The Highlander's Sin (9 page)

Creeping down the stairs, she sauntered around to the side of the castle, away from his view
, and was about to crouch when he rounded the corner.

“What are ye doing?” she asked
, exasperated, dropping her skirts and standing.

“I canna leave ye alone. Remember?”

Heather frowned at him, letting out a frustrated growl. “Turn around then.”

Duncan chuckled
but complied. When she’d finished, he said, “Now ye turn around.”

“Why?”

He raised a brow, and she felt heat flood her cheeks. “Oh!” she gasped, and leapt into a half circle, facing away from him.

“All’s clear,” he said when finished.

Heather nodded, pressing her lips tightly together, hoping to numb the sudden tingling she felt on their surface—a memory of his kiss.

“Then let us not delay in delivering me into the hands of the evil
lady who hired ye.”

Duncan grinned. “Such dramatics. Did ye have a tutor teach ye that or is it all natural Heather Sutherland?”

She frowned up at him. “Nothing about me is dramatic, and I guarantee I put forth nothing but my true nature.”

He let out a short chuckle. “Your husband will have his work cut out for him.”

The mention of a husband was only a fist to the gut for more than one reason. “In case ye forgot, ye’re taking me to people who will most likely kill me. If they dinna kill me, my reputation will be sullied enough that the only man willing to marry me after this fiasco will be some older, blind and mutilated man my brothers pay to take me off their hands.” She backed away from him, feeling for the first time the pain of what her future would entail. “That is what ye’ve given me. So ye’re correct. My husband, if I ever have one, will have his work cut out for him, for I am certain to be one of the most unhappy brides this kingdom has ever seen.”

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. At least if she made it to Wallace, she might have glory to back her name, and perhaps a strong warrior would marry her when she decided it was time to marry. But if Duncan succeeded in his mission, misery was the only fate she could look forward to.

She’d take her own life before she let that be her fate—and she didn’t really like the idea of dying.

There was only one way to solve this issue, well two really. Her escape had to be successful, or she had to kill
Duncan. Killing a man of the cloth was sure to doom her to hell—another fate she’d rather not see come to fruition.

Heather squared her shoulders.

She had to escape from him.

Today.

There was much strength buried beneath layers of a spoiled princess. Duncan would give Heather that much.

He didn’t like the determined set of her shoulders. Nor the way her lips had become strained and flat, not th
eir usual plump and kissable appearance.
Ballocks
. Thinking about her plush lips brought him the vision of her creamy legs as she’d hoisted her skirts up around her hips. Dear Lord, it had been an image he’d burned to memory the moment he caught sight of her…

And he ought to forget it. She was not the woman for him. Not in this lifetime, nor the next.

What exactly was she thinking? Planning? He assumed he’d not find out from her own lips, but if anything, he believed she would attempt an escape.

And
, ironically, he couldn’t blame her. Part of him wanted her to be able to succeed in such an attempt. She didn’t deserve the fate in store for her. No more than any innocent did. Her family was his enemy, and she a means to exact his revenge.

Not entirely fair, he admitted, but since when did he care about fairness? Today, apparently.

Duncan gripped her upper arm, not so gently, and started to steer her back to his horse. He was a little surprised when she didn’t balk at him or try to pull away. The lass was definitely up to something. She’d not been this compliant since the moment he’d seen her on her knees in the chapel.

“Up ye go.” He circled her waist with his hands, holding his breath while touching her, and hoisted her onto the horse. Without a pause, he mounted behind her.

He’d
have welcomed a grand winter snow right about now, to cool him from the combination of summer heat, too many layers of clothes and the warm, supple body of his captive. The way they melded together in the saddle had her rounded behind centered right on his cock, and he was already hard.

They would have both probably been more comfortable with her riding behind him, but he wasn’t about to risk a stab in the back, or her falling from the horse on purpose and getting a head start running away. He had no doubt he’d catch her should
she run, but it would only delay the inevitable.

“How long?” she asked, her voice a purr, softly caressing his nerves.
Cunning, she was.

“Another day.”
A day that would likely last an eternity.

She nodded but said no more. Duncan narrowed his eyes, staring at the back of her head. What was she up to?

Whatever her intentions, he was going to be on high alert. Heather Sutherland would never escape him—else he’d quit his livelihood. If he failed in this, he would never be hired again. A fate that would damn him in so many ways. One of which meant he’d have to face his past.

And the past was best left buried.

Chapter Eight

T
hey stopped at midday, at the base of a ravine, safely hidden in an alcove cut out of the mountainside by a waterfall.

Rushing water splattered into the burn below, before rushing toward its ultimate end at a loch somewhere nearby. Droplets of water bounced from the stone into the small alcove, wetting the hem of Heather’s skirts and the tips of her shoes.

She stared at the water as it fell, the way the sun reflected off of it in a myriad of colors. Reaching out, she touched her finger to the rushing falls, feeling the power behind the water’s push.

