Highland Thief by Alyson McLayne

Thirteen

Kerr stretched his legs out on the ground in front of him as he studied Eirik’s battle axe, his back against the log he’d been sitting on earlier. It was a beast of a weapon, with double-sided blades, an extra-long wooden haft wrapped in leather and then reinforced with langets, and an edge so sharp he’d cut his skin just by resting his thumb upon it. And it was heavy, heavier than any other axe he’d hefted. Few men could wield such a weapon, and he suspected if Eirik ever used it against him, he’d slice Kerr in two and send him straight across Bifröst and into Valhalla.

“Do not touch the blade,” Eirik said from where he stretched out on the other side of the fire, his head resting comfortably against the fallen tree, his eyes closed. They’d eaten their fill of roasted rabbit, greens, and barley that Eirik had thrown in a pot and cooked over the fire, before finishing with apples and cheese. Eirik, like Gregor, carried his own container of spices with which to season the meat.

It had been delicious.

“Too late,” Kerr said. “If Isobel asks, I’ll say you threw the weapon at me and I caught it in my bare hands—with only the smallest of scratches.”

Eirik grinned, his eyes still closed. “A worthy warrior for such a fine lady.”

“Now you say that…when she’s not here,” Kerr chastised—much to Eirik’s amusement.

He looked toward the woods where Isobel had taken an adoring Siv to wash her muzzle a few minutes ago. The two females had become fast friends when Siv had laid her head on Isobel’s lap after presenting the rabbits to her, and then fallen asleep as Isobel had stroked her ears, twirling her fingers through the thick, soft fur, a look of wonder on her face.

He felt strangely at ease with the outlander, strange because he hadn’t known Eirik long, and lowering his guard could put Isobel at risk, especially with a dangerous predator in their midst. But Kerr had had no indication—either by their actions or his own intuition—that the huge man or the wolf meant them harm.

Nay, it was the opposite. He felt with a certitude, deep down in his bones, that they were safe.

Still, that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t do them harm. And Isobel and Siv were well and truly out of sight. He couldn’t even hear Isobel anymore, talking to the wolf as they walked away, her hand resting on the animal’s flank.

“Doona worry, Laird MacAlister,” Eirik said. “No harm will come to your woman. Siv would alert me if someone else approached. And if we were taken by surprise, she would protect Isobel with her life.” He opened his eyes and looked straight at Kerr. “Trust me.”

“I do.” He looked back down at the huge axe and shook his head. “I doona understand it, but I do.”

Eirik grinned. “It is because of Siv. Everyone is enamored with her.”

Kerr snorted. “Aye, the giant wolf with the giant bloody fangs put me right at ease.”

The big man barked out a laugh. “But she brought back all those plump rabbits—filled your belly. She’ll return Isobel safe and sound so you can play more games with your beloved.”

Kerr grunted, and then hefted the axe in his hand and swung it down in an arc—right to left, left to right, over his head—as if he were fighting someone. He dropped his arm back down, the muscles strained from maneuvering the heavy weapon so quickly. “I doona want to play games anymore. I want to call Isobel my own.”

Eirik nodded. “You were right to bring her here. She leans toward you, seeks you out, but she pushes you away at the same time. Something needs to shift between the two of you.”

“I hope her brother sees it that way. I could lose her and my closest friend…and cause a rift within our alliance for stealing her away—even if she did set it in motion.”

“Marry her, and I am sure Laird MacKinnon will forgive you—if he believes she is happy.”

“I’m trying, but she makes it difficult.”

“Nei, she is already halfway there.”

Kerr lowered the axe and raised his brows. “Truly?”

“Já. But what do I know about women? I bungled everything with my vif. It is only by Odin’s grace she agreed to be mine.”

Kerr’s eyes widened. “You’re married?”

“Já.”

“But you’re…you’re…”

“A lone wolf?” The big man burst into laughter again at his jest. When it died down, he said, “I will see her soon. She is with a friend now.”

“She’s travelling with you?”

“Já. You do not think I would look this good without a vif, do you?”

