Highlander Undone (Highland Bound Book 5) (15 page)

The back door opened once more, except this time, it wasn’t Hildie but a MacDonald warrior—Ewan recognized the colors of his plaid, and a wicked scar from his temple right down and across his face to his jaw on the opposite side. He tripped over the two satchels, though managed to catch himself before he fell to the ground. The bloody bastard kicked the bags aside, and then whipped up his plaid to piss.

Shona and Moira both quickly hid their eyes.

Then the back door opened once more, and Ewan’s breath stopped, his heart pounding. Hildie, immediately seeing the warrior, smiled at him with wicked intent and tried to beckon him back inside. But the man didn’t want to be coddled. He grabbed the madam by her arm and yanked her all the way out the door, spinning her around and pressing her chest and face to the wall.

Moira gasped, hands covering her mouth, but Shona’s reaction was quite different. Her face flamed red with rage, and she frowned so fiercely he thought she might demand he hand over his stolen sword so she could slay the bastard.

The MacDonald roughly slapped Hildie’s behind, yanked her gown up, exposing her arse. He lifted his plaid, and even from here, they could see the drive of his hips as he entered her. A second later, his grunts could be heard across the clearing.

Ewan gritted his teeth. This was not what Hildie and her tavern were about. This was not paying for services. Though she’d beckoned the warrior inside, perhaps with the intent to seduce, Ewan was going to call this a bloody rape. And he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

Shona nodded, not trying to stop him. They’d witnessed enough horror themselves over the last year, and she’d had to protect herself plenty in the years she was alone.

Ewan was quiet as ran, hunched over, across the glen, a rusty dagger from one of the outlaws held in his grip. He didn’t try to gain the man’s attention, or fight him. He simply came up behind him and slit his throat.

“Are ye all right?” he said to Hildie as the man dropped.

She turned around, tears glistening in her eyes. “Nothing that I’ve not dealt with before.”

“Ye dinna deserve that.”

“I dinna deserve ye.” She swiped at her nose and changed the subject. “I’ve got the last of your baggage here.”

He wanted to offer her more, to tell her to come with him, but he knew she wouldn’t leave her lassies, or her tavern. This place was her life.

“Ye’ve sacrificed so much for us today. I’ll never be able to repay ye. All the coin in the world wouldna.”

She smiled. “I’d have done it for free. Now, get your arses moving. I’ll get rid of this bloke.”

“Want me to bury him?”

“Nay, love. If the men in there are wanting to eat meat all day, now I’ve got a fresh killed boar to serve.”

Ewan’s stomach turned, but it was no less than the bloody MacDonalds deserved.

Hildie swiped the rest of her tears. Took a deep breath and then smiled winningly. “Take care of yourself, Ewan. I counted. There are at least six horses in the stable. Might need to take ‘em all if ye catch my meaning.”

“Whatever ye ask.”

“These bastards aren’t going anywhere for awhile. We’ve been dousing their ale with poppies, but I guess we need to up the ante.”

“Smart choice.”

“Go on now. Go.”

Ewan grabbed hold of the satchels and hurried back to the woods, when he turned around, Hildie was pointing out the dead body to a large, round man—James, Ewan thought his name might be. The cook.

“What is she going to do with the body?” Rory asked.

“Serve him to his friends with a fine wine sauce.”

Chapter Twelve

“Can we not do anything for her?” Shona asked, imploring Ewan. “At least let me give her a tincture that will ensure—”

“The bastard did not have time to finish,” her husband said, understanding her meaning that she’d not want Hildie to suffer from having the MacDonald’s child. “Besides, love, she most likely has a tincture of her own against such things.”

Of course Shona’s mind then went to disease, but how could she help Hildie against that now? In her profession, she was bound to come across any number of compromised men. And that got Shona’s gears going. Once they were safe, and they understand the reason why they’d all been brought together, then she would come back here with an immunity tea for all the women, to help boost their immune systems and even perhaps, she could figure out a way to make pseudo-penicillin. If the Scottish scientist who’d discovered it had found it by using a certain type of mold—molds in England where he’d worked were probably the same right?—certainly Shona could, too.

“We’re not safe here.” Moira was the one who spoke now, her face as pale as a wind-whipped linen sheet. She kept peering back toward the tavern, jumping at the slightest change in the wind.

Rory took her hand, and Shona observed the way her sister’s knuckles turned white from gripping onto him so tightly. She was glad they’d found each other again. Shona had never seen her sister so happy as when she was with Rory.

“I’ll go with Ewan to get the horses,” he whispered to Moira. “Then we can leave.”

She nodded, though she didn’t let go.

The men picked up the satchels and, keeping their senses alert, led Shona and Moira back to the woods. Ewan had always been overprotective of her, even when she’d showed her skill time and again. She thought it was adorable.

“Stay hidden,” Ewan said, pulling her into his embrace so she could breathe in the scent of his skin.

“I will.”

“Your sister needs ye, lass. She’s still in shock, I think.”

Shona agreed. “It will take some time.”

“Almost be better if she arrived the way ye and I did.”

“In some ways, maybe. But perhaps this is a clue we were meant to return here. Or do ye think it means we’re all meant to get back to modern day?”

“All of us?”

Shona shrugged. “Would ye want to?”

Ewan’s jaw muscle flexed. “I dinna know.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth and thrust the dagger from the outlaws into her hands. “Kill anyone who approaches ye.”

Shona nodded, avoiding looking at Moira and Rory’s exchange. The men hurried off, leaving the two of them alone in the silence of the woods, a view of the tavern through the branches.

“Are ye all right?” she asked her sister.

Moira blew out a breath that could have been a gale wind. “Getting there.”

“I know this is sudden and it doesn’t make sense, but, look at me.” Moira raised her eyes from where they rested on her clenched fingers. “I’m all right, and ye will be, too.”

