Choosing the Highlander (19 page)

She took her eyes off the wolves to reach for Honesty’s reins. With no more warning than the flattening of his ears, he bolted off into the trees, spraying her with tiny rocks and dirt. “No! Honesty!”

She whipped her head back toward the tree line where the wolves were. They were no longer stationary. They were trotting. Straight at her.

One of them watched Honesty tear into the forest, but it returned its gaze to her. Oh. Shit.

“Wilhelm!”

Chapter 16

Every day with Constance was like leading a skirmish. Sometimes he must sneak in quietly to gain the advantage. Sometimes he must ride in strong with swords drawn. Sometimes, like today, he found it most beneficial to wait her out.

The lass put him through his paces, ’twas cert. If she were any other person he might become annoyed, but with her—
och,
he reveled in her changing moods. Whether she lowered her eyelids to hide her ardor or ire rose in her cheeks with hues to rival the red in her hair, she always pleased him. She always intrigued him.

There is more to her than she would have me learn. She seeks to hide more than just her ardor.

Something about this
Shick-ah-go
of Vinland wanted meat on its bones. His truth sense told him that she had given him a wee dose of truth, but ’twas not truth in its entirety. Discovering each and every one of her secrets would be his pleasure. Whether it took the rest of their journey to Inverness or the rest of his life, he had already committed himself to the cause.

Done watering the ferns, he gathered up Justice’s reins and prepared to walk him to the loch for a drink. Hopefully Constance had finished washing. He adored looking on her bare form, but part of the fun was convincing her to reveal herself to him. Not wishing to take liberties, not even with his eyes, he called ahead, but a commotion of hooves on rock made him halt.

Honesty galloped up the slope and came to a skidding stop in front of him. Justice flattened his ears in affront.

Honesty’s eyes rolled to show their whites. Even though he’d come to a stop, he danced with agitation.

Constance’s voice rose on the air. “Wilhelm!”

He dropped Justice’s reins and raced to the loch.

“Wilhelm! Wolves! Get back, you!” That last had obviously been directed at the wolves. The edge of panic in her voice meant they were closing in on her. Lord help them.

He pushed his legs faster. Mid stride, he drew his double-edged axe. Rounding the trees, he took in the situation. Two wolves advanced on Constance, teeth bared. Their coats lacked luster and hollows showed at their hips. Their hunger would make them vicious. It also explained why they were targeting people—they were desperate.

“Behind me!” he yelled as he neared his lady.

She wasted no time obeying, scurrying backward with skirts gathered to aid her haste. The wise woman didn’t turn and give the wolves her back. Her bravery never ceased to amaze him.

He lusted to send her back to the horses. Atop Honesty, no wolf would be able to reach her. But he was no more inclined to trust her safety to spooked horses than to wolves. She would be safest here with him. No wild beast would touch her with him in front of her. He’d slay a thousand wolves to keep her safe.

Whirling his axe, he pressed forward. “Think you to make a meal of her, aye? I wouldna recommend it. Tough as tanned hide, my lady.”

Constance clucked her tongue. “Honestly, Wilhelm.”

He grinned at her chiding as he took two more steps forward.

The wolf on the right had a yellowish gray coat. It held its ground, but the other, slightly smaller wolf, backed up a step. A decisive show of strength would likely frighten the pair off. If need be, he’d fight the yellow one. The other wouldn’t pose a problem.

“Besides, you’ll have to get through me to take a bite of her.”

“Please be careful, please be careful, please be careful.” Constance’s murmuring filled him with pride. She cared for him. He wouldn’t fail her.

Wilhelm made the first move. He lunged to put himself nose to nose with the yellow wolf and carved his axe through the air. Wisely, the dominant beast scurried out of the way. Due to Wilhelm’s position, it had to move backward, away from Constance.

“Off with you, now. You’ve no business attacking men or women.” He sliced his axe through the air again for emphasis.

The meeker wolf stopped its growling and tucked its tail, but the yellow wolf kept up its vocal threat. It wouldn’t relent unless he proved his superiority. So be it.

Wilhelm charged, axe whistling toward the beast’s shoulder.

“Wilhelm! Look out!”

