The Highlander's Outlaw Bride (3 page)

The men’s sleeping forms lay scattered around her, lit by the glowing embers of the fire and the silvery light of the full moon. Gavin and Rabbie stood watch while William and Geordie snored gently nearby. Gavin glanced up as she rose to her feet, but she shook her head, conveying a need for privacy.
Dinnae stop me, Gavin. I cannae bear yer close scrutiny again this night
. Stubbornly refusing a guard, she hurried down the moonlit path to the nearby burn. The cold water wasn’t quite what she had in mind for bathing, but the thought of washing the dirt from her skin and hair sent her feet flying down the trail.

She reached the end of the path, where the water laughed invitingly as it skipped over the rocks of the waterfall. She splashed the water with one hand, shuddering at the chill. Checking the clearing with a quick glance to be sure she was alone, Brianna stripped away her gown and rinsed it in the clear water before hanging it on a nearby tree limb to dry. With two quick steps, she dove cleanly into the burn, surfacing with a gasp at the water’s icy bite.

After a moment, the shock wore off. With strong sure strokes, she swam to the waterfall and pulled herself onto the rocks. Spreading her arms wide for balance, she crossed the stones worn smooth by the polishing spray, and ducked beneath the rushing water. She twisted back and forth, letting it pour over her in a cleansing rush.

Her fingers and toes began to ache, and her teeth chattered. Unable to ignore the cold, she poised on the rock ledge for the swim back.

A movement in the tall grass on the far side of the pool caught her eye, and she stared intently into the shadowed depths. Tense moments passed, and suddenly a large form lurched upward. Panicked, Brianna lost her footing on the slippery rocks. Clawing uselessly at the air for support, she landed hard on the water. Her breath left her in a rush as she slid into bitter darkness and the foaming water closed over her head.

Chapter 3

Conn bolted to his feet in a single movement, reaching the edge of the burn in two long strides. Slicing the water in a shallow dive, a few strong strokes carried him to the spot where the young woman had disappeared. He broke the surface with a shake of his head, scanning the area around him, but saw nothing.

With a strangled gasp, the young woman’s head burst above the water a few feet away. Sputtering, she flailed at the water. Con raced to her side and grabbed her arm. She fought him, breaking his hold, and disappeared again into the inky depths.

“
Shite!
” He searched frantically for her, his fingers encountering soft flesh. Pulling her warily to him, he pinned her elbows firmly against her sides.

“Easy, lass,” he murmured. “Ye are safe now.”

Her breaths wheezed and her head fell against his chest. Pale hair fanned out in the water around them. Moonlight struck the strands, turning them to pure silver, and unbidden, Conn’s lips formed the word ‘faerie’. He gave himself a mental shake against such foolishness, and focused on pulling her to safety.

Stroke by stroke, he towed her to the shore. Her size and weight convinced him the young woman in his arms wasn’t a faerie after all. He rolled her onto her side amid the tall grass and pounded her back.

After a few moments of such rough treatment, she coughed up what seemed to be half the contents of the burn before she at last drew a deep, shuddering breath. Before she could speak, she began to shake violently and her skin blanched, taking on a purple hue in the moonlight. Conn bundled her icy body in his arms and wrapped them both in his plaide, using his body heat to warm her. He ran his hands up and down her back as he tried to chase away the chill.

At last her shaking lessened and she relaxed against him. Inexplicable protectiveness swept over him and he pressed a kiss against her hair, wiping her face with a corner of his plaide.

“
Coorie doon
, my faerie princess. Snuggle close and rest.”

With a sigh, his flesh-and-blood faerie princess fainted.

* * *

Words drifted through her head, urging her to wake. Brianna groaned, snuggling into the incredible warmth surrounding her. She hadn’t felt this deliciously warm or content in days, and was loath to leave her bed to face another day in hiding.

Something warm and firm slid across her shoulder and down one arm. It grasped her hand and squeezed gently. She reluctantly opened one eye and met storm-gray eyes in an unfamiliar face. With a start, she realized the heat she’d found so compelling emanated from the large male body tucked close against her. Naked. She panicked.

