“Ye will find I never beg—not for anything. And ye must be daft or drowning in yer cups. There is no witch.” Graham’s voice, strained and filled with . . . Anger. Rage. Protectiveness.Lilia knotted a fist between her breasts, pressing hard against the panicked pounding of her heart.
Graham was hurting—not physically—at least not a great deal from physical pain but he was enraged and afraid. He feared for her safety more than his own. She felt it more surely than she felt her fear for him.
She barely fingered aside a few of the waxy green leaves and strained to see. Two men—large, snarling, walking walls of muscle that looked to be more along the lines of unwashed, shaggy beasts rather than humans—stood on either side of Graham, twisting his arms back so hard from his sides that he arched against their hold. If the bastards kept yanking him around and pulling at his arms, they would surely dislocate both his shoulders.
A much shorter man stood in front of Graham, shaking both his meaty fists in Graham’s face. Graham’s antagonist was nearly as wide as he was tall. He stalked around with his barrel chest thrown out and his grubby, double chins bouncing between his sagging jowls. “Think me a fool, ye goat-swiving bastard? Me chieftain bade me stand guard. Offered me gold, he did. Told me to watch the Highlands for the strange black cloud and the sound of the sky splitting. Said a witch would bring ye back when ye finally felt yer sorry arse might have been forgotten and ye thought it safe to return to yer clan.”
The squat man hopped closer, reminding Lilia of an ugly, oversized toad. “I saw the swirling cloud and heard the sound of which he spoke. And then I laid me eyes on yer evil bitch meself afore I gathered me men and sent word to the chieftain ye had in fact returned. I’ll be a rich man because of ye—and I thank ye for that.” The brute wagged his head, his face appearing even more grotesque with a rotten-toothed smile. “And I tell ye this: me chief has never forgotten how ye shamed him at the verra heart of his own land.”
The repulsive man jiggled his head back and forth from side to side as though keeping time to a silent tune. “Of course, neither his wife nor his mistress helped yer chance at being forgotten—not one sorry whit, I grant ye that. Them women have ensured that the size of yer great cock is well talked about within the halls of Buchanan Keep to this verra day. Hell, man. ’Tis a wonder the Lady Buchanan didna weave its image into her latest tapestry.”
A sick feeling shot a burning knot of bile to the back of Lilia’s throat. Buchanan. How the blazes had a clan from the lower end of the Highlands so quickly discovered Graham’s return this far north?
“Me chieftain filled the Highlands with his spies—even bade them live amongst Clan MacKenna and tend yer witch’s family. A cuckolded man’s hatred ne’er grows cold, ye understand.” The Buchanan toad nodded at Graham’s crotch. “And every time his wife moaned about the weight hanging betwixt yer legs, the Buchanan sent more men to find ye. He kent ye couldna stay away from the land forever—no matter what yer chieftain swore.”
Graham remained silent, lips curled back and teeth clenched in a sneer.
The short bastard puffed up even more then thumped a stumpy finger against Graham’s chest. “Now, where’s yer witch?” The scowling man raked the back of one hand across his mouth while he squinted around the clearing. “Surely me chief will reward me double if I drag yer golden-haired whore in alongside ye—after me men and I have sampled her wares, of course.”
Graham lunged forward, catching the two brutes lashing his arms behind his back off guard. He butted his head hard against the shorter man’s face, bloodying the fiend’s nose and knocking him backward before his captors yanked him back in place.
“My goddess returned me to this time.” Graham arched against their hold, straining to break free. “And I ken there is only one whore here and that is the one who jumps to do the bidding of a chieftain who has nothing more than a wee stump hanging ’twixt his legs and can think with nothing other than that short stubby head.”
The toad-like man floundered to his feet, yanked his dirk from its sheath, and sliced it up across Graham’s bared chest. The slash split open a long shallow cut, spilling blood from Graham’s lower right rib cage, up across his chest, and to his left shoulder. “Ye best thank the gods me chief ordered ye kept alive if I wanted me gold. If I had me druthers, I’d take ye back to him in pieces.”
