Page 5 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind.”

Queen Elizabeth I – Queen of England and Ireland 1533–1603

“Good Lord, he’s heavy,” Cora Wilson said as she lifted under Kenan’s arms. “Dead weight.”

The light from the lantern cast gold and shadows across Kenan. He was breathing fine through gently parted lips. “A heavy sleep does that,” Tierney said, stomping down the guilt that rose up her throat like bile. “Henbane, hashish, valerian root, vinegar, and sweet wine. It won’t kill him.” Holy Joan, she hoped not. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she killed an innocent man.

“Bleh,” Tierney’s twelve-year-old brother, Gabriel, said. “That sounds terrible.”

“He won’t even have a headache when he wakes.”

Sneachda, their white Great Pyrenees dog, ran in circles around them but kept quiet. He knew when they whispered that he should stay silent unless a warning was required. He was five years old, having come on a ship from the Basque region of France, and fierce enough to protect them from wolves. He’d been small and helpless when he’d arrived and had grown so large. Even though she loved him greatly, he was Gabriel’s dog. Her brother had a way with all animals. If given the choice, they chose Gabriel to love most.

“Let me take the top half of him,” Gabriel said, lifting one of Kenan’s arms. Tierney’s brother was agile, strong, and despite the grime looked like the golden-haired angel he was named after.

“I’m still stronger than you both,” Tierney said, although the last day had taken a lot out of her. “You each lift a leg, and I’ll pull his top part into the wagon.” With Gabriel grumbling the whole time about soon growing stronger than her, he and Cora followed Tierney’s direction. The back of the wagon was low, and she put all her oddly tingling strength into lifting Kenan’s head and shoulders while digging her heels into the cold grass to pull him backward with her to the wagon lip.

His shoulders were massive, and the heat from his skin came through his tunic. Even in sleep, he was handsome with perfectly symmetrical features and groomed brows. His beard was cropped short, showing a strong jawline. She longed to touch his lips again. If only she’d been able to convince him to stay and listen to her. But there was no time.

Working together, the three lifted and shoved the Highlander all the way in, but the effort made Tierney’s head spin. Sneachda jumped into the back of the wagon, sniffing Kenan, his nose sliding up the woolen wrap around his hips, until the Highlander was nearly exposed.

“No, Sneachda.” Tierney pushed his big head away. She wouldn’t add baring Kenan’s jack or letting her dog sniff him indecently to her sins against the man. He’d been kind, just like her cousin, Asher, had said. Hopefully he’d be kind when he woke, although she doubted it. She’d be anything but kind if someone drugged and stole her away. For Maggie. She touched the hard cover of her locket through her bodice.

“Look, look, look,” Gabriel whispered.

Tierney’s gaze snapped to Kenan, her heart leaping into a panicked run. She expected his eyes to be open and damning. She exhaled in a huff of relief when she saw them still closed.

“What?” she asked, turning back to her brother, who had picked a lizard-looking creature, with a jagged dorsal ridge, off the side of the wagon and placed it on his shoulder.

“No time for adopting lizards,” Cora said. “We need to get Chief Macdonald farther into the wagon.”

“He’s a newt, not a lizard. Newts have four toes and no claws.” Gabriel stretched carefully, looking back at Kenan. “He’s as heavy as a boulder.”

“He must weigh two hundred pounds,” Cora said. “He’s about six foot four inches and all muscle.” Her tone was appreciative even though she panted with exertion.

Tierney pulled him as she scooted backward into the flat wagon half filled with hay. Her arms felt heavy, and she leaned against the wall encircling the wagon bed with Kenan’s head on her lap. The darkness of the night moved strangely before her, and she let her head loll, her fingers resting on Sneachda’s furry back. “I must have licked my finger,” she said, shaking her head. “Got a bit of the tincture in me.” But she knew it was because of the foolish kiss.

What had made her risk ingesting any of the henbane concoction? The hardness of the warrior’s body, the kindness in him giving her most of the food, the guilt she harbored for destroying his glider and then rendering him unconscious. Whatever the reason, her impulse was foolish beyond measure. Her rash actions had certainly gotten her into trouble before.

Cora leaned over the wagon wall. “Oh no,” she said and shook Tierney’s shoulder. “You licked some of Doris’s henbane mixture?”

“Just a bit,” she said, blinking wide, but the darkness around them made closing her eyes so easy. “I’ll rest back here while you two drive us through the forest. Keep Sneachda with you. She’ll growl to scare away any stray wolves.”

“What about his horse?” Cora asked.

“I will ride him,” Gabriel called, and Tierney was too tired to deny her little brother anything. She sank into the comfortable darkness, cradling Kenan’s head on her lap.

Her body was so heavy, and she felt adrift in the night. The familiar coldness of dread wrapped around her as she fell into sleep.

The ship went down. They are dead and you’re alone.