“What are ye doing?” Her voice climbed in pitch, her alarm rising. Trapped by the confining fabric wrapped around her—and him—she pulled back, swatting frantically at the cloth.

“Hold!” He manacled her wrists with his strong hands.

“Let me go!” Jerking one hand free, she inadvertently struck his jaw.

“Ow!” A muttered curse slipped beneath his breath. “Be still a moment and I will help ye.”

Choking back her fear, she struggled harder.

* * *

Though exasperated with the young woman’s lack of proper gratitude at being saved from drowning, Conn understood her distress. She fought him despite his attempts to calm her, and suddenly her knee jerked upward, making solid contact between his legs. He doubled over sharply in pain, his forehead striking the girl’s cheek. With a cry, she raised a hand to her face.

“
Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”

Conn heard the sharp edge to Bray’s question, but could not reply. His teeth clenched tight as sweat-popping nausea swamped his stomach.

The young woman twisted about, clawing at the plaide.

“Enough!” he rasped. To his surprise, she stopped. He heaved a lungful of air, expelling it with a painful gasp. Unable to speak further, he wrenched an arm free and jerked the edge of the fabric loose. As soon as the cloth sagged, she scrambled to her feet, only to fall back to the ground with a sharp cry.

Bray took a step toward her. “Are you injured,
mademoiselle?
”

She struggled to sit and leaned forward, pulling her long, damp hair over her shoulders in an attempt to cover herself. Biting her lip, she grasped one ankle.

Conn shoved his plaide aside and moved awkwardly to kneel before her, taking her foot in his hands. She flinched, choking back another cry.

He forced his words through clenched teeth. “Hold, lass. I will wrap ye back up.”

She eyed him warily but did not speak. Rubbing the sore spot on his jaw, he snatched the plaide from the ground and draped it about her shoulders. Catching her wide-eyed stare, he smothered a grin as her cheeks flamed red. He stepped casually to his clothing and pulled them on.

“This does not look well done, Laird.”

The girl looked up sharply and Conn noted Bray’s assessing stare as he studied her. She hunched the plaide higher over her shoulders.

“Quit staring at the lass, Bray. Ye make her blush.”

Bray inclined his head. “
Je vous demande pardon, mademoiselle
. I have never failed to admire a beautiful woman, and your hair is a most unusual color. I did not mean to embarrass you.”

“Ye are French, aye?” Her voice was soft and low, rippling like silk. Conn blinked twice, shaking off her spell.

Bray executed a sweeping bow. “
Oui, cherie
. The laird and I met at my father’s home in La Rochelle. I am pleased to see you are as intelligent as you are beautiful.”

Conn snorted at Bray’s outrageous behavior.

“Never trust a Frenchman, lass. He has left broken hearts from here to the French coast.”

“I did not know you could find such a beautiful woman in the wilds of Scotland. I am humbled by your Scottish lass.”

Conn frowned at the girl. “Och, ’tis no simple Scottish lass ye see before ye, but a veritable faerie or changeling at the least. She is apparently not at all appreciative of the fact I saved her life.”

The girl wrinkled her brow. “Ye saved my life?”

“Aye. Ye slipped on the stones at the waterfall and nearly drowned. Ye dinnae remember bathing there? I imagine ye twisted yer ankle when ye fell.”

“Ye watched me?” Her eyes widened, her voice incredulous. She glanced down and Conn remembered with a jolt she was completely naked beneath the plaide. Her face reddened and he knew she remembered it, too.

Bray pursed his lips. “I tell you, ’twas not well done, Laird.”

Conn squared on him. “I suppose ye would have closed yer eyes until she left?”

“
Non
,” the Frenchman admitted candidly. “But what are we to do with her now?”

“I am leaving!” The girl’s determined voice broke into their discussion. She grasped the plaide firmly and pushed to her feet. But her injured ankle would not support her weight and she would have fallen had Conn not grabbed her arms.

