Highland Thief Read online

  Her gaze rose high to the other side of the bailey, wondering if one of the lads—Andy, she thought—would see her.

  Please shoot. Please shoot!

  But maybe Andy was the one he’d taken. Or maybe he hadn’t taken either of them.

  “Tell me the lad’s name,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “I want to know!”

  Suddenly people were yelling, and the crowd surged away from her. She could hear Kerr cursing, and the sound of his great sword being drawn.

  She tensed, struggling to go to him, and a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to remember what Kerr had told her to hit—nose and stones—but her assailant wrapped his arm around her neck, increasing the pressure, and she grew weaker until blackness swooped down upon her.

  ***

  The jostling woke Isobel—her face and chest slapping against a rough plaid, her arms hanging down toward the ground. She couldn’t focus properly, couldn’t formulate any thoughts. Maybe because her head was pounding and each new jostle shoved something hard into her stomach, making her want to vomit.

  And then it came back to her.

  Kerr!

  Her first instinct was to move, to yell out for him, but something stronger urged her to stay still. She couldn’t scream even if she wanted to, because a rough piece of plaid filled her mouth and was tied around her head.

  In front of her was the back of a man’s plaid, and below that, his feet slapped against a stone floor. She realized he carried her. The object jabbing into her stomach must be his shoulder.

  He didn’t have Andy or Aulay. He’d tricked her and was trying to escape!

  Suddenly she heard Kerr roar out her name in the distance. “Isobel!”

  The man cursed and picked up speed.

  A fury exploded within her, and her muscles surged with strength. This man thought he could steal her from her husband? Take her right out from under his nose?

  Then he shouldn’t have left her arms and legs loose.

  Grasping the edge of his plaid, she yanked it up, grabbed his stones with her other hand, and then twisted as hard as she could.

  The man screamed and tumbled forward onto the stone floor, taking her with him. Her elbow hit the hard surface as she fell backward, and pain splintered up into her shoulder. She cried out, but the gag in her mouth muffled the sound.

  Pushing herself up with a groan, she tried to squirm out from under him, but his body lay heavily over her legs, writhing in agony and trapping her in place.

  He lifted his head, and surprise shot though her—Branon Campbell!

  “I’m going to carve out your eyes for that,” he grunted, reaching down for his dirk hanging from his waist. He’d just drawn it from the leather sheath when she pulled her leg free and smashed her heel into his nose, shoving him over backward.

  Isobel turned and ran.

  ***

  A man’s scream sounded from inside the keep, and Kerr raced up the stairs and through the heavy wooden doors, Malcolm and Finn at his heels.

  Where is she?

  “Isobel!” he yelled again as he tore across the great hall toward the stairs that led to the upper levels and the open-air courtyard. The scream sounded like it had come from up there.

  He heard another outburst—softer this time—and a thump. Somewhere above him his wife was fighting for her life. He ran as fast as he could, taking the stairs four at a time.

  “Aulay!” he yelled.

  His brother was on the third level in a hide-out. He might find her sooner.

  “I’m here…” And then a moment later Aulay continued, “I see her, Kerr! But I canna get to her, she’s on the other side of the courtyard! Run, Izzy! He’s behind you.”

  “Shoot him!” Kerr screamed. “Shoot him!”

  And then he heard Isobel yell, “It’s a dead end!” and his blood ran cold.

  He knew exactly where she was, and he couldn’t get to her in time.

  ***

  Isobel ran down the endless hallways—Branon Campbell not far behind her with murder in his eyes. She’d glanced back at the last corner, and his face and shirt had been covered in blood that dripped from his nose. His arms pumped ferociously as he ran to catch her, his knife gripped in his fist.

  She tried to rip the gag from her mouth, but yanking it only tightened the knot, and she couldn’t untie it without stopping—so she kept tugging on it, hoping to stretch the material and pull it loose.

  When she heard Kerr calling for her and Aulay, and then Aulay calling back, she slowed, trying to figure out how to get to them.

  The hallway she was in turned into an open-air courtyard, and she sped up. Surely there must be a way down from here. She turned onto the longer side of the courtyard, still running, and looked to the paving stones below, guessing she was about three stories up.

  Then a flash on the other side caught her eye, and she screamed Aulay’s name behind the gag.

  “I see her, Kerr!” Aulay called out. “But I canna get to her, she’s on the other side of the courtyard! Run, Izzy! He’s behind you.”

  Terror filled her, and she put on a burst of speed.

  “Shoot him!” she heard Kerr scream. “Shoot him!”

  Desperately, she yanked on the gag and ripped it over her lip. Elation filled her, but only for a second as the open hallway ended in a stone wall. “It’s a dead end!”

  “Nay, Isobel,” Aulay yelled, running along with her on the other side. “There’s a hidden door past the pillar. ’Tis the one I came through with Andy and Dùghlas.”

  “Izzy! I’m coming!” Kerr yelled, but he sounded too far away.

  From behind her came a roaring laugh. “You’re too late, Brother. I’m going to slice her open and throw her down for the dogs to eat like our da did to your mother.”

  She reached the end and passed the pillar, but she didn’t see a door or a handle. “Aulay!” she cried. “How do I get in?”

