Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends, Book 1.5) (6 page)

CHAPTER
SIX

Robert looked forward to a confrontation with Susanna’s father, but as the small party came into sight across the vast meadow of snow, he realized the chance of her father being among them was slight. And that thought disappointed him.

He’d heard MacEalan was ruthless. Broc had formed alliances with clans that had risen against the Brodie, which made him an enemy. The fact that the vibrant creature beside him had fled from him—
had been willing to kill for her freedom
—made him eager to do battle with the tyrant. The very notion that something horrible might’ve happened to her at his hands made him want to kill the man.

“I still doona understand why we had to wait,” Susanna grumbled.

She’d grown more and more agitated all afternoon, pacing almost nonstop. The woman had homed in on her instincts; her body and soul sensing the impending danger as it approached long before her mind did. Unfortunately, nothing in Robert’s power enabled him to lessen the impact of her fears.

“We wait because we must. ’Tis our only way home,” he replied.

She scowled at him, catapulted her icy glare at the approaching party, and then turned, heading toward the tree where they’d been sheltered most of the day.

Robert let her have a moment to herself as he walked over to Seamus and Duncan. The men were on edge. Years of training and hundreds of fights had prepared them for any encounter, and they tasted the same aggression in the air he did.

“You two remain here. Whatever comes, it pursues Susanna. We protect her first.” Robert gathered the reins of their horses.

“We are yours, Commander,” Seamus said, staring in the direction of their approaching enemy for another heartbeat before striding over to his horse. With calm efficiency, he pulled the axes from their packs and tossed
Duncan one.

Once the men had what they needed, Robert led the horses toward Susanna, sheltering the animals from harm, planning to use them in defense if necessary. The fierce wind had calmed, but the snow continued, fat flakes drifting down one after another. Susanna shivered as the sun crept lower, robbing the waning afternoon of its scant warmth.

Robert stepped in front of her and wrapped his hands around her upper arms, rubbing them. He glanced down at her. “Those men will not harm you.”

Her gaze locked onto the horizon beyond Duncan and Seamus. “I’ll gain my freedom, or die tryin’.”

“You’ll not die this night, lass,” he said.

She exhaled a slow breath, but her demeanor told him the action came from determination, not frustration. Her entire stance had changed, becoming more rigid as she prepared herself like they all did. A twinge of pride jolted through his chest at her display of courage.

The approaching party grew closer, dark shapes bobbing amid a field of pristine white. Robert counted just over half a dozen men and snorted. Two to one was nowhere near fair, but not every fight promised great challenge.

None wore a clan plaid, but that didn’t surprise him. Plaids were only recently adopted as functional clothing by Iain’s introduction of the pattern to Clan Brodie’s wool. As was more customary, leather clad the riders’ legs down to their boots, and fur covered their upper torsos. The leader of their party rode a horse whose bridle was decorated with elaborate precious-metal designs.

The group stopped just short of Duncan and Seamus, chunks of snow flying into the air as their horses’ hooves dug into the ground. Predictably, not one of the men was Susanna’s father, as none bore the purported jagged scar down his face.

“Do you recognize him?” Robert asked her.

The man bellowed. “I know you have her. Surrender the wee whore to us, and we won’t cause bloodshed.”

“Dougal. He’s the man my father”—she shuddered—“sold me to. He gave my father fertile land and gold and silver in exchange for my father forcin’ me to be his
...wife...but I dinna marry him.”

“Susanna!” the man shouted, his frizzy matted locks shaking from his scalp. “You’ve caused me great embarrassment. For that you shall pay. Your father wanted to come after you. In fact, he took great pleasure in the thought. I insisted he remain behind, however, imaginin’ you’d rather submit to my will than his.”

Robert ignored the trespasser’s rants, glancing at her. “Was there a treaty made?”

“Aye. I doona care. I’ll not be like my mother. No woman should have to suffer the way she has.”

Robert growled.

Dougal drew his sword, the ring of its metal the only battle cry the Brodie needed. Then Dougal kicked his horse, leading his animal wide and out of their sight while two of the men he’d brought urged their mounts the opposite direction and the other four directly charged their stand of trees.

Fools.

Seamus and Duncan moved apart in a blur.

Like water rushing over jagged rocks, Robert’s men jumped and fell in response to each obstacle in their way. With Seamus’s boulder of a fist, he unseated the first unlucky man from his horse and buried an ax deep into his heart right as his victim’s back hit the ground. Duncan unsheathed his sword, ducked under an arcing blade, and sprung into the air, piercing a rider through one side and out the other.

As their commander and natural-born strategist, Robert held back from the immediate fray, his senses heightened to detect their unseen foe. His men continued in silent grace, deadly shadows moving amid pure, white snowfall, dispatching their enemy with unparalleled skill. Robert turned, keeping Susanna at his back, as he scanned for movement through the trees. He’d been hunted by a hungry predator before, including men wishing to end his life. Never had it been with a woman on the battlefield.

“Susanna, stay between my back and the horses.”

“Aye, Robert. I’ve no intention of bein’ anywhere else.”

He nodded, pleased that she cooperated with him against their common enemy. Mental notes of the weapons Dougal possessed flashed through his mind as Robert unsheathed a claymore from a scabbard strapped to their spare horse.

