Page 7 of When a Highlander Vows
Lucas was suffering. He had bedded women before, given into his lust and allowed desire to take hold. A bit of pleasure here and there with a willing woman had been enough for him over the years. He’d wanted nothing more from anyone. But they’d always been brief encounters, and he never had to see the woman again if he hadn’t wanted to.
But this was entirely and unfortunately different. This woman was creating a lust in him he’d not felt in years or perhaps ever.
And she is comin’ to live with me now and act as companion to me grandmaither. I will never be able to touch her.
Not that he should anyway. When he’d first glimpsed Caitlin in the light streaming through her window, he could tell she’d radiated goodness and purity. As for himself, he was everything dark and wicked and broken. His parents had seen to that. The scars on his back were evidence enough. He wouldn’t dare taint her or any woman with that darkness, and so he’d decided manyyears ago never to marry. Lust, however, was a different story. While Caitlin lived with them, he would have to find another outlet for it, or else he knew he’d go mad with this fresh desire.
Unconsciously, Lucas had slowed the horse’s gait, as he battled with his lust, and he didn’t notice until Archie called out to him.
“Ye’ve slowed too much, Laird. We need to keep movin’. The sun is near to settin’.” Archie pointed up to the sky, and Lucas nodded, noting the orangey orb as it made its slow descent.
“Aye, true enough.”
Before Lucas whipped the reins to start the horses into a new speed, Archie turned his broad smile to Caitlin. “I am Archie McCann, Miss. The Laird’s man-at-arms. Me condolences for your loss. Yer brother was a good and kind man.” He put a hand to his chest and bowed his head a little, the red curls bouncing as he did.
Caitlin shifted again to face Archie, and this time Lucas bit back his groan, wrapping his arms more tightly around her to keep her steady.
“Thank ye, Mr. McCann. That is kind of you.”
Lucas looked away when he got another whiff of rosewater. The ride was going to be torture. So why was he not speeding up to get it over with as soon as possible?
Archie put a hand to his chest. “Ye must call me Archie, Lass. Me wife, Sarah, will be glad to meet ye. She is lookin’ forward to yer arrival.”
“Och, how kind of ye, Archie. I would be pleased to meet her as well. Ye will call me Caitlin, I hope.”
They had kept their pace steady, riding side by side, until Lucas cleared his throat. “Well, as ye said, Archie, we should be movin’ on. Are we finished now?” he added sharply for which he received a smirk from Archie.
“Aye, Me Laird. Let us ride.”
For an hour or so, they rode hard and fast, Lucas gripping Caitlin between his arms so hard, they became sore. The sun was setting fast, but they were still about another hour from the castle. He hoped the residual sunlight would guide their way enough until they reached the torchlights of the castle and the castle’s guard on the outskirts. He could feel Caitlin shiver against him.
“Cold, Lass?” he asked, speaking for the first time in an hour.
“Nay. ‘Tis only that I daenae care much for the darkness. It is hard enough to see during the day, but at night, there is simply nothin’ before me, and I confess, I daenae like it. It will be here soon. I am usually nae out of doors when it comes.”
Lucas breathed in, surprised at how sad he felt for her. He leaned down close to her ear, now uncovered for the plaid hadfallen to her neck, and said, “Ye daenae have to worry on that score, Lass. I can see very well in the darkness and will keep ye safe nay matter what.”
Caitlin made a little humming sound with her mouth as a sign of agreement, and Lucas smiled to himself, glad to feel her lean against him again with confidence.
“And ye should keep quiet, Lass,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear, they nearly brushed against the soft skin there. “There are dangers out on the dark road that ye willnae be able to see.”
She nodded, and they rode on, only slowing a bit to make sure the horse was not in any danger of breaking an ankle. But after a few minutes, he frowned when he spotted two horses on the side of the path. The men atop them were covered in shadows, wearing what looked like thick, dark cloaks. Lucas whistled to Archie, who responded in turn with a coded sound. Lucas started to speed up on the horse, but then he saw the men riding after him, charging at him.
“Shite,” he whispered under his breath, and he turned toward the two of them, Archie slowing to join him. “Trust me, Lass,” he whispered in Caitlin’s ear, picking her up quickly and dropping her down from the horse into a soft thicket.
The soft thump without a sharp cry encouraged him, and he raced forward toward the men, pulling his sword from its scabbard. Metal rang in the air with his first swing, and he grit his teeth as he took the weight of a hit from the other man.
His thought, however, as he fought was only of Caitlin, wondering if she was all right.
Caitlin had fallen, and nearly screamed, but she’d hit the thicket gently, and she realized that Lucas had dropped her in just the right place. But her cloak fell over her face, and she adjusted herself to see what she could when the first clang of metal cut through the glade.
“Dear God,” she whispered, pulling herself back so that she was a little bit more hidden behind a thick tree trunk.
Her hands resting on the rough bark, she looked to the side of the tree to see what was going on. Her teeth on her lip, she squinted her eyes, hoping to see in the growing dusk.
Lucas stayed atop his horse, as did the other men, and she could see all the men swinging swords, but she couldn’t see how the battle was going. Waiting breathlessly, all she could listen to were the sound of swords and the grunts of pain. After a few minutes, she heard a shriek, and then it was silent.
Her lips moved in silent prayer as she thought of the laird dying, and all because he’d come to get her and bring her back to his home. And that they were still riding out in the darkness because she’d fought him on returning when he’d hoped.
