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CHAPTER THREE

H e had been given no choice, but as Laird Alisdair Mackenzie pushed his horse forward to flee from the returning fiend and his companions, he wondered what the devil he was supposed to do with the lass he had saved.

A beautiful lass too, from what he had seen of her.

Even in the dark, it was evident she was a stunning creature.

While his attention had been first caught by her cries, he had been surprised once he managed to get a good look at her, not that he had shown it.

But applying that salve on her soft, tender lips had his body…

react. A reaction he nearly felt ashamed of, given her garb.

Still, at least she wasn’t actually a nun, or the gods might smite him for the thoughts that ran through his head, for he would delight to know what she looked like under that habit.

He shook his head to rid himself of his lust, and tried, with difficulty, to concentrate on the circumstances at hand.

Having no idea who she was or what those men wanted with her, he had acted on gut instinct.

She was in trouble, and he was not willing to pass by and do nothing.

That being said, he already had enough on his plate.

A branch of Clan Mackay, a semi-independent stronghold, had been left leaderless after the death of the former Aberach line, the last person being Laird Finley, who had met his demise in the Battle of Dail na Mònadh. So the clan had been thrust into Alisdair’s hands in the blink of an eye.

After the victory, Alisdair’s good friend and laird Keane Mackay, had been unable to divide his forces or his attention.

He had thus concluded that Alisdair, his most trusted advisor and war captain, ought to rule the clan, and had appointed him as laird over the vulnerable branch, mainly to protect Mackay interests in the north.

However, the surviving clan members had shown resentment at being ruled by an outsider. Alisdair had already faced their disgruntled acceptance of the situation, but now, he had to earn the loyalty of the proud Aberach survivors.

And that was not all. The clan faced threats from clan Sutherland, who claimed the lands belonged to them by right. Fortunately, they were in no position to attack again. As long as the Aberachs kept the peace, so would clan Sutherland. At least, for the meantime.

Acknowledging the woman that he was holding tightly onto in front of him, Alisdair realized that his life had just become even more complicated.

He had to find out who she was and who was chasing after her, particularly because he had discovered her on the border of his land.

However, that would have to wait as the first thing he had to do was put as much distance between themselves and her attackers as possible.

They rode fast and hard for as long as he was willing to push his stallion. The sound of the following hooves got fainter and fainter, until eventually, slowing the horse to a steady trot, Alisdair was certain he had lost them.

“Where are we going?” the lass asked, trying to turn her head a little to see him.

Alisdair did not make it easy for her, keeping his body tight against hers so she would not fall from his grip.

“As far away from yer new friends as possible, Sassenach,” he replied in a clipped tone.

“They’re not my friends,” she bit back, her voice full of venom.

He lifted his eyebrows at her sassy reply. So far, he had imagined she was innocent, even childlike. Clearly, he was wrong. From a nunnery she might be, but she definitely had a tongue in her mouth. A perfectly articulate tongue, at that.

I wonder what it tastes like–Concentrate!

Shaking his head again, he chided himself for his wayward thinking. He did not know what had gotten into him. On very few occasions had a woman affected him, and certainly not an English one.

Darkness had crept in at an alarming rate, worrying Alisdair. There was still some way to go, and he had to wonder if he was going to make it to his destination. His new home, a home he was not yet welcome in.

As though the gods were against them, the weather suddenly turned bitter, and from nowhere, a howling gale blew, tugging at their clothes and biting at the naked flesh of his cheeks.

The woman pulled her hood tighter around her face and lowered her head against it, but he doubted her actions would help much.

A thick mist crept over the glens, weaving through the few trees they passed.

And then, the rain began. At first, it was light droplets, but within a minute or two, the heavens opened and they found themselves riding through a downpour.

“Oh, my goodness,” she cried, pulling the hood of her cloak even tighter.

Releasing his grip on her for just a moment, he pulled his cloak around her, wrapping it to surround her small, slender frame. He then pulled her in closer to try and keep her warm. The action did not help his wayward thoughts.

