At The Highlander's Mercy

The dark-eyed man nodded to the one holding her and the other one nearer to Isla. She opened her mouth to demand her freedom when the blow hit her from behind and her world went black.

Each of the next several days went from bad to something that resembled his idea of hell. Rob managed to calm one faction of his family only to have another rise up in complaint. He wondered many times through those last days how Connor MacLerie made it look so easy. Peering over the rim of his goblet as yet another storm brewed in his hall, Rob realised that the one thing that Connor had to help him was his terrible reputation, one not completely undeserved, as the murderous Beast of the Highlands. As he glanced from one squawking Matheson to another, he considered murdering them all and gaining himself a similar reputation.

Symon had been quieter than usual, but that only worried Rob more. At least when he was making noise or complaining, he knew what Symon was up to. His cousin had been absent from the keep and village without word. A worrying thing, that.

He was about to summon Dougal when the doors to the hall were thrown open and a large group of warriors, under Symon’s control and with him in the lead, came crashing in, yelling and calling out to each other as though celebrating some great victory. Rob nodded to the man he’d appointed as his commander and by the time his cousin and the others reached the front of the hall, additional soldiers had entered and taken positions around the chamber. If Symon noticed, he did not say, but his swagger and manners spoke of trouble walking towards him.

‘Rob,’ Dougal said as he approached from the other side. He took his place behind his laird as Symon reached the dais. ‘He is up to nothing good.’ Rob only nodded, never taking his gaze off the seething group of men, and waited. The attack was not long in coming.

‘You have dragged your heels long enough, Laird,’ Symon began, using his title as a curse. ‘The Mathesons will not serve a leader who will not lead them.’

Shouts both for and against him rippled through the men gathered there and they gained the attention of anyone who might have otherwise passed on through, carrying out their duties. Soon an even larger audience listened to Symon’s threats to his position as chief. Symon waited and then waved them quiet.

‘It matters not now, for I have done what you could not and would not do.’

After making that challenge to his leadership, Symon walked forwards and climbed the first step. Rob blocked him from moving forwards. Every man in the hall tensed and the air seethed with discontent and hostility. Dougal’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword, but Rob shook his head, holding him from taking that step.

‘I care not for your words, Symon,’ Rob said, stepping down and forcing Symon to move back. He did. ‘I am chief and will make decisions for this clan.’

Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched Symon’s expression as all those loyal to him lined up behind Rob. All the elders save one, Murtagh, gathered with him, but Murtagh’s move was not a surprise to Rob. The old man had supported Symon’s claim throughout the time of uncertainty and did not yield now.

‘You refuse to take action against the MacLeries, though we want it,’ Symon said. Rob’s gut seized, warning of something bad coming. The next words confirmed it. ‘Lachlan, come,’ he called.

Symon motioned with his hand and his men separated. One of the men strode forwards from the back of the hall while Symon’s gaze never left his. Lachlan carried a bundle over his shoulder and Rob could not guess what it contained. Then he saw the bundle move, much as a body would if carried in that manner, and he drew a breath through his clenched teeth.

‘Symon,’ he whispered, ‘what have you done?’

He turned from the self-satisfied smirk of his cousin and towards the man and the bundle. Taking no care, Lachlan dropped it on the rush-covered floor just in front of them and stepped back. This was not going to end well, for neither him nor the person they’d kidnapped.

‘You have orchestrated this. Carry on, Symon, and let us see who lies within,’ he said. Better to see what challenge he faced then drag this out, he thought.

Symon, not a small man, though not as large as Lachlan, walked to the bundle, untied the ropes encircling it and tugged an end free. With a grip on that and one good flick, the bundle unrolled and unrolled until a woman was freed and left lying at their feet.

A woman who had ropes around her wrists and ankles and a sack over her head. A woman who did not move now, in spite of Symon’s prodding foot. A woman who had suffocated to death from their harsh treatment?

‘What the hell did you do, Symon?’ he shouted as he bent over the woman. Tugging the sack off her head and then removing the gag he found there, he summoned one of the women over to see to her as he stood and dragged Symon aside. ‘Who is this and why did you kidnap her?’

