Kidnapped By The Highland Rogue. Terri BrisbinЧитать онлайн книгу.
four or five men. When the sound of branches crackled behind her, none of that mattered. Only escaping did, so she ran like the devil was on her heels.
‘Bloody hell!’ a man called out loudly. ‘She is gettin’ away again, Iain.’
Fia ran in the opposite direction she’d planned and realised that the path felt somehow familiar to her. That was not possible. She pushed thinking away and simply followed her instincts now.
And those instincts led her to a clearing. The man stalking her was getting closer, she could hear his laboured breathing right behind her. The sight before her forced her to stop and then the shock at what she remembered kept her from moving again. The one chasing her nearly slammed into her back and then grabbed her by the shoulders.
This was the centre of their camp.
Nay, not the outlaws who now stood here, but the Mackintoshes who had sought refuge all those years ago. This was where they’d hidden themselves while their cousin Caelan tried to destroy them all and control the clan. There had been dozens and dozens of men, women and children here, living as they could, keeping their faith in Brodie’s right to inherit and lead them.
She had lived in this very place for almost a year before Brodie succeeded and they returned to Drumlui. Fia knew where this place was.
And now she was back.
In the middle of the band of outlaws who had kidnapped her during their attack.
Six men of various shapes and sizes and temperaments stood before her, all holding some weapon or another. But, those weapons were not the terrifying thing in this situation. Their gazes filled with desire, plain lust and need and danger.
Terror filled her then, sheer, utter terror, making it impossible to draw a breath or think her way out of this. The tight grasping hold on her shoulders would not let her move much until he began shoving her forward, ever closer to the danger before her.
Her fear spurred them on now and they began calling out threats and...promises. She searched for the one who’d helped her before and could not see him. The wind shifted then, bringing the smoke of the fire at her. Her eyes teared and her nose burned at the smell. The villain at her back pushed her closer and now the scent of sweat and dirt reached her.
‘She looks awake and ready now, Iain Dubh,’ the giant man called out. She’d not seen him approach but Iain shoved the man holding her aside and grabbed her by the wrist to hold her there. ‘If ye canna swive her now, I really will need to show ye the right way of it.’
‘I hiv told ye—I amna sharing her,’ he replied. The men hissed and guffawed their disappointment. ‘But,’ he began, turning her to face him, ‘I am no’ opposed to letting her do other things for ye scoundrels.’
Yelling and clapping, the men grew louder and more boisterous over this. Fia stared in horror at Iain Dubh, wondering if he would do this to her.
‘Nay! Nay, do no’ mistake my kindness,’ he called out to them. ‘She can cook for us. ’twould be better than the burnt mess ye call porridge, Martainn!’ he said, meeting her gaze now. ‘Can ye cook, lass?’
Fia did not say a word, fear yet held her in its control. All she could do was give a slight nod in reply.
‘There ye go! Finally, a decent meal is to be had,’ he said. With a grip that did not relent, he tugged her closer. ‘And I would no’ mind if she washed my trews and shirt,’ he said. ‘They are close to standin’ on their own.’ He laughed then and pointed at one of the others. ‘Lundie, will we be here long enough for her to do some laundry?’
‘Aye,’ a tall man off to one side said. She’d seen him before. In the village when Iain Dubh had claimed her. He must be in charge of this ruthless group. ‘A few days.’
‘There ye go, friends,’ Iain Dubh said, smiling at them. ‘Ye can hiv a hot meal in yer bellies and clothes on yer backs that dinna smell as bad as Micheil does.’
The mood of the men had changed from dangerous to something less so. Oh, she did not doubt that any one of them would seize her and do those things they’d said, but, for now, they seemed calmed from their worst. Calmed by Iain Dubh. With only words, he’d eased their demand for her and given them something else to please them. When he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting one of his hands on her buttocks, all good thoughts about his abilities and his intention scattered.
‘And when she is tired of cooking and laundry, I wi’ keep her busy with other...chores!’ The men laughed then and Iain leaned his face down to hers. In that last moment, as she planned to bite him again if he tried that disgusting thing with his tongue, he whispered so only she could hear. ‘If ye naysay me, lass, I will give ye over to them.’
Though she expected the kiss, the gentleness of it surprised her. As did the feel of his hand in its intimate caress. Trapped between his strong chest and his embrace, Fia tried not to fight him. His tone gave no indication that he was jesting or did not mean what he’d said.
So, instead, to keep panic away and not struggle in his arms, Fia did what she did when trying to distract herself—she began counting the number of cousins in The Mackintosh Clan. She managed to count the first fifteen, by name and age, before the kiss changed and drew her attention back to him and his mouth. He had slanted his mouth against hers and was rubbing his tongue over her lips.
Mayhap because she’d not been paying attention, it was not as abhorrent as that first time? Now, though, he slid his other hand into her hair, holding her head close as he managed to get his tongue inside her mouth and...taste her! The hand on her bottom caressed her there and pressed her against the obvious hardness in his groin. When she shifted in his embrace, he lifted his head and laughed aloud.
‘I think the lass is interested after all,’ he said so everyone could hear. ‘But, ye hiv a meal to make, love. See to that and then I wi’ see to ye.’
Before she could speak, he spun her around to face the fire and swatted her on her bottom, sending her in that direction. Fia let out a squeak and she stumbled away from him. Making porridge would be easy and preferable to what the scoundrel had planned for her. Gathering the edges of her torn gown, she tightened the belt and linen strips holding it all closed.
‘Where are your supplies?’ she asked, looking at Lundie. He was in charge of this motley group, so she would give him his due.
He led her over to a tarp-covered pile and tugged one edge of it loose. Wooden crates and sacks of all sorts and sizes lay there. Whether bought or stolen, she knew not, but most staples needed to feed the gang were here. And in adequate amounts.
Glancing around, she found a large iron pot that could be used. As she lifted it, she saw and smelled the burned-on layers of many previous uses. As Fia was about to ask if she could take it to the stream and wash it out she realised she held knowledge about this encampment that they most likely did not.
She knew where the stream led. She knew which caves connected. And, she remembered where the secret tunnels were. Brodie had insisted that everyone in their camp—be they man, woman or child—know an escape route from it. Fia did not remember any talk that those pathways had been closed or filled in when they all moved back to Drumlui, so that knowledge could be the means of her escape.
‘Is there a place to wash this out and get water?’ she asked.
‘Aye, down that path, but ’tis a good mile.’
‘Is that where I’m to launder their clothing?’ she asked.
‘Aye.’ Lundie nodded and then whistled. A few seconds later, one of the men broke through the trees and approached. ‘Take her to the stream, Martainn.’
‘Isn’t she Iain Dubh’s?’ he asked, rubbing the back of his hand across his grimy forehead.
‘I did not tell you to swive her at the stream. I said take her there so she can clean that and get water,’ Lundie explained. ‘Only that, do you understand?’
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