  “I doona know. Keep trying. I’ll hold him off.”

  The twang of an arrow sounded from across the courtyard, and then Branon cursed behind her. She tried to ignore the sounds of conflict and squash down her worry—for herself and for Aulay—and kept pushing on the stone wall and pulling and turning every protrusion.

  She heard another twang of an arrow, and then a dull thud and a groan. But the groan didn’t come from behind her this time.

  She dropped her forehead against the wall, knowing it was too late.

  Aulay had been hit, and she was still trapped…until the stones shifted. Isobel gasped and shoved on the rock. It scraped open into darkness. Crouching down, she stepped through and then swung the heavy door into place behind her.

  It clicked shut, and she turned into the darkness and fled.

  ***

  Kerr came barreling around the corner and ran straight down the long side of the courtyard, but Isobel wasn’t there—neither was Branon Campbell. He stopped and peered over the edge, his chest tight and throat aching, but she wasn’t dead on the ground below either.

  Where is she?

  “Kerr,” a voice groaned.

  He looked up and saw Aulay on the opposite side, lying near the edge. A dagger was lodged in his thigh.

  “I’m sorry,” his brother said. “I missed. She went through the secret passageway. He followed her moments before you arrived.”

  The sound of feet pounding behind him filled the air, and he saw Malcolm and Finn tearing around the corner. “Malcolm! Go down the other side. Aulay needs help. Finn, come with me.”

  He ran to the end and saw the pillar. “Is this it?”

  “Aye,” Aulay said. “But ’tis not easy to open.”

  Kerr waved Finn over. “There’s a passageway behind this pillar. Isobel went through first and Branon Campbell followed her. Twist, pull, and
push every stone and knob until you get it open. Then go after her!”

  “Aye, laird.”

  “Aulay,” Kerr called out, racing to the wall at the end. “Where does the tunnel come out?”

  “Directly below us. It’s a staircase that switches back and forth.”

  Kerr pushed on the wall—another hidden door, but this one was well used. He stepped through to the battlements outside. “I’m going this way.”

  The midafternoon sun shone brightly after the shadows of the castle. Squinting, he grabbed a rope coiled in the corner and tossed it over the crenellated edge. It unfolded in a graceful fall. He couldn’t see either Isobel or Branon and tried to quell the sick roiling of his stomach. Just because he couldn’t see them didn’t mean Branon had caught her.

  He gripped the rope, stepped up onto a merlon, and lowered himself over the edge. He’d just wrapped his feet around the rope and begun to slide downward when he heard a grating sound and a startled yelp. Looking down, he saw Isobel tumble out of an opening in the stone wall below. She looked back inside and then grabbed her skirts in her hands and ran.

  “Isobel!” he called, but she must not have heard him and kept running. Moments later, Branon appeared, sword in hand, and took after her.

  “God’s blood!” Kerr yelled. He narrowed his stance on the rope and slid down as fast as he could, jumping off before he even hit the bottom.

  He was as close to Branon as Branon was to her…which meant he wasn’t close enough. “Branon!” he yelled, hoping the man would turn around and face him.

  Both Branon and Isobel glanced over their shoulders, and he saw the stark terror on Isobel’s face—and the mad glee in Branon’s face. He didn’t care if he died as long as he killed Isobel first, and she knew it.

  Her frightened sobs floated on the wind back to him, and he tried to pick up the pace. How could he slow Branon down?

  “Brother!” he yelled. “Doona do this. Take me instead.”

  “Nay, Kerr!” Isobel screamed. “He’ll kill you and then still kill me!”

  He had only one dagger left on him. If he threw it, and he missed, he could hit Izzy—kill her himself.

  But in the distance, another danger loomed.

  The gorge.

  Panic ate away at him. The fall would kill her for sure.

  He was running out of time! He drew his great sword and tossed it ahead of him like a spear. It landed just short of Branon, and Kerr let out a heart-rending roar.

  Branon laughed delightedly.

  But Kerr was lighter now, and the lift allowed him to run faster.

  “I’m almost there, Izzy. You have to stop! Do you remember what I said about nighttime jaunts?”

  She didn’t answer, and when he was about to repeat himself, she yelled back, “And if I were to keep going?”

  “You’d ne’er make it. Doona do this. Please! There has to be another way. Promise me you’ll do what I say, when I say it.”

  She didn’t answer, and his stomach clenched as the edge of the gorge drew closer.

  “Izzy!”

  ***

  Isobel’s heart was breaking. If she did as he asked and stopped before she hit the gorge, Branon would kill her, and then Kerr would kill Branon, possibly killing himself. If she jumped, she would most likely die, and then Kerr would kill Branon, possibly killing himself.

  She should jump. Maybe she could make it.

  But…Kerr had trusted her today when she’d wanted to gather up the villagers and enter the castle with their people rather than sneak in. That had been her plan, and he’d trusted her that it was a good one.

  He trusted her.

  If this was their last moment alive together, she wanted him to know that she trusted him too.

  “I promise!” she shouted.

  He yelled back, “Get down!”

  She didn’t slow, just let herself drop. She landed hard, scraping and dragging on the earth, limbs twisting and her sore elbow jamming. And then she rolled.

  Too fast. She was going too fast. She tried to dig her fingers in, to slow herself down.

  At the same time, she expected to feel Branon’s sword slice through her body at any moment.

  But instead, he landed on top of her, skidding over and in front of her. They slid to the edge together, and when they reached it, Branon tipped over, almost slowly, his eyes closed, and tumbled, end over end, into the gorge.

  Sticking out of his back was Kerr’s dagger.

  She teetered, half on the bluff, half off, afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

  And then Kerr’s arms were dragging her back. Tucking her into his shaking body and crawling to safety.

  When they were a good ten paces back from the edge, he finally stopped and squeezed her so tightly she could barely breathe.

  It was worth it. Who needed air when she could wallow in the scent of the man she loved? Both of them…alive.

  Finally, her husband stopped shaking, and he let out a long, slow breath. “Can I take you back to my castle now and lock you in the highest tower?”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Is there a bed in there? And will you be staying with me?”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  “Good, but doona get your hopes up. I may not be able to move for several weeks.”

  He pulled away from her slightly so he could look down at her. “Now you look more like my Izzy. Bruised, scraped, and dirty—the true Beauty of the Highlands.”

  She patted her head. “Is my lovely hair ruined? And Una’s beautiful plaid?”

  “Completely. I should throw it into the gorge.”

  “Better it than me.”

  He closed his eyes and squeezed her again. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  She turned her face into his skin and kissed the pulse still pounding at the base of his throat. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  In retrospect, he was doing better than she would have expected. If she had seen him barreling toward the edge of a cliff and out of control, it would have taken her weeks to recover.

  “I think we should start my self-defense lessons again, and this time we can start with you teaching me how to take a fall.”

  He groaned. “Good idea. And maybe some sword fighting and dagger lessons as well.”

  “Sword fighting and daggers?” she exclaimed, leaning away from him so she could see his face. “I thought you didn’t want to teach me how to use weapons?”

  “That was before someone tried to take you away from me—again.”

  “You would have been proud of me. I lifted the back of his kilt, grabbed his stones, and twisted. He screeched like a newborn bairn.”

  He didn’t say anything at first. Then his shoulders started to shake, and he snorted. Air wheezed up from his lungs, and before long he fell over onto his back, laughing uncontrollably.

  And she was right there with him.

  When they finally stopped, she stretched out on top of his body, her ear over his heart. “I love you, Laird MacAlister.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Lady MacAlister.”

  “How much?” she asked.

  “More than life itself. If you had gone over that edge, I would have been right behind you.”

  A sob pushed up from her throat, catching her by surprise, and she turned her face into his chest. “Do you think you can carry me home now, husband?”

  He sat up and pulled her into his arms. “Aye, Izzy. I’ll always carry you home.”

  Epilogue

  Kerr stared into Gavin’s furious eyes and knew that he wouldn’t come out of this unscathed. His foster brother, now his brother-in-law, looked ready to kill him rather than welcome him into the family.

  Gregor, Darach, Lachlan, and Callum gathered around them in the library, ready to step in if things got ou
t of hand, but Kerr could see that they were enjoying themselves—and that they agreed with Gavin. They wouldn’t intervene until one or both of them was bloody.

  Which didn’t suit him, as he was getting married—again—in an hour.

  No doubt they’d have money on the encounter. The bastards.

  Gavin leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose and jabbed his finger into Kerr’s chest. “Of all the irresponsible, reckless, addlepated things to do… Isobel could have been killed!”

  Kerr closed his eyes, breathing deeply to keep himself calm. Then he heard Lachlan whisper, “The ‘chest poke.’ I should have doubled my wager.”

  “Even I couldnae have predicted that,” Callum whispered back.

  “She wasn’t killed. I protected her,” Kerr said, opening his eyes and restraining himself from breaking that damn finger.

  Barely.

  “You wouldnae have had to protect her if you hadn’t run off with her!”

  “I tried to get her to go back, Gavin, I swear. She wouldnae leave. You know Isobel.”

  His foster brothers grunted in agreement.

  “Which is why you shouldnae have left with her in the first place!”

  They grunted in agreement again.

  “Even I could have told you that, Son,” Gregor added.

  Kerr ignored him—and the others too. Squaring his shoulders, he met Gavin’s gaze. “Perhaps so, but I doona regret it. We’re together now because of it.” Then he poked his finger back into Gavin’s chest. “But you shouldnae have taken Deirdre, my cousin, off of MacKinnon land last spring. At least I ne’er intended to hand her over to someone else and tear her away from her son!”

  “Oooooh, a low blow,” Darach whispered, and the others nodded.

  Gavin’s face contorted with guilt. “I brought her back, which you ne’er did. And I gave you one free punch for it.”

  “It wasn’t free.” He raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “You damn well broke it in retaliation!”

  “And I’ll do it again!”

  A door slammed shut behind them, making them all jump. The sound of six swords being drawn filled the room.

  Too late.

  Isobel stood there, her shoulders back and her head held high in a regal fashion. She looked like an avenging queen, and he smirked.