“Ye’ll get yourself soaked,” Duncan said, his voice more surly than ever.

He’d been silent as they’d ridden away from the ruins, and every once in a while he’d jerked her back against him as she’d tried to lean as far away from him as possible.

“I’m a grown woman
. I think I can handle a little water,” she bit back.

No use in hiding her temper with the man. They wouldn’t know each other much longer now anyway.

Duncan grunted. “Here.” He thrust an apple toward her that had seen better days.

Visible bruising marred its once
-smooth, green flesh, a few gashes were slashed across its skin. “Nay, thank ye,” she muttered.

“Eat it.”

Heather grabbed the apple from his hand. “Can I have my dagger back?” She’d yet to see the blade since he’d confiscated it, and darn it if she wasn’t going to at least attempt to slice off the rotten parts of the apple.

Duncan grabbed the apple back from her and within seconds had sliced away the gashes and bruises, leaving a misshapen white and green sorry excuse for an apple. But all
the same, it was a kindness he’d showed her.

“Thank ye,” she muttered, biting into the fruit.

Despite how it had appeared, the apple’s taste was quite pleasant.

“’Twasn’t a rotten apple, lass. Simply banged up in my satchel. I’m not so cruel that I would feed ye spoiled food.”

She swallowed her bite, unable to resist a retort. “Nay, ye’d just feed me to evildoers.”

He didn’t respond, but he did glare daggers at her as he
peeled and sliced his own apple. She had a feeling he wished it were her head beneath his blade.

Heather leaned her head to the side, exposing her neck. “Why dinna ye cut me now and be done with it?”

“Enough theatrics,” Duncan growled. “Eat this, too.”

He tossed her a leather pouch.

“What is it?” She imagined poisoned mushrooms or deadly herbs hidden inside the pouch. Instead of slicing her, he’d see her bleed from the inside.

“Almonds.”

Heather loved almonds, but it seemed a trick to her. “Why would ye give me your almonds?”

Duncan glowered at her. “Because I would
not have ye say I mistreated ye.”

“Then ye should let me go. I dinna want your kindness in the form of food.” She tossed th
e pouch back at him and Duncan seized it in midair.

He
caught her off guard when he threw it back.

Not expecting him to do that, she missed it completely, and it hit her just above her left breast with a dull thud.

“Ouch!”

She looked at him sharply, gripping the pouch where it had fallen in her lap.
It hadn’t really hurt, but it had surprised her enough that her pride was injured.

He was trying not to laugh. “I didna mean to hit ye with it.”

She flung it back toward his head. “Well, ye did.”

Duncan ducked, reaching up and catching the pouch where his head had been.

Heather was sorry to have missed. How good it would have felt for the pouch to hit him square in the forehead. To leave a red imprint that would have eventually turned into a bruise.

Duncan held out the pouch between them. “Truce?”

“Does that mean ye will let me go?” she asked with a raised brow and a sarcastic smile.

He shook his head, sadness entering his eyes that she’d not seen before. “Not this time.”

This time
… As if there would be another time?

“Well
, I’ll not have ye fattening me up with your almonds just so I’m juicier to those monsters that’d eat me whole.” Heather crossed her arms over her chest, letting her eyes drift around the small alcove.

Bravado kept her from cracking, though on the inside she felt herself starting to break. Lord, she
had been naïve to have thought this could go her way at all.

Likely they wouldn’t be here long. She could risk jumping through the falls and into the water. There was no tell
ing how deep it was, but she could swim, and that might give her a head start in escaping, even if he jumped in behind her. She frowned. There was one major issue with that escape plan—she was still wearing multiple layers. The fabric would swiftly wick up the water and weigh her down. She’d be lucky to move her limbs at all before she drowned.

Jumping through the falls wasn’t going to work. Anything having to do with water needed to be crossed off her list. Unless…

Unless she knocked
him
into the falls. She’d have plenty of time to run with him sputtering in the water, his robes filled with moisture.

“What plan are ye con
cocting now?” Duncan asked.

Heather jerked her gaze toward him. Why did
he have to be so darn handsome? He leaned against the wall, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee, an arm resting on it, the dreaded pouch of almonds dangling from his long, masculine fingers.

“What?” she asked.

“I asked ye what ye were scheming about in your mind. Ye disappeared for a few minutes, staring into the water.”

Heather shook her head and waved away his accusations. “I wasn’t scheming anything, ye—” She stopped herself from name-calling, in case he made good on one of his threats to spank her or tie her up. “I was simply lost in memory…” She made a point of trailing off, as though the memory were something sweet she’d savor. Knocking Duncan through the falls would definitely be a memory she would savor as soon as she got the deed done.

Hopping to her feet, Heather swiped at her skirts, brushing off the bits of leaves and dust that had gathered from sitting on the cavern floor. “Shall we be on our way?”

