The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel (6 page)

If only they would hurry up. Her teeth were chattering so loud she feared they would hear her soon, and she didn’t know how much longer she could stay perched on the slippery rock when she couldn’t feel her …

Uh-oh.

Her feet slid out from under her. She wobbled, trying to catch herself, but it was too late. She hit the water with a definitive splash. The shock of cold and the flash of panic sent her heart racing at a frantic pace. She resisted the natural urge to shoot back to the surface and instead cautiously raised her head.

Perhaps they hadn’t heard?

But one glance toward shore told her she wasn’t going to be so lucky. Two men jumped into the water and started to swim toward her. She dove back under and swam with everything she had.

But it wasn’t enough.

She was cold, and tired from her earlier swim, and they had momentum on their side. One of the men got a hold of her ankle. She tried to kick away, but he reeled her in as easily as a fish on a line. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to look at a herring on her plate in the same way.

An arm snaked around her waist. The brutish warrior pulled her against him none too gently, dragging her back to the surface.

The ruffian uttered a crude oath. “It’s a lass!” he called back.

She heard the moment of paused surprise before a rough voice said, “Bring her.”

“Bloody hell, it’s cold in here,” the man swore in her ear. From the anger in his voice, he clearly blamed her for being forced to get wet.

“Let go of me!” she yelled. “Do you know who I am? My father—”

But his name was cut off by the press of a hard, callused hand over her mouth. “Shush,” he warned. “You’ll bring the entire guard down on us, and you’re in enough trouble already.”

She stilled, not liking the sound of that. The soldier dragged her up the rocky shore and threw her unceremoniously down at the feet of a bald-headed man who—thankfully—looked familiar to her. She racked her frozen brain, but it wasn’t moving too fast. Was he one of her father’s men? One of the castle soldiers? Surely he would help her.

She was certainly more likely to find understanding from a familiar face than from a boatload of Norsemen—she shivered reflexively—wasn’t she?

She was about to plead her case when she glanced into the bald soldier’s eyes. The words froze on her tongue. She knew without asking that he would be of no help. The man was utterly without emotion; he had the cold, flat eyes of a reptile.

“How much did you hear? Why are you spying on us?” he demanded sharply.

“N-nothing. I wasn’t spying.” Her teeth were still rattling. “I … swear … s-swimming.”

“She must have come from the group of revelers on the beach,” a deep voice from behind her said. Like the others he spoke in Gaelic, but there was something calming in the warm, husky tones.

She nodded vigorously, since her teeth didn’t seem to be agreeing with her, and ventured a glance in his direction.

Despite the circumstances, she gasped.

God in heaven!

She blinked, but he was real. The Norseman could rival her brothers and sisters for striking beauty. His dark blond hair was cut close to his head, just long enough to come to his ears, except for a long lock that fell across his forehead. Unlike most of the other men he wore no beard, revealing the clean, hard lines of his perfectly sculpted face. A wide, smooth brow, sharply angled cheeks, a square jaw, and a proud nose that shockingly—given his profession—appeared reasonably straight. It was too dark to see the color of his eyes, but she knew they’d be blue. Vivid blue. Ocean blue. Soul-piercing blue.

She looked sharply away before he could catch her staring at him. Goodness! She thought men like that existed only in myths.

He might be gorgeous, but he was also undoubtedly a pirate—and a tall, incredibly muscular one at that. A man built to conquer, pillage, and do God-knew-whatever-it-was that Vikings did, leaving a trail of destruction in his terrifying wake. He could crush her in one huge iron fist.

The reptilian man spoke again. “We can’t risk her betraying us to Ulster.”

Her heart dropped at the sound of her father’s name. Whatever it was that they were doing, they didn’t want her father to know about it. Clearly, telling them her identity wasn’t going to solve her problems. Indeed, it just might make them worse.

What was she going to do? Her hands twisted in her damp chemise. This would have to win the prize for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had to explain, but the cold had numbed her brain.

Forcing her teeth to stop clacking together, she said, “Please, this is all a mistake. I was swimming and stumbled upon you by accident.” She struggled to her feet and tried to appear calm. Rational. Confident. Not scared out of her mind.
Think
.
Act like you know what you are doing
.
Speak with authority
. “My friends will be wondering where I am. They’ll be looking for me …” She started to walk determinedly away, but her path was blocked by a wall of rough-looking Irishmen. Her smile shook, but she forced her voice to sound brisk and confident. “Let me pass and you can finish your business—”

The bald man ignored her and spoke to the Norseman. “We’ll have to kill her.”

Any blood that she had left in her body slid to her feet. Her breath caught in a sharp gasp. She tried to tell herself he couldn’t mean it, but one look at the soldier’s cruel face and she knew he did.

    Erik swore. This wasn’t going to turn out well. His straightforward mission had just taken an ugly turn.

He hoped the lass didn’t faint, but the poor thing looked terrified. Not that he blamed her. What was she doing in the cave? Had she actually swum from the beach? At this time of year it was hard to believe, but she seemed to be in earnest.

Still, he didn’t suppose it mattered. Whoever she was, and whatever she was doing, she’d just stumbled into a very bad situation.

Unfortunately, Fergal had a point. If she’d heard anything, it could put his mission in danger. Nothing—and no one—could interfere with securing these mercenaries. They couldn’t let her walk out of here.

But kill her? Every bone in his body rebelled at the thought of harming a lass.

Erik
loved
women. All women. He loved the way they smelled. The softness of their skin. The way their long, silky hair spilled across his chest when they curled up next to him—or on top of him. He loved the tinkle of their laughter, their playfulness, and listening to them talk.

He loved everything about them, but most of all he loved their lush femininity. Big, ripe breasts that he could weigh in his hands and bury his face between, curvy hips and round bottoms that he could hold under him, and soft thighs that wrapped around his waist as he slid slowly inside the most feminine place of all.