“I want to go home,” Moira said.

“What is home?”

Moira pressed her lips together, not answering the question. “Mrs. MacArthur has likely spread all sorts of rumors about us now.”

“The meddling biddy is having the time of her life, I’m certain. She loves to be in everyone’s business.”

“This is true.”

Suddenly, the hair on the back of Shona’s neck was standing on end. “Shh.” She quietly motioned to her sister, and then turned in a circle scanning their surroundings.

The tree leaves rustled, a few birds chirped. Laughter sounded in the distance, which was a good sign that the men at the tavern were not yet missing their friend. Still, something didn’t feel right.

Ewan and Rory wouldn’t have returned so quickly already.

She waved for her sister to come behind her, and without having to explain, Moira put her back to Shona’s as they slowly turned in a circle. Foe in the woods did not always mean man, or woman. It could be a boar, a bear, sometimes a wildcat, if one were high up in the mountains. They stilled, listening for anything that might sound out of the norm.

And then she heard it. The subtle lift and settle of footsteps upon the forest floor. Human footsteps. They were being stalked. Anyone walking normally, would not try to use lichen and patches of grass to soften their footfalls. They should have talked quieter!

Shona swallowed hard, the dagger gripped tight in her fist. She was not going to allow her sister to be harmed.

“I have Rory’s
sgian dubh
,” Moira whispered so softly it could have been a shift in the wind.

Shona nodded, then reached back and squeezed her sister’s hand, a subtle inference that she understood. They were going to take down whoever it was.

Swallowing aside her fear and breathing in a fresh breath of courage, Shona called out, “We can hear ye. Ye might as well make yourself known.”

Cool laughter sounded somewhere off to her right. She shifted in that direction, not wanting her sister to be the one to face the foe head-on when Shona had so recently been involved with learning to survive in this era.

“Who left two lassies alone in the woods? Is this a new treat Hildie’s offering?” The man made no attempt to hide his steps now, and soon he appeared before them. A scraggly beard that looked in need of a serious trim—and perhaps trapped a vermin or two—long ragged hair in much the same shape, a pimply-looking nose and eyes as swampy as a bog. He wore a filthy linen shirt and a plaid that had seen better days. His sword swung at his hips and the scent coming off him was an equal combination of filth and ale.

As Shona figured it, she and Moira had three choices: run; fight; or pretend they were Hildie’s whores to distract the man until they took him down.

Judging by his appearance and scent, she decided to go with all three. He should be pretty easy to chop down. And at the very least, they could stall. “Well, why do ye think she’s dressed us in breeches? It’s a new treat for ye called, Catch the
Sassenach
.”

“Och, I like the sound of that.” His grin was hungry and desperate, oozing of villainous intent.

On instinct, Shona knew if this man got ahold of them, he would be certain to make the pain last.

She worked hard not to shudder, and surprisingly Moira did not tremble against her back.

“Close your eyes, and count to twenty. Then ye can open them and come after us.” Shona winked for good measure.

The burly brute stared at her a moment, assessing all of her parts while licking his lips. “What if I dinna want to play the catch part, just get to the fucking?”

“I’m afraid that’s against the rules,” Shona said.

The man’s face flattened and his cold, fathomless eyes met hers, his voice taking a chill note. “There are no rules out here, bitch.”

And that was when she realized they should run.

“Moira,” she ground out, and then the two of them were running, crashing through the forest in the direction their men had gone, the ogre trampling the forest floor behind them.

He was fast. Much faster than she would have guessed he’d be.

“Faster,” Moira said, inching ahead.

“I’m right behind ye,” Shona called.

But she was lying. Shona stopped short, whirled around and presented the bastard with her dagger. He skidded to a stop, hands out to protect himself from her blade.

“Take another step and I’ll gut ye,” she said through bared teeth.

A slow grin creased his brutal face. “Ye’ll do as your told, ye filthy whore.”

Though inside she was shaking, Shona held her ground. She’d faced off with men more fierce than this maggot before. “I dinna take kindly to ye talking to me that way.”

“I dinna care.” He loomed forward, and Shona didn’t hesitate.

She lashed out, wielding the knife as she’d learned to do over the years, and slicing into the man’s palms. He yelped, leaping backward, but only for a moment before he was on her again, fists wailing, and she was ducking out of the way. His arrogance at not even reaching for his own weapon fueled her fury. The whoreson truly thought he could take her down with his bare hands, even after she’d wounded him.

Remembering what Rory had taught her, what Ewan had expanded on, she dodged his blows, even dropping down and swiping at his shins with her blade, seeing the ribbons of red break free. As she ducked and dodged, Moira suddenly leapt from nowhere, a massive log in her hands. She brought the wood down on the bastard’s head in a thunderous crack.

The oaf stood for a moment, transfixed, his eyes watering as he stared at them both, and then like a mighty oak that’s been cut at its base, he fell forward with a loud thump to the ground.

“Thank ye,” Shona said, breathless. She stooped to wipe the blood staining her blade on the grass.

“When did ye learn to fight so skillfully?” Moira asked, shock in her expression. “Ye were always wily, but I’ve never seen ye move like that.”

“Here. With Rory.” Shona frowned. “It’s a harsh world, Moira. Not easy. But, to be honest, it’s one I’ve come to love. And the people, I care about them. I’ve forged a life here.”

“What about your life back home?” Moira nudged the brute with her booted foot.

He didn’t so much as budge.

“This is my home now.”

The look of sharp sadness that filled Moira’s features was one she’d never wanted to see, nor be the cause of.

“I don’t expect ye to understand,” Shona said, rising to stand.

“I know ye don’t. But I think I do.” Moira dropped the wood. “Understand, I mean.”