Page 7 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

“Come on, Eloise. I paid ye fer this,” he hissed and pressed his face into her neck, trying to kiss her.

She craned her neck away as much as possible, trying to escape the repulsive scent of the fermented beer that had gone sour on his breath.

“Release me!” Eloise snapped, her voice competing with the whinnies of the horses.

“Ye ken it would be good.”

“Ye overestimate yerself.” Eloise didn’t wait to try and convince him. She reached between them for that dagger again and snapped it out of its tiny scabbard. Lifting it high, it must have caught a gleam of the moonlight on the blade as Stewart released her, staggering back. “Dinnae touch me again.” She brought the dagger down, catching his arm.

“Argh!” he cried out, as the knife grazed his arm. It was no fatal wound, but enough to stun and injure.

Eloise kicked him between his legs, in the area she knew would be most sensitive, especially now, in his state of excitement for attempting to force her. He groaned like a donkey braying and dropped to his knees.

She reached for a horse nearby, scrambling in the darkness and her own horse snorted, as if calling her to him. She reached for the bridle, hurrying him out of the cubicle, then glanced back. In the single shaft of moonlight in the stable, she saw Stewart’s leather purse dropped to the ground. Bending down, she opened it up and took out the money she was owed, gathering the coins together.

“Eloise!” he raged at her, trying to recover himself as he moved onto his knees. He swiped at her, but she was too fast. Hurrying back on her haunches, she scrambled to her feet once more. With the coins thrust into a purse at her belt, she pulled herself into the saddle of her horse and flicked the reins.

“Take us away from here, Thunder.”

The horse snorted and bolted from the stable. They shot out into the darkness, skirting past the inn where they’d spent the evening. Thunder nearly knocked down two drunkards that staggered out of the inn, but Eloise still didn’t urge the steed to slow his pace. She had to get away from here, as fast as possible and before Stewart could recover or even think of going after her.

As they took a path that led out of the village and toward the hills, the cold wind whipped her face, the horse slowed, and she glanced back at the village full of flickering lights. Those orange orbs pressed in windows of small cottages and crofts looked like stars in the night sky.

“This is madness, Thunder,” she whispered. The horse neighed, as though he agreed with her. “This is nae fer much longer, aye? We are so nearly done with this life. One more task, then it will all be over.”

Thunder snorted. She half wondered if he truly did understand every word she said and this time he chose not to believe her.

“Aye, one last job.” She cast a look at the true stars above, thinking of what her last task would entail.

Another girl who worked as an escort had been offered two jobs at once, both for obscene amounts of money. Unable to take both on, she’d offered one to Eloise, who had eagerly accepted. All she had to do was play a man’s betrothed at a castle in Clan Gordon. It would be but a few days, for such a vast sum that she could be done with this life for good.

“Soon, I shall be free.”

It hasnae changed.

Murdoch slowed the horse between the trees, turning his eyes up to Gordon Castle. Nestled between two hills, the vast grey structure was dominating, the hills beside it capped in snow. In front of the castle was a vast loch, with a long bridge that connected the small village at one of the hill’s bases to the castle estate.

“It is just the same.” There was something disconcerting about this truth as he stared at the castle and the grey clouds that circled around the mountains, threatening a downpour.

Slowly, Murdoch climbed down from his horse and wrapped the reins around a nearby tree branch. Clapping the horse’s flank in comfort, he leapt up onto a nearby rock, trying to take a better view of the castle. His heart fluttered against his ribcage as he recalled this was the very place that he’d stood on the day he’d turned his back on his father’s castle. Unable to stay here, facing so much guilt and grief, he’d sought out a new life.

In that time, he felt as if he had changed much. He carried shadows within him, perhaps a black heart too, memories of so much death and bloodshed in battle, he sometimes felt scarcely human at all. The castle before him almost seemed like a dream. The standards and colorful flags attached to the castle ramparts and crenelations all baffled him.

Aye, me father was always a man for celebration and color.

“I’ve changed too much tae be here,” Murdoch muttered under his breath as he stared at the castle. Rooks gathered and cawed over the battlements, then darted off toward the hills, looking for somewhere to nest.

It would only be for a few days, Murdoch told himself that repeatedly. He had returned for Clyde’s wedding. His father and brother were good men, and he could not dishonor them by refusing to turn up, no matter what demons were in his heart.

“Just a few days.” His eyes darted to the clouds, trying to see something of the sun between them. He caught a glimmer of light and realized just how advanced the day had become. “She’s late.”

He glanced around the rock and the path that led past his hiding place beside the loch. He’d been specific in his letter to the escort, though he’d failed to sign his name, fearing that the letter could be intercepted and used to blackmail him by some rogue or highwayman. She should be here soon.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

Brushing a hand into his dark hair, a sigh escaped him. It couldn’t be avoided, even if it felt mad to go ahead with this idea now that he was faced with his former home. He knew if he had returned to that castle alone, his father would have been eager to see him wed, but he could not face it. At least with the escort pretending to be his betrothed, he could deny his father pushing him into marriage for a little longer yet.

Twigs snapped underneath someone’s foot and he turned on the rock, eager to see the escort approaching. A tall black horse moved through the trees, heading off the path toward him. For a brief second, he thought it was one of his father’s guards, patrolling, then he caught sight of the rich royal blue cloak that covered the whole of the figure including the head, and the delicate gloved hands that gripped the reins.