The Highlander's Reward (5 page)

Keith might be right. There could be a force of English coming their way to save her.

How was Magnus going to keep her safe? If this battle-madness could happen to Keith, it could happen to any of his men.

They were lucky not to have any casualties, but still, the threat of death loomed all around th
em. He frowned. He liked to think his men were invincible, that nothing scared them. Obviously that was not the case. He’d have to assess them each and see where they stood. He could not risk another attempt on Arbella’s life.

When they made it back to the trail, his men stared with question in their eyes at Keith being held captive by Magnus.

“The man attacked the lass,” Magnus said simply. He nodded his head for Gavin to bring him Keith’s horse.

The warrior did so silently. His men all followed him, trusted him,
obeyed him. They knew he only had their best interests at heart and that of the clan. Until now, he’d never had anyone deliberately go against him.

“Give me some twine.”

Gavin reached behind Keith’s head and yanked the leather thong threaded in the man’s long braid. “Will this work?”

“Aye.
Hold his horse,” Magnus ordered Ronald and Tobias. “Get on your horse, Keith.”

The man did so, his head hung in shame. Whatever his anger had been, he seemed to feel only regret now.
’Twas a start. Magnus would still have to bring him back to the clan, tell all what happened and then listen to the pleas of his people to ascertain the man’s fate. He could dole out the punishment himself, but he liked to give his people a voice. Ultimately it was he who made the decision, but he’d observed this method of rule from his father and the man never lacked for respect and loyalty among his people. They felt included, as if they had a choice in their future—which he believed they did.

Magnus tied the long leather thong around Keith’s wrists, tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to get loose, but not tight enough to cut off circulation.

“Remove his weapons.”

While his men removed all of Keith’s weapons, he tied the h
orse’s reins around his wrists. Keith would be able to guide his horse, but he wouldn’t be able to jump down and run away either. He’d be surrounded by retainers to make sure he could not escape.

Arbella watched quietly, worry crinkling her eyes. Magnus caught her stare as
her gaze flitted from one Highlander to the next. He had an idea of what she was thinking. Poor lass was probably wondering who would attack her next. And she had good reason. She was undoubtedly exhausted. ’Haps it would be a good idea to ride for only another couple of hours more and then make camp. Tomorrow they could ride all day.

He looked at his men, none seemed hostile toward her.
But that could change at any moment. A change he wanted to be prepared for. He’d have to talk to each of them individually and then as a group.

He glanced around his men, making sure that each had their eyes on him. “No harm is to come to Lady Arbella. She is under my protection.”

The men nodded solemnly and placed their hands over their hearts. “Aye,” they all said in unison.

“What wi
ll ye do?” Gavin asked quietly, coming to stand beside Magnus. His dark eyes studied Magnus, face devoid of emotion.

Magnus urged them away from Keith’s horse. He wanted the man to stew, not to know the plans of his laird. Not nearly a good enough punishment for having come close to killing a woman.

“Take him back to the clan. We shall discuss it then.” His gaze alighted on Arbella. She looked so helpless standing there amidst his men. The lass was tall, lithe of form, beautiful. But she wrung her hands. Bit her lips. Her eyes had deep pockets of purple beneath them. She would worry herself to death before they ever made it to Dunrobin. He’d never seen his sisters in such a predicament, thanks be to God, and he hoped he never would. The problem was he had no idea how to handle the lass. He supposed a bit of food and rest would help her to gather her strength and wits.

“I meant with the lass.”

Magnus pressed his lips together tightly. There was really only one way to keep her safe. The thought had occurred to him. He could be like every other warrior laird and consider her his reward for a battle well won. But he’d brushed aside the insane idea. Now, it reared its head again. He spoke the words he’d never thought to utter. “There’s an abbey along this road. An hour or two’s ride ahead. I can’t leave her there. Wouldna be safe for an English lass to be left alone in Scotland, even with men of God. The English don’t care much for the sanctity of a religious house when it holds something they want. I shall have to marry her. With or without her consent.”

With that
said, he walked over to Arbella and took her by the elbow, ignoring the loud intake of breath from Gavin behind him. Her arm trembled beneath his, and she sank against him for a moment, trusting him. When he stared into her wide eyes—eyes that tried to hide her fright—he knew he’d made the right decision. Now, he would just have to make her accept it.

He led his future wife into the brush so she might find relief.

