not stirred at all as they crossed the miles leading away from her village. When Lundie called a halt, Niall slowed at his side.
‘Ye shoulda left her behind,’ he said, spitting into the dirt. His words were low enough that Anndra could not hear.
‘Anndra had other plans for her,’ he admitted part of the truth.
‘There is a soft spot in ye that will be yer death, Iain.’
Niall could not disagree about either of Lundie’s suppositions. But, for so long, he’d been someone other than himself and, for the first time in that long time, his action to protect her felt like the man he used to be. A nobleman. Yet, Lundie was correct—acting like the nobleman he’d been raised to be would get him killed on this mission.
He watched as Lundie climbed down and tied his horse near a grassy patch off the path. Lundie ordered Anndra to the stream for water and then he walked to Niall’s horse and reached up to take her. She did not react at all as he handed her down and then tied his own horse to graze. Niall pulled a rolled blanket from under his saddle and opened it on a dry area of ground. Lundie laid the woman on it and then lit a torch so they could see to setting up their meagre camp.
Her hair had come free from her braid and lay around her like a crown, gold strands in the brown reflecting the torch’s light. Niall fought the urge to sift through its silkiness with his fingers and concentrated on his true task—check the back of her head where Anndra clubbed her. His hand came away with fresh blood.
Lundie walked to him and handed him the flask in his other hand. Niall took a deep swallow and passed it back. He waited on the man’s words.
‘A fortnight.’
‘A fortnight?’ he asked.
‘I’ll give ye a fortnight wi’ her. If she’s still alive then, ye find a way to rid yerself of her or I will.’ Lundie met his gaze until Niall nodded, accepting the message given. ‘Anndra’s bringing water. Clean her up and get some rest. I will take the first watch.’
Everything was accomplished in a short time and, soon enough, the lass’s head was bandaged and her gown tied together with some strips of cloth from her shift. Niall settled behind her still form as Lundie put out the torch. They would take no chances of being seen in the darkness by keeping it burning through the night. As the air began to chill and she shivered in his arms, he tugged the edge of the plaid he wore over his trews free and tossed it over both of them. He’d only just closed his eyes when she moaned. Though it was a soft sound, it drew his attention immediately.
‘Hush now,’ he whispered. ‘No one will harm you now.’
Niall felt her sink back into unconsciousness and thought on his promise. Anndra shifted on his blanket nearby, making Niall wonder just how long he could or would keep her for himself in the ever-increasing danger of this mission.
But, he would do what he must because there was too much to lose otherwise.
The pain in her head roused her.
Unlike anything she’d felt in the whole of her life, it made her stomach roll and the bile rise. Fia knew she must roll off her back, but the waves of agony stopped her. Her groan of misery echoed out before she could prevent it.
‘Here now,’ a voice whispered in the darkness.
Strong hands gently moved her to her side and, if she did nothing, she discovered the pain did not worsen with the movement. Her stomach did though, rebelling and causing her to retch. Now, those hands, and arms, lifted her to her knees and held her as her misery grew. When her body ceased its rebellion, the arms laid her back down slowly and carefully.
‘The head wound, I’m afraid, is the cause of that.’
Fia lifted her hand to her head, searching for the cause of the pain and found an egg-size lump there on the left side of it. That injury. Her thoughts and memories were muddled as she tried to remember what had happened. All of it was in darkness, as she was now. Complete blackness surrounded her. Blinking, she tried to see anything and could not. Panic rose now within her, making it difficult to breathe.
‘Let me light a torch,’ the voice said as though it, he, knew what she was feeling.
She knew that voice. She did. But in the growing fear, she could not remember the person who’d spoken. Fia felt movement around her and then a flash and sparks as he used a flint to light a torch. The brightness hurt her eyes so she closed them until she became accustomed to it. Then, she looked at the man who’d helped her.
The same stranger who’d accosted her in the village during the attack. The same man who’d tried to warn her away from the coming danger. The same one who’d kissed her.
‘Who are you?’ she asked. She began to push herself up to sit and the pain and dizziness made her stop.
‘I will clean that up first,’ he said, nodding at the smelly mess near her.
Fia could only watch as he retrieved a shovel from outside and dealt with it. Her nausea lessened when the odour was gone. She also took the opportunity to look around the place where they were.
It looked very familiar to her, but its name and location escaped her. Only then she heard the voices outside the...cave! They were in a cave.
‘Do ye think he means to kill her?’ someone asked loud enough for her to hear.
‘I had hopes he’d share her before that,’ another replied.
‘I didna think he was that kind,’ a different voice added.
‘What kind?’ that first voice asked.
‘Ye ken. The kind that resorts to killing a lass who willna...’
‘Haud yer wheesht!’ the man in question yelled. He dragged his free hand through his hair and looked back and forth between the shovel he yet carried and the opening of the cave. ‘I amna killing her!’
‘Will ye share her then?’ the other man asked as though it was a reasonable request. Share her? Share her!
She moved then, pain or no damn pain. She pushed herself back, scrambling until she hit the wall. Looking for something she could use as a weapon, she found nothing. Fia found it difficult to even keep her eyes open, but she knew she must. When he stepped away from the opening and towards her, she put her hands out in front of her.
There were two of him, nay, three now. The watery shadows thrown off by the flickering torch made it impossible for her to tell what she saw. Fia rubbed her eyes and blinked several more times. He seemed closer now. As he crouched down before her, she pressed herself against the wall.
‘I will not kill you, lass,’ he said, dropping the shovel to the ground. Holding out empty hands, he nodded. ‘And I have no intention of sharing your charms with them,’ he added.
His tone reassured her but only until she realised what he’d said. Not killing her was a good thing. However, even in her muddled mind, she understood he’d only agreed not to share her with the outlaws sitting outside. He did not say he would not take her himself.
She followed his gaze and was horrified to see that her shredded gown exposed her legs to him. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped and tucked the gown’s edges tightly around her. His expression did not change much—the lust was clear but now a touch of amusement entered his eyes.
‘You were the ones who attacked the village.’ Her words hung there between them and, as she watched, his gaze turned dark.
‘“Attacked” is a strong word,’ he said, sitting now and crossing his legs in front of him, dusting dirt off his hands. ‘We simply had some fun.’
‘Killing and attacking innocents in the village? Burning the cottages? Destroying their possessions? I call that despicable!’
Fia