Kerr grinned. “Nay, I doona suppose you would.” He dropped his gaze back down to the weapon in his lap and traced his fingers over the intricate gold inlay along the blade—in the shape of Norse runes, wolves, the sun, and the moon. “It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you. It was my father’s blade, and my grandfather’s before that.”

“Have you had to use it much?”

He nodded. “There is much evil in this world. I do as you and your brothers do—try to bring peace where I can. Sometimes that peace comes with a swing of my blade.”

Kerr studied the other man. “What happened to your people? Did you lead them? Or your father?”

“Not in recent years, nei, but before we left our homeland, my ancestors did. Over time, my people have scattered, searching for a new home, but I am happy as long as I have Siv by my side…and my vif, of course.”

Kerr snorted. “Of course.” He heard a bark in the distance and the familiar sound of Isobel’s laughter. It made him smile; Eirik, too. “How are you getting around?” Kerr asked. “I doona see any horses. Are you travelling on foot?”

“We have a longship—small enough that I can handle it myself. I built it when we first crossed the sea to Orkney. It is hidden in a cove north of here.”

Kerr leaned forward. “Eirik, you can make your home with us. If you want to settle, I would be happy to have you at Clan MacAlister. Or at the homes of any of my brothers and our foster father, Gregor MacLeod. I would vouch for you. Isobel would too.”

Eirik sat up and stretched his arm out to Kerr. The men clasped arms over the fire in the way of warriors and brothers. “Thank you. It is an honor you have bestowed upon us. I will speak to my vif about a short stay, but I doona think our home is in the Highlands, as much as I like it here.”

Kerr nodded, squeezed Eirik’s arm, and sat back. He could hear Siv and Isobel approaching through the brush. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Diabhla stayed calm, and was amazed to see him standing at ease, munching on some grass on the other side of the glen—the same as when Siv first brought back the rabbits. The stallion wasn’t bothered by the giant predator at all. Maybe the beast smelled domesticated to the horse, like one of Darach’s hounds.

“Laird MacAlis—”

“Please, call me Kerr,” he interrupted. He wasn’t much for formality—none of the brothers were.

Eirik nodded. “What are your plans? If you want some time alone with Lady Isobel, there is an abandoned cabin a half day’s ride from here. I stayed there with Siv for a few nights when we first arrived. We followed the creek inland from the beach. The bed is in decent condition, and we left firewood and kindling in the basket by the hearth.”

“Sounds ideal,” Kerr said, returning his gaze to watch for Isobel and Siv at the edge of the glen. “I stayed in a hunting cabin out this way when I was younger. It could be the same place—inland from a long promontory. The creek widens and churns over the rocks a few miles farther east.”

“Já. That sounds like it.”

“I wanted to head there at first light, but Isobel had other ideas. I canna say I blame her. I rowed her across the loch against her will. Although she’s enjoying herself now.”

Eirik smirked. “You would not believe the things I did to impress my vif. None of them worked. But I was persistent, and finally she came away with me.”

Isobel appeared with Siv at the edge of the woods, and the unlikely friends headed toward them. She looked happy and carefree. Not plotting anything, for once.

“Maybe someday I’ll meet her,” Kerr said, “and hear her side of the story.”

Eirik hooted in delight. “I think she would tell a different tale from my own remembrances.”

“No doubt.”

“Ah, well. She loves me now.”

Kerr couldn’t help grinning. “I’m sure she does.”

“You are welcome to stay with us for a few days, but if it were me, I would want to be alone with my beloved. She will not bond with you in the same way if we are together, já?”

“Agreed. I’ll do my best to convince her to ride to the cabin. We’ll stay a few days, a week at most. Any longer and Gavin will have my head, whether I’ve won over his sister or not.”

“Stay a few days where?” Isobel asked, close enough to hear part of their conversation.

“A cabin—not far from here,” Eirik said. “Your warrior laird knows where it is. The forest can be dangerous, especially at night. I have Siv’s sharp ears and nose to protect me.”

“And sharp teeth,” Kerr added.

Isobel’s face fell. “Canna you stay with us?” she asked Eirik.

