Highlander's Captive Page 3

  He spotted Torr at one of the fire pits and went to join him.

  Torr stood when he saw Cree approach. “My sister is well?”

  “She is much improved and sleeping soundly.”

  The worry creases on Torr’s face eased and he nodded. “This is good. I feared that I may have been too late.”

  “I am indebted to you for saving her life,” Cree said, taking a seat on the long, thick tree branch someone had placed beside the fire.

  Torr joined him, the log creaking under the solid weight of the two men. “You owe me nothing; she is my sister.”

  Cree did not intend to argue with him. He was more concerned with the message from the King, though he would see Torr compensated when all this was done.

  “The message from the King,” Cree reminded.

  Torr pulled a rolled parchment from beneath his cloak and handed it to Cree. The missive was written in Latin, the King aware that Cree could read and speak the language, though the King did not know that he was adept at French as well, and various Gaelics. His mother had taught him and had warned him to keep his language skills to himself for then he would learn things others did not want him to hear. Her advice had been wise and had saved him on a few occasions.

  He read it, and then read it again. It was not what he had expected.

  “Something wrong?” Torr asked as Cree’s scowl deepened.

  “Do you read Latin?”

  “I do.”

  Cree handed the missive to Torr.

  Like Cree, he read it once, then read it again, and then read it a third time. He handed the parchment back to Cree without looking at him.

  The two men sat staring into the fire, neither saying a word. Then finally Torr spoke, “I will go find Wintra. You best return to the keep.”

  Cree nodded. “No one—not a soul—is to know anything about this until I say otherwise.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Bring my sister home safe,” Cree said as if in warning.

  “You need not worry; I will see to her care.”

  The two continued staring into the flames, neither one looking at the other.

  Chapter Three

  Wintra’s eyes shot open and her breath caught in her throat, preventing her from screaming, and screaming was exactly what she wanted to do. She stared at the face only inches from hers and wondered if she was suffering a nightmare. It was as if she was staring at two different men; one a demon and one an angel. A thin scar ran down the left side of the man’s face from above his eye to his chin, while his right side was untouched. His eyes were a piercing blue color that sent an icy chill through her and his large hand weighed heavily across her mouth. But it was the size of him covering the length of her that frightened her the most. Even through his garments and fur coverings she could feel his hard muscles. He was a powerfully built man, and she had no chance against him.

  “I have come to rescue you.”

  She couldn’t help but crinkle her brow. What did he mean rescue her? She was safe. That had her wondering where Owen was. Had this brute done something to him? The sun looked to have only risen. Had he gone off to hunt breakfast for them or had the man on top of her harmed him? Anger mingled with fear, and she prayed that Owen was all right.

  “Your brother sent me.”

  Cree.

  How she had longed to hear those words, though she would have preferred to hear them nine years ago when Cree had dumped her at Glenburgh Abbey and told her that he would return soon for her. She had waited and prayed every day that he would come for her. Every time the abbey’s bell had tolled, she would run to the gate, hoping it was her brother. The worst part was that Cree had returned to the abbey a few times through the years, but had refused to take her with him.

  Not yet he had said, though had assured her the day would come when they would be a family again. The last two times he had visited the abbey she had told the nuns to tell him to go away unless he was there to take her with him. He had left and hadn’t returned. That had been three years ago and she hadn’t seen her brother since.

  And now within a week’s time a band of warriors had arrived at the abbey claiming they were Cree’s men there to take her home, only to learn they had no such intentions. Now this man appears and claims Cree sent her. She did not know who to believe anymore.

  “You are safe,” he whispered slowly moving his hand off her mouth.

  Wintra nodded, remaining silent. She needed to find out what had happened to Owen before she attempted to do anything.

  Torr slid off her and to his feet in one easy motion, then reached down to assist her up. She took his hand hesitantly, though he couldn’t blame her. She only had his word that her brother had sent him and, having been abducted once, she was probably leery of trusting anyone.

  Her hood fell back off her head as she got to her feet with a jolt, releasing a mass of honey gold-colored curls. They sprung out around her head giving her a wild abandoned look and that was when Torr realized what a beauty she was. She would certainly catch a man’s breath, perhaps rob him of it, her features were so exquisite. And her eyes were the color green of the hills on a bright summer morning.

  She kept her voice low when she inquired, “Where is—” She stopped not sure how to refer to Owen, since this man believed him her abductor. She was grateful when he finished for her.

  “Your captor is off hunting.”

  “And the others?” she asked, though there were no others. The men who had helped Owen had bid them farewell yesterday. They were now on their own.

  “How many?” Torr asked, wondering why she was lying to him. It had taken almost two weeks to track them in the snow, but he had eventually picked up their trail. He had followed and watched for a few days. He had been surprised when the six men had left them yesterday and even more surprised when he followed her abductor before dawn and found him meeting with another contingent of warriors. He wondered if her captor had been paid to abduct her for someone else and was about to turn her over to him. In which case, he had to get her out of there as fast as possible.

