Thistles and Thieves: Highlander Romance (Troublesome Sister Series Book 2) Read online

  Juliette hurried downwards toward the thickets and straight for him. She stumbled, falling over her own feet, fighting her need to run. Her heart hammered, as if beating out a strange pagan chant. She could be mistaken. This might not be him. If not, then the disappointment would be swift and severe. How would she survive then? Mayhap she could sink into the ground and disappear like a chunk of ice left out in the sun.

  She looked up and found the figure again. He was still weaving toward her, getting closer. She stole a look backwards toward camp. Ness still wasn’t watching. Caution be damned! Her legs were turning their backs on caution. Her downward trot gained momentum. She was running now, running as if being chased. She refused to stop till she was within easy sight of the figure. Is it him?

  God in heaven, be praised. It is. His smile was bliss, enchantment, better than any summer day, and better than any dress or jewel or music she’d heard. She ran into Tam’s arms and hugged him hard, wanting to fuse her body with his.

  She spoke into his chest. She didn’t trust herself to look up into his face. She didn’t want him to see her eyes shine and spill. “I feared you were dead.” Then, because she had so little control any more, she looked up. She wanted to see his eyes, to remember them and store the memory of his face in her mind for safekeeping. His eyes sparkled with warmth and goodness and strength.

  His mouth was smiling too. But the ruddy pink of his cheeks was missing. She eyed the cloth strips wrapped around his head. “What happened to you?”

  “I had a run in with a rock. I’m better now.”

  But he didn’t look better. He was whiter than the sand, and the filthy bandage on his head was crusted in crimson blood.

  Still clinging to him and still refusing to let go, she whispered, “We’d better run. There’s one Irishman up there by the fire, and a venomous woman too. She’s called Ness. Kenneth said they were Irish outlaws escaping the hangman’s noose. They have knives and swords, and they’ll use them too. They won’t let me be gone for long before they come searching for me.”

  Tam nodded. “I saw more bandits on the beach. They dug a shallow grave for Angus.”

  She clung even tighter, wishing to meld into his chest. “His death was sad.”

  He pulled her away so that he could see her eyes. “And Kenneth?”

  “He survived the shipwreck, but he’s been taken away by three other outlaw men. Kenneth said they’d likely ransom him to the highest bidder. And Ness confirmed it. She said that Kenneth was taken somewhere to be sold. I don’t know where.”

  “Listen carefully, Juliette. I want you to hide here behind this clump of bracken. I’ll camouflage you with these branches and brambles. You’re to stay hidden till you see me again. Here’s a knife. Use it if you have to. If I’m unlucky and don’t return, stay hidden till dark and make your way through the forest to Dingwall.”

  “No, no, no. Don’t leave me. Let’s run now—together. Kenneth’s not up there. There’s no one else to save—just me.”

  Ignoring her words, Tam slipped the handle of a dirk into her palm. Then he placed her into position behind the shrubbery. Using a much larger black dagger, he sliced off a few branches and used them to camouflage her hiding place.

  “Stay quiet and don’t move. I’ve a job to do, and then I’ll come for you.”

  “Can’t we just run? Let’s forget them.”

  “Nay, Lass. The Irishman up there will follow, and we don’t want to be looking o’er our shoulder the whole time, do we now?”

  She gazed into his battle-hardened face. “I don’t mind. At least I’d have you at my side.” But already he was shaking his head. She studied his mop of wild hair and his hard, devilish face. He might look like a brute on the outside, but inside, he was naught but a big hearted, gentle man. “What will you do with Ness?”

  “Aye, I’ll nay kill her. I cannot kill a woman. If she was trying to harm you, that would be different. I’ll likely tie her up good and proper. When the other Irishmen return, they’ll release their woman. And then, of course, they’ll come for us. But we’ll be long gone.”

  She nodded.

  “Juliette, did you notice where they keep their weapons?”

