Page 6 of The Dark Highlander’s Heart (Thorns Of The Highlands #2)

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K atherine had no way of knowing how much time passed before they stopped again. She tried to occupy her mind by counting off the seconds as they turned into minutes, if only so she might quiet the panic in her mind. However, the chaotic thoughts of her unhappy future in the clutches of the Oliphants continued to win out, and so she lost count over and over again until she gave up entirely.

She wondered if Romilly would have been able to keep her composure in similar circumstances, and whether her older sister might have already managed to suss out some weakness in Bryan which could be properly exploited to her advantage. At the very least, Romilly might have used her wilderness skills learned from their father to properly determine the route they were taking, in case there might be anything along the way that might prove useful in terms of escaping and evading recapture.

Katherine did her best. She peered around discreetly as they rode, looking for elements of their surroundings that might potentially be used to her benefit. It was no use. All she could discern was a lot of scenery blurring around her as the horse galloped past it with great haste.

She was no warrior, and that made her little more than a victim.

For his part, Bryan privately allowed himself to be impressed by how Katherine was behaving under pressure.

Oh, he could feel her frenzied heartbeat through her back as it pressed against his chest, right enough—she could not hide that from him. Outwardly, though, she was holding herself under far tighter control than most people in her position could be expected to exhibit. She had ceased asking silly questions, having learned that they would largely only lead to vague answers from him in return.

Instead, she was wisely remaining silent, and, from what he could determine, she was taking in their surroundings as much as possible without turning her head too much to either side.

Even so, the smallest movements she made were carefully cataloged by him, and admired.

She could claim to her heart’s content that she hadn’t been a loyal pupil of her father and older sister, but he had a difficult time believing that. She was sharp of mind and clever of tongue, and he knew it was entirely possible that she might be every bit as diabolical as her older sister. He decided then and there that he was not inclined to turn his back on her for the remainder of the journey to Castle Oliphant.

And yet…

Bryan discovered, to his own surprise, that there was some part of him that hoped she was telling the truth.

He knew he couldn’t take that chance, of course. He couldn’t afford her any less than his full vigilance, for to do otherwise would be disloyal to his laird, and he would sooner have faced death than failed in his duty to his clan. If there was even the smallest possibility that she was a threat, then she would need to be watched over accordingly.

Even so, he had a strange certainty that if it turned out she was a genuine enemy of the Oliphants, someone devious and dangerous, it would disappoint him deeply. She seemed so level-headed, so frank and perceptive, that she seemed interesting to him.

Her outward beauty was part of it, Bryan had to admit.

She was a striking woman, perhaps the loveliest he could remember ever having seen. She was short and willowy, with brown hair, large brown eyes that seemed as bright and curious as a bird’s, and sharp, elfin features. He did his best not to stare at her, but it was difficult for him to cut his gaze short, especially when they were so close together for such long periods of time.

Still, he knew it was more than that. It was the earnestness with which she had managed to defend her sister without necessarily condoning Romilly’s behavior or actions. Katherine really did seem as though she were a luckless innocent, woefully caught up in the middle of her family’s ghastly machinations.

And either way, what difference does it make to me? he thought, trying to clear his mind of what was currently cluttering it. Whether she was a pawn of her father’s or blameless in the whole endeavor, he had been charged with delivering her to Laird Alex so that he could use his best judgment, and that was what he intended to do.

Except he knew that there was more to it than that, whether he wished to acknowledge it or not.

Because if she was guilty of being in league with Laird Angus, then during her time of confinement at Castle Oliphant, she would almost surely make some attempt at sabotage, escape, or both. It would be Bryan’s job, he knew, to continue to watch over her in the event that this should come to pass.

And then whatever comfortable accommodations they had arranged for her would be traded for a cell in the dungeons next to Romilly’s.

That was the hated idea that lurked in Bryan’s mind, the one he wished to banish but found he could not; the notion that both McGregor lasses would end up side by side in that hellish stone prison below, their baneful natures combining into a fiendish maelstrom. One Bryan would be expected to descend into in an attempt to secure more information for Alex, that the young laird might use it to weigh his decisions regarding the possible war to come.