  “A dozen or more.”

  Torr stared at her. Another lie. But why? Unless—the thought hit him fast and he reacted just as quickly. His hand was over her mouth before she could let out a scream.

  She struggled, but it was useless against his strength. She tried to elbow him in the ribs and it did nothing but hurt her, having hit rock-solid muscle. She didn’t give up though, she continued pelting him with whatever she could; hands, elbows, arms, feet. It was like hitting a stone wall. Nothing affected him. Her efforts only served to tire her out, and fast.

  Torr let her throw her tantrum, knowing her strength would dissipate quickly and when it did... He managed to rip a piece off the hem of her tunic and shove it into her mouth before he bound her in her own cloak. He then flung her over his shoulder and hurried into the woods.

  It took him a while to reach his horse, having taken the time to misdirect his tracks. He had no doubt that the contingency of warriors had a tracker with them and that he would soon figure out what Torr had done. It would take some time, though, and by then he would be well ahead of them.

  Torr draped Wintra over the horse. She almost sent herself flying off the animal, she struggled so much. He caught her before she fell on her head, stood her on her feet, and grabbed tight hold of her face, pinching her cheeks with his grip.

  “You’re going home with me and that’s final. Why you would foolishly go off with such a vile man is beyond me. But you are going home. I will see to that.”

  Her eyes narrowed, the green color darkening as if a murky cloud had drifted over them.

  He scooped her up and once again draped her over the horse, quickly mounting behind her, and when she began to protest, he gave her backside a hard whack. Her head jerked around and she glared at him as if she wanted to kill him.

  “Struggle some more, and it will be a good beating you’ll get.” He brought his hand down on her backside once a
gain to let her know that his warning held merit.

  She let out a muffled cry, in anger or concern he wasn’t sure, and at the moment didn’t care. There was no telling what her foolishness could bring them, and he didn’t intend to wait around and find out. He took off, though it was slow going with the snow-covered ground, but it would be the same for anyone who followed. More snow would help cover their tracks and delay anyone from following, but it would also slow his own pace.

  Clouds moved in over an already bleak sky by midmorning, and Torr worried that another snowstorm would hit. If it was a bitter one, they would not survive long without shelter. His concern grew along with the darkening sky.

  Wintra was so angry that she would have screamed if she hadn’t had a cloth stuffed in her mouth. How dare this man raise his hand to her? And why had he called Owen vile? She hadn’t known Owen long, but he had treated her well and with respect, unlike the stranger who touched her in a spot only a husband should. Wait until she told Cree what this man did to her.

  Cree.

  Whatever was she thinking? She did not want to return to Cree. She wanted to be with Owen. She was no longer a young girl, wanting or needing her brother’s love and protection. She was a woman grown and would soon be Owen’s wife. Cree would have no say over her then. She would be free to live her life with the man she loved and who loved her.

  The thought calmed her and she realized that unless she continued to keep calm and give thought as to how to escape, she would be stuck with this barbarian until they reached her brother. And that was an unbearable thought.

  It took some doing, but after what seemed like forever, she managed to dislodge the cloth in her mouth. She didn’t know if it was the breath she let out or took in that felt the best, though it did not truly matter. It just felt wonderful not to be gagged.

  She took a moment to gather her wits, then turned her head up toward her captor. “Please, I will be good, just get me off my stomach.”

  “I will have your word on that?”

  Wintra wondered how true anyone was to their word, since people had given their word to her in the past and had never kept it, except Owen. He had promised he would return for her and he had. He had also promised that he would love her forever and never leave her, unlike others.

  “You have my word,” she said and would keep her promise to be good, though she had not promised she wouldn’t try to escape.

  Torr eased the horse to a halt, slipped off, and lifted Wintra off. He held her a moment so that she could get steady footing, then he unwrapped her cloak that he had tucked tightly around her.

  She eased her arms out and with a wince gave a stretch.

  “No time to ease your aches,” he said, his hands clamping onto her waist and lifting her to the horse to sit sideways. With a strong, quick leap, he mounted behind her.

  She lost what little balance she had and fell against him. Again she was reminded of his strength when she hit hard muscle.

  He quickly tucked her in the crook of his arm to keep her steady and from striking out at him, not sure if he should trust her word. He had yet to discover her true nature and until he did, he would remain cautious.

  After having stared at nothing but the snow-covered ground for what seemed like hours, she found herself glancing up at the sky and one look told her that another snowstorm threatened. She did not know whether to be happy or worry. It would certainly slow them down, but it would also make it more difficult for Owen to find them. Then there was her concern about what would happen if Owen caught up with them. She was well aware of how skilled her brother’s warriors were and she feared Owen would not have a chance against this brute of a warrior. His scar alone frightened, but she would not let him know that. What she needed to do was find out more about him and why, after all this time, her brother decided to bring her home.

  She began with the easiest question first. “What is your name?”