Chapter Five

As embarrassing as it was lifting her skirts and urinating on the ground, at least the Highlander had turned his back. Arbella’s legs burned from the effort of squatting in the awkward position it took for her not to wet her skirts. At least when they reached the abbey she might make use of a privy with a door and a seat before they continue on their way.

When she
smoothed her skirts back into decency, she came to stand beside him, her face as hot as flames.

“I’m finished,” she murmured.

“Then let us be on our way. We have a couple hours’ ride until we reach the abbey.”

“The abbey?
Will you leave me there then?” Relief filled her.

He’d scared the breath out of her
earlier when he’d thundered toward her on his massive horse, but nothing had prepared her for the physical attack carried out by his man, Keith. Her life truly flashed before her eyes. Not that much had happened to her yet. In actuality, the last twenty-four hours had proven to be the most dramatic of her life. Being rid of these wild warriors would give her immeasurable comfort. They would be no more than a days’ ride from Stirling. Her father would be looking for her. One of the monks could ride to Stirling to tell him where she was. She’d be back in her father’s protection within the week.

Laird Sutherland’s face grew tense, and the muscle of his jaw
clenched in a hypnotic rhythm. She couldn’t read his moods no matter how hard she tried. Staring hard at him, she attempted to interpret the thoughts behind his startling green eyes, but all she saw was the color, their magnificence and she drowned inside their depths.

“Nay, my lady.
I will not leave ye there.”

It took her a moment to realize of wh
at he spoke. “Do we go to seek shelter?” She scanned the woods. Was it really so unsafe here that they could not make camp? Most likely, aye, since she’d been attacked by one of the laird’s own men, there was no telling how abusive a true outlaw would be. She shivered. Her maid had been right.

“Nay.”

She looked back at him, furrowing her brow. His stare was hard, cold. She rubbed her arms feeling very uneasy.

“Then what
is the reason? Do you seek absolution for taking lives today?” That had to be it. Made sense. Many warriors sought forgiveness after battle. She didn’t know what she’d do if she ever killed anyone. Indeed she would probably run to the nearest priest and fall to her knees in supplication. In fact, she wanted to do just that from the harm she’d caused today.

“Nay.”

His answer surprised her. He took her by the elbow and steered her back toward camp. This wouldn’t do. Arbella needed answers. She couldn’t allow him to manhandle her like she was his property.

“Am I
to be your prisoner?”

“Nay.”

She yanked free of his grasp, planted her feet firmly on the ground and kept herself from placing her hands on her hips. From experience, hands on her hips automatically set those of the male gender on edge.

“Your one word answers are not very informative, my laird. I wish to know what your plans are.”

Magnus frowned. “’Tis not your place to know my plans.”

Her mouth fell open.
“Aye, but what of me? What am I to you? Where are you taking me? I want to return to England. I don’t even know if…” She trailed off unable to voice her concerns about her father.

He grabbed her elbow again and pulled her along. “Know what?”
he demanded.

She swallowed, once again caught in his intense gaze. She didn’t know why, but for that moment, she felt she could trust him with her concerns.
“My father,” Arbella said quietly.

“Was he there with
ye?” His voice held an ominous tone and she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue the conversation. Knew for certain she wasn’t ready to hear any bad news regarding her sire.

“Before.”

“Before ye were attacked?”

She nodded. “He left me by the gate to see what was happening. I was on my way to Stirling.”

Magnus’ frown deepened, then cleared. “Why were ye going to Stirling?”

Arbella
tried to gage his reaction, but it was impossible. His face showed no emotion, his voice was hard. If he was going to be unreadable and hide his thoughts from her, she was not going to share any more information.

“’Tis none of your concern.”

He grunted. “I will leave ye your reasons now, but soon ye will tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“We shall see.” He turned from her then, seeming to brush aside their conversation as he headed back to the camp—without holding her elbow.

He assumed she would follow. Taking a look around the forest,
Arbella noted plenty of places to hide. She considered escaping. But he’d easily found her when Keith attempted to abduct her. Using that same skill he seemed to possess, he’d probably find her within minutes. Frowning, she hurried after him.

What did he mean,
we shall see
? Would Magnus force the words from her? She pictured him tying her to a narrow wooden tabletop and performing all manners of torture that she’d heard the barbarians would inflict on innocent victims. Gooseflesh rose on her arms, and she desperately rubbed at them.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I told ye, to the abbey.”

“Aye, but why?
What is at the abbey?”

“A priest.”

“But you said you did not seek absolution.” She pursed her lips a moment, thinking. “If you do not seek absolution, that can only mean two things.”

“What is that?”

