“Whore,” he said in a low snarl, then pulled back his fist and struck her in the face. “Fortunate fer ye,” he said while she fell to the ground, unconscious, “I still want ye. Fer now.”
“What about him?” One of his men kicked Darach’s limp body while they were preparing to leave. “Should I kill him?”
Roddie looked over his shoulder after hefting Janet over it. “And have his kin ride out of the mists and kill every damn one of us? They won’t stop until there isn’t a Menzie left in Scotland. Nae, leave him there. The shame of losing her to me will be enough punishment fer him.”
Chapter Fourteen
Darach came awake slowly. He opened his eyes, then shut them again when pain shot up his temple like a fiery lance. Had a tree fallen and hit him? Nae, it was… All at once the fog cleared and he remembered. Janet! He sat up, ignoring his throbbing head and the wave of nausea that coursed through him.
She was gone.
He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved that she wasn’t lying in the grass, battered and used, or scared to death that Roddie had taken her back to his holding to do it.
His heart pounded like a fierce battle drum in his chest. She was naked when last Darach saw her. Naked with the Menzies. He groaned. He clenched his teeth and made a sound from the back of his throat that would have frightened anyone, had they been there to hear it. As it was, a rabbit, nibbling on the grass, took off running.
Darach rose up on his feet, unsteady for the first moment or two. Then he looked around for his clothes. He found them strewn in a nearby bush, her gown along with them. He reached for his sword and swung it hard across him, ignoring the pain from Menzie’s hilt. She was alone and naked with the Menzies! If they touched her… If they hurt her… He dressed swiftly, attaching to various parts of his body all the weapons he’d hidden in the campsite. He was going to find her. He was going to hunt them down and take her back, and then he was going to make them all wish they had never laid eyes on Janet Buchanan.
He felt his temple and pulled his bloody fingers away. He’d bled before. Nothing mattered but getting Janet back.
How long ago had Roddie taken her? He squinted, looking up. The sun was high. Hell, he’d been out cold for several hours. With his blood turning cold in his veins, he prayed that Janet was still alive and took off to find her.
He wasn’t as good a tracker as some in Camlochlin, but he spotted a few broken branches and flattened leaves and followed the faint path. He moved quickly, running at some points when the trail was easier to find.
A short while later he thought he’d found Menzie’s camp when he heard men’s voices in the distance. Pulling his dagger free, he ran, staying low so as not to be seen. He came upon the first man within minutes and coiled his arm around his throat from behind.
“Grant!” It was William’s voice coming toward him, his hands outstretched. “Stop! ’Tis Kevin ye’re about to slay!”
Darach’s blade paused in midair while he spun Kevin around to have a good look at him. The cook trembled in his boots and choked out a garbled prayer.
“What the hell are ye doing here?” Darach demanded the chief, angry that he’d come so close to killing Kevin.
“My sister wasn’t in her bed this morn. I suspected she followed ye out here. We left through the tunnel and have been searching since this morn.”
When Darach’s hard expression faltered, William grew pale. “Where is she?” the Buchanan chief asked. “Have ye seen her? What happened to yer head?”
“Roddie Menzie has her,” Darach admitted, then continued despite her brother’s pale complexion. “He came and took her from me just before dawn.” He didn’t tell Janet’s brother that she was naked, or that they had made love for most of the night. “I must find her. We’re wasting time. Do ye have any horses?”
“Nae,” William told him. “But we can run.”
“Aye,” Darach nodded, they would run.
With a company of thirteen men, including William, he started out for the Menzie holding. Roddie must have headed back to his homestead. Darach hoped so. He was ready to take them all on. Roddie was already dead for taking her and for threatening to take Malcolm’s castle. No one would stop Darach from killing him. If Menzie touched her, hurt her… The thought pushed Darach to pick up his steps until he was running, bounding over fallen branches and rocks, forgetting William and the others behind him. He leaped over a creek and broke through low-hanging branches. One sharp twig cut his cheekbone. He didn’t feel it, too busy concentrating on his other senses to worry about blood trickling down his face.
He picked up a whiff of smoke about ten minutes into his run. Slowing to a pause, he held his palm up to stop Will and his men.
“They’re close.”
“What are we going to do?” Janet’s brother asked, catching up with him.
“Find their camp, skirt it, take down as many as we can before we’re seen. Since they didna’ make it back to their holding, their number is as I left it. We can finish them quickly, but I want Roddie.”
“Darach,” Will tried to stop him when he turned to go. “She’s my sister. If he’s touched her—”
Darach’s eyes darkened and he shook his head. “Roddie’s mine, Will.” He offered no other explanation before he left, stalking low in the foliage, his senses honed to everything around him.
When he came upon the Menzies’ camp, it took everything he possessed not to storm them, swinging at heads and limbs as he went.
He looked through the web of branches, his eyes searching for her.
