The Highlander's Tempestuous Bride (21 page)

I need to start breaking camp.
The words formed somewhere in the back of his mind, but Gilda’s saucy image danced before him, and he shifted his shoulders, seeking a more comfortable position.
In a moment
, he allowed as the warmth building within him began to vie with the heated rock he leaned against. In the distance the cry of gulls could be heard, blending with the sound of crashing waves below the edge of the cliffs.

A feminine shriek split the air.

Ryan leapt to his feet, sword in his hand. Around him, Macraig soldiers took up battle stance, forming a shield of drawn swords around the perimeter of the area.

“Where are the women?” Conn shouted, racing toward him from across the field.

“Four men are with them at the edge of the woods.” Ryan’s reassurance rang flat as the sound of the shriek rang through his head. Together he and Conn sped toward the trees. Hoarse shouts from behind them spun Ryan around.

Unknown men swarmed over the edge of the cliffs, weapons in hand, their war cries sending a frisson of dread down Ryan’s spine as they engaged the Macraig soldiers. Steel clanged as grunts and curses filled the air.

He caught Conn’s arm in an iron grip.

“Find the women. Do whatever ye have to, but get them safe to the castle.”

Conn faced him with a look of surprise. “Those are pirates, Ryan! I could—”

Ryan squared his jaw. “I know. Save the lasses. Dinnae
fash
about me.” He sensed Conn’s indecision and he released his friend’s arm with a forced laugh. “Ye will have the bigger fight on yer hands dealing with the lasses.”

With a scowl that told Ryan their long friendship had just been seamlessly repaired, Conn nodded briskly and pelted up the slope to the forest, leaving Ryan and the remaining six men to battle the pirates.

* * *

Gilda stared at the man, her limbs frozen.
Run!
She thought wildly, but the words would not pass her lips.

The man wiped the dirk on his kilt as his gaze roamed over the three girls. “What have we here? Lovely lasses picking berries, aye? And no one to run to or call for help.”

“Our guard…” Gilda managed to utter the words, her throat tight with fear. At her feet, Mairead choked on a sob. Gilda jerked her gaze to the woman and saw tears streaking her face. Denial ripped through her as she looked back to the man. His grin taunted her knowingly.

“There
were
Macraig soldiers, lass. The only men left now are mine.”

“That…that isnae possible,” Gilda stammered. “There were—”

“Four,” the man interrupted. “Four men in the woods, eight more on the cliff. But dinnae
fash
. My men will have dealt with them in a moment.” His manner became serious. “The three of ye come with me, now.”

Hands clutched Gilda from behind. “Dinnae let him take us, Gilda,” Lissa whimpered.

The man quirked an eyebrow. “Ye are Gilda, aye?” His eyes roamed over her assessingly. “Laird Macrory’s daughter?”

“I am Ryan Macraig’s wife.”

Shaking his head, the man grinned. “Ye willnae claim the Macrory as yer da, then. Mayhap because it is known the MacEwen sired ye?

Dizziness swept through Gilda. Mairead stumbled to her feet, clutching Gilda’s arm. Lissa clung to her other side. Gilda swayed. Her vision darkened, narrowed to the evil leer of the man before her.

“Who are ye?” The words slipped from her, scarcely heard even in the suddenly silent glen.

“I am Acair MacEwen. Yer half-brother.”

Chapter 19

Gilda’s thoughts flew back to the clan gathering at Scaurness castle only a few weeks earlier to discuss an alliance against the marauding pirates. Acair MacEwen, the pirate, was her half-brother? The man who had sworn vengeance against Ranald Macrory? Her breath caught.

His father is my father. Is that why Da killed him?

“Gilda?” Lissa leaned into her shoulder.

Sensing the girl needed reassurance, Gilda patted Lissa’s cold hand. With all the disdain she could muster, she pulled herself together. “This man is nothing but a pirate. He doesnae like my
father
,” she added, deliberately stressing the word, daring the man to contradict her. “But he willnae take us with him.”

“Think ye no?” His face turned thunderous as he advanced on them. Gilda’s courage faltered as the other girls shrank against her.

“Ye will be my hostage and I will beggar yer
da
before I am finished with him,” Acair MacEwen boasted. “He will live long enough to see his children starve, his woman reduced to selling herself to the meanest bilge rat to put bread on the table.”