“Nei, we must keep heading west, but we will try to come back before the week is out.”

Kerr wondered who Isobel would miss more—the outlander or his pet wolf. Or if she wanted to keep them around so she wouldn’t have to be alone with him. That hurt, but for the first time, he considered that she might be nervous. He peered at her closely and thought he detected a small tremble in her cheek.

My Isobel, worried to be alone with me.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, dragging his nails through the short growth of beard that darkened his cheeks. Then he met her eyes, resigned. “Sweetling, if you want to go back, I will take you. Eirik is right, the forest can be dangerous. An unexpected fall can kill you, or a wild animal could attack. Let alone who we might run into in the woods. I would protect you, of course, but still you could be at risk.”

After laying it all out like that, seeing the dangers that could befall them, an urge rose to get her back on the boat and return her to the safety of Gavin’s keep.

Eirik nodded. “We have come across several groups of men recently on our travels. Mostly we stayed clear of them. Some looked like hunters, but others had the hardened look of warriors.”

The hair on the back of Kerr’s neck rose. “How many?”

“Two groups. Four in one, five in the other. But they were north of here and travelling east, using the back roads and game trails to move around. Same as you.”

Kerr made a harrumphing sound in the back of his throat as he pictured the trail Isobel had chosen this morning coming to an end—and then her pushing forward through the dense brush despite his objections. She colored slightly under his perusal, as if she knew what he was thinking, and then raised her chin in that haughty way that made him want to kiss her until she forgot herself—like she had last night on the boat.

Aye, that’s what he had to keep remembering when they were back at her keep—not that he’d failed to get much time alone with her, but that she’d clamored to get closer to him, her mouth hot and hungry, her hands squeezing his flesh. And he would remind her of it every chance he got.

“Nay, I doona want to go back yet.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You brought me here, and now I’m not leaving. Not yet, anyway. We’ll go to this cabin you mentioned. The one you wanted to take me to this morning. We’ll be safe there. We can bar the door at night against any brigands or wild animals.”

His eyes shifted to Eirik, who gave a brief, barely discernible nod. Kerr schooled his features, so she wouldn’t see the conflicted emotions running through him. On one hand he wanted to whoop victoriously, but on the other he wanted to bundle her onto that boat and row her back across the loch where she would be guarded by hundreds of loyal warriors.

It also eased his conscience to know that he’d offered to take her back and she’d refused. His only choice now would be to force her onto that boat and back to Gavin, and that could cause irreparable damage to their relationship. Surely Gavin would be more inclined to forgive him, knowing he’d tried to convince Isobel to return.

Gavin knew how stubborn his sister could be.

When Kerr failed to answer, she narrowed her eyes. “I should have been more clear, Laird MacAlister. When I said I doona want to go back, what I meant was I willna go back.” Then she released Kerr’s arm and turned to Siv. Wrapping her palm against the side of the wolf’s face, she scratched behind her ear. Siv closed her eyes and let out a wolfy groan. “Until we meet again, my sweet friend,” Isobel said. And then she leaned down and squeezed her arms around her neck. “Be a good girl for me and mind your master.”

Eirik snorted once more in amusement, and when he caught Kerr’s eye, he winked.

Fortunately for both of them, Isobel hadn’t noticed.

***

Isobel sat in front of Kerr on his huge stallion, her eyes closed, trying to ease the excitement in her body—her mind, too, if she was being honest—with regular, controlled breaths. Breathe in two, three, four…breathe out two, three, four…breathe in two, three, four…

But the horse swayed beneath her, the saddle pressed hard between her legs, and Kerr held her tightly against him, smelling so…manly—like horses and smoke from the fire and leather.

There was no other word for it…she ached for him…and no amount of counting was going to take that away.

They’d been riding for over an hour now, and every second had turned into some kind of prolonged torture—worse than when they’d been on the boat, which didn’t make sense because he’d been talking to her during their trip over the loch, saying lusty things and nibbling her neck.

But since they’d left Eirik and Siv in the clearing, Kerr hadn’t uttered one word to her—and still the feelings surged through her body.

