The Highlander's Sin (19 page)

“Me too.”

Duncan sat upright, jolted awake by something. A cursory glance around the cave showed Blade sleeping by the door, his head hanging low, and Heather curled up beneath the blanket beside him.

What had woken him?

He stood up, stretching his tight muscles. Grabbing hold of his sword, which had lain beside him, he crept toward the entrance to the cave.

The tempest had subsided, and a gentle, warm breeze blew in, almost like there had been no storm at all. There did not appear to be anything out of place in the woods—no flashes of metal—but from a distance he could hear the sounds of horses, dogs and whistles.

A hunting party?

Ballocks!
Could it be the Sutherlands had followed them here?

“Get up, my lady,” he called. He hated to wake her like that. After their night of lovemaking, she’d needed her rest.

Heather sat up straight, her golden hair a riotous mess around her head. He held his laughter in check.

“Time to go. Now. We’ve been followed.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “Could be your family, aye, but could also be the Ross clan, or worse, hungry outlaws.”

Heather scrambled to her feet, gathering her chemise. “Turn around.”

He raised a brow, about to remind her of all they’d done the night before, but the way her face colored, he chose to oblige her.

Duncan turned on his heel to find his own shirt, tugging it over his head, and then wrapping himself in his black robes. The wool of his priest’s robes was warm, but the weave was
loose enough that a breeze flowed through. He felt like a fraud wearing it now. “Are ye ready, lass? We’ve not time to waste.”

“Dinna look.”

“We’re to be married.”

“Dinna look!”

Duncan groaned, and with his back to her, went about packing what he could.

“Are ye done? We need to be on our way.”

“I’m done,” she grumbled.

A plaid hit him in the head, and again Duncan had to keep from laughing. The lass was not a morning person in the least. He was going to have a right good time teasing her about it over the years, but right now they had to get the hell out of here.

There had never been a hunting party this close to his cave before. Gut instinct told him they weren’t looking for a stag.

He saddled Blade in record time, and just as they were ready to depart the cave, the voices sounded closer.

“Damn,” he muttered. They might have to wait out the group. And he prayed they didn’t see his cave. The brambles and tree hid the opening from most. Unless one knew where it was, it could be overlooked.

But the Sutherlands were known for their thoroughness, and Duncan didn’t have hope the cave would be missed.

“Who is it?” Heather whispered from behind him. Her small hand pressed to his back as she tried to peer around him.

Duncan shifted his feet, moving himself further in
to her line of vision so he could be sure she didn’t see outside the cave. “I’m not sure.”

A sudden panic seized him. If they were discovered by her family, Duncan would be completely at her mercy. He’d never been at the mercy of a woman.
God and church had ruled him. Murderous men had sought to overpower him. Coin had governed him, to some extent. But a woman? Nay. And he couldn’t be sure which way she’d lean.

Would she go willingly back to her family while they cut him down?
Even after what they’d shared? He’d fight like the devil, taking as many as he could with him. Or would she claim him as her husband, use the fiery spirit he knew she possessed to convince her brothers she wanted him?

’Twas more the not knowing than anything else that was slowly driving him mad.

“Stay back,” he whispered. “Your golden hair is sure to alert any of them, whoever they may be.”

Heather retreated a distance, her hand no longer warm on his back. The void felt empty, and he almost wished he could tell her it was all right to touch him.

Two Highlanders stopped their horses in front of the cave’s opening, neither having yet noticed that it was there. Duncan waved Heather further back into the cave, but he crouched low, trying to listen to what they said.

“We need to find her. Tonight,” one growled to the other.

They were after a woman. They wore neutral-colored hunting plaids, nothing to distinguish them from one clan to another.

“How the hell did she make it this far on her own?” the other answered.

“She’s not alone.” The deadly serious tone reminded him of someone he’d met before, and Duncan had a pretty good idea that it was Magnus Sutherland not a few feet away from him.

He glanced behind himself at Heather. She didn’t appear to have heard and instead looked at him anxiously. He shook his head and crept to the back of the cave.

“Hunters, I think. I’m going to distract them away from here. Ye stay put.”

Heather nodded.

Duncan slipped from the cave
. He rounded the gorse bushes and pretended surprise at seeing two heavily armed Highlanders in front of him.

“My laird,” he said. “What a surprise.”

Magnus narrowed his brows. “Likewise.”

Duncan recognized the man beside Magnus as his younger brother Blane. “What brings the both of ye to these parts?”

“I’d ask ye the same.”

Duncan stretched. “On my way to the abbey. Been riding all night. I heard the Ross clan has issued a warning to the prior that he must pay a certain amount of tax or they’ll attack on the morrow at noon.”

“Ross clan?”

“Aye. The lady is planning on wedding a cousin of hers to a young lass, and they need the money for a dowry, I’m guessing.” Lying came easy to Duncan. Another of his many sins.

“Young lass?” Magnus’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch.

Duncan nodded. The Sutherland laird was taking the bait. “Aye. At
Pluscarden Abbey. Noon on the morrow. Good day to ye.”

He turned, prepared to go back to the cave.

