Authors: Hannah Howell
Highland Hunger (4 page)
“I willnae touch ye, lass,” he said and then smiled. “Wheesht, in a wee bit I will be as near to dead as any mon can be anyway, at least until the sun begins to set.”
“Ye sleep that deeply?” she asked, wrestling with the urge to take that next step in trusting him and sharing that much more comfortable sleeping space.
“Near to. Come, ye will be safe with me. I swear it on my life.”
Una cautiously approached him. She remained tense and wary as she sat down to remove her boots. It was frightening to be so close to such a big man even though she was inclined to believe in his promises. She was still a maid, but she had fought hard, too many times, to stay that way. Nor had she ever found a man she trusted enough to allow him to know her secrets. Raibeart knew what she was for he was the same. It was enough for her to trust him in some things, but not all. She kept her body tense, ready for flight, as she settled down on the bedding, keeping as much space between their bodies as possible. When he tucked the blanket over her, she stared at him in surprise, for the way he did it was gentle, almost tender.
“Ye are akin to one of the horses I train to accept MacNachtons,” he said as he turned onto his side to watch her. “Skittish, wary, wanting to trust all while ye want to run.”
She blinked, uncertain as to whether she was amused or insulted to be compared to his horses. “Ye are comparing me to a horse?”
“I ken horses. Dinnae ken people as weel, especially women. But, I mean to teach ye that ye can trust me, trust my clan. I mean to calm your fears, to show ye that the beast ye scent in me will ne’er hurt you.”
“Why?”
“Because I mean to woo you.” He kissed her on the cheek and then turned so that his back was to her.
Woo me?
Una touched her cheek. The spot his lips had touched burned and that warmth seeped through her body. She may have found herself an ally, but Una began to think that she had also stumbled into a lot of trouble.
Una touched her cheek. The spot his lips had touched burned and that warmth seeped through her body. She may have found herself an ally, but Una began to think that she had also stumbled into a lot of trouble.
Chapter Four
I mean to woo you.
Una glared at Raibeart’s broad back as they rode through the forest. He had kissed her cheek again to wake her up. As before, he had quickly moved away from her after kissing her, this time to prepare some food before they began the journey to Cambrun. By the time she recovered from the shock of being kissed, he was well out of reach and acting as if he had done nothing unusual.
She knew that part of her anger was born of how that innocent touch of his lips on her skin made her feel. Warm. Safe. Womanly. He was trying to calm her just like one of his cursed horses, she thought. Instead of a pat on the flank, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. Instead of an apple or handful of oats, he fed her stew and porridge sweetened with honey.
What truly annoyed her was that it was working, and quickly. Una could not believe she could be so easily
wooed,
but she was. The proof that Raibeart obviously did not know the first thing about truly wooing a woman only worked in his favor. No man who was trying to trick her, or seduce her, would be so inept at it. She could actually feel a softening inside her when she looked at him, a warmth that had little to do with the fact that he was big, strong, and handsome.
wooed,
but she was. The proof that Raibeart obviously did not know the first thing about truly wooing a woman only worked in his favor. No man who was trying to trick her, or seduce her, would be so inept at it. She could actually feel a softening inside her when she looked at him, a warmth that had little to do with the fact that he was big, strong, and handsome.
It was going to be difficult to resist him, she realized. Even now, with her arms around his waist, he occasionally patted her hands where they were clasped over his taut stomach. Soothing her again, she thought, just as he did Tor with an occasional pat on the animal’s strong neck, and almost grinned. Most women would be outraged to be treated by a man in the same way he treated his horses, but Una had to admit that she was finding it strangely endearing.
I mean to woo you.
And what was so wrong with that, she wondered. The voice of common sense quickly answered. She did not really know the man aside from the fact that he was like her and that he was ready to help her save the others held at Dunmorton. They had known each other for only a day and that had been spent mostly in sleep. It was ridiculous to think of him in any way save as an ally, a man who was going to help her save her friends. She could not allow her innocent girlish dreams of a lover—a husband, a home, and children—make her act recklessly. She certainly should not contemplate giving away her innocence just because a man kissed her on the cheek, not after fighting so hard to hold fast to it for years.
Raibeart suddenly tensed, pulling her out of her thoughts. “What is it?” she asked in a whisper.
“Hunters,” he replied in an equally soft voice.
“The ones who are after me?” She waited as he sniffed the air, not surprised that he would have a keen sense of smell.
“Aye, and they are mounted now.”