‘We did not kidnap her, Rob. She is a prisoner of war,’ he said.

‘We are not at war,’ Rob said as one possibility began to tease his thoughts. Even Symon would not be so bold and brash as to … Nay! It could not be. Was it truly Lilidh MacLerie?

Rob had turned back to look at the woman who lay unconscious on his floor. The servant had pushed her hair from her face and was dabbing at her dirt-covered face with a wet cloth. He took in the costliness of her clothing and the jewelled rings on her hand, not missing the gold band that spoke of her married state.

Then he noticed the gently arching brows, the curve of her neck and the full lips that had enticed him even in his youth and yet haunted his dreams—and he knew it was her.

‘You kidnapped the MacLerie’s daughter? She is wed to Iain MacGregor.’

He swore under his breath now as the implications hit him. This was an act of war against two powerful clans. Worse, this was not simply taking their cattle or burning a few farms, which would be insult enough. This was a personal attack as well on both clans and their chiefs. Holy Christ, what had Symon got them into now?

‘Dougal, check the guards. Brodie,’ he called to the steward, ‘get the outlying families into the village and gather the stores.’

He pushed Symon aside and walked over to take a closer look at Lilidh. As he could have predicted, she’d fought against them when they took her—the bruises on her face and her torn fingernails showed that much. The markings of a man’s fingers on her neck made his own clench in response. What else had they done to her?

‘How did you find her?’ he asked, as he strode towards Symon. Nothing, nothing would give him greater pleasure now than pounding his face into the floor and breaking a few of his bones. Grabbing Symon by the neck, he forced him back several steps until his back met the wall behind him. ‘Where are the others?’

Symon’s gaze moved to something or someone over Rob’s shoulder and Rob knew Lachlan approached. With a nod of his head, his men took care of that threat. ‘Where are they?’ he asked again, squeezing hard until Symon choked for breath.

‘She was returning to Lairig Dubh. We took her on the road just after the river as she left the MacGregors’ lands,’ he forced out.

‘And her guards? Her servants?’ No daughter of the MacLerie and wife of the MacGregor would travel alone.

‘A few of the guards are dead. We left the rest of them and took their horses.’

‘Did they see you?’ he asked, but he knew the answer. They made sure they could be identified as Mathesons. Symon wanted the MacLeries and MacGregors to know who’d taken Lilidh. They wanted to force his hand into war.

He tossed Symon to the ground and turned back to the servant at Lilidh’s side. ‘Find a chamber for her.’

‘She is my prisoner, Rob. I want her held in the aerie.’

‘You think she is that dangerous?’ he asked, pointing to the unconscious woman on the floor.

The aerie was in one of the oldest parts of the keep and sat open to the winds. Lightning had struck the roof and blown it away and no one had ever repaired it. Though mostly unused, it had been used as a cell for prisoners in the past … the far, far past. Rob turned back to argue with Symon and to assert his control over any prisoner of the clan when she moved.

Within a few moments, she’d seized a dagger from one of his men and held the servant woman hostage. The wild expression in her eyes spoke of her confusion, but warned him of her uncertain behaviour. Spreading his hands out to show he was unarmed, he began to walk towards her slowly and evenly.

‘Here now, lass,’ Rob said softly. ‘Let Edith go and all will be well.’

His words might have worked until Symon began jeering at her and his men added their taunts. Overwhelmed and injured, she glanced left and right, estimating her escape routes, he was sure. She dragged Edith with her, using her as a shield as she moved. When Lilidh blinked several times and stumbled, Rob suspected a head injury. He tried to follow her moves, staying the same distance from her and speaking quietly to her, but his voice was drowned out by Symon’s men.

‘Silence!’ he yelled, trying to regain control over a dangerous situation.

Well, he did manage to get the men under control but it gave Lilidh the moment she was watching and waiting for and she pushed Edith at him and ran for the door. He passed Edith off once she regained her balance and ran to catch up with her before she got to the door or before Symon reached her. Symon was faster and he got between her and the door, forcing her to stop. He wondered how she could move so quickly on her leg.