Somat collided with his side, knocking him to the ground. Pain shot up his arm. A third wolf!

The beast had come out of nowhere and struck at his elbow, exactly where the joint in his armor left him vulnerable. Were it not for his pourpoint, those wicked teeth might have sunk to the bone. As it was, discomfort flared at the wolf’s vise-like clamp, but it gave him an advantage. If he could just roll the beast beneath him and get his axe into position, he could use the wolf’s own body for leverage and slit the thing’s throat.

Before he could get a leg over the wolf to pin it, Constance rushed in.

What was she doing? She would get herself killed! “No! Back with you!”

Unsurprisingly, his lady didn’t listen.

Screaming like a Valkyrie, she stretched a length of linen over the wolf’s head as if she meant to smother it. To his utter shock, she began pummeling it. “Let go, you son of a bitch! Let go of him! I’ll kill you!”

Her punches jarred the wolf’s teeth in his flesh, but the pain only lasted a moment. The wolf released him with a snarl and aimed that vicious mouth at Constance. The growl of the yellow wolf grew closer.

If Wilhelm didn’t act swiftly, they would attack as a pack.

He launched to his feet and scooped Constance behind him. Wielding his axe one handed, he drew his broadsword with the other and passed it to her. ’Twas not a weapon he would trust in the hands of just any woman, but since
his
woman seemed disinclined to stand by and let him perform the rescue by himself, she had better have more than a piece of linen to defend herself.

The meek wolf trotted in circles, indecisive. But the other two still bared their teeth. Their ears flattened to their heads. Good. They’d drawn first blood. He would draw the last.

As the two larger wolves sprang forward in unison, battle lust struck him like lightning. The urge to protect his lady surged through his limbs. As always when he faced worthy foes, time seemed to slow. Every move his enemy made announced itself in advance.

He swung his blade with precision. With a single arc, his axe disabled the yellow wolf with a neck wound and lodged in the ribcage of the surprise attacker.

Both wolves fell. Because they were animals and not men who should face justice for attacking a woman, he ended their lives with swift mercy.

The meek wolf ran into the forest. It would not attack men again.

Flush with the thrill of victory, he turned to Constance and yanked her to him by her hip. The blade of his axe clinked with the broadsword in her hand, the tip of which rested in the sand.

She gasped. Her lips parted, and those eyes of every color widened. Her cape hung crookedly, and a lock of her hair formed a ragged loop as it came partly undone from its binding. Even disheveled and pale with fright, she was the bonniest sight he’d ever gazed upon.

The sword fell from her grasp and hit the ground with a slap.

He let the axe join it so he could wrap both his arms around her. Tight. Tighter.
His.
 

He took her mouth while the battle lust still rode him. Lips and tongue more bold than was proper, he plundered the wet, welcoming heat of her.

A groan rumbled in his chest.

She answered with a whimper and matched his fervor, throwing her arms around his neck and crushing herself to him from thigh to chest.

A feeling of completion overwhelmed him. He lusted to lay her down on the beach and take her roughly and thoroughly. But where there were three hungry wolves, there might be more.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he growled, “We should make haste.”

She nodded, cheeks flushed. Her gaze jumped all around, avoiding his.

He grasped her chin. “Look at me, my Constant Rose.”

She did and swallowed hard.

“Why do you fash, lass?”

Pinning her shoulders back, she lifted her chin from his hold. “Just, you know, not used to wolf attacks.” A bushel full of words containing but a grain of truth.

He did not press her. Instead, he sheathed his weapons, took her hand, and led her in silence back to the horses.

He didn’t require his truth sense to ken it had upset her greatly to see him threatened. While fighting that third wolf, she had acted as a woman determined to protect what was hers.

Taking vows was merely a formality. They were as good as wed. Whatever he must do to make her his in the eyes of the crown, he would do, but they already belonged to each other. ’Twas as certain as rain in springtime.

As soon as they neared the horses, Constance tried to tug her hand away.

He didn’t let her go. Not only did he intent to assure himself the horses had calmed before trusting them near his lady, but he loathed the thought of losing contact with her. She might have been gravely injured or worse this day. Her touch assured him that she was alive and hale.