“Either you like killing, or one of your men is a priest. But if we seek a priest then one of your men could not be one, so you must in fact like killing.” She gasped, her heart racing. She had more to fear from this man than the one who’d attacked her.

He chuckled
, a deep and sensual sound that stirred something dormant inside her. “Ye talk too much. And nay, I dinna like the killing, and nay, none of my men are priests. I only seek confession from my priest at Sutherland.”

They reached the horses and Magnus
lifted her on top before settling warmly behind her. His body was hard, the muscles of his thighs pressing to hers—her skirts did not provide enough of a barrier, and her face flamed from his indecent touch, and because she secretly liked it. Her bottom was settled much too close to him, and his arm once more snaked around her middle. She sighed heavily then had to stifle a shriek as her breasts rested on his arm with her exhale. She took a few moments to settle her breathing, her rapid heartbeat and the odd tingles racing along her flesh. Magnus urged his horse forward and his men formed a line behind him.

When she felt she would be able to speak without fainting, Arbella asked on
ce more, “Then what are we going to do at the abbey?”

“I dinna think ye should know until we get there.”

“What does that mean?” Was the man completely daft?

“Exactly
what I said. Now hush.”

“
I will not hush as you say. I do not like secrets.”

“Neither do
I.”

“Then why should you keep a secret from me?”

Magnus paused a moment as if considering her question. It was in that moment she felt his breath on top of her head as he sighed. It was warm and made her feel hot all over. With each of his exhales, her hair parted creating a tickling sensation along her scalp. It was torture—decadent torture.

Arbella
pulled her cloak up over head, deciding she did not like the sensations coursing through her. What was happening? Why did she feel this way, and with this man? He was supposed to be her enemy. And somehow he’d become her savior. His touch, his glances, his very breath had her melting.

Everything was so out of control. Not knowing what the future had in store for her had her panicking slightly. Her situation was unnerving enough as it was, and now she had to deal with feelings of…of…desire?

“If I tell ye, ye must promise not to do anything rash.”

Oh, by the saints! What would they do? Rob the abbey? Was his clan so poor he must thieve from religious houses?

She stiffened. “I know exactly what you have in mind and I will not be a party to your thievery.”

“’Tis not exactly thieving and ye
will
be a party to it. ’Tis the only way.”

Arbella
sucked in her breath. He would force her to become a criminal. “The only way? There are certainly more ways to get by then taking from the innocent.”

“Not if I am to protect the innocent.”

“And you think the abbey is the answer?”

“Aye.
I dinna want to wait. Too much danger.”

“Your thought process is flawed.”

“Your insults will not change my mind, lass, as much as ye are a pain in the arse.”

Her mouth fell open at his insult. “Barbarian,” she muttered and s
hook her head. The man was no more than a common thief. She sent a prayer up to God that he would forgive her for having to bear witness to Laird Sutherland’s crimes. And she swore she would not be party to it. He would have to drag her inside the abbey walls for she would not walk in there willingly.

By the time they reached the abbey, Arbella’s stomach had twisted into a thousand knots and her limbs ached from traveling days on end, battling rebels and
pure unadulterated stress. She wanted to crawl into a nice warm bed and sleep for days—after having a steamy bath. She sighed heavily, knowing those luxuries were not likely to come to her anytime soon.

Within moments she would witness the unholy act of a warrior robbing a house of God.

How could she warn the abbot they were about to be robbed? She couldn’t just let Laird Sutherland get away with such an act. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop him herself, but at least offering a warning to those within…

They approached the large double doors
set inside a tall wooden wall that were barred entry to the inside, the only protection—well that and God—the abbey had against intruders.

The Highland
laird dismounted, leaving her back cold and approached the door, knocking hard on the wood. The sound echoed ominously in the deserted land and Arbella flinched with each crack against the surface.

She
closed her eyes. She could bolt. He had left her on the horse. She could try.

One door opened
a few inches and a monk poked his head out. He spoke with the laird, nodding every so often. Then the monk backed away and the other door was also opened allowing them entry into the abbey courtyard.

Arbella gripped the reins, preparing to flee. She could do this. She did not have to be a
n accessory to such an abominable act.

She squeezed the horse with her thighs and tugged
frantically on the reins, trying to turn the mount to the left. But the horse did not follow her directions. The animal walked straight for the laird. Arbella panicked and tried again, but the horse ignored her completely, having eyes only for his master. Frustration pricked her nerves, tears filled her eyes. How had the man trained his animal to follow his orders when he wasn’t even riding him?