The man holding tightly to barely conscious Angus shook him like a rag doll. “What of this one here? Can we kill him?” He grinned down at Angus, bloodlust filling his face.
The leader made a disgusted face and shook his head. “Nay. The chieftain will wish to make sport wi’ that one afore he kills this one.”
Lilia fisted both hands against her mouth, pressing them tight and hard to keep herself from screaming. She had to bide her time. Especially now that Sir Ugly-Ass had just told her that Graham and Angus would be kept alive. At least for a little while. She had to stay calm. She had to plan. She couldn’t do anything alone, especially since they’d already trussed up Graham with enough ropes and leather strapping that it looked as though the bonds were about to cut his body into pieces.
She held her breath to keep from sobbing aloud as they shoved and prodded Graham out of the clearing and pushed him through the trees. Angus’s captor alternately dragged then propelled the stumbling Angus along behind them.
Taking care to remain well hidden, she angled around, following them through the trees as best she could. She chewed her lip so hard, she soon tasted blood. Oddly enough, the coppery tang calmed her, setting her sense of revenge into place like shuffling a deck of cards and preparing to deal.
She would fire portal Granny. Granny would know what to do.Lilia kept her gaze locked on the path between the trees—the path where they’d just shoved and dragged the men out of view. Tracking them by their sounds, she worked her way through the woods, hiding among the underbrush and behind knotted clusters of saplings until she caught up with the group.
Her heart ached as she watched Graham fight them, thrashing from side to side and doing his damnedest to ram them with his bloodstained head.
Stop fighting them. I’ll get help. Just go with them before they kill you. Please—stop fighting them and wait for me.She willed her thoughts and fears into him, praying he would somehow hear her.
He crashed to the ground, his bloodied chest bouncing hard against the rocky terrain. As if he had in fact heard her, he twisted and faced her, his cheek grinding into the earth as he glared at her with a narrow-eyed gaze. His split and bloodied lips barely moved across his clenched teeth but she clearly read the words he mouthed over and over until his captors yanked him back to his feet, looped a leather strap around his throat and forehead, and jerked him toward the horses.
Go,he had mouthed.Go home.
Like hell she would.Lilia sank back into the trees and crouched. Time to wait. Time to plan. This wasn’t over by a long shot.
CHAPTER22
Lilia paced another lap around the cold ashes of the spent fire. How had things gone bad so quickly? Just last night, she had been in Graham’s arms, drifting off to sleep while watching the dancing flames of their campfire. Contented. Peaceful. Genuinely happy for the first time in her life. And now . . . this.
She squinted up through the gently swaying branches of the trees, noting the position of the sun winking through the foliage. It hadn’t been long enough since the group of marauders had ridden past the crest of the hill. If she built another fire now, the Buchanan bastards might spot it and decide to turn back. A column of smoke rising from the woods would be a dead giveaway. But she needed fire—no—she needed red-hot coals—badly. She couldn’t reach Granny through the fire portal without them.
Her hands knotted into shaking fists. She hated waiting.Cracking her knuckles, she squeezed her fists tighter as a nauseating combination of rage, fear, andthis can’t be happeningchurned through her. Maybe it was good she had to wait. She needed to calm down. The longer she paced around what a few hours ago had been a loving nest of sensual contentment, the more her plans to save Graham and Angus solidified into cold, hard tactical certainty.
Let the fire go, dearie. Those Buchanan fools are traveling slow—watching close for any sign of ye. And they’ve taken pains to leave a few of their own behind. The hateful bastards are hidden on the far side of the cliffs. I heard the goat-swiving curs say so myself.
Lilia whirled around, searching the clearing for the voice she had never thought to hear again—except maybe in her dreams. The shaded glade was empty. Eerily quiet. She eased forward across the carpet of moss, stopping at the edge of the softly rippling water. Her scowling reflection stared up at her. “Stop it. Now is not the time to lose it,” she hissed at the rippling image.