Most of all, though, Bryan simply found that he loathed the mental image of Katherine’s beauty marred and tangled as Romilly’s had become, against the backdrop of pitiless stone walls and rat-choked drain pipes.

He shivered, and that was when she spoke at last, “Do ye feel a chill, Captain? For it seems warm enough tae me out here.”

“I felt nae chill,” he replied with uncharacteristic brusqueness. “Ye must have imagined.”

But the words died in his throat as heard hushed voices ahead. He peered through the darkness, and could barely make out a half dozen or so men sitting at the edge of the woods near the path. He drew the horse to a stop, watching and listening as keenly as he could, and hoping he’d halted in time to prevent them from hearing their approaching hoofbeats.

After a few moments of tense silence, Katherine dared to whisper, “Bandits, perhaps? I dinnae recognize any of the voices as belonging tae McGregor soldiers.”

Bryan wanted to believe she was telling the truth, if only because there was no way McGregors who were pursuing them could have arrived here before them so handily.

However, that did not entirely eliminate the possibility that they might be Laird Angus’s men, and that they had been dispatched before the abduction, on some sinister mission within Oliphant territory. Perhaps they meant to burn the outlying farms by night, or continue on to infiltrate the castle and commit acts of stealthy assassination.

The longer he listened, though, the more certain he became that he recognized the voices; as those of several of his own guardsmen.

“Rory?” he called out incredulously, coaxing the horse forward again. “Barclay?”

He heard the men rise and draw their swords. “Who is it? Who goes there?”

Bryan rolled his eyes. “‘Tis I, yer captain! Wondering why I bothered tae instruct any of ye in matters of stealth, merely tae come upon ye sitting here being loud enough tae alert anyone on the road of yer presence.”

The men emerged into the moonlight, looking up at their commander.

Barclay was a tall, thin, reedy fellow, with wispy red hair and front teeth that protruded crookedly. That, combined with his far-apart black eyes, made him appear as some damnably large bedraggled rat that had crawled from the banks of a river.

For his part, Rory was as short and compact as a stump, and roughly twice as stubborn. To complete the image, his skin was as dark, chafed, and gnarled as tree bark. He did not so much “walk” as barrel forward obstinately on his stubby legs. There were those who might find the grizzled old grump comical, until they saw him swing a double-sided axe in the heat of combat, taking his opponents’ legs out from beneath them and then bringing the blade down upon their faces to finish the job. He had served generations of Oliphant guards—indeed, there were no living members of the corps who could recall a time before him.

Together, the pair represented Bryan’s most trusted lieutenants. Which was why he was mildly stunned at the incautious behavior he’d caught them at.

But Rory was unreadable as ever, while Barclay blinked up at Bryan unapologetically. “We meant tae find ye returning by the road, Captain. Or rather, I mean tae say, we meant for ye tae find us.”

“Laird sent,” Rory grunted. He rarely spoke in complete sentences, as though conserving as much of his breath for battle as possible. “Bring ye back while ye rest on the way.”

“Didnae find me up tae the task after all, is that it?” Bryan inquired wryly.

A half-smile twitched on Barclay’s lips, and he snuffled mirthfully. “Laird Alex said ye’d say that, right enough! Laird Alex said for me to say that ‘twas nothin’ of the sort, only that once ye’d crossed the border, there was nae further need for ye tae operate alone.”

“We watch her,” Rory rumbled. “Ye rest.”

“Sure, an’ ye didnae ‘spect Laird Alex would ‘spect ye tae ride there an’ back straight, wi’ no chance tae stop a bit?” Barclay guffawed.

“I suppose I’d planned tae tie her tae a tree or the like, if I needed rest along the way,” Bryan mumbled sheepishly. He saw Katherine’s withering look and held his hands up defensively. “I didnae say I was looking forward tae the prospect, merely that it seemed my only option.”

“Then mayhap I ought tae thank these men for appearing when they did,” Katherine informed him archly.