Robert relegated unnecessary sounds into background noise as adrenaline spiked through his veins, honing his senses. With keen eyesight and hearing, he distinguished each move their attackers made: the shift in a saddle, a twig that broke beneath a hoof, snow that crunched on a dismount.

With slowing breaths, he closed his eyes and calmed the heartbeat pounding in his ears. On instinct, his body readied for the fight: weight shifted to the balls of his feet, muscles relaxed, charged awareness amplified. On an inhale, he opened his eyes, flexing his fingers one hand at a time on the leather hilt.

A dark shape flashed to his far left, and Robert spun around.

Susanna shifted behind him, quick as his shadow.

Disturbed air rippled to his right.

A flash of metal arced past his shoulder.

Susanna gasped.

He shot his claymore up, catching the descending smaller sword. The deafening ring of blade crashing into blade pierced his ears. Robert shoved a shoulder into the block, throwing his opponent backward. He jerked the hilt higher, punching a hard blow into the attacker’s jaw.

Dougal grunted, stumbling back. “You’ve no right to her,” he growled, spitting out blood and adjusting a jaw that had likely been cracked.

Robert squinted at him. “You speak the truth. She seeks sanctuary here. You’ve no right to her either.”

On a roar, Dougal charged forward, swinging his lighter, one-handed sword. Robert held his ground, unwilling to expose Susanna. Robert deflected the flying blade, but Dougal spun around at the last moment, arcing his sword under Robert’s, slicing the razor edge into his side above a rib.

Susanna gasped.

Robert hissed, wincing at the pain, but remained focused on the danger. He had to get Susanna to safety. Duncan and Seamus must’ve given chase to the remaining two attackers, or they would’ve arrived to assist them.

Focusing on his opponent, Robert circled around in deliberate steps, his hands gripping the hilt only tight enough to direct his claymore without choking his ability for fluid movement. Susanna moved in graceful motion with him. He caught a slight hesitation in Dougal’s rhythm and shifted his weight into his leading hip, arcing his weapon wide and low.

He caught a flash of movement down behind him, but concentrated all his energy forward, following through on the forceful swing. Blade met blade with a loud
clang
that reverberated through Robert’s arm and into his entire body, but the crushing force of the impact sheared his opponent’s sword in half. Both men blinked, shocked at the improbable occurrence. Robert slowly lowered his newer claymore, staring at it, wondering if Iain had the smithy weave magick into its metal or if Dougal’s blade had an inherent flaw.

A sudden whir of air brushed by Robert’s ear as a dagger flew past his face, straight and true. The blade embedded into Dougal’s left upper chest up to its jeweled hilt. Dougal gaped down wide-eyed. A moment later, he coughed up blood.

Robert inhaled a deep breath, realizing what Susanna had done. Not only had she thrown her weapon expertly, she’d pierced Dougal’s lung.

In the few seconds it took for the two men to recalculate their odds of victory, Robert felt the heavy presence of his formidable clansmen descend among them—the air sizzled with immense power. Without turning around, he slowly smiled at the hunched-over Dougal, whose chances had just vanished in a wisp of smoke.

“This isna over,” Dougal threatened, another bloodied cough sputtering out.

The vegetation to Robert’s immediate left rustled, and he spun toward the sound, reaching back and wrapping an arm around Susanna as he guided her in step with him. A scuffle broke through the low brush, and Seamus and Duncan burst into the small clearing, engaged in hand-to-hand combat with two of Dougal’s men.

Robert snapped his attention back toward Dougal at the instant the injured man was being hoisted onto a horse by one of Dougal’s soldiers. Once Dougal was seated behind the man, the horse galloped off into the forest, vanishing from sight.

Instinct bunched his muscles, readying him to chase the enemy down; however, he forced a grounding breath into his lungs, nostrils flaring. Vengeance would have to wait a little longer. When he granted Dougal the bloody death he deserved, it would be far easier on Susanna if she didn’t witness the gruesome event
.

With the need to protect Susanna pumping hard through his veins, he turned around to find her shaking from head to toe. Her face was red, tightened into an enraged scowl. Her chest heaved as she stared off into the darkened forest where Dougal had fled.

“Susanna?”

Her gaze remained unfocused beyond his shoulder. She’d gone far away, somewhere else entirely.

He cupped a hand over her cheek. “Susanna. Lass, come back.”

She blinked a few times and shifted her gaze up to his. Those striking blue eyes sparked with fury. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She closed it on a hard swallow.

“Thank you, lass. You’ve a fierce protectiveness in you that I admire. You’ve great aim, as well, as good as any of my men.” He winked at her, attempting to pull her from her dark shock.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I want him to suffer. To remember. To know what it’s like to be deeply scarred.”

He chuckled. “Aye. I’ll wager he’ll never forget.” In fact, he soon planned to remind Dougal in painstaking detail before delivering the ultimate parting message on Susanna’s behalf.

“He has my dagger,” she grumbled.

“Did it serve the purpose you’d intended?”

The corners of her mouth twitched, a glint flashing in her eye. “Aye.”

“The dagger can be replaced. ’Tis a lesson to him that a human is not to be taken against their will.
In any manner.
”

“Aye, I’m glad he has the dagger. ’Twill be the only piece of me he’ll ever have.”

He smiled down at her, both in pride of what she’d done and in admiration of the strength she’d found inside herself. She’d need that fortitude until he dealt properly with Dougal, for until her tormenter was forcefully removed from this world, she would feel hunted.