Gilda’s breath caught in her throat as hatred transformed the man before her. His mocking attitude gone, he was suddenly a darker evil than she had ever envisioned, his face twisted with a venom that appeared to eat him from within. His lips snarled as he spoke and spittle beaded in the mustache that drooped to frame his mouth. The greasy, unkempt braids on either side of his face swung against his shoulders as he advanced, his sheer malevolence frightening. Looming over them, he blocked the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Gilda began to shake.

A low growl sounded. Acair paused as the sound strengthened. The pirate shifted the dirk in his hand. Gilda’s gaze flew to the thicket where the wolf had lain. Beside her, Lissa gasped and Mairead sobbed behind trembling hands.

“Silence!” Acair gestured with a slicing movement of the dirk.

Gilda grabbed Lissa and Mairead and stepped backward, pulling them with her. “We willnae be yer prisoners.”

“Dinnae move again.” His voice threatened, but he spun as the growl in the thicket rumbled once more. He flexed his hand and the steel winked in the mottled light.

“No!” Gilda tore free of the other girls’ grasps as she plunged forward to stop his throw.

With lightning speed, Acair flipped the blade in his hand, grasping it by the tip. An instant’s pause for aim as he drew his arm back, he sent the long knife singing into the shadowy brambles—and missed.

Leaves and twigs exploded as the wolf launched himself at the pirate. Acair took the weight of the wolf’s body directly in the chest and stumbled back, falling almost to the ground. One arm came up instinctively to protect his face and neck, and the wolf’s teeth sank deep into his flesh. Blood spurted from the wounds and Acair cried out. He snatched another blade from his boot and tried to push to his feet, but the wolf released his arm only to leap at his throat again, fangs flashing white in the gloom. His snarls filled the air, raging amid Acair’s shouts. Rooted to the spot, Gilda watched in rising panic.

The wolf’s teeth drew blood yet again. His grizzled coat a blur in the dappled light of the glen as he struck, Gilda could scarce keep up with his lightning moves. The pirate grappled with the ferocious beast, shielding himself with one ripped and bloody arm, the other seeking a target with his knife amid the animal’s determined onslaught.

The wolf slashed at him again, his teeth missing their mark this time, and the beast danced out of reach, preparing for another attack. In the instant’s respite, Acair lunged to his feet, bringing his blade to bear as the wolf sprang again. Acair’s arm swung, and the wolf gave a yelp of pain.

Goaded into action, Gilda flew at Acair, grabbing his arm and holding onto it with terror-driven tenacity.

The pirate struck her with his bloody arm, breaking her grip and sending her to her knees several feet away. Dazed, Gilda lifted a trembling hand to her head, watching in shock as Acair turned to the wounded wolf.

“Ye damned beast!” he spat, crouching to counter another attack. His hands splayed wide, the bloody knife a deadly extension of himself. The wolf stood before him, head down, yellow gaze on his foe. A growl rolled from his heaving chest. One front foot dangled just above the ground. Gilda could not look away.

“Come eat my blade,” Acair taunted, waving the short knife in the air.

“Pick someone yer own size,” an unexpected voice commanded. The deadly tableau broken, all four whirled to the newcomer.

Mairead was the first to recover. “Conn!”

“Ye know this sniveling wench?” Acair grinned and pointed to Gilda with the tip of his knife. “She isnae such a beauty as yon lass, but ye can have yer pick when I am finished.”

“Ye willnae prey on the helpless again,” Conn replied as he advanced. “Draw yer sword and fight me.”

“No!” Mairead cried, reaching toward the two men. Gilda lunged to her feet and grabbed the other woman.

“Dinnae distract him,” she hissed in warning.

“He is my brother,” Mairead sobbed, but she turned her face into Gilda’s shoulder and muffled her words.

Blinking back tears and the effects of Acair’s stunning blow, Gilda pushed Lissa and Mairead into the thicket, leaving the clearing to the men.

* * *

Conn spared the women a quick look, his sister sobbing into Gilda’s shoulder as Gilda swayed on her feet. Lissa’s sharp gasp shook him out of his inattention and he swung about, narrowly missing the blade that thudded into the trunk of the tree behind him. With a roar, he charged his opponent. Grunting, the pirate reached for his sword with his injured arm. A grimace crossed his face and he shifted the weapon to his other hand. Conn registered the bloody, tattered mess of the brigand’s mangled arm.

