The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) (21 page)

Her wolf-man was gone.

Dead. Killed by his countrymen while trying to protect her. Would anyone bury him? Would anyone but her mourn him? ’Twas a pity he couldn’t have died doing somat much more honorable, like protecting a woman worthy of his affection and his hope.

Her body ached from her fall, but the hole in her chest left by Riggs’s loss hurt immeasurably worse. Without his presence to anchor her, she felt lost. Adrift.

Vaguely, she took in her surroundings. A familiar boulder here, a remembered pasture with a crumbling wall there. The trackers were covering the same ground Riggs had trod yesterday with her on his back. Which meant they were taking her in the opposite direction from Chroina.

Riggs had wanted her to go to Chroina, to King Magnus. Mayhap he’d believed in error she might be able to help his people, but it had been his dying wish to deliver her safely to his king. What kind of ungrateful shrew was she if she didn’t do everything in her power to see it through for him?

King Magnus wouldn’t want her, not when she confessed to being barren on top of her scarred and broken appearance. But mayhap he’d protect her since Riggs had seemed to think so highly of him. Protection was more than she suspected she’d get from these men.

There was also the news Riggs had wanted to tell his uncle about there possibly being more women in Larna. Yet more reason for her to get to Chroina.

She’d do it or die trying. Her wolf-man deserved no less.

Resolve burned behind her breastbone, urging her to action. Each step the trackers’ horses took away from Marann’s capital was like a stick poking a hornets’ nest, stirring her anger more and more. She needed to escape these men, and soon if she had any hope of finding her way to the city that was a three-day ride east from Valeworth.

She began to study the trackers with an eye for their readiness. What would it take to escape them?

One man rode up ahead. Two behind. Each carried a broadsword and had a sheathed dagger strapped to his calf. They wore drab cloaks over plaids that might have once been dyed a rich blue but were now faded to dull gray. Just yesterday, she’d listened to Riggs talk about how there had been no trade to speak of in decades. Luxuries like fancy silks and dyes from foreign lands were things of the past. The pleated wool covering the thighs of the man she rode with was less threadbare than what the other men wore, but not by much.

The men carried
themselves like soldiers. They would be well acquainted with their weapons. She would not be able to fight them. Mayhap she could take one man by surprise, steal his dagger, and slit his throat, but the other three would not give her another chance to surprise them. Seduction might earn her a chance at killing a second man, but again, ’twould only work once.

If they were smart, and she suspected they were, they’d sleep in shifts. She would not be able to sneak away in the night, especially considering she’d need one of their horses if she were to have any chance of outrunning them. If by some miracle she managed to get away on foot, they’d merely track her down again.

Where did that leave her?

She’d have to kill them, all four of them, to stand a chance of reaching Chroina.

A cold pit of dread sank in her stomach like a stone. Stabbing Bilkes was one thing, but even if she had the means to kill four men, she didn’t think she had the cods to do it.

Och,
Riggs, why did you leave me? What should I do?

Mayhap if she learned more, a solution would present itself. “Where are
you taking me?” she asked the leader.

His hands tensed on her thighs. “You shouldn’t be able to speak our language.”

“Well I can. Where are you taking me? What’ll you do with me?”

Leaning around her, he grabbed her chin and tilted her face to his scrutiny. “You’re not an escapee. How did you learn our tongue?”

“I’m gifted with languages,” she lied. “Where are you taking me?”

“How long have you been in our realm?”

Our realm?
He wouldn’t use that word unless he kent there were other “realms.” Not to mention, he’d studied her face and would see she was no wolf-woman. And just like the Larnians who’d first found her, he wasn’t surprised. He must ken of other human women. Had he seen them? Where were they? She had to learn more and bring this information to Riggs’s uncle.

“A long time,” she lied again. Lying was easy for her. Always had been. “Who says I’m no’ an escapee? Mayhap we all worked together to get me out. Amazing what women can do when they work together.”

“Liar. I’d recognize you. If you were from Bantus’s harem, I’d have had you. I’ve had all his pets.”

“Good to be
the lieutenant,” the soldier behind them muttered. “Rest of us settle for wolf cunt.”

“Silence,” the leader barked.

Saints above. These were evil men to speak of women like pets to be passed around and used. To speak of bestiality. At least she’d learned somat. He’d mentioned Bantus’s harem and hadn’t batted an eye when she’d used the plural “women.” That meant there
were
human women in Larna. How horrible for them.

“Hmm, I wonder if our little Maranner weasel has been keeping you secret from King Bantus. Are you Ari’s pet? Is that how you learned our tongue?”

Ari.
That was the name of King Magnus’s second in command. He was the one Riggs had told her kept an eye on King Bantus.

“Aye.
You caught me. I belong to Ari.” If she could find this Ari, mayhap they could discover a way to help the other women. Mayhap Ari would help her get to Chroina and King Magnus. “If you return me to him, he’ll give you a great reward.”

“Oh, I’ll get my reward al
l right,” he said, and he shifted in the saddle so she felt his hard cock behind her. “I’ll get it soon as we get you back to Saroc.”

“Ari doesna like to share,” she said coolly.

“Another lie. He most definitely likes to share. And he likes to watch. He and Bantus both.”

Och
,
no. He made it sound as though Ari was in on whatever was going on in Larna. Best not end up in his hands then.

She’d have to make her escape soon.
Nothing but horrors upon horrors awaited her in Larna. It tripled her determination to get the news of the other women to King Magnus and his war chieftain.

“A lass can try,” she said lightly, pretending to cooperate.

The leader huffed what might have been a chuckle. Even his laugh seemed cold and superior. “No harm in trying. I like a cunning woman. So does Bantus. More fun to break.”

