautiously moved from tree to tree until he could see the entire clearing. For a moment, he thought about killing the Englishmen. They were probably the ones who beat her and he doubted they would be hard to kill. Suppose she was married to one, loved him and was only unhappy for the moment? Perhaps she did not want him killed.

  He wondered if she would go to the Englishmen and considered waiting to see if she would, but then he saw fury in the eyes of the shorter man. He looked enraged enough to kill her and Hannish was not about to let that happen.

  It was Bethia who taught him how to make the sound of a wild cat and it had come in handy on more than one occasion. He knelt down and softly meowed. On the other side of the pond, a bush moved.

  The Englishmen did not seem to notice his noise, nor were they interested in anything on the other side of the pond. Instead, they turned their backs to Hannish and began to beat the bushes with their swords hoping to scare Bethia out of hiding.

  As quietly as he could, Hannish stood up, crept back and led his horse away. Then when he was around the southern end of the pond and not far from her, he swung up and kicked the side of his mount.

  She could see him coming and as he neared, she stood up, reached out and when he leaned down, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm and hauled her into his lap, but he knew he was hurting her. As soon as she was seated, she wrapped her arms around his torso instead of his neck and he let go. He put his hand on the back of her head to keep her from falling and the faster the horse went, the tighter she held on.

  They were all the way down the length of a meadow before the Englishmen saw what was happening, mounted and chased after them. Yet then, James remembered he left the horse behind he followed her into Scotland to retrieve and turned back. Suddenly alone, the baron soon realized he was no match for a highlander, halted and turned his own horse around.

  CHAPTER VI

  ONCE HANNISH WAS FAR enough away, he doubled back and circled around a couple of times to confuse his tracks. He could have stopped the horse not long after that but he didn’t. Instead, he allowed the mount to slow to a walk and kept Bethia close to him for as long as she would stay.

  “I am so sorry.”

  He smiled. “You have done nothing wrong.”

  “I forgot about the marks on the horseshoes and they were able to follow us.”

  At last, he brought the horse to a standstill. “You are forgiven. We are safe now, just rest.”

  She nodded, but she did not let go and neither did he. She could hear his heart pounding and feel his tense chest muscles as he breathed in and out. She desperately wanted to stay just a little longer and pretend he was hers again. At length, she began to release him and sit up straight.

  Then it happened.

  She looked up into his eyes and could not resist. Suddenly, she was kissing him passionately and he was kissing her back. Shocked by her own actions, she jerked away and bowed her head. “Dear God, what have I done? I...I did not mean...I mean...it will not happen again, I promise.”

  He was as upset as she was. “The fault is mine.” He gently helped her down, dismounted and then untied a sack from his belt. “I have more wine and I know I hurt you.”

  She gladly took the flask, pulled out the wooden stopper and drank. Then she handed it back and turned away so he could not see her face. “How far from home are we? I mean we only have one horse now.”

  “Several days still.”

  She kept her back to him and closed her eyes. ”Perhaps we can buy another horse along the way. I removed the rest of the jewels and put them in my belt.”

  He did not want to look her in the eye either. “I am happy to hear it. Be quiet for a moment and let me listen.” She did as he asked. He listened and when he did not hear the sounds of horses moving through the woods, he relaxed. “The horse needs to rest and you need to eat.”

  He set the new sack down, removed his other sack and took the bridle off his horse. Then he patted the stallion’s rump and watched him wander off to look for food. Hannish pulled his extra plaid out, spread it on the ground and then pulled bread, cheese and apples out of the new sack. “Do you want me to put the medicine on your back now or after we eat?”

  “After.” She was not ready to sit by him or even look at him. She could still feel his lips on hers and it had awakened emotions she wanted desperately to suppress. They had spent less than two days together and already they could not keep from kissing each other. Bethia was losing her mind.

  “Neil will be happy to see you.” He glanced at her long enough to see her fists were clenched. He felt awful about kissing her. He caused her to be unfaithful, she was upset and there was nothing he could do to take it back. Perhaps if he distracted her, she would calm down. “Did you like living in England?”

  She did not want to talk—she wanted to scream. How could he be so calm? She violated his marriage vows and he should be furious with her. “I spent most of my time learning more of the language.”

  “I only know a few words myself. English is a difficult language.”

  She found herself staring off into space and had trouble remembering what they were talking about. “Aye.”

  “Did you see a castle? I hear they are ...”

  She suddenly turned her glare on him. “Why did the MacDonalds attack? I mean they have threatened since before the war with Sween. Why now?”

  He studied her determined expression and then looked away. “Bethia, is that really want you want to know?”

  He was right, she did not want to discuss England or what
happened to her home. She wanted to know how he could choose Iona over her and then still kiss her that way. “How is Iona?”

  “Iona?”

  “Aye, is she well?”

  “She was the last time I saw her. She gave birth to a lassie last spring.”

  Bethia felt like someone stabbed her heart and she dared not breathe for fear he might see her distress. He had a daughter with Iona and she wanted to be the one to give him children. “That is wonderful.” Without thinking, she moved closer and took the chunk of cheese he held out to her. ”When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Before the attack.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  He took a moment to think. “Three months, maybe four.”

  “Do you mean you have not seen her in all that time?”

  Hannish took a deep breath. “You do not understand. Neil had us dig a tunnel. It went from the Keep, under the moat and into the forest. We escaped that way. Save for Neil’s guards, the lads each took ten people out and got them away. I was chosen to guard Neil.”

  She went to the plaid and sunk down on her knees. “So it was more important to keep Neil safe than to care for Iona and the baby?”

  “Nay, it was more important to draw the MacDonalds away so the others could escape. Neil used himself and got them to chase us instead.”

  Bethia took a bite of the bread he handed her and tried to understand. “I see. Yet you have not seen her since then?” When he said nothing, she slowly raised her voice. “You do not know if she is dead or alive, do you?”

  He remembered that she and Iona were friends, but he never imagined she would get this upset over not knowing where Iona was. He kept his voice soft and controlled. “Nay, I do not know.”