Tierney’s dreams brightened behind her closed eyes and then receded, snatches of real life and worries that plagued her. Her father’s advisor, Henry Macqueen, featured in many of her nightmares.

He will send Maggie and Gabriel away. You know that, don’t you? He will steal Scorrybreac Tower and scatter the clan.

She tried to shake her head, the heaviness of grief and fear pressing on her chest, making it hard to draw breath. And then she was in the icy sea again, floundering, forgetting how to swim. Everything pulled at her. Her father’s frowning face swam before her. “Ye need to listen to yer husband.”

His face turned into Wallace’s handsome features, which turned cruel. “Ye’re mine, Tierney, and I can do whatever I want to ye.” She gasped, trying to swim away.

Arms went around her, and she struggled against the hold . “Ye drugged and stole a man.” Her father’s voice pursued her through the waves. “’Twas sinful.”

“But I had to take him. For Maggie.”

“For ye, too, daughter. Selfish!”

With a sob, Tierney let herself go underwater. Surrendering to the punishment of the sea.

Her father’s voice changed to a deep resonance, reaching her ears under the surface. “We’re here.” The words made no sense. They were in the middle of the choppy sea. Her body shook with the rapid to and fro motion of the waves as her mind justified her rash plan.

“Tier. Wake up. We’re here.”

The dream faded to darkness, and then she blinked against a gray light. More shaking.

“All right,” she murmured and blinked wider, her fingers rubbing at her dry eyes. The heaviness of dread weighed her down before she could even remember what was going on. What was truth, and what was nightmare? She could feel the cold of the sea on her skin, the heavy drowning in her chest.

Cora’s face was set with concern warring with exhaustion. “We need to get him secure before he wakes.” Her gaze shifted to Kenan, his head still on Tierney’s lap.

“Bloody hell,” Tierney whispered, realizing it was dawn. Understanding swelled through her, nearly swamping her. “I slept the whole night?” She rubbed her palms over her face, aware of the ache in her back and neck. Despite the rest, her nightmares had left her exhausted.

Cora nodded. “Sneachda ran all night, and the warrior’s horse followed us, even when Gabriel fell asleep. And that lizard rode on his back.”

Gabriel frowned at her as he straightened, stretching his arms. “He’s a Great Crested newt, and I named him Betrim.”

“And you had to stay awake by yourself all night. I’m sorry, Cora.” Tierney slowly moved Kenan’s head from her lap. In repose, he was beautiful to look at, his warrior hardness smoothed away, but there was no time to study him. She shook her head. How could she have been so foolish as to kiss him after he ate the tart? Tierney groaned softly. “Again, Cora, I’m so—”

“I can’t believe you abducted the chief of the Macdonalds of Sleat,” Cora said, shaking her head as she stared at Kenan. “And I can’t believe I went along with doing it.” Her wide eyes softened the severe frown she wore.

Tierney couldn’t believe it, either, but she forced confidence into her voice. As if she had everything under control. “You always go along with my plans.” Tierney scooted out the back of the wagon. “Because they’re good plans.”

Cora snorted. “Your plans are risky and only work half the time.”

“But they are so unpredictable that I can do something like abduct a warrior chief without him suspecting it.” Holy Joan! What had she done? Seriously, what had she actually done…

Cora’s hands rested on her forehead as she stared. “We were going to steal his glider and then send a note to ransom it back so he’d come to Scorrybreac. Although I don’t know how you would have kept him there or planned to get him to fight off Ranulf for you after you stole his glider.”

“The wind throwing me into the sea made me have to enact my second plan.” She exhaled. “Perhaps this one is better anyway. I’ll have more time to convince him to help us,” Tierney said, running her fingers through her tangled mess of hair.

Cora dropped her hands. “Or it will be another catastrophe, Tier.” She motioned to her head. “Like when you cut your knee-length hair completely off to scare Wallace from tupping you.”

Tierney frowned, ruffling her hair. “’Tis grown back.”

“And the time you baked that plant that trader brought from the Far East into Bannocks for the guards so you could sneak out of the tower house without anyone raising the alarm.”

Tierney looked at Kenan in the wagon as Cora continued. “Instead of them falling asleep, they all became very hungry and foolish, eating everything they could find in the kitchens, but they still wouldn’t let you leave, and then your father woke—”

“I remember,” Tierney cut her off, not wanting to think about her father. “Some of my plans are unconventional, so they carry a certain amount of risk. But with great risk comes great reward.”

“Or great disaster,” Cora said, both hands planted on her hips.

Ye’re a selfish disaster. Tierney’s father’s words followed Cora’s into her mind, but she stomped them down. No time for questioning her actions. Not now. Not when she was already in the thick of plan two.