He sighed. Aye, lasses were beautiful creatures. Every one of them. You only had to look hard enough.

But, he had to admit, even with the added vantage provided by the wet linen, there wasn’t much to the lass before him. She was a wee slip of a thing. Average height but slim to the point of bony. He’d wager she weighed no more than seven stone soaking wet. Not his type at all. Erik preferred women with a little more meat on their bones. Lush and curvy, with something to hold on to—not as skinny as a reed. He was a big man, after all, and didn’t want to worry about crushing anyone.

He’d had only a quick glimpse of her face, but nothing had caught his eye. No Venus rising from the waves, this one, that was for certain. Rather with her dark hair plastered to her head, she’d made him think of a half-drowned cat—bedraggled, miserable, and cold.

But she had nerve, he’d give her that. He admired the way she’d tried to walk, bold as she might, right on out of here. Despite her youth, she had an authoritative air about her. He suspected whoever she was, she was the kind of woman who was used to being listened to. Like the old nursemaid who used to order him about. The memory made him frown. Ada had been impossible to charm—his only real failure in an otherwise spotless record.

Of all the things that could have gone wrong, Erik had never anticipated a lass wandering into their meeting. He knew he was going to have to do something, something he wasn’t going to like.

What a mess!
He dragged his fingers through his recently shorn hair. Most of the men had cut their hair short to prevent the rampant lice sweeping through the camp. He liked the convenience and had decided to keep it.

The lass finally found her tongue after Fergal’s grim pronouncement. She didn’t bother pleading with the Irishman—proving her good sense—but turned her thin, pale face to him. “Please, you can’t do this. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t hear anything. I swear I will say nothing about this to anyone. Just let me go.”

He wanted to believe her. But unfortunately, it didn’t matter if he did. He couldn’t take the risk. It wasn’t just his mission at stake. The last thing Erik wanted was to do anything to antagonize Ulster.

Bruce’s relationship with his father-in-law was a complex one. On the face of it, Ulster’s loyalty to Edward was unquestionable. However, Bruce suspected one of the reasons they’d managed to avoid capture the past few months was because Ulster had turned a blind eye to any evidence of their presence. But the earl wouldn’t be able to ignore recruiting men right under his nose—especially with the bloody English around.

Randolph stepped forward. “Of course we won’t—”

“He’s right.” Erik cut Randolph off with a sharp warning glance. The gallant young fool was going to ruin everything. Erik addressed Fergal, ignoring the girl. “We can’t risk letting her go.”

The smile that spread across Fergal’s face chilled Erik’s blood. Clearly, he was looking forward to getting rid of their problem.

Erik sighed, reminding himself that he needed the scourge and forcing himself not to show his revulsion by lopping off his head. But he was tempted.

The lass made a sound that was half cry, half horrified whimper and started to back away from both of them. But Erik latched his hand around her wrist before one of Fergal’s men could get to her. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip and hoped to hell he didn’t break her bones. He’d held butterflies with more substance.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. Before Fergal could interrupt, Erik gave him a conspiratorial look and added, “
After
my men and I’ve had a wee bit of fun.”

Fergal’s beady black crow eyes narrowed. “But my men found her.” He looked the shivering lass up and down. “She hardly looks worth the effort.”

Erik handed the lass off to Domnall and squared off against Fergal. “My men have been at sea for a while,” Erik lied. “Anything looks good to them right now. Besides, this will assure that the deed will never be traced back to you. Think of the mess. We’ll dump her out at sea, where no one will ever be the wiser.” Erik turned back to Domnall, noticing the girl’s pale color. “Better give her a plaid.” He forced himself to laugh. “We want to make sure she stays alive long enough to be of some use.”

Fergal stroked the grizzled scruff at his chin, looking like he wanted to protest. The last thing Erik wanted to do was get in an argument, with the man he was recruiting to fight for them, over a blasted lass.

All of a sudden they heard the faint sound of a woman’s voice, coming from outside the cavern. “Ellie!”

The lass tried to cry out, but Domnall managed to cover her mouth.

“Someone is looking for her,” Erik said. “You’d better get out of here before they see you.”

Fergal didn’t look happy, but he knew he had no choice. The time for argument had just run out.

Erik strode back through the water and jumped over the side of the boat. “The thirteenth,” he reminded him. “Don’t disappoint me.” The threat was uttered nonchalantly, but the look in Erik’s eyes held a steely edge that promised retribution.

Fergal sobered a little, losing some of his belligerence. He knew Erik well enough to know what he could do. There would be no place he could hide if he betrayed him.

The Irishman nodded and disappeared into the darkness.

Erik and his men did the same, slipping out of the cave as quietly as they’d come, though unfortunately with one extra passenger.

But not for long. As soon as he could, Erik was going to get rid of her.

Three

    The sound of her sister’s voice sent the tears that Ellie had managed to hold in check, while the vile ruffians blithely discussed her rape and murder, streaming down her cheeks.

“Matty!” she tried to call out, only to have her captor’s hold around her tighten, and a big, beefy hand (that she was sure was none too clean) slapped across her mouth.

She struggled in his hold, but it was useless. Like the devil Viking captain who had taken hold of her wrist earlier, the hulking brute was immovable. It would be easier to bend steel or smash through a wall of granite.

“Sh …,” the man whispered in her ear. “We won’t hurt you, lass, but you need to be quiet.”

He had a gentle, soothing voice, and the glimpse she’d caught of him before he’d taken hold of her had been of a jovial, fatherly-looking sort, but could he honestly expect her to believe him after she’d just heard his captain speak coldly of raping and then “dumping” her body out at sea? She didn’t think so.