The Devil in Plaid(22)

In that moment, his mind turned to Seumas and the bulk of the MacDonnell party. He prayed, then, that they would not fall victim to a MacKenzie attack, and, if they did, that they had enough warriors in their number to be victorious.

Having surveyed their surroundings, he wiped away any tracks left behind from their hasty climb up the peak. He returned to the cave, and as he entered, he took a deep breath. Inside was his bride, a woman who despised him. He could not see into the depths where he’d left her, but a muffled noise reached his ears. He paused and heard her quiet sobs. In that moment, his heart softened. Fiona MacDonnell had withstood numerous hardships that day. Not just the grueling trek, but she would have been huddled in the thicket, no doubt watching the bloodshed and fearing for her life.

He quietly moved into the darkness, resolved to give her what comfort he may. He knelt beside her, feeling for her back to soothe.

“Don’t touch me,” she cried out. He could not see her but heard the malice in her tone. “Don’t ever touch me!”

Her harsh words once again hardened his heart. For a moment, she had been a lass, scared and alone. But he had forgotten she was a viper with a sharp tongue and poisonous fangs. And to think, he was going to try to comfort her. If the prospect of his touch was so repugnant, then she could console herself.

“I suggest ye get some sleep,” he said coldly. “We have a hard road tomorrow.”

Then he lay down and unfolded the top of his plaid, wrapping his shoulders against the chill of the cave. After a while, her soft sobs renewed, and he could hear her teeth chattering.

“Damnation,” he cursed. “MacDonnell, come here…now!”

*

Fiona froze, choking back her tears. He demanded she go to him, but why? Was he going to ravish her or beat her for crying?

“I will stop,” she said, her voice trembling. She ground her teeth to keep them steady.

“I told ye to come here,” he barked. “You will obey me.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Dare she make a run for it?

“Do not make me come over there,” he snarled.

She gasped and scrambled toward him.

“Lay down beside me,” he ordered.

Her heart quaked. “But we are not yet wed.”

“Ye’re my betrothed, which in the eyes of God and everyone else means we are as good as married. But I’ve no intention of bedding ye this night, nor am I overly eager to touch ye at all. I will do my duty, and when ye give me a son, I’ll not touch ye again. But for now, I am ordering ye to lay down. The chattering of yer teeth is keeping me awake, and I’ve no wish to be accused of murder if ye were to freeze to death. Now, lay down!”

Trembling, she did as he bade, lying down on her side near him but not touching. Then she felt his large hand spread across her stomach. He dragged her against him. His whole body curled around hers, and he wrapped the top of his plaid about her shoulders. Within his strong embrace her body grew warm, but her heart ached. His strength surrounded her like a steel cage, hard and unfeeling. The devil was now her master, and she was powerless to refuse him.





Chapter Thirteen


Hazy with sleep, Jamie caressed the soft contours pressed against his body. He nestled his face into lavender scented hair. Then his eyes flew open, his senses fully awakened. The events of the day before came crashing down on him. The attack. Niall and Grant’s deaths. His bride’s rejection of his comfort. His anger. He shimmied away, steeling his heart once more against Fiona’s feminine softness. Her breathing remained even. He would let her sleep while he foraged for food.

When he returned to the cave, she sat just inside the entrance, her knees pressed to her chest. He set a handful of mushrooms and blaeberries on the ground beside her. She made no move to take a morsel but kept her gaze downcast, hugging her knees close.

“Eat,” he urged her impatiently. “We’ve a lot of ground to cover.”

Without looking up, she snaked out her hand and grabbed the wild forage. When she had finished, he bade her stand. Taking her hand firmly in his, he started back down the slope.

Hours passed in silence. Finally, they neared the outskirts of MacLeod territory, coming upon the first watch tower. From the highest lookout the MacLeod banner flapped in the breeze. As he expected, when they were close enough for the guard on duty to recognize his laird, the tower gate swung open and a warrior rushed out. Untying one of the horses from its grazing lead, he mounted the animal and galloped toward them.

Jamie recognized Mitchel straightaway with his broad shoulders and tangled red hair. Mitchel brought the animal to a halt in front of Jamie and slid to the ground. “My laird, what has happened?”

Jamie took the reins from his man and mounted, then reached down to the woman at his side, lifting her into the saddle. “We were ambushed on the Hidden Pass. Grant and Niall are dead. Keep watch for a large party with Seumas in the lead. I only pray they’ve fared better than we did.”

Mitchell looked at him with stricken green eyes. Then he dropped his head, crestfallen by the news of their departed kinsmen. Fury and heartache coursed through Jamie. He still could not believe Grant and Niall were gone. He rested a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. “We will stop the bloodshed. These dark days will end. Stay vigilant, Mitchell.” Words of consolation fled Jamie’s lips, but they did nothing to sooth his own pain or the rage burgeoning within his soul.