“Where is yer home, lass?”

Her gaze slid away. “I will be fine if ye just let me go.”

“Ye willnae go anywhere on that ankle, and ye ask for trouble out here on yer own. There is no cottage or village within miles. Tell us where ye belong, and we will take ye there.”

She clenched her teeth as stubbornness lit her eyes and she refused to answer.

“At least tell us yer name.” Conn brushed a strand of silver-blonde hair from her cheek. She shifted beneath his touch and drew back with a tiny hiss of breath, pulling the plaide closer around her throat.

“If ye snug that any tighter, ye will hang yerself,” he noted dryly.

She slowly released a slight bit of the fabric.

Bray stepped closer. “Are you hiding from someone,
cherie
?”

The girl flinched but did not speak.

“An abusive husband, mayhap?” He pointed to the bruise on her cheek.

Conn grasped the girl’s chin between his fingers and examined the darkened area. He frowned. “I believe I did that.”

Bray’s eyebrows shot upward. “You struck her?”

“Nae. She kneed me and I hit her with my head when I doubled over.” He grimaced and shifted his weight, remembering the pain. “She is tougher than she looks.”

“She kneed you?” Bray’s disbelief changed to admiration and he chuckled.

“She couldnae get much leverage, as close as she was. But ’twas enough.”

The girl jerked from his grip, eyes flashing her ire. “Let me go. I will fare much better on my own than in yer
care
.”

“Much as I would like to, I cannae turn ye out unprotected.” Ignoring her squawk of protest, Conn scooped her into his arms. He faced Bray, easily controlling the girl’s struggling attempt to get down.

“We need to get back to camp before young Gillis comes looking for us.”

Bray nodded his agreement.

“Put me down!” The girl beat vigorously on Conn’s chest and he nearly dropped her in surprise.

“Wheesht, lass, dinnae worry. We will get ye home.”

“I have never seen a young woman try so hard to remove herself from your embrace. This must be a first for you,
mon ami
.”

“True, but the lass is a bit addled from her swim.”

The lass tweaked the hair on his chest with a vengeful twist of her fingers and Conn yelped. She glared at him. “Dinnae make a jest of me! I dinnae need yer help.”

“’Tis but a bit of fun, lass.” Conn tried to reassure her, but her eyes sparked with mutiny. His temper slipped a notch.

“Fine.” He let her slide to the ground, careful to support her as she wobbled on her injured ankle. She put a hand out for balance and lost her grip on the plaide. Conn hid his grin but not his interest as she lunged toward a nearby tree, grabbing at a low limb to keep from falling. She inched to the far side of the tree, putting the trunk between them.

With great forbearance, Conn checked the urge to say
I told ye so
. He stepped around the tree and faced her, holding the plaide out for her. She snatched it from his grasp and yanked it about her shoulders. Conn folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me where ye need to go.”

Glimpses of fear, indecision and frustration crossed her face. Finally she released a deep breath of resignation. “I have a camp on the other side of the burn.”

“Good. Now, come with us. We will let young Gillis know where we are going, and Bray and I will take ye to yer camp. Agreed?”

A slow nod was all the agreement she would concede.

Chapter 4

Warily, Brianna settled the laird’s plaide more securely about her as protection from curious eyes and the bone-chilling mists swirling through the trees. Young Gillis hadn’t been exactly pleased to give her his only change of clothing, but he’d been too wide-eyed with surprise to argue forcefully. Holding his plaide open, the laird had used it to shield her as she slipped into the breeches and shirt, tottering awkwardly on her uninjured foot as she dressed.

She fingered the loose-fitting leine. Though Gillis appeared to be a few years younger than she, his clothes were overlarge and hung loosely on her. They were definitely better than wearing nothing beneath the plaide, though she regretted leaving her gown behind on the other side of the pool. She eyed the two other men, swiftly dismantling their camp. At least she didn’t have to resort to wearing one of their shirts. It would likely fit her and Gillis both—at the same time.