‘Come now,’ Symon urged her towards him. ‘Do you want to try me again?’ he goaded.

Rob swore he would kill Symon for this, but first he must stop Lilidh before she was seriously hurt. He doubted that Lilidh knew where she was or even who he was. No glimmer of recognition filled her eyes when their gazes met, but years had passed since she’d seen him last and he’d done the usual growing up that young men did. No matter the manner of their parting, he would never forget what she looked like. Turning his attentions back to her, he decided that he would need to gain her trust.

‘Lilidh MacLerie,’ he called out to her. ‘Do you remember me?’ he asked while waving Symon off. When his men positioned themselves to intervene, Symon finally backed off, though the expression in his eyes promised it was not the end of his challenge to Rob’s leadership. ‘Lilidh?’

Her hand, holding the dagger out before her, began to shake badly and she lost her balance once more. Just when he thought she would tumble to the floor, she righted herself and pushed her hair out of her eyes and tried to focus on him.

‘Who are you? Why have you done this?’ she said as she looked from one man to another and to the next. ‘Does my father know about this?’ Rob waited for her to bring her gaze back to him and then he smiled at her.

A silent moment passed and then another and another before the light of recognition flared in her forest-green eyes. Then she shook her head, though whether in disbelief or confusion he knew not. Lilidh opened her mouth several times, but no words escaped. The distraction was all he needed to gain control of her without hurting her more so he crossed the empty space between them in a few paces, grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she dropped the dagger. Kicking it aside, he still held on to her. As she probably had when Symon took her, she did not allow his hold to remain there. She began backing away, pulling and tugging, trying to free herself.

Lilidh just did not realise she had no chance of escape. As Dougal and some others returned to the hall, he gave one sharp tug and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Rob noticed the smell of blood and saw the thick patch of it on her head—she had been struck and knocked unconscious. Tightening his hold on her, he leaned down and whispered in her ear so that only she could hear his words.

‘Lilidh, you are safe with me. No one will hurt you.’

All the times he’d dreamt of holding her in his arms he had never seen it happening this way. But his body reacted, regardless of how and why, as he felt the womanly curves resting under his arms. Once she realised who he was, any chance of holding her like this would disappear for ever. She belonged to another man and could never be his. She was the daughter of a powerful chief and he was a bastard pretending to be laird.

It would never be, so why not make that clear from this moment on? Taking in a breath, he spoke the words that would separate them for ever … again.

‘Lilidh, it’s me, Rob Matheson.’

Her body stiffened for a moment and then she tried to turn to look at him. He relaxed his grip a tiny bit to allow her to do that. Her green gaze searched his face, seeing the changes that growing up and fighting had wrought there, and he watched as her expression changed. The fear remained, but shock entered it now and she trembled again. It only took a few seconds before the next emotion filled those beautiful green eyes and it was the one he was hoping for. It would help her survive whatever happened around them.

Anger. Her eyes filled and flashed with it and her hand lifted as he’d expected it to. Although she swung with all her might, he captured it easily and held it between them.

‘’Tis good to see you, too, Lilidh. It’s been a long time,’ he goaded her a-purpose.

‘You bastard,’ she swore at him. ‘You are behind this?’

Before he could answer, Dougal called out to him.

‘Some of the villagers come. The gates are secured,’ Dougal said as he approached, not missing the lovely woman still in his arms. ‘This is the MacLerie’s daughter, then?’ he asked, his appreciative gaze clear to everyone watching.

‘Aye. His eldest girl.’ Rob pitched his voice to sound uninterested.

‘And you two are acquainted?’ he asked, meeting Rob’s glance.

‘Do not be a fool, Dougal. Here …’ he held out Lilidh’s hand towards the man and pushed her closer ‘… put her some place for now.’ Dougal’s gaze narrowed and he looked from him to Lilidh and back again.

‘Symon said the aerie. Is that where you want her?’ Dougal watched him closely as he asked his pointed, probing questions.