  She smiled. “Of course. The orange-haired man carries a sword and hunting knife, and Ness has a smaller blade. They wear them attached to her belts. They have more stashed inside the cloth bags they wear across their backs. But I wish you wouldn’t go. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. I’ve just got you back.”

  “Naught is going to happening to me. Stay put.” He rearranged the branches to be sure they covered her body. Then he drifted away, creeping toward the campfire.

  She turned from him and closed her eyes, feeling the life-giving sun warm her eyelids. Best say a prayer for Tam. It was all she could do to help.

  That done, her thoughts wandered to her appearance. How bad must she look? It was a wonder Tam even recognised her, but all that vanity didn’t matter—much. Tam wasn’t interested in her in that way. He’d called her ‘glorious’ once. Even if he’d considered her bonnie back then, he’d not be able to call her bonnie now. Why couldn’t she be like a man and not care one hoot what anyone thought of her appearance?

  She noticed her crusted skirt. It had once been a royal blue, but now it was an ugly, stained brown. Her boots had fared no better. The fine leather was covered in clouts of mud. She tried to stamp the mud free. And her hair was all a tangle. Luckily, she’d no clear pond to gaze into because she really did not want to see the state it was in. It felt bad enough.

  Tam had come through the same ordeal she had. Nay, he’d suffered more. The rocks had done their best to mangle and bloody his face. Yet for all his injuries, he was not unbecoming. Far from it. It seemed that the more messed up and ragged men got, the better they appeared. How was that fair? She shook her head. Her mind was addled. It shouldn’t matter how she presented, not after all they’d been through. Only, it did matter to her. She didn’t want him to look at her and see a plain and unappealing woman.

  Chapter 15

  Juliette waited under the pile of brambles, biting her thumbnail. Tam had been gone a while. Please God, let everything be all right. If they captured Tam, they’d come straight for her. She refused to think about Ness and her temper. How angry would the evil Irishwoman be then! Still, as long as they didn’t hurt Tam, Juliette would survive their wrath. Ness could slap and pinch and belt her all she pleased, provided Tam was allowed to live. She said another quick prayer for his safety.

  Before she’d even said, “Amen,” she heard a rustle. Looking over, there he was, not more than a few yards away wiping his bloodied sword on the ground. She burst out of the greenery throwing the fronds all over him.

  “They didn’t kill you.”

  “Nay, Lass, they did not.”

  “Did you tie Ness up?

  “I did.”

  “Did she cuss and bite and slap your face?”

  “She did not.” He slid one of their cloth bags from his shoulder.

  “What? Ness just stood there and let you bind her hands and feet. She didn’t hiss, scratch, pinch, or tug your hair?”

  “Luckily for her, she did none of those things.”

  Juliette wished she’d not agreed to be hidden. She’d have loved to watch Tam tie Ness up tight. “What’s in the sack?”

  “Things we’ll be needing. We’ve a long walk ahead of us and many nights out in the open.”

  Juliette trotted after him. “I’m not afeared. I’m tough now. I’m not the same girl I used to be.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Are ye not the same?”

  “I’m a changed woman. There’s nothing precious about me now.”

  He turned, and with a sorrowful look in his eyes, he took her hands and covered them in his warm palms. “Did
the men . . .? Because if they did, I swear I’ll find those missing curs, and I’ll hang and quarter them, and . . .”

  Her eyes stretched wide. “No. I’m still the same . . . in that way.” She wanted to smile. “They didn’t do anything to me like that, so you’ve no need to hunt them down and chop them into bits.”

  She’d been jesting about chopping them up, but from his solemn nod, it dawned on her that chopping them up was exactly what he had in mind. “I didn’t appeal to the Irishmen, not in the way you are thinking,” she hastened to explain. “They didn’t see me as a woman—not one they wished to breed with, anyway.”

  “Ha. As if that would be possible! The scoundrels left you alone because they dreamed o’ a king’s ransom. A chaste maiden, one so highborn, costs a hefty purse.”