She’d kept quiet too, afraid that if she opened her mouth to speak, a wanton moan would escape, or worse, she would tell him to slide his hand—the one he’d wrapped firmly around her hip—down between her spread legs. She wanted him to cup her mound and hold his palm tightly against it. To somehow absorb the ache.

Her controlled breaths caught in her throat.

Angels in heaven, why am I thinking about that?

Because you’ve neverstopped thinking about it.

Aye, ever since Kerr had helped her onto Diabhla, and then swung his leg up behind her, encircling her waist with his arm and pulling her snugly against him, she’d been a bundle of nerves and excitement, of heat and tingling awareness.

They’d said goodbye to Eirik and Siv, and Isobel had felt a keen disappointment to be leaving them, but she’d also felt burgeoning anticipation about being alone with Kerr for the next few days, doing God knows what at the cabin.

Certainly not that.

She wasn’t married to him, and she didn’t want to marry him…did she? And if she did let him do that, he’d have her standing before Gavin and Father Lundie in a heartbeat, tying her to him for life.

“Isobel.”

She jumped, inhaling sharply as Kerr said her name—his voice low and growly like an ornery bear.

“Mmmm hmmm?” she murmured, not trusting herself to form words yet.

“You stopped breathing.”

Stopped breathing?

She forced herself to laugh, but it came out sounding like a goat in distress. “Of course I didnae stop breathing. I’m not dead.”

“Then what was that weird sound you just made? That definitely sounded like something dying.”

She frowned and pursed her lips, tried to return to her regular, rhythmic breathing in an attempt to calm herself—breathe in two, three, four…breathe out two, three, four… But she could barely get the numbers counted in her head before she was desperate for air again.

Her heart was pounding fast enough and strong enough to feel it in her body.

“How do you know I’d stopped breathing?” she asked almost accusingly.

“Because I felt your breaths against my chest—long and deep. Your ribcage expanded and contracted against me. It was…soothing.”

“Soothing?” She’d been struggling their entire ride to stay calm, to quash her lusty thoughts and carnal desires, while he’d been feeling soothed by her?

“Aye.” He said it a little hesitantly, as if trying to figure out her mood and why she sounded angry.

“Well, I’m glad one of us could feel so at ease!” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared straight ahead, her body as stiff as the saddle beneath her.

He sighed and lifted one of his hands out of sight behind her. She guessed he was rubbing his face or squeezing the back of his neck. Something he did when he was frustrated or uncertain. Maybe both.

Good. It pleased her she wasn’t the only one feeling out of sorts.

“We’ll be there soon,” he said, his tone placating. “It will be dark in a few hours. We willna have to do anything other than cook our meal and rest. You must be exhausted after our late night and early morning.”

She was exhausted—from more than lack of sleep.

She’d been fighting this desire for Kerr, always trying to stay one step ahead of him, to be strong and invulnerable to him for so long. Maybe she should do as Deirdre had suggested and let him in. Stop fighting and see what happened.

She closed her eyes, and a wave of tiredness overtook her—along with a tightening of her throat and the welling of tears behind her lids. What was wrong with her?

She wanted to turn in Kerr’s embrace, to wrap herself around him, and weep.

And that, as she’d heard Kerr say, scared the shite out of her.

Kerr pulled her even closer against him, his chin resting on top of her head, and she allowed her spine to soften. She counted in her head again, but this time she counted to ten, and then twenty, and then thirty. And when those emotions rose—uncertainty, the need to run or push him away—she allowed them to move through her body, to not shove them down or act on them…but rather to experience them, to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and sensations they caused within her until they wore themselves out and dissipated on their own.

She inhaled deeply several times, and her agitation faded. A heaviness slowly invaded her limbs, and she leaned against him, feeling safe and secure. When something wet trickled into the corner of her mouth and she tasted salt, she couldn’t even raise her hand to wipe the tear from her face. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but unable—or maybe unwilling—to do anything about it.

Her last thought as she drifted into sleep was that she wished it was dark so Kerr wouldn’t see that she’d been crying.