Barclay shot her a dark look. “I’d nae be so bloody quick tae say that, lass. Laird Alex said we had tae see ye were hauled back tae the castle alive, but he didnae say we had tae like it, nor be especially kind aboot it.”

“McGregors.” Rory’s nostrils emitted a volcanic huff. “Scum.”

Katherine stiffened and bristled, but whether it was from fright or indignation, Bryan could not tell. In her case, he suspected that both might be true at once, like the startled reaction of some beautiful fine-bred mare.

Either way, he thought it prudent to intervene before the matter escalated. “There’ll be none of that talk,” he admonished them sternly. “She is coming along without struggle, and she’ll be shown all respect until she gives us reason tae do otherwise. She may yet be blameless in all this, we cannae yet know for certain.”

“She’s a McGregor,” Rory huffed again. “Blame enough.”

“I say it is not,” Bryan countered quietly, all trace of mirth gone from his voice. His eyes met Barclay’s implacably. “And I say that short of the bonds around her wrists, she shall be treated as no less than a diplomatic envoy being transported safely tae Castle Oliphant. If I decide that even the bonds are no longer a necessity, ye lot will comport yerselves just the same. Do ye intend tae disobey my orders, Barclay? For if so, ‘twould be the first time. Likely the last one as well.”

Barclay and Rory maintained steady eye contact with their commander, but some of the other Oliphant men behind them exchanged confused and doubtful looks.

Bryan risked a glance in Katherine’s direction to see whether this insistence on his part might be putting her at ease. Her expression remained neutral, though he still saw the glimmer of fear in her eyes and noted her pallor in the moonlight.

“Nay,” Barclay said, loud enough to make the point that he was not only answering his captain, but informing the others to stand down as well. “Every man among us is loyal to ye without question, as ever was and will be. We merely wished tae ensure that this ‘lady’ didnae have her hooks in ye in some way, is all.”

“Women.” Apparently, Rory felt that no further word or phrase was required to clarify his position on the matter.

“At any rate,” Barclay continued, mustering a jovial tone, “we brought provisions from the castle, an’ we were just aboot tae tuck in. Here, we brought a portion for ye as well, in case yer own had run out.”

“It has, and I thank ye,” Bryan replied genially, hoping that they might be able to put that brief bit of tension behind them.

He had trained and served with all of the men assembled, and trusted them with his life in battle several times over. None of them had ever given him any reason to believe they could be disloyal; no, not for all the gold in Scotland, nor for promises of power from every laird in the land.

Still, Bryan could not help but remember that one of the key traitors in Romilly’s plot against Laird Alex had been one of Bryan’s own guardsmen; one he would have likewise trusted.

He hadn’t spoken of it to anyone, but his belief in his own ability to command had been shaken after that. His soldiers had unfailingly followed his commands as ever, and had shown nothing but the utmost respect and deference to him that they always had.

That did not prevent him from wondering, in his most private moments, whether they might secretly ask themselves how they could continue to serve a man whose judgment had been so fatally flawed that it had nearly cost them the life of their laird.

Barclay handed the rations of brown bread, salted pork, and a turnip over to Bryan, then produced his own and began to devour it.

Bryan was about to do likewise when he glanced at Katherine again. “Where is her portion?” he asked.

Barclay frowned at him incredulously. “We didnae bring any for her. Why would we? She’s a bloody prisoner!”

“I thought I had made myself clear in that regard,” Bryan reminded him. “She is not tae be mistreated in any way.”

“None for her,” Rory grunted, finishing the last few morsels of his own rations.

Bryan tried staring them down, but inwardly, he was uncertain of how far he ought to take this. He’d never had to discipline any of them by force before, and he certainly didn’t want to start now. He could not allow them to openly disrespect him further, but neither could he allow them to think his desire to protect a McGregor outweighed his loyalty to his own clan.

His stomach grumbled, and at that moment, he knew precisely what needed to be done in order to best defuse the situation.

“Here,” he said, handing his food to Katherine. “She shall have mine, then, and we’ll say no more about it.”

As he placed the items in her outstretched palms, he realized how difficult it would be for her to maintain a grip on it all while eating properly with her wrists bound. Without a word, he produced a dagger and cut her bonds, then looked in the direction of Barclay and Rory, as though daring them to protest.