In no time at all, Alisdair’s boots and outer cloak were soaked through.

Things were going from bad to worse. There was not a chance he would reach castle Dùnhàra before night fell completely.

Already, he could hardly see a few feet ahead of him.

Besides, the two of them would certainly freeze with the cold and wet.

We’ll have tae stop. We havenae any choice.

It appeared this night was full of a lack of choices.

Forging on, for he could do little else, Alisdair tried to peer ahead through the heavy rain. All he could see was the downpour bouncing off the dirt track ahead of them, while at the same time, making visibility treacherous.

On and on they went, until, much to his relief, he saw the soft glow of lights up ahead. The glow was not just from one abode, but several, telling him they had reached a village. He only hoped there was a place to stay.

As the sound of the horse’s hooves echoed off the cobblestone underfoot, Alisdair blinked through the rain that beat down against his face, searching for what he was looking for.

“Thanks be tae the gods,” he breathed at the sight of an inn.

“We are stopping?” the woman said, her voice muffled behind the hood of her cloak that she had wrapped around her face.

“Well, we certainly cannae go on. We’ll catch our death if we stay out in this any longer.”

Bringing the horse to a steady stop, he dismounted first, and then, taking her by her small waist, he gently lifted her down.

Her shivering body slid down his until her feet reached the ground.

His breath caught in his throat at the closeness they shared, and beneath her hood, he watched her wide eyes gaze up at him.

Something about this woman stirred him. It was unnerving, and yet, it sent a thrill through his very being at the same time.

“Are ye all right?” he asked

She nodded, even though she looked anything but all right. She was shivering, though he was certain it was not just the wet and cold that caused it. No stable hand came out to help, but in that weather, he was hardly surprised. Instead, he tied the horse to a wooden post and lifted his belongings.

“Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her towards the inn.

Alisdair had never been so grateful for the sight of a roaring fire as he made his way across the stone floor of the inn, water dripping off their clothes as they went.

“Tis a mad night out there,” the inn keeper said, looking sympathetically from his companion to himself and back again.

He was a short and stocky man with friendly eyes and a warm smile. Candlelight reflected off the skin on his head where his hair had once been, though there was a little left about the sides.

“Indeed,” Alisdair replied. “We need a room.”

The man nodded. “I only have the one left. The others were just taken by people in a state just like yerselves.”

“It’ll dae,” Alisdair said.

Again, he had no choice.

“Very good. I’ll be right back.”

When the innkeeper disappeared, the beautiful Sassenach, who had faltered a few steps once they entered, rushed to his side.

“I cannot… will not share a room with you,” she hissed, panic dancing in her eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”

Alisdair gazed down at her and caught himself.

With the hood of her cloak now pushed back, it was the first good look he had gotten at her.

Even in the dull light when he had rescued her, it had been evident that she was striking, but seeing her now in the brightly lit room, her appearance took his breath away.

She was stunningly beautiful, with skin the color of alabaster, framed with chestnut hair tied in braids about her head.

Her wide eyes were a mix of greens that seemed to sparkle as she stared up at him in desperation.

Her full lips, which he already knew to be soft and plump, were now set in a determined pout, highlighting the sculptured cheekbones of her small face.

It took him less than a few seconds to take it all in, but his expression gave nothing away.

Nodding to the door they had just entered by, he said, “Would ye prefer tae be back out there?”

Her brow lifted at those words, and beyond her indignation, he could see the evident fear. Clearly, she was still shaken after her ordeal. As well she might. Any woman would be traumatized, but surely more so, a woman who had been raised in a priory, a place of solitary calm and quietness.

“I told ye earlier that I’m nae going tae hurt ye. That hasnae changed.” He was about to continue when the innkeeper returned.

“Here’s yer key,” the kind man said. “And I have Mary serving ye both some stew and bread. Ye look like ye could both dae with warming up.”

“Thank ye. That’s very kind o’ ye,” Alisdair replied.

“Please.” The man gestured to a table over by the fire. “Sit and warm yerselves. I’ll return shortly.”