“Stand and fight?” She touched the hilt of the knife he had given her, which was now sheathed at her side, yet another of his gestures that warmed her heart in a dangerous way.
“Nay, not unless we have no choice.” He cocked his head and listened carefully. “Six men. The laird must ken our weakness, for ’tis unusual for Outsiders to go on a hunt at night.”
“He trains men to do so.”
“So do the others who hunt us.”
She glanced up at the moon glinting through the trees. “A clear sky and a fat moon dinnae help us much, either. So we hide?”
“Aye, we hide.”
Una hung on tightly as he wound his way through the trees, using as much speed as he dared. She had not planned much beyond finding an ally and cursed herself for a fool. She should have considered the fact that she would be hunted, that she would put anyone who helped her into danger. Raibeart was big and strong, with speed and natural weapons, but he was still one man against six. The men after them also knew the strengths of the ones they hunted and would not be easily caught off guard.
“I have put ye in danger,” she said, guilt a hard knot in her belly.
Raibeart grunted softly. “MacNachtons have always been in danger. E’en more so since these hunters have caught wind of us. I dare nay think on how many Lost Ones were murdered ere we learned of them or I would weep like a bairn. All ye have asked of me is to help ye save eight people with MacNachton blood, and I ne’er thought it would be a simple matter of rapping at the door of that mad laird’s keep and asking for the prisoners to be released.”
The man could put a nice bite behind his words, she thought, and smiled. Her good humor fled quickly, however. If the laird’s men had found their trail already, it could be a long, harrowing ride to Cambrun. A long ride with a lot of chances for a dangerous confrontation.
He reined in at a place deep in the shadows of a thick cluster of trees. “We will wait here to see if they still follow us.”
“But they could pass by us and then be in front of us. Would that nay be worse?” she asked.
“Nay. If they have followed us, then I have just succeeded in leading them away from the path we need to take to get to Cambrun. We will but slip back round them and ride hard for a wee while.”
Una pressed her cheek against his back. She liked clinging to him far too much for her own peace of mind, but that was not enough to get her to stop doing it. It felt good to be pressed so close to him, good in a way that was both exciting and a little frightening. He even smelled good, she thought, and then rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. She began to think that no woman was safe from the risk of growing foolish over a man.
Raibeart was peering out into the dark. Una did the same but suspected his vision was far more acute than hers. She had no doubt that at least a few deaths would mark their trail before they reached Cambrun. All she could do was pray that neither Raibeart nor she were one of them.
She tensed when the hunting party rode into view. The five men who had been chasing her when Raibeart had rescued her were there, but it was the sixth man who made her blood run cold. It was Angus, a man called Death by the other men at Dunmorton, although never to his face. He was big, strong, and lethal. Even more dangerous than that, he was an excellent tracker, deadly with a blade, and cunning. He was not a man it would be easy to lose.
It felt like hours before the hunters rode away, even though she knew it was only minutes. Una had kept expecting Angus’s cold gray eyes to fix upon them, for a knife to bury itself in Raibeart’s heart. Angus was one of the laird’s best hunters and knew how to bring down ones with MacNachton blood. She did not feel all that relieved when they left their hiding place to ride around the hunters and head for Cambrun. Una could swear she felt Angus’s cold gaze on her back, the spot between her shoulder blades itching in warning.
“Why are ye so afraid?” Raibeart asked. “Ye were trembling. Still are a wee bit.”
“Angus was there. He was the sixth mon. He is an expert hunter.”
“The big red-haired mon with the cold eyes?”
“Aye. He willnae lose our trail for long. He led the men who caught every one of us, the ones the laird sent away and the ones he still holds. He isnae one of the laird’s five favored men, but he is close. Verra close.”
“Do ye think he kens the secret about our blood?”
“I couldnae say. ’Tis possible. He spends a lot of time with the laird and his chosen men.” She pressed her forehead against his back. “What Angus is, is a coldhearted killer. He kens enough about us to ken ways to hurt or kill us without risking himself much. I swear, if he didnae have the kiss of the sun so clear to see on his face, I would think him one of us. He is that good at hunting us.”
“Dinnae fret, lass.” He patted her clenched hands. “A MacNachton is nay so easy to bring down, and I suspicion that mon has ne’er faced a Pureblood.”
“I think I heard a touch of arrogance behind those words,” she murmured. “Ye are stronger, aye?”