“Wait,” he said, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her.

Honesty bobbed his head, agitated. His ears moved to and fro, searching for the sounds of predators. In contrast, Justice’s ears pricked forward at their approach. He knew his master well enough to interpret his lack of haste to mean he’d dealt with the threat.

“Easy, lads,” he cooed. “The beasties are gone.” Rather than go to his horse first, he left Constance with Justice and took Honesty’s reins with a firm hand. “You’ll be all right then, aye, lad? Easy. Easy.”

The gelding lowered its head, seemingly reassured. Still, Wilhelm wouldn’t trust him to carry his lady just yet.

He peered back at Constance, keeping his movements slow. “Are you fit to ride? I’ll be taking Honesty for this stretch. You’ll have Justice.”

“No,” Constance said. Her face was still pale, but she kept her voice low, no doubt following his cues to keep the horses calm. “I’m not fit to ride. Not until I look at that arm of yours.”

She began plundering his saddle bag. “Do you have bandages in here? I suppose a first-aid kit is too much to hope for. No hydrogen peroxide in the fifteenth century. No
Neosporin
or
Band-Aids.
Not even
Bag Balm
, for crying out loud. None of it’s even been invented yet.”

Her pitch rose as she rattled off word after word he didn’t recognize. The curious tirade terminated on a hiccup.

He left Honesty to go to her. His lady’s emotional state was far more important than that of a horse. Clearly, the encounter with the wolves had greatly upset her.

She waved him away. “No. No. Never mind me. Forget everything I just said.”

Her eyes went wide—almost frightened—as she returned to her search. But what did she have to be frightened of now that the wolves were gone?

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself, resuming her search through Justice’s saddle bag. She kept her eyes on the bag, but she couldn’t hide her welling tears from him.

“Lass? What fashes you? We are safe now, you and I. And I vow to keep you safe. For all time, lass. You may trust me on that.” ’Twas a vow from the depths of his heart.

She froze with her hands deep in Justice’s saddle bag. After a long moment she lifted out somat large and brown and said, “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

In her fist, she held her travelling sack. In her gaze was confusion and, worse, mistrust.

Chapter 17

Och,
Wilhelm had forgotten all about the sack when he’d insisted Constance ride Justice. He’d planned to tell her about it gently before showing it to her. Her finding it like this couldn’t be worse for the fragile trust growing between them.

“You’ve had it the whole time.” She spoke as if her lips had gone numb. Her gaze was sharp as a brooch pin. Those eyes of every color accused him of keeping this from her to hurt her rather than to protect her.

“Not me. Terran.” He took a tentative step toward her. Then another. “He found Ruthven’s men pawing through it before he set the fire, and he took it. I did not intend for you to find it thusly.”

Clutching the sack to her chest, she backed away from him. “Of course you didn’t. You were holding onto it, waiting for the moment it would benefit you in some way. You’ll never stop with the questions, will you? And now you have something to hold over me. Right here. Proof that there’s something wrong about me, that I don’t belong here.”

Her chest rose and fell too quickly. Her pitch rose again until her voice trembled with unshed tears. He was learning this behavior indicated a crisis of emotion.

He reached out a hand, hoping she would trust him and take it. “Easy, lass. I am not your enemy. Never will I hurt you. Never.”

She ignored his offered hand, his offered comfort. “Surely, you’ve seen inside. Terran too. Oh. Of course.”  Her gaze went distant, as if she’d forgotten he was there. She might have been talking to herself. “This explains why he threatened me. No wonder he questions my loyalty.”

“Terran threatened you? When?” He took another step closer.

His rising agitation robbed his movements of subtlety. How dare his cousin treat Constance harshly? He would have words with him when they met again.

Constance backed up again, quicker this time to match his increasing pace. “And you. You’ve been so nice to me, but it’s all to get me to let my guard down, isn’t it? I should have known. No one is nice just to be nice. Everyone wants something. What do you want, Wilhelm? What do you want from me?” Her back hit the peeling bark of a birch tree. The sack dangled from the fingers of her right hand.

He wasted no time capturing her shoulders. The firm touch was not only to soothe her but to soothe himself as well. Now that he had her stationary, he could explain.