There was scant room in the tiny glen for two fighting men to engage their swords. Conn crashed into his foe, slamming him against a tree. The pirate’s breath left him in a low groan, but Conn didn’t have time to follow up the slight edge as the outlaw shoved him away. Ducking, Conn dodged the downward slash of steel, pivoted and brought his sword up to block the vicious blow.

Using the force of his spin, Conn lashed out with one foot. Making solid contact with the side of the pirate’s knee, he sent him crashing to the ground. With a bellow, the pirate rolled to the side, swinging his sword. Conn narrowly avoided the deadly arc, but lost his footing as he slid on the leaves on the forest floor. Arms waving, he caught his balance just before he sprawled atop the pirate, but the man was already on one knee, bringing his weapon to bear. Conn heard the whoosh of the sword as it sliced through the air a split second before it bit deep in his shoulder. Bright shards exploded in his head at the pain.

One of the girls screamed. He braced himself, stumbling to his feet as his vision cleared. A shadowed form burst past him with a rumbling growl and Conn drew back in surprise. The wolf crashed into the pirate, knocking him to the ground. He snarled atop the downed man, and the pirate’s sword, hilt slippery with blood, scuttled from his hand, landing amid the bracken.

Conn staggered to the ravaging beast and grasped it by the ruff. With an effort he heaved the wolf aside and it vanished into the thicket.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Conn stared at the wounded man at his feet. Twisted on the ground, the pirate’s breath whistled from his savaged throat as his life’s blood pumped rhythmically into the fallen leaves. The men’s eyes locked, and in an act of mercy, Conn plunged his sword deep into the pirate’s chest.

For several long moments Conn stood over the dead man. The sound of faint sobbing reached his ears and he staggered to the girls. He saw the looks of horror as they stared at the dead pirate. “Dinnae dare faint on me,” he rasped.

Mairead stared at him. “Ye killed him!”

“He would have killed me, and ye included, had I not.”

“The wolf—” Lissa whimpered.

“Dinnae
fash
about the wolf. Hie back to the castle. Now!”

The two girls started at his voice, but Gilda’s mutinous look gave him pause.

“Where is Ryan?” she asked.

“He is busy. I am taking ye home.”

“I willnae—”

“
Dinnae distract him
,” Conn mocked without humor, flinging her own words back at her. “Leave, before more pirates come.”

He saw her pause. “I promised him I would see ye safe. I will come back for him as soon as ye are at the castle.”

Gilda opened her mouth, then pressed her lips in a stubborn line. He bent to wipe his blade in the leaves, but the movement wrenched the gash in his shoulder. With a cry of pain, he grasped the wound and fell to his knees as fresh blood poured warm across his hand.

“Yer arm!” Gilda exclaimed and hurried to his side. Her fingers gently probed his shoulder and he bit back a moan. She tore a strip from the hem of her gown. “Lissa! I will need another piece for bandaging. Mairead, come hold yer brother’s wound together.”

He wanted to tell them to hurry, but his teeth ground against the pain as Mairead, her head averted, used both hands to push the edges of the gash together. With deft movements, Gilda wrapped the bandages around his arm, stemming the rush of blood.

Gilda cupped his cheek in her palm. “Conn, we cannae take the time to go through the forest. We must go back for the horses.”

“’Tis safer through the trees.”

“Ye willnae make it on foot.”

Her observation gave him pause. His body trembled and he was not sure he could rise, much less walk all the way back to the castle. But there was no guarantee Ryan had held back the pirates. Dare he risk leading the girls back to the clearing above the beach?

* * *

Gilda saw the grimace on Conn’s face. “Come. We will be careful.”

Shouts and the sound of a horn suddenly echoed through the trees. Tremors ran through Gilda and Conn’s hesitation told her he warred with his decision.

“Something is happening. Ye must go,” she pleaded.

At his reluctant nod, they skirted the edge of the glen, pressing into the safety of the trees. Winding amid the trunks, Gilda clutched Lissa’s hand, Mairead bringing up the rear while Conn struggled to keep the lead. Gilda’s heart beat faster as they approached the edge of the forest. Voices rose in the air, but there were no sounds of fighting, no clash of steel or battle cries. She swallowed against the acrid rise of fear.

Conn halted, lifting his arm in command. “Stay here.”

“But—”

He shook his head. “Ye three must stay together. I will bring the horses back. And Ryan, too.”