Where did he want her? In his bed, naked, was the first place he thought of, but the one he could never admit. Shaking his head to clear the lust from his thoughts, he considered the aerie, with its position high in the old tower, one that could be approached by only one stairwell and would be easily defended. Putting her there would keep Symon satisfied and make him less of a problem. And, if her family came calling sooner than he expected, her position there would make them think twice before assaulting the keep.

Hell! What was he thinking?

The aerie was barbaric with its open walls, cracked wooden roof and nothing in the way of comfort. Putting her there would be another way to tweak the MacLeries and the MacGregors into acting against him faster than they already would. Rob stepped away from Dougal and Lilidh and dragged his hands through his hair. The others stood watching and waiting on his word—Symon, Dougal, his men, the elders, all the others who called him chief and those who would remove him with but a wrong word.

‘Take her to my chambers,’ he ordered quietly, hating the way that Dougal’s right eyebrow lifted in silent censure, but not willing to deny it.

The hall erupted with shouts from those backing Symon and those backing him. He would bring this under control and make Lilidh hate him even more than she probably did at this moment.

‘She is my prisoner!’ Symon demanded, shaking his fist at Rob. Rob quickly and without warning strode over to Symon and punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the floor as he’d wanted to do for days.

‘I am chief here and she is my prisoner. You wanted to anger the MacLerie and draw him into a fight? ’Twas your thought that kidnapping her would do it? Well, you have brought her here and she is mine now. Taking her to my bed will be even more effective in drawing him here.’

‘I will not be—’ Lilidh began to say but he gave her no time to say more. Rob turned and was in front of her before she could finish any declaration she would make.

To show her, to show them, who was in charge, he grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her to him, taking her mouth in a claiming kiss that told one and all that he would possess her body and soul before this was done. His demonstration was so successful that all of them began to cheer and urge him on.

Her mouth that was closed against his now softened and he deepened the kiss, tasting the sweetness he had craved for years. Tasting the passion that had lay dormant between them for so many reasons. Reasons that were important then, but now flew off like a flock of summer geese in the autumn’s chill. His thoughts scattered as his body reacted to her mouth and the enticing way she touched her tongue to his.

Until she latched on to the tip of his and bit him! Chiding himself for losing his mind under the guise of putting on a show for those watching, he pushed her back into Dougal’s arms and laughed as he wiped blood from his mouth. Blood she’d drawn.

‘Symon, you wait for me in the solar. Dougal, put her in my chambers. Use a rope or chains if you need to keep her there. I will see to her later,’ he ordered.

Lilidh didn’t say a word as Dougal led her away, but the expression now in her eyes resembled the one in Symon’s eyes just minutes ago. One that promised death and mayhem—with him as the target.

He turned away to see to another task before dealing with those challenging his position and wondered if he or his clan would survive this encounter with Lilidh MacLerie.

Chapter Three

She tried to walk to his chambers, tried to keep her anger inflamed, but her strength—and her leg—gave out by the time they reached the second flight of steps leading up into the tower. Lilidh would have fallen down had it not been for Rob’s man who caught her and carried her the rest of the way. The dizziness that came in waves and inundated her senses did not help. Any strength she mustered to continue to fight him leached away as she was overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion.

And somewhere in that mix of emotions, confusion, anger and a bit of relief swirled. No matter the news she’d received about the Mathesons’ breaking their agreements with the MacLeries, and no matter the personal rift between her and Rob, she knew he would never cause her harm.

No matter that kiss and his threat to take her to his bed … Her body shivered, chills and flames travelling through her at the memory of his mouth possessing hers. The Matheson called Dougal shifted her in his arms and turned down another corridor.

‘We are nearly there,’ he said quietly. No threats of ropes or chains? None of this made sense. Finally, he stopped before a door and waited for a nearby servant to open it. Striding inside, he lowered her to her feet near the bed.

And when she needed her leg to be steady, it failed her once more, the muscles in her damaged thigh spasming and sending stabbing pains along the length of it. She clutched at it as she sank to the floor, not able to hide it from either Dougal or the servant who trailed them into the chamber.