“Stronger, faster, and more lethal. And, more importantly, verra hard to kill. Ye heal fast, aye?” He felt her nod against his back. “I heal faster. Ye will soon ken exactly what breed ye descend from, so trust me when I tell ye that I can rip the throat out of one mon and be doing the same to another ere the first one hits the ground.” He waited tensely for her reaction to that hard truth.
Una was shocked, even more so when she realized that those words did not frighten her. In fact, her first clear thought was that, if she and the others had had the skills of the Purebloods they were descended from, they would never have been caught and caged. She slowly became aware of how tense Raibeart was and realized he was braced for her disgust or rejection. Despite all her efforts to remain sensible about the man, her heart softened and she lightly hugged him.
“I think there is a lot I need to learn about what I am,” she said and smiled against his back when his chest moved with a sigh of relief.
Twice more they had to elude the hunters, and Una was bone weary by the time they sought shelter from the rising sun. This time Raibeart took her to a small shepherd’s shelter, well hidden behind trees and shrubs. He secured his horse, fed and watered the animal, and led her through a trapdoor in the floor to a shelter below the hut.
“Now I understand why a poor shieling had a wooden floor beneath the dirt,” she murmured. “Does your clan have such places scattered everywhere across the land?”
“In as many places as we can,” he answered. “Each time one of our men weds a lass with lands, we add even more. This is a poor place and we cannae have a fire, so I fear ’tis naught but wine, oatcakes, and cheese for ye this time.”
“Ye keep feeding me,” she said as she sat down on the blanket he spread out and accepted the food.
“I suspicion food has been scarce for ye for quite a while.”
“Certainly since I was captured. The laird wants us kept weak but nay so weak he cannae take our blood when he pleases.” She tensed briefly when he sat down beside her and draped his arm across her shoulders.
“Each thing ye tell me about that madmon only adds to my need to kill him,” said Raibeart, the cold promise of death clear to hear in his deep, rough voice. “The worst of his sins being that he treats bairns with such cruelty.”
Una nodded as she ate, deciding she would just try to ignore what was almost an embrace. The way the laird and his men fed off the poor children like greedy leeches made her stomach churn. She lived in constant dread that the men would kill the little girls, weaken the children so much that they could not recover. The men took far too much blood and gave them far too little food and water to help them recover from the loss. The suffering of the children was one thing that had made all the others agree that she needed to risk escape from the dungeon.
“Aye, he should die for that alone.” She looked at him. “For a wee while I was sickened by the thought that I was like him, for did I nay need the blood of another from time to time just to survive?”
“Nay, ye . . .” he began, but stuttered to a halt when she held up her hand.
“I decided I was wrong to think that way, began to look hard at the differences. He and his men dinnae need that blood to survive; they just want it to make themselves more powerful. I then learned that the others were shamed, too, thinking much the same as I did. I spent a lot of time convincing them that they were nothing like those leeches, and, in doing so, convinced myself.” More or less, she thought, but shook the lingering hint of doubt aside. “I dinnae ken how ye, who are purer of blood, do it, but I, and the others, take mostly animal blood and only now and then. We would ne’er keep people like cattle, feeding off them and nay even trying to be certain that they had what was needed to survive. He isnae worried that he is slowly killing us. He will just hunt down more, aye? That is why he must die, that greed for power and that callousness toward the very people he is stealing it from.”
“Purebloods dinnae kill to feed the hunger. In truth, many of us also use animal blood,” he said. “It suffices most of the time. I cannae say we were so noble in the past, but it has been a verra long time since we killed for blood, long enough that the tales of those darker times are but whispered tales told to bairns to keep them from roaming outside at night or to cause the timid to shudder.”
He reluctantly pulled away from her to spread out the pallet for sleeping. It was enough that she had not pushed him away when he had put his arm around her. Raibeart quickly pushed aside all thought of how perfect she had felt tucked up against his side. It stirred his hunger for her, one that grew fiercer with every moment he spent in her company. That would be difficult to hide once they were bedded down together, and it could easily bring back all her wariness around him.
“It is going to be a long, dangerous ride to Cambrun, isnae it?” Una said once she and Raibeart were tucked under the blanket.
“Ye dinnae think they will give up and go back to Dunmorton?” He turned on his side to look at her.
“Angus doesnae give up, and the others are too afraid of him to do so if he demands they keep on hunting us.”
“Then, aye, the journey to Cambrun could be a troublesome one, but we will get there. Others have done so with hunters hard on their heels. It was the hunters who died, nay the MacNachtons or the Lost Ones they were saving.”
“Such arrogance,” she murmured but smiled, for his confidence actually calmed her fears.
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