She gulped. If her resolve were an entity within her, ’twould be nodding resolutely. To avoid the fate these men carried her toward, she’d be more than happy to kill them all. Then she’d see about doing somat for the women trapped in Larna. She could think of no better way to honor Riggs’s memory.

Pretending to drift to sleep, she bided her time. Her opportunity would come, and when it did, she’d show this horse’s arse what a cunning woman could do.

Hunger gnawed at Riggs’s stomach as he shuffled through the darkening forest on the trail of the men who had ridden away with Anya. His legs burned from running. His arms ached from the fight with the villagers in the road. His stomach cramped with the need to feed. Those two ferrets at the pub had barely sated him, and that had been nearly a full day ago. He should hunt and then rest before continuing on. But he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop as long as Anya was in danger.

Back in Valeworth, he’d been distracted from the attacking villagers by the sight of the messenger riding away with her. One of the villagers had taken advantage and tried to decapitate him from behind like a coward. The telltale whistle of steel through the air was almost the last thing he’d ever heard, but he’d managed to dodge the blow. With urgency to get to Anya thrumming through his veins, he’d cut down the last attacker and run after the messenger only to find the man limping off the road with the help of the barkeep. Anya was nowhere to be seen. But in the distance, four horsemen disappeared around a bend in the road. The trackers.

He’d given chase on foot, keeping to the shadows and remaining far enough back not to alert the riders. He’d glimpsed Anya sitting in the saddle in front of one of the men. Before long, it had become clear where they were headed. His cave. Good. They’d likely make camp there tonight. He’d have the advantage of knowing the land. He’d need every advantage he could get.

Another hour of jogging brought him near the familiar river that wound through the valley in the shadow of his cave. He slowed to a silent walk as he neared the spot where Anya had built the fire two nights ago. He would kill the trackers either way, but if he found one hair out of place on her head when he arrived, he’d make sure they suffered.

It was full dark when he crept up to a thicket that shielded him from the clearing. He cocked his head to listen. Two voices murmuring low, both of them male. The sounds of wood being piled.

“By the moon,” one man said, his voice placing him the distance of a cast fishing line away. “How long does it take a woman to empty her bladder?”

Riggs found a narrow cleft through the thicket that gave him a view of the clearing and the river beyond. The speaker leaned on a tree with his back to him. He had on a faded blue Larnian war kilt. And he was fully armed with a sword and dagger to Riggs’s axe and hunting knife. For all the Larnians’ faults, lack of readiness wasn’t typically one of them. These soldiers would be as well-trained in using their weapons as Riggs was with his. They wouldn’t go down as easily as the villagers had. He settled in to rest from his run and gather intelligence. If he could confirm the other two were off hunting, he’d take the odds of two against one and attack now.

“Not as long as she’s taking,” said the one making the woodpile. “Go put an eye on her. Make sure she’s not trying to escape.”

“Of course I’m no’ trying to escape. What kind of fool do
you take me for?” Anya.

His heart skipped a beat. Her voice came from the tree line. He had to shift to see her through the thicket. She limped toward the woodpile, unharmed and lovely as ever. The fist that had closed around his heart on the road in Valeworth relaxed a fraction.

“Not going anywhere on those legs, yeah?” said the man leaning on the tree.

“Bet they spread just fine though,” the other said.

Riggs swallowed the growl that rumbled in his throat.

“Wouldn’t
you like to find out?” Anya said. “You’ll have to wait your bloody turn, though. Bantus gets me first. Isn’t that right? Then Ari. Then your lovely commander. Then the lowly soldiers can have their go. I’ve got a bloody parade of Larnians and one traitorous Maranner to look forward to in my bed, lucky lass that I am.”

The men chuckled.

Riggs’s head spun with all she’d just said. Ari? A traitor? And for her to know the order in which she was to be raped, the men must have been talking, taunting her. She was taking it with pretended humor, but she had to be shaking with fear inside. His poor lady. Thankfully, it didn’t sound like anyone had touched her yet. They were saving her for Bantus.

That sadistic shite wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Nor would these maggots. Which meant he couldn’t risk failure, especially since he was the only Maranner that knew about her other than the wounded messenger and the Valeworth barkeep. If he lost her tonight, there would likely be no rescue for her. Unacceptable.

“I’m more than happy to wait, sweet thing,” the man at the woodpile said. “Long as Bantus and Commander Lance don’t rough you up too much.”

Riggs was going to kill that one first.

“What? Ari doesn’t like it rough,” Anya quipped. “Must be a Larnian thing, violence.”

The men chuckled again, not denying it.

He had a stranglehold on his axe. This was intolerable, hearing Anya banter with men who would just as soon rape her.

A great distance behind him and to the left, it sounded like an ox was crashing through the trees. He tensed, turned his head. His ears pinpointed the direction of the sound, to the south just on the other side of the briar patch where good forest hare could be found. The sounds were too bold to be a wild animal. Must be one of the other trackers returning from a hunt. He relaxed his grip on his axe, shifting to peer through the thicket as the sounds grew closer.

A naked man with a dead boar piglet under each arm plowed through the underbrush and into the clearing. His face and torso were caked with blood. He must have just eaten the sow, a standard brown, coarse-hair variety, judging by the plain coats of the piglets.

Three men now, and Anya in their midst. Definitely not the right time to attack. He should slip away and go after the fourth tracker. If the man was hunting, he’d be naked and unarmed. Riggs could pick him off and start chipping away at those long odds. But the thought of leaving Anya made his stomach clench.

She looked up from the kindling and said to the new man, “I hope one of those is for me.”

The man strode to her and tossed the larger of the piglets at her feet. “Only the sweetest meat for a lady so fine.”

She snorted. “Fine as a lame mule with a bedraggled face. How do you ken your king is going to want me? Mayhap he’ll slit your throats for bringing him somat so ugly.”