  “Torr.”

  “You must be one of my brother’s best warriors to have been chosen to bring me home.”

  “Your brother has many fine warriors.”

  “Yet he chose you.”

  Torr didn’t respond. He knew that she was seeking information, and he could not blame her. He was, after all, a complete stranger whether he was one of her brother’s warriors or not. Though she appeared to trust his word, it made him understand just how much she trusted her brother. But then who would dare go against the infamous Cree?

  After Wintra realized that Torr had no intentions of replying, she asked a question that had been disturbing her. “Why do you think Owen a vile man?”

  Torr shot a question back at her. “How did you come to know him?”

  Wintra smiled. “Owen stopped by the abbey on occasion, though what business he had there I do not know. He asked to speak with the person who tended the gardens, curious with their abundant harvest. I was introduced to him and with his many visits we—”

  “The fool convinced you that he loved you and could not live without you,” Torr finished with a snort. “And of course he knows who your brother is.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Owen knows your brother will provide you with a favorable marriage chest.”

  Wintra gasped. “You think Owen is only interested in my brother’s wealth.”

  “His last wife didn’t fair too well after he wed her. She died a week later.”

  “Owen has never been married.”

  Torr plastered his nose against hers. “He lies. He always has and always will.”

  “You know him so well?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Well, I know him better,” she argued. “He is a good, decent man who loves me.”

  “If he truly loved you as he claims he does, he would have done right by you and gone to see your brother and formally request that a marriage agreement be made. But instead, he went behind your brother’s back and abducted you.”

  “He most certainly did not. He and his warriors saved me from those who claimed to be my brother’s warriors. With the snowstorm and a friend’s keep close by, he thought it was best he take me there. Where we could be properly chaperoned until Cree gave permission for us to wed.”

  Torr shook his head. “Owen probably set up the whole kidnapping scheme to make himself look good.”

  “Owen would never do such a thing?”

  “Yes, he would. He’s not an honorable man.”

  “Until that can be proven otherwise, I intend to wed him,” Wintra said stubbornly.

  She was too angry with her brother to think he would be fair with her, though he had been the most wonderful brother until he had stuck her in the abbey after their mother had died. She had wanted to stay with him. He was all the family she had left, and she felt safe with him. But it hadn’t mattered how hard she cried or begged, he had refused to take her with him.

  It’s best you stay here.

  His words still echoed in her head, since he had repeated them each time he had visited her. Would he tell her it was best she not wed Owen? She didn’t care; she would wed him anyway.

  “Cree will provide proof.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I intend to wed Owen.”

  “That decision isn’t yours to make.”

  Wintra was furious. Having spent time at the abbey and being dictated to, she yearned to make her own choices, to taste freedom, to live her life as she pleased after so many years of restrictions. She had discussed the matter with Owen and he had assured her that once she was his wife, she could retain the freedom she enjoyed. He would not dictate to her like most husbands. She had been overjoyed with the prospect, and if she was truthful with herself it had been what made her decide to wed him. She was all too aware that it was Cree’s responsibility to arrange a marriage for her, and she feared being stuck with a husband who would dictate as badly as her brother and the nuns had.

  “Cree will have no choice but to agree to a union between Owen and me. After all, we
did spend a night alone together.”

  “You claim to love Owen, yet you would place him in such danger?”

  “What do you mean?

  “Once Cree hears that, he will assume Owen took advantage of you and quickly kill him.”

  Wintra clamped her lips shut tightly. She knew that Torr spoke the truth. Her brother would kill Owen if she led him to believe that they had been intimate. It would be up to Owen to convince her brother how much he loved her and that he would be a good husband and treat her fairly. Surely, Cree would listen and give his consent.

  “What is meant to be will be,” Torr said, as if ending the conversation.

  His words tolled in her head. Her mother had said those very words to her once. What is meant to be will be. But she felt that that was resigning one’s self to fate, and so far fate had not been kind to her. She would much prefer to make her own choices, live her life her way.

  She hadn’t realized it was snowing until she noticed her cloak was dusted with white flakes. She looked up at the sky consumed with snow and shivered.

  “We need to find shelter,” Torr said. “I recall there being a croft not far from here. The sooner we reach it the better, since the snow is falling heavier by the minute.”

  He was right. Even with pine branches beneath her blanket, the cold from the snow-packed ground had crept up to sting her last night and still lingered in her bones. But the further they traveled in the falling snow, the more difficult it would be for Owen to find her. And she was certain that by now he was frantically searching for her, fearing the worse, and blaming himself for not being there to protect her.

  If she could escape and retrace her steps before the snow got bad, she was certain she would meet up with Owen along the way. And even if Torr found them, it would be better for Owen and her to face Cree together.

  But how to get away from Torr?

  Torr remembered the cottage being near a stream and so he kept his eyes focused on their surroundings. When he finally spotted the water, he guided his horse passed the trees to follow alongside the edge of an embankment.