Tierney threw her arms around Cora like she used to when they were children and one of them was angry at the other. She held on tightly, and finally Cora’s stiff body relaxed. “You’re my best friend, Cora Wilson, and I love you even if you say you’ll never help me again.”

Cora exhaled through her nose, making a little whistle, and sniffed, squeezing Tierney back. “Friends ’til the end. It helps that I know why you’re doing this.”

Tierney let her go, and Cora pressed the back of her hand over her mouth as she yawned. “I’ll be kinder after a nap. Sneachda can sleep with me after we get Chief Macdonald inside.”

Gabriel untied the rope he’d used to keep himself in the saddle and slid off the tall horse. He checked Betrim, who’d toed his way back up to his shoulder. “I think Tier’s plans are good, risky, too, but at least she’s doing something instead of old, grouchy Henry.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.” She gave her brother a big smile, his easy acceptance of her plan lifting her confidence that this was the right choice. “Let’s get our savior inside before he wakes.” She pointed toward two massive oaks that flanked an arched doorway covered with vines. The cottage was visible when one was upon it, but from a distance, the moss-covered roof and vines draping the stone walls of the squat structure made it blend into the surrounding forest. She’d visited often with her father when she was a child, before Gabriel was born, before her father had decided a girl didn’t matter.

“I’ll feel safer once he’s restrained,” Tierney said. She’d given Kenan a large dose because of his size and the need to knock him out quickly. Thank goodness she hadn’t given him any more. “I had no other choice,” she whispered but knew he couldn’t hear her. She rubbed her face, wishing for water to wash away the sourness of her mouth.

“Go find a worm or bug, Betrim,” Gabriel said, setting the newt on a log.

Tierney turned to the old cottage, the bittersweet memories floating like ghosts around her. Before he had a son, Douglas MacNicol taught her to shoot her bow and throw a dagger so it would stick. She touched the weathered gash in the oak door where she’d hit it with a sgian dubh before her father reminded her only to throw blades away from people. The wood held a scar just like Tierney’s heart.

Early on, Tierney had received a son’s education and knew how to read and write and cipher. But once Gabriel was born, her father’s lessons stopped. She was to be a polite, agreeable lass and do girl things since he had his son. Tierney continued to practice archery on her own and learned more outdoor survival skills from her friend, Jacob Tanner. But with each skill she mastered, her father frowned more.

On the way down to Dunvegan, where they’d learned Kenan would be attending the wedding of his sister to Rory MacLeod, Tierney and her accomplices had stopped at the vine-covered cottage. Preparing for all possible scenarios, Tierney had hammered the link of a heavy chain to attach it to a rafter inside. Another chain and shackle were waiting as well, making the cozy cabin look a bit like a dungeon. She never actually thought she’d be using the chains, but here she was.

They lowered Kenan to the ground without dropping him. Gabriel helped her drag him by the arms while Cora lifted his legs, and the three of them got him inside the cool, dark room.

“He’s too heavy to lift onto the cot,” Cora said with a grunt.

“Stretch him out here,” Tierney said. “And we can move the mattress to the floor.”

Once the hay-filled tick was on the floor next to the cot, the three rolled Kenan. Tierney caught her foot in her petticoat and fell over, landing directly over him, her pelvis pressed to his where she felt the bulge of his jack. She hadn’t gotten a look or feel of it while in the sea, but riding before him across the moor had introduced her to the hard ridge rubbing against her arse. She scooted back, ignoring the flush rising into her cheeks.

“Get him chained,” Cora said, rubbing her arms as if she felt a chill. It was her nature to worry and her poor luck to have a friend like Tierney who made her worry most of the time. It was another nugget of guilt that Tierney shoved down into the pit of her conscience.

Tierney picked up the iron cuff chained to the floor. “I hate to shackle him, I really do,” she said. “Especially after Asher told us what they endured in Carlisle Dungeon. That might be too far.”

Her cousin, Asher MacNicol, had returned from England scarred and bitter before leaving Scorrybreac with a vow never to return.

“He’ll walk out when he wakes if we don’t,” Gabriel said, sounding much older than he did less than a year ago when life was still calm and their lives were relatively happy. “There is no other choice.”

“Or skewer us.” Cora pointed to the sword sheathed at his side.

Tierney threw her palms to her forehead. “Holy Joan.” She hadn’t even taken his weapon away from him. “Help me get it off him. I’m not made for such crimes!”

…

Kenan’s mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof like one of the worst crapulous mornings he’d ever endured. What the bloody hell had he drunk last eve? Where had he even been?

Images of a blond angel swam in the darkness before his closed eyes. Tierney Bruce, under the stars. She had kissed him. Or was that a dream?

He kept his eyes closed, taking in his surroundings without giving away that he’d woken. The bed was lumpy, but he was definitely inside, not sleeping on a mossy bed because he wasn’t damp with dew. Carlisle Dungeon?

Nay. It doesn’t smell like shite and death.