“Ye do not fear she might do ye harm?” Barclay inquired. His tone was mild, but there was intense curiosity, and suspicion, in his beady eyes.

Bryan smirked. “Not so long as I’ve got six fiercely loyal and stout-hearted fellows such as yerselves tae protect me from her.”

Barclay held his gaze for a few more moments, then sauntered a short distance away and supervised the lighting of a campfire. The others followed him, as though collectively making a point. If Bryan was determined to embark on this folly, then he was on his own.

Bryan tried not to outwardly betray his consternation at the gesture. However, they were still close enough that they could come running if there was trouble.

And he still believed they would do that, despite their current fit of pique.

“Thank ye,” Katherine said quietly, beginning with the salted pork.

From the way her nose wrinkled as she tore the tough meat with her teeth, she was used to far more refined cuisine. Nevertheless, she gave him a grateful nod and continued, taking a rough bite from the bread as well.

“It was the least I could do,” he replied. “As I said before, ye are safe with me, and so long as ye dinnae attempt escape, yer comfort is of paramount importance tae me.”

“Aye.” She glanced up at him, and her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Ye did say that, didn’t ye? And now ye’ve had yer chance tae prove it as well.”

Bryan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do ye mean by that?”

She peered at him shrewdly. “Well, ‘tis rather convenient, is it not? We come across a cadre of yer men along the route ye’ve chosen tae return by, and there’s an altercation in which ye take my side over theirs, thus allowing ye tae earn my trust. Lull me, like a sheep being gently lured tae its slaughter. How could I possibly doubt the intentions of one who would stand up tae his own men in order tae defend my honor?” A mocking tone was creeping into her voice.

“It’s nae too late for me tae take the food back for myself,” Bryan reminded her dryly. Not that he had any real intention of doing so.

“Go on, then,” she challenged between bites from the turnip. “Dismiss my suspicions. Tell me I am a silly lass, and know nothing of the ways of men and their honor.”

“I would never dream of it,” he chuckled. “Rather, I applaud yer keen reasoning, and have from the very start. Most of my own men could nae have proved their worth as strategists so thoroughly as ye have, contemplating things from every angle.”

“Now ye resort tae base flattery tae further quell my suspicions.” But there was a gleam in her eyes that seemed to indicate that she was slowly letting her guard down.

She wanted to believe in his good intentions. He was sure of it.

He wanted nothing more than to validate them—though, as a warrior and tactician, he knew that he would generally be expected to exploit such a connection with a prisoner instead.

Bryan hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

He hoped to form a true bond with her so that she would cooperate fully and not end up in the dungeon that so frequently haunted his nightmares.

“Keep yer suspicions,” he invited with a shrug. “Ye are more than entitled tae them, though I shall continue tae prove myself tae ye as best I can.”

“Oh?” She sounded unconvinced as she finished off the last crumb of bread. “How, precisely, do ye intend tae do that?”

“I shall instruct a pair of my men tae keep watch over us for the next few hours so that we may get some sleep while ye remain unbound.”

Katherine’s eyebrows went up. “Ye would do that?”

“Aye, in point of fact, I would.” He raised an eyebrow. “Now I would nae expect that tae buy yer trust in one fell swoop, but mayhap it will purchase a small sliver of it? Enough that ye might go on and get some rest so that I may as well?”

She nodded slowly, then settled on the ground, cradled in the raised roots of a huge willow tree. Bryan did likewise nearby, gesturing for Barclay to send a couple of men over to watch them. Barclay hesitated for a split second, then nodded, ordering two of his comrades to stand guard. They hopped to their feet and strode over at once.

“Be at peace, Captain,” one of the men intoned gruffly. “No harm shall befall ye this night, nor shall this lady make her escape.”

“I would expect nothing less from ye,” Bryan replied sincerely.

As he closed his eyes, he addressed Katherine one final time before submitting to slumber, “For what it’s worth, my lady, I believe that yer sharpness of intellect would be a tremendous boon tae any clan, and certainly tae ours.”