  She felt her cheeks heat.

  They walked on in single file. Angus was dead, and Kenneth was missing, but she found it difficult to mourn her fallen companions because she had Tam back. What a glorious feeling that was. He was right beside her, keeping her safe and radiating something masculine and exciting. She no longer minded being wet or hungry or cold. Just having him at her side made her want to yell out with joy. She’d have liked to skip, but then he’d see her as a girl. It was better to walk with grace beside him, and she must try to not trip on the sticks and holes. She’d make a point of being more surefooted around him. Ness oft berated her for being a clumsy girl. Around Tam, that clumsy girl was gone. For certes.

  A little while on, Tam stopped and untied his drawstring sack. She watched him rummage inside. His brow was low as if heavy with grief. Yet, even though his face was burdened, he was still a mightily handsome man. It was hard for her to look past his lips. They really were special.

  “Your wife was a lucky woman, Tam.”

  “Nay, Lass, she was anything but.” He handed her the drinking skin, Ness’s drinking skin. Juliette drank with greed, forgetting that the water was now theirs. Abashed, she handed the skin back to him. Once he’s had his fill, he put it back in his sack. Then he rustled some more till he found two oatcakes.

  She stared at them suspiciously. “I made those oatcakes. Ness had me make them for her and the other outlaws.”

  He offered her one. “Then it’s only fitting we eat them. I’m sure they’ll be the most delicious oatcakes I’ve ever eaten.”

  For that comment alone, she wanted to kiss him. Truth was though, those oatcakes were anything but tasty. She bit off one corner and winced.

  “You cannot blame yourself for your wife’s death.” Juliette’s eyes widened. She’d blurted that out without meaning to. She’d put her lack of tact down to excitement, or relief, or something. Right now, she couldn’t trust herself. Any random thought was likely to work its way out of her throat.

  Tam swallowed. “Aye, I can blame myself. And I do.”

  She chewed on her clump of matted oats. “Tis not possible to watch over everyone all of the time. You put too much on yourself, Tam.”

  He shrugged. “One thing I do know without doubt: I don’t deserve another wife.”

  “Wrong again.” Juliette felt a twinge of guilt. She should have held her tongue and not mentioned his poor, dead wife. She’d upset him now, and it was the last thing she’d intended to do.

  Tam stormed off, and she had to run to keep up. They followed a narrow track that wound its way directly into the woods.

  He turned to face her. “We’re going to enter the Caledonian Forest now. We’ll stay in here for as long as we can. The woods will give us cover and make it harder for those bandits to track us down.”

  “Do you think they will track us down?”

  “They’ll return for Ness and find you missing, and then they’ll come after us.”

  “Why bother? Wouldn’t it be easier to steal someone else?”

  “A lot of folk around these parts are poor. The locals would be hard-pressed to part with a sheep or goat in exchange for a loved one. But our king will pay handsomely to have ye back, and Kenneth too, although he’ll no pay as much. Those Irish outlaws know this well. They know our king will feel responsibility for your loss and duty bound to get you back.”

  Tam had walked onwards while talking and hadn’t slowed his pace to allow her to keep up. “They knew they captured a prize when they got hold o’ you. Just as well too. Otherwise, things might not have been so pretty for you.”

  Pretty! She thought back over the past sennight. There was naught pretty about being a slave.

  “We need to pick up our pace because I don’t know how much of a head start we have on them.”

  “What do you suppose they’ll do with Kenneth?”

  “He’ll be sold, like you said. They’ll approach men that are able to contact and barter with the king. Of course, they’ll try to sell him to the King first; it’s their best chance of securing the coin they’re after. But they might also sell him to one of the king’s rivals. In that case, he’d be sold as a warrior and made to fight in some mercenary army. If the English buy him, they’ll also try to ransom him back to the king, and then Kenneth will cost my king even more. Or the English might swap Kenneth for a Sassenach soldier they want returned.”