Duncan looked up at her with his eyes narrowed. He roved over her form in a way that made her blush and bluster. She crossed her arms over her chest
, wishing he wouldn’t look at her like that.

“Well?” she asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her tone.

“Why the sudden hurry?” The infuriating man pulled the strings on the pouch and dumped a few almonds into his palm.

The nuts looked good. Fresh. He popped them into his mouth and star
ed at her, waiting for her reply.

“Why the sudden need to relax? Thus far ye’ve had urgency on your side.”

Duncan chuckled, a low grumble in his chest that gave her gooseflesh and set her nerves afire with the need to press her chest to his and feel that rumble. Why, she had no idea, and she certainly found it irritating.

“I had a feeling we were being followed. Best to stay out of sight for a short while.”

“Followed. Still?” She whirled, half expecting their little hiding spot to be stormed. Throughout their ride today she’d not heard anyone, seen anyone. How was it possible they’d been followed? She peeked outside, studying the forest but seeing no one.

“Aye.”

“By who? And won’t they see your horse?”

Duncan shrugged and dumped more almonds into his hand.
“I dinna know who, and if they see my horse, they will see that he is abandoned.”

Heather gaped at him in disbelief. He sounded so mundane, as if they discussed the various colors of summer flowers and not
the safety of his prized horse. “Surely they will steal him then.”

“They can try.” A confident grin curled his lips.

Heather put her hands on her hips. “What makes ye so confident?”

“There are many reasons.”

The man was exasperating. Heather stared hard at him, willing him to look away from the almonds in his palm. “Care to share them?”

“Not particularly.”
He glanced up at her briefly and then returned his attention to the almonds.

“Arrogance is a sin.”

“I, more than most, am well aware.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.
“A priest should not be arrogant.”

Duncan looked up at her in earnest, but not for curiosity’s sake
. She could see that in his eyes. The man was observing her, studying her reactions as much as he was studying her words. “Why not?”

“Because ’tis a sin,” she said, exasperated.

His eyes danced with merriment. “Not in my case.”

“And what makes ye so special?”

“We are all special in His eyes.”

Heather grunted
her disgust. Talking to the man was like dancing on a thin rope. One was easily swayed to fall any way the wind shifted.

“Ye’re impossible.” She turned her back on him, glancing through the short walkway they’d traveled to get to this spot. It’d been scary, walking on the thin ledge and clutching the side of the mountain. The only other option
had been to swim up to it, and neither of them had wanted to get wet. The same truth held for the return to shore.

“That may be true, lass, but ye’re stuck with me all the same.”

Heather didn’t know why, but his statement sent her from bordering on irritation to boiling rage. She whirled, and stalked toward him, kicking the sole of his boot. “Not of my own choosing.” Her voice didn’t echo but sounded strangely silent, the falls deadening her shout.

Duncan
tsk-tsked
her. “Noise like that is likely to bring our guests knocking on our doorstep.” He didn’t make a move, simply stared up at her, his eyes hooded. “And likely to get yourself gagged.”

She swallowed back her retort. That was the last thing she needed. Her vow to be good so he wouldn’t tie and gag her had slipped her mind when rage
had taken over, but she allowed reason back in. Escape was her number one priority, and shouting at her captor was only going to annoy him. She didn’t need Duncan annoyed. She needed him relaxed. Too relaxed.

“Have any m
ore of that whisky?” she asked, adding some sweetness back into her tone.

“Want to get me drunk?”

Heather shook her head, forced her face into a docile expression—difficult since she was anything but passive. “Nay, Duncan.” She allowed his name to roll slowly off her tongue, hoping to entice him the way she had other men. “Just thirsty.”

The change in him was immediate, and Heather forced herself to remain unchanged by it. He
stood, eyes darkening as he studied her. No more care for his almonds. Oh, nay, all of his attention was on her.

“What are ye up to?” He was suspicious
. She wasn’t surprised.

Heather gazed up at him through her lashes. “Nothing. I give up.”

“Give up? Ye?”

She nodded. “Now, i
f ye would, the whisky please.” If he’d known how much she hated the sour, bitter, stinging taste of whisky, he might have appreciated the limits she was willing to go to.

Duncan shook his head slowly, eyeing her with distrust. “One thing the lady who hired me said was that ye were cunning. Not to underestimate ye.”

Heather stiffened. Who knew her? Who could tell him all about her? Who had betrayed the Sutherlands?

“A compliment, to be sure, but I swear,” she crossed herself, “that I am not trying to pull the wool over your eyes.”

How easily she was capable of lying. Father Hurley would see her punished for a fortnight at this rate. Abducted or not.

Duncan leaned close, his scent enveloping her. Instinctively, she wanted to lean in closer, but in her mind she
knew it was a bad idea. Heather leaned back, but inch by inch he drew nearer, until she had to brace a hand behind her on the stone wall to hold herself up.