‘Bloody Symon!’ he said through clenched teeth as he reached her side. ‘What did he do to you?’ The man began to take hold of her skirts, but she pushed him off. No one would see her leg. No one.

‘Nay!’ she cried as she struggled to drag herself out of his grasp. ‘It cramped from …’ Lilidh could not think of the excuse so she just waved him off, settling the layers of undergown, gown and tunic as close to her ankles as she could. So she used the truth. ‘It cramped.’

Dougal stood back and examined her from head to toe then. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, the man shrugged.

‘You can’t deny your head is injured. Anything else broken or bleeding?’

Only her heart …

Pushing away that soft thought, she considered all the pain that flooded her body.

‘Bumps and bruises, I think,’ she said, glancing up at him. ‘You are Rob’s man, then?’ she asked.

‘Here now,’ Dougal said as he ignored her question and reached down to her, ‘take my hand and let’s get you to your feet.’ Luckily, his hand and arm were much stronger than hers, for if she’d had to rely on hers, she would have remained on the floor. With one fluid movement, he eased her to stand, but did not let go of his hold. ‘There you go.’

Lilidh clenched her own jaws now to keep from screaming at the pain that burned through her leg. Closing her fingers into fists, she fought the urge to cry out and to collapse. Weakness was not an option right now. Not when she was a prisoner, when threatened with harm and shame, and when even her presence here would bring the war she’d thought she could stop.

What a fool she was!

First for thinking she could fight off the seasoned warriors who’d captured her. And second, for thinking she could ever make things better between her father and Rob. Third and worst of all, for thinking that seeing him now after everything they’d shared and lost would be less painful than the last time.

Dougal pulled a large wooden chair over towards her and motioned for her to sit on its broad surface. Taking in a breath against the pain and fear of falling, Lilidh moved slowly across the chamber until she reached the chair and lowered herself into it. Closing her eyes, she waited for him to follow his laird’s orders to tie or chain her there. A few moments passed before she dared a peek and found him standing with a hand outstretched in front of her … holding out a cup of … something.

‘Drink this,’ he said, shoving it closer to her. Lilidh dared a sniff, but could smell nothing but the spices used to flavour the wine. She took the cup and brought it to her lips. ‘It will ease your pain while Beathas treats your head.’

The woman who’d opened the door for them had been standing by that door all this time and Lilidh never realised it. The pain in her head was dulling her reactions and her senses and kept her from coming up with a plan now that she knew who her attackers were. Once her head stopped throbbing and bleeding, she would be able to think clearly, but first she must ask a question.

‘What about my guards? My maid? Who sees to them?’ she asked, worrying, too, over those who saw to her care and who she’d last seen lying lifelessly by the side of the road. A shiver raced through her as she asked.

The Matheson man shrugged.

‘The laird ordered me to see to you. He will send someone to see to them.’

Understanding it was all she would get as assurances about her people, Lilidh drank down the contents of the cup. From the pungent smell and familiar taste, she suspected that it was a sleeping potion or something to dull the pain in her head. Right at this moment, she hoped it was exactly that. She held out the cup and the woman stepped forwards to take it. It did not take long for the room to change before her eyes.

She noticed that the flames in the hearth, a rather large hearth for a single chamber, swayed this way and that, and she moved her head in time with them. Voices whispered around her, but she could not discern a single clear word in all of the hushed noise. Lilidh lifted her head and turned towards the door and the whole room swirled around her now. Laughing, she enjoyed the warmth that spread into her blood.

Then the door opened, crashing back against the wall, and Rob stood there.

Memories filled her thoughts—of him as a young boy, playing with her brother, learning to work with weapons, growing older and stronger.

Their first kiss.

Lilidh trembled, remembering the gentle, playful touch of their mouths, innocent of anything more. Meeting his intense gaze now, she remembered their growing passion, their secret embraces and the way his scandalous touch would drive her to madness. Then she remembered the way his gaze had hardened when he gave her the truth that broke her heart.