  “Well, that’s better than Angus’s fate.”

  “Aye.”

  “Might he escape, do you think?”

  “I like to think so. Depends how clever those Irish outlaws are.”

  Juliette felt puffed already. Their pace was all right for him with his giant thigh muscles and legs as long as ladders. “How many days will it take us to walk through the forest?”

  “Depends on our speed and how efficiently we hunt. Provided we don’t run into problems, I’d estimate about a sennight or two.”

  “What?” She stopped, trying to digest this information. “I can’t keep this pace up for seven days or more.”

  “We’ll rest for a few hours in the eve, only for a few hours, mind.”

  “Oh, well that is all right then. Mayhap, considering we’ll be getting a whole two or three hours rest each night, we needn’t bother walking. Why don’t we just run home?” She was still scowling, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Aye, running would be my first choice. You’re a braw lassie, to be sure. If I shut my eyes, I can almost pretend you’re a man.”

  Far from pleased, she frowned. “I’m not a man, and I’m not running from now till next week, either.”

  “Tis fine, Lass. I’m only jesting with you. I fully expect our going to be awful slow, and hard on the ears too. I know that every day of this journey will be cumbersome and cluttered. I am braced and ready for chatter.”

  It was hard to know how to take that comment. It would serve him right if she refused to speak at all. But then, he might like it if she held her tongue. And anyway, who could keep quiet for that long? Mama always said, “Keep your goals realistic.” Juliette decided to say nothing.

  After the longest time, Juliette prodded him on the back. “You ambled about at the beachfront waiting to rescue me, didn’t you? You could have been halfway to Dingwall Castle by now.”

  “Ambled?” Smiling, he raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. It means to hum and ha and to dawdle. Someone who ambles about, loiters. He might lie on the sand, gaze up at the clouds or draw patterns in the ground. An ambler goes about things slowly, whiling away the hours.”

  “I think you’ve mistaken me for a fine English gentleman. I can assure you that I am not. Highland warriors do none of those fluffy, cloud-gazing things you speak of. You have to go to England if you want to find a man carrying on like that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “English gentlemen also rescue ladies. You’d better be careful, Tam. People might hear of your gallant behaviour this day and look upon you as a gentleman too.”

  They cut a path straight toward th
e thickest part of the forest. She had no idea how he knew where he was going or in which direction to head. The woods looked all the same to her—one tree much like another. The sun spent most of the daylight hours hiding behind clouds, and when it did make an appearance, the overhanging branches fought to keep their position hidden. The path was awash with bracken and fallen wood. She had to watch her feet all the time now; otherwise, she’d trip on the tree roots. The roots stuck out of the ground like big toes poking through worn-out boots.

  “How is your head?” she asked, hoping that his injury would be reason enough to rest for a minute. Her heart pounded from the gruelling pace. She gasped and sucked in the air about her as if it was running out. “We really should stop, so I can clean your wound.”

  He did not slow, and neither did he take the bait.

  “If we do not clean your forehead properly, you might get an inflammation, and then how will you save me?”

  “The blackness of night is almost here. Soon we’ll stop by the stream and build a small fire.”

  Juliette looked around her, seeing no stream. “Thank goodness because I have a mighty thirst.” Then she remembered her excuse to stop and added, “And of course I’ll tend to your wound.” Not that she had any idea what she could do other than wash his bloodied skin. But she was keen to prove herself and show him she was no useless English lady.

  He turned to face her, yelling into the wind. “There is something different about you Juliette. You’re not like other Sassenach ladies I’ve met.”

  “I’m tougher than you’d expected me to be. That be it,” she screamed back, rather pleased.

  “You remind me of a Scottish thistle,” he said.

  Juliette recalled the eye-catching violet bloom. She would have preferred to be likened to a rose or an exotic orchid, but a Scottish thistle had its merits too. Many called the flower attractive. Considering the way she looked at the moment, coated in mud and sand, and her clothing in shreds, a thistle would do.