“Wait, Priest.” Magnus’ voice was commanding, sending the thrill of a challenge rippling over Duncan’s spine.

“Aye, my laird?” he asked.

“We’ll accompany ye.”

Duncan shook his head. “I’m afraid I canna allow that. I must journey on my own.”

“How can we trust ye?” Blane asked.

Duncan shrugged, fingered the thick cross hanging from his neck. “I
have served your family before and will in the future. I’ll not bring fear to my brothers by arriving with an army on my heels. If ye must attend the abbey, then do so on the morrow just before noon.”

Magnus grunted. “If ye come across the lass…”

“The Ross bride?”

Magnus
nodded, looking as though he wanted to say more.

“My laird?”
Duncan pressed.

Magnus pressed his lips in a firm line.
“Nothing. A blessing?”

The two Highlanders dismounted and knelt on the ground before Duncan. How easy it would
have been for him to end their lives at that moment. To take from them what their family had taken from him. To punish them the way he’d dreamed of doing for years.

Thoughts of Heather stalled him. She was not ten feet away, safely tucked into the cave. He could not raise a sword to her brothers. He’d given her his word that they would be safe from his
vengeance, and he meant to keep it.

Duncan pressed a hand to both of the warriors’ heads and said a prayer for safe passage.
On the inside he said a prayer to keep him at his word.

The men thanked him, mounted their warhorses and took off through the forest, issuing whistles as they went.

When Duncan turned, a crown of golden hair greeted him. Heather stood right behind him, hands on her hips and murder in her eyes.

“Princess…” he drawled.

“Dinna call me that. Those were my brothers,” she accused. Heather opened her mouth to scream, but Duncan rushed to press his hand over her mouth.

“Aye.
They were your brothers. But I did what I did for many reasons.”

“Ye sent them away,
” she garbled through his hand. Anger made her eyes bright and skin flushed.

Duncan nodded. “If I let ye go
, will ye scream?”

She shook her head and he trusted from the look in her eye that she meant
it. Duncan slowly released his hand from her lips, surprised she didn’t try to bite him in retaliation.

“Why the hell did ye do that?”

“Language, my lady, ye’re in the presence of a man of the cloth.”

“Man of the cloth, my arse.”

Duncan swallowed a laugh and reached out for her, but she took a leap back.

“I thought ye were going to do the honorable thing,” she said through bared teeth.

“And what is that, my lady? Give ye up to your brothers?” He shook his head. “If I had done that, they’d not help the abbey defend against the Ross clan.”

“They might have. Ye kept me safe.”

Duncan grew serious. “And I intend to keep ye safe for the whole of our lives.”

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “As my husband.” It was more a statement than a fact, a reminder to herself of what they’d promised. Her face colored, and he could guess at what she was thinking—about how they’d made love. He’d not been able to get the remembrance of it out of his mind for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Aye. Is the thought so abhorrent to ye?” A man’s ego could only take so much bruising.

“Nay. Not abhorrent.”

“What then?”

She shrugged, chewed at her lips. “’Twill just take some getting used to. I…” She ran a hand through her hair, which seemed to have settled somewhat since she’d woken. “I want to marry ye.”

Shock ricocheted through Duncan. For some reason, he’d fully expected her denial. “Good,” was all he could manage to say.
He should have come up with something romantic, endearing, but he wasn’t that type of man, and he was afraid whatever he tried to say would only come off sounding confused and odd.

“Good?”

Damn. He should have at least tried for romantic.

“Aye, love. I want ye to want me.”

“And what about ye? Am I only a convenience to ye? An answer to your prayers?” She was mocking him. He hated to be mocked.

A sizzle of anger raced from temple to temple.
“What shall I say? That it was love at first fight?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That would have been better than
good
.”

Duncan took a step toward her and steered her behind the bushes before the Sutherlands decided to come back
to see what he was all about. He locked his gaze on hers. “I’ll tell ye this much—I’d not marry another. Seeing ye upon your knees in the chapel, ye admitting that ye were a naughty lass… I couldna have found a woman more to my liking. ’Tis not just about the abbey.” He took a breath, swiped his hand over his face, trying to find the right words. “Everything feels right with ye. Even when we fight.”

Heather pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a smile, but she was slowly losing the battle as her lips curled. “That was
a lot
better.”

Duncan tweaked her nose. “Good. Now let’s get to the abbey afore your brothers do. Else, I might have to go back on my promise to do no harm, for I’ll not let them take ye away from me.”

They mounted Blade outside the cave and took off in the opposite direction of her brothers. Duncan knew a shortcut to the abbey that would get them there before the evening meal, and if all went well, they’d be married before they supped.

Holding Heather felt right, as much as it disturbed him. Marrying her was the right decision to make. But now he had to figure out how he would take care of her. He couldn’t ask
her to partner with him in mercenary duties, couldn’t risk her being harmed.

’Haps now was the time he took his place as the head of the MacKay clan. Would they welcome him back from the dead?
Guilt soured his gut. There was every possibility that they wouldn’t. Hell, he’d turned his back on them. He could have gone back at any time over the last twenty years, and yet he’d hidden away.