He inhaled and smelled a musty vegetation scent, no fire, but the heaviness of a blanket weighed on him. His fingers slid against his side. Damn, his sheath and sword were gone.

A door creaked open. “He’s still asleep.” It was a woman’s voice, and one he didn’t recognize.

“You and Gabriel must go,” another woman answered. That voice he did recognize. Tierney Bruce, the lass he was taking back to her cousin’s cottage just inside the woods from Dunvegan. Fok. The taste in his mouth was bitter with the rancid blackberry flavor of the horrid tart she’d nearly shoved into his mouth.

I’m a foking idiot. The lass had drugged him.

Rage bloomed inside Kenan, rage at her and rage at himself for falling for a teasing grin and soft curves. He wanted to leap up and grab her, growl in her face, and demand she tell him the truth. Had anything she said been true? Had she been married before, or had she created the whole story to garner his pity and lower his defenses? Had she heard he was kind and played on the weakness?

Ye’re weak, boy. His father’s words ground through his head.

“You and Gabriel took a nap, so head back now to make it home before nightfall,” Tierney said. “Please go and make sure Maggie is safe. The bastard might have already arrived.”

“Doris and Edith will hide her,” the other lass said. “When will you bring him?” He could feel their eyes on him and concentrated on even breathing.

Bring him? Not bloody likely. Not now that his guard was up and his cock wasn’t doing his thinking, or lack of thinking. He forced himself to remain still.

They walked closer. Was she close enough to grab?

“As soon as I convince him to help me,” Tierney said.

The muscles in his body tightened, and his eyes snapped open. “How the fok are ye going to do that, ye lying, thieving, bloody witch?”

Both women jumped, hands flying to cover their hearts. He was surprised his voice held force considering the desert in his mouth. He rolled to his side, pushing up to sit, and realized he was on the floor in a cottage. The sound of a chain dragging made prickles rise along his arms and red-hot fury ignite inside his chest. He threw off the blanket to see his leg was in a shackle attached to a chain that ran all the way up to the bloody ceiling.

His face swiveled toward the two women. The one he didn’t know had brown hair sticking haphazardly from a braid and wide eyes in a thin face full of fear. She’d retreated to the far wall and attempted to hold his heavy sword before her. Tierney remained on the other side of a partial circle chalked out on the gray floorboards.

Kenan rolled easily onto his heels to stand in a fluid motion, ignoring the slight dizziness still plaguing his head. He strode toward her, his fingers bent like talons on a bird of prey to grab her shoulders, to demand she remove the shackle. But the attached chain caught him. Even lifting his leg behind him and stretching his arms out, he couldn’t go past the chalk drawn in a semicircle around his side of the barely furnished room. She must have measured it based on his height.

He dropped his arms, feeling ridiculous, but his lips curled back in a snarl like an avenging wolf. “Release me now.”

“I cannot do that.” The woman’s hair fell in wild, golden waves around her oval face. She folded her hands before her, hands he remembered thinking were delicate but strong. They weren’t what made her dangerous. ’Twas her mind and her poison.

Eyes narrowed, he spoke as if to a child. “Ye can take the little key from yer little pocket and hand it to me.”

She exhaled through her nose, her small nostrils flaring. “So you can ride off without hearing—”

“I don’t need to hear anything! Just release me.” The words thundered through his head, bringing back the dungeon’s dank smell of human waste and disease.

“I can’t do that,” she said, her words infuriatingly calm. His roars and flashing anger, once triggered, were known to make men quake, and yet she just stood there, hands folded with quiet patience. “I’m sorry. I am.”

“Aye, ye can do that. And ye are not sorry.”

“I should say I won’t do that. I can’t do that.”

He wanted to roar, stomp his feet, and scare the piss out of her. But she could just leave, and he needed answers.

“Who the bloody hell are ye? Where are we? And where do ye think ye’re going to make me go without me snapping ye in two like a brittle stick?” His words flew out of him like javelins meant to kill. The woman against the wall flinched, but Tierney just stood with her hands fisted by her sides as if waiting to see how many hits she could take before falling.

When he stopped, she inhaled and crossed her arms. “So you do need to hear something.”

Kenan breathed through his nose like a trapped boar ready to yank his own leg off to charge. “I would know who my enemies are.”

“We are allies, not enemies.”

“The hell we are,” he said, trying to keep control. “And ye,” he pointed at the lass against the wall, “are going to cut yer own foot off with my sword if ye don’t put it down carefully.”

Tierney, if that was even her name, looked at her. “Be careful, Cora.” Cora lowered his sword, sliding it into the scabbard across the table they’d scooted over to their side of the chalk circle, and Tierney looked back at him.

“My name is Tierney MacNicol from Scorrybreac. We are in a hidden cottage in the forest. You are going to come back with me to Scorrybreac because…you are going to save our clan.”