only inches from her. She’d neither heard nor saw him move, he’d done it so quickly. He leaned in even closer until she could feel the heat of his breath on her face.
‘Considering your situation, I would suggest you not be making such accusations loud enough to be heard. My friends out there will not take kindly to such things,’ he began. He smiled then, one that would have been devastating if under different circumstances, and she waited for the rest of the threat she knew was coming. ‘And, since I am the only one standing between you and the lads who want to be sharing your favours, I suggest you keep such words to yourself.’
Fia nodded and he stood and moved away, gathering some items from around the cave. She had been stupid and she knew it. Better to say nothing than to risk insulting or inflaming those who held her prisoner. Fia vowed to remain silent, as much as she could, until she understood what was happening. He approached once more, this time slowly, and held out a skin and a sack to her.
‘You likely do not feel like eating or drinking right now, but this is watered ale and some bannocks. Bland enough on even an unsettled belly.’ When she hesitated, he placed them next to her. ‘There’s also a bucket there for...your needs.’
He was seeing to her comfort, such as it was. Why? When she did not respond, he shrugged and stepped back.
‘I would think you would soon be hungry after two days without.’
‘Two days?’ she asked. ‘I have been here two days?’ So much for her vow of silence.
‘Nay. We were on the road for most of that time. Here, just lately.’
Her thoughts filled with dozens of questions. So many they overwhelmed her and what little strength she had. All she could do for now was to nod. Part of her struggled to keep control while the other part wanted to begin crying and ranting at this stranger before her.
‘I have to see to something. I will return in a while.’
Had he seen her struggle? Did he know how close to falling apart she was? Whether or not he had, it made no difference to her in this moment. She appreciated being given some time to sort things out. As she sat there, confused and dizzy from pain, she heard him call out to the others as he left the cave.
‘I’ve never had to force a lass afore,’ he said. ‘Wi’ this pretty face and my soft words, I wi’ have her beneath me, panting, afore she kens I’ve tasted her charms!’ The men laughed loudly.
Stunned by such a claim, she could only listen to his boldness.
‘On her back. Agin’ the wall. It matters no’ to me, lads,’ he called out. ‘The lass wi’ have Iain Dubh plundering between her legs afore she can say my name!’
‘Iain Dubh!’ the others called out. ‘Iain Dubh!’ It became a chant to them and a challenge to her.
The man was a scoundrel of the worst kind. These outlaws saw this all as some kind of game and now she, or her virtue, was their quarry. As the anger rose, something else played in her thoughts. Listening now to the chatter, she heard this Iain Dubh speak to the others in the rough accent of those uneducated. Though she had learned the more cultured way of speaking necessary for service to the wife of the chieftain, clearly these ruffians had not.
But Iain Dubh had.
When he spoke to her, when others could not hear, his rough accent disappeared and he spoke as someone educated would speak. Like a nobleman.
She had lost her mind if she thought him a nobleman. A desperate laugh bubbled up within her at such a thought. Fia blamed it on being caught by outlaws, kidnapped and attacked and brought here to this damp and dismal place.
A nobleman amongst a gang of thieves and criminals?
When her head calmed and she could move without pain and dizziness, she saw to her needs and managed to turn her shift so it did not open in the front. She put the gown back on and tied the strips of her linen shift around her to keep it closed as best she could. A needle and thread would be helpful, but what kind of outlaws carried such things with them?
It was as ludicrous as thinking she’d heard someone of noble birth here.
* * *
He’d adopted the look and ways of common criminals.
He’d adopted a new name.
He’d pretended to be this other man, a rogue in the company of outlaws, robbing and plundering, drinking and swiving their way across the Highlands in search of riches.
But when he was with her, all of that fell aside and he wanted to be the other one. And saying what he’d said to the rest of them had been the most difficult acting of his life.
He had no intention of forcing himself on an unwilling woman, but the others did not need to know that. He, whether Iain Dubh or Lord Niall Corbett, was good—very good—at seduction. Niall had saved her life and if he eased her fears and she wanted to show him some soft gratitude, he would accept it.
For now, he needed to remain in his disguise and keep the others from suspecting he was anything or anyone but the man he portrayed. The only thing he would commit to was trying to keep her alive until he could arrange to release her somewhere. As long as she went along with him and did not know their location, he was certain Lundie would not care.
Niall sought out some ale and drank it as the others spoke in great detail about what they’d like to do with the young woman in the cave, reinforcing his suspicions. Good Christ, but he did not need this complication now! It had taken all his wits and intelligence to stay ahead of the very suspicious gaze of Lundie for these last months. He was close now, so close to finishing his task and regaining everything meaningful in his life. He would let no one, including himself, get in the way of his success.
And especially not some woman who simply crossed his path and made his cock stand. Silence surrounded him and he realised that he was staring at the cave...and the others were staring at him. Anndra, the huge fighter, stood, grabbed him by the arm, pulled him to his feet and thrust him towards the cave.
‘Go on wi’ ye now!’ he shouted. ‘The faster ye’ tire of her, the faster I get my turn, ye ken!’ Anndra grabbed his crotch in a crude gesture and the rest of them laughed boisterously at it. No doubt they were thinking of the same manner of things.
They expected him to avail himself of the woman within, so Niall bowed and saluted them and walked to the cave. He had spoken loudly enough for her to hear everything. But, the look of pain and exhaustion on her face when he’d left gave no surety that she was even awake. In a way, he hoped not. He leaned down and entered quietly, waving off several offers to help.
She sat where he’d left her, but something was different about her. She leaned against the wall, her head leaning to one side. Her braid was back in place and the bandage on her head looked fresh.
And she slept, sitting up like that, back against the wall. He walked closer and spied a knife clutched in one hand. Where had she found that? Glancing at his boot, he realised he must have lost it in carrying her in and settling her down. Since it was not his sgian-dubh, he worried not over it.
As Niall watched her slow, even breaths, he realised that he had no idea of her name. Not once in their interaction had hapless Dougal spoken it. No one in the village had called out to her. That might be the first thing he asked her after he woke her. And, hearing those rude comments outside, Niall knew he must put on a show for them or risk their entrance into the cave. Letting out an exasperated breath, he stood and put his hands on his hips.
‘Well, lass,’ he said loudly. ‘Are ye ready for me?’ From the guffaws outside, he knew they were listening. She startled awake, even now still confused by the head injury and fear, from the dark expression that filled her gaze.
‘Nay!’ she yelled. Scrambling against the wall, when she could go no further she lifted her hand and held the knife between them. Her hands shook more with each step he took closer.
‘Ah, lass,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘If