Page 2 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
Instinctually, Katreine moved to aid Sheba, and when she did, her right foot slipped off the branch and she lost her grip on the limb above her head. For one moment, she flailed wildly, clinging for life with her left hand and trying to recapture the limb with her other, but her vision was obscured by her hair which slid over her eyes. The sharp bark cut into her palm, making her wince. Finally, she managed to find her footing and a firm holding once again, and as she did, she tilted her head back in an effort to get her hair to swing away from her eyes. The veil of black created by her hair disappeared just in time for her to see Sheba give her a sorrowful farewell look as her cat leaped gracefully from one limb to the next and disappeared into the thick forest.
“Go after that damned cat and kill it,” Mungo commanded the smallest warrior there.
Katreine said a quick prayer that Sheba would not linger close and blew the prayer into the wind as she had done for years, ever since her mother had taught her to do so before she’d passed from this life. She added another quick prayer that one of her brothers, her father, or one of their trusted warriors would find her. It had been foolish to venture out from the safety of the stronghold, but she’d been so tired of being confined by the necessity of hiding from the Blackswells to avoid having to wed Brodee Blackswell as King David had ordered.
As the Blackswell warrior scampered off to do what he was bid, Mungo crossed his arms over his chest. “Dark will be coming soon, hellion,” he said in an ominous tone that made Katreine shiver. “We—” he waved a hand at the other man that stood with him “—can wait here all night for ye. We dunnae even have to risk our necks to climb up after ye. Ye will eventually fall asleep and then tumble from the limb ye perch on, and one of us will catch ye and take ye to wed Brodee as the king has commanded.”
“I’ll nae ever wed that murderer, or any other treacherous Blackswell for that matter. I hate ye all. I’d rather be dead than wed to one of ye.”
Both men guffawed, and the hairs on the back on Katreine’s neck stood on end. Their snickering seemed to underscore what she suspected: even if she climbed down and wedded Brodee Blackswell, her time as his wife would be short-lived.
“Come down and quit fighting the inevitable,” Mungo demanded.
“I’ll nae be coming down,” she called, “so ye may as well make yerselves comfortable.” If she was very lucky, she’d be found soon by her family or clan. If luck had indeed forsaken her, as she was beginning to think, she’d have to eventually descend and try to make her escape.
“Have it yer way.” Mungo turned to his comrade, the two huddling for a moment, and then Mungo settled under her tree. She could just see him beneath her, his legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest. The other man remained standing, truly waiting, she realized with dismay, for her to succumb to sleep. She nibbled on her lips with worry. Mungo was right in that she likely would not be able to stay awake, and then they would catch her and drag her to a wedding that would result in her either being shackled to a man she detested for the rest of her life or killed, no doubt by her new husband’s hand.
Katreine clenched her jaw. She refused to let that be her fate. She had not been given the nickname the Hellion of the Highlands for no reason. She’d earned it. She was proud of it. Her father and brothers had raised her to be capable, and her mother, God rest her soul, would have reared her exactly the same way had she not died from sickness. Her mother would be railing in her grave if Katreine did not fight to the last breath against being forced into a marriage with Brodee Blackswell, the man they were certain had murdered Katreine’s older sister years earlier.
An image of Lenora flashed in Katreine’s mind. She’d been beautiful beyond measure and, like a precious flower, needed to be handled with care. She’d been doted upon and pampered, just as Katreine could vaguely remember she once had been, too. In the years since Lenora’s death, Katreine had been loved and protected ruthlessly, but she’d also been taught how to defend herself.
She inhaled a renewing breath and scanned the thick forest below her. How the devil was she going to escape? A warm breeze blew over her, carrying with it the faint smell of the sea water in the distance. If she could make it to the water, she knew she could leave these men behind. Not only was she an excellent swimmer but she knew the caves that littered the shoreline of this area better than a man knew the weight of his bollocks. Or at least that’s what her three elder brothers always said. She smiled faintly, thinking how they’d been shocked when, at the age of ten summers, just after her mother passed and not long after her sister was murdered, Katreine had led her brothers through the secret trails in the caves that their mother had shown her. None of her brothers had known they existed.
“God’s teeth!” someone swore from below, jerking Katreine out of her memory.
“Yeow!”Sheba—because it had to be her loyal cat—mewed. As Katreine peered below her into the swiftly advancing darkness, she thought she saw her cat go flying off one of the men’s shoulders.
“That damned cat tried to scratch out my eyes!” a deep voice bellowed from below. “I’m gonna kill that cat!” Mungo suddenly scrambled to his feet and raced in the direction that Sheba had gone. No sooner had he disappeared into the bushes than another bellow came from below.
“Satan’s hellion!” the man who’d been sitting cried out. He jumped up to turn in circles while attempting to grab at Sheba, who now was on his back. “This thing is biting me!”
Sheba yowled, and the man she was attacking started running, his arms flailing.
“We females must stick together,” she said with a grin. She’d hoped Sheba had gone to safety, but Katreine had to admit, she was glad her cat had returned. This was her chance to flee.
Her heart nearly exploded as she made her move. She released her grip on the branch above to quickly crouch low and grasp the branch she perched upon. The swift movement pitched her body forward until she was hanging upside down. Still grasping the tree branch, she slipped her feet up in the air to swing her legs over the limb and swung her body until she could grab the tree trunk.
Sharp bark gouged her already-injured palms, but she clenched her jaw, grabbed at small branches sticking out of the tree trunk, and released her legs. Her lower body swished through the air until her legs smacked into the tree with stinging pain. She bit her lip on a cry, her arm muscles burning as she hung from the branches she’d grasped as she tried to find purchase for her feet. Finally, she felt a branch to stand on, and started to climb down the tree as fast as she could, moving from branch to branch. Her gown caught on bark halfway down, and she had to jerk backward to get the material to release. It ripped across her chest, exposing her skin. Dismay touched her, but she shoved it away. There were far more serious concerns at the moment than her now-immodest state.
She picked her way down the last few limbs, and when her feet hit the soft grass, she took off in the direction of the water, heart racing. But she didn’t get more than five steps from the ancient tree when all three Blackswell men burst from the right and back into the clearing, cornering her.
“Get her,” Mungo ordered, taking charge once again.
She didn’t wait to see how quickly the other two responded to the command. She sprinted toward a narrow path that led to the sea, ducking a branch hanging in her way, then immediately jumping over a downed log. Footsteps pounded behind her, and fear coursed in her veins like a rushing river.
She shoved branches out of her way as she ran, her slippers poor protection against the rocks she had no time to avoid. Soon, the soles of her feet screamed in protest, her breath came in pants, and the men’s voices behind her seemed to be growing closer. Slivers of orange and red rays slanted between the trees from the descending sun, and as she crested a hill, she choked back a relieved sob to see glistening water in the distance.
Walls of rock rose up on both sides of the channel that led to the Sound of Sleat. There were numerous caves in those rocks. She just needed to reach them or the water to have any hope of escape. She turned to see how close the men were as she ran forward. She knew it had been a mistake the moment her foot hit something solid, and she pitched forward to roll down the remainder of the hill. As she tumbled head over foot, the ground pounded her mercilessly. Then it deposited her unceremoniously upon her back on the flat land situated between the rocks. The hit knocked her breath out of her chest, and pinpricks of light danced before her eyes. She blinked and tried to focus to her right, where she knew a cave opened to the waters beyond. Her mind screamed a warning and she tried to move, but her body would not cooperate.
With a grunt she rolled to her side, set a hand to the warm sand, and pushed up, only to be jerked from the ground and off her feet. “Let me go!” she screamed, wildly swinging behind her at whoever was holding her.
The warrior grasped her wrists with his free hand. “Quit yer screeching,” he demanded.
Recalling the defense lessons her da and brothers had given her, she reared her head backward into his nose, gagging at the sound of bone crunching, but now was not the time for weakness or mercy. Rage gurgled from the man, but his hold loosened, and she took advantage. She bent her knee and swung her foot backward between his legs, aiming for his man parts. He dropped to the ground like a rock.
An animalistic sound came from him, and consuming fear for how he’d retaliate drove her scrambling blindly across the sand, trying to gain her footing.
“Seize her!” the Scot gasped and half roared at the same time. “Seize the Hellion!”
