Chapter 3
Keir’s dreams were a confusing tangle of memories.
Grown adults taunted him as a child, mocking him for being the product of his father’s whore.
Theon forced him to look away as his father’s and mother’s bodies lay slaughtered on their bed.
Graeme lay feverish, close to death, after a raid went wrong.
Briana gaped at him as he turned his back on her from the trees.
Noah screamed at him to run as the Cameron and McFarlane men moved in.
And through it all, the smell of smoke, the flames that had taken his home again and again, singed his nostrils, mingling with the air, settling in his lungs.
“Keir.”
He sat on his mother’s knee, sobbing his heart out as she tried to explain why he could never be treated the same way as his brother, his young heart tearing in two as he tried to understand why his mother was excluded, and he was spurned by so many visitors.
“Keir, wake up.”
He drew back his fist and punched Theon hard, fury overwhelming him as he saw his brother towering over a helpless, sobbing woman and thought for just a moment he’d lost him forever.
“Keir!”
He jolted awake, coughing and spluttering, his body warm and the smell of smoke and herbs overwhelming him. Keir blinked a few times, staring up into the daylight, trying to understand where he was and what was happening. The last thing he remembered, he’d been heading toward Loch Aber, hadn’t he?
He blinked, groaning, his body aching.
No. He’d arrived there. It came back in a sudden flood. The inn. The girl. He tried to sit up, but a firm but strangely gentle hand held him down.
“Stay where ye are,” a warm voice said, and Keir’s swimming vision finally focused enough to see Theon’s face above him, relief written all over it. “Ye’re nae tae move for a good hour yet.”
“Theon,” Keir gasped. Was he still dreaming? What had happened? Where was Elin?
“Is he awake?” a feminine voice asked. Not Elin, but still familiar. The brown hair and green eyes of Briana Cameron appeared beside Theon, and Keir stared up at her in disbelief. She smiled as she saw his eyes open. “Oh, thank God. I’ll let the lads ken ye’re awake.”
Briana hurried off at once, and Theon watched her go before turning back to Keir.
“Graeme and Noah found ye just in time. Ye had me worried, ye wee eejit. I thought ye were gone. When ye werenae at Loch Aber, I worried we were too late tae find ye, and then when our brothers did find ye in such a state…”
Keir pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the screaming protest in his side and Theon’s immediate admonishments.
He wanted to ask how Theon had managed to save Briana, or how the two of them had managed to survive long enough to reunite with Graeme and Noah.
He wanted to ask what had happened in the days that they were apart.
But when he managed to speak again, all his raspy voice managed was two words. “The woman?”
Theon’s smile faded. “She’s inside,” he said, nodding toward one of the huts.
“The healer we got the herbs from said the fresh air would be good for ye. We’ve been takin’ turns tendin’ tae ye all night, but we werenae sure what tae do with her.
She refused tae speak tae any of us. Who is she? Why is she here?”
Keir grunted. “She… she’s Eamon Grant’s lover. Her name’s Elin.”
“Does she have a family?” Theon asked. “Did ye take her? Keir—”
“I didnae have a choice. Ye are the last person who gets tae judge me for it,” Keir told him sharply. “Briana Cameron—”
“Briana MacKenzie,” Theon corrected, his voice thick with pride.
Keir paused. His head ached as he understood the implication, but he didn’t know how to feel about it, not yet. Nor could he even bring himself to think about it. There was a beat of silence, then Theon seemed to take pity.
“What do ye mean ye had nae choice?” Theon asked.
“She recognized me, Theon. Grant was right there. All I kent was that I needed tae get her away before she called the guards or, worse, Grant himself down upon me head.” Keir shook his head. “It was foolish, but I dinnae ken what else I could have done.”
Theon breathed a soft curse, but there was no censure within it. “All right. We’ll need tae do somethin’. Perhaps we can come tae some sort of deal with Grant, or—”
But Keir was already shaking his head. “It’s me own foolishness that got me intae this situation. It’s me own responsibility tae get me out of it. Leave her tae me. I’ll think of somethin’.”
“Keir…”
“Help me up.”
He expected Theon to object, but after a long moment of staring, Theon gave him a terse nod and held out a hand. Keir accepted, and his brother hauled him to his feet.
It took a moment for him to settle and expel the dizziness that threatened to floor him again, but even though he was still in a lot of pain, Keir could tell that the healer’s herbs were working already.
His wounds were no longer actively bleeding and, though he was lightheaded, he was sure he would be able to support himself long enough to walk into one of the small cabins that had been built in what he now understood was the Broken Blades’ latest hideout.
“I’m goin’ tae see her,” he said.
Theon just nodded. “Be careful, brother,” he warned.
Keir didn’t answer. Ignoring the way his body groaned in protest, he nodded and turned to go inside.
Elin stared into the darkness.
They’d blindfolded her at some point, and her arms had been bound for so long now that she’d lost all feeling in them.
Had she fallen asleep at some point? She didn’t remember.
She didn’t know if it was day or night, nor who her two newest captors had been, nor whether Keir MacKenzie was still alive.
All she knew was that they had swiftly captured her and the horse and brought her to this place, where they had sat her on a surprisingly soft bed, bound and blindfolded, and left her utterly alone.
She had thought that Keir’s collapse had been a turn of good luck, but now she knew better.
She was in for a much worse fate. Despite her fury at him, she believed him for some reason when he told her he had no intention of using her body.
She had a feeling the MacKenzie bastard was as honorable as he was captivating.
But she could not say the same for the strange pair who had abducted her, nor for the third voice she had briefly heard in the room.
There was a fourth member of this strange outlaw camp, too.
Elin had heard a woman’s voice, soft but insistent, but that had been cut off quickly.
She could only imagine that the woman was there as a domestic slave, warming the meals and the beds of the kidnappers in equal measure.
Was that to be Elin’s fate, too? The thought sickened her.
It was one thing to be used and discarded, but to be kept on to be used repeatedly for the sake of these outlaws was more than she could bear.
She froze as she heard the door creak open and a heavy boot fall onto one of the floorboards. Her whole body went rigid and it felt like her breath was caught in her lungs.
Had they come for her?
She hadn’t had time to really take in the appearances of the men who had captured her, only that they were tall and imposing, battle-scarred and muscular, and more than she could ever hope to defend against. Despite her determination to keep calm, she seized up with fear at the thought of what would happen once the man crossed the room toward her.
The door closed and the man took another step closer, his breathing heavy and labored.
Elin’s hands shook and she felt lightheaded as she tried and failed to suck in air.
The footsteps stopped. “I’m nae here tae hurt ye.”
Surprise rushed through her as she recognized the voice, and her muscles sagged with relief.
It was him.
Keir MacKenzie was still alive.
Not only that, but those men were somehow with him. She couldn’t make sense of it, but it didn’t matter at that second, because she was too delirious with the knowledge that her worst imaginings were not about to come true.
Then he spoke again. “Yer arms must hurt.”
The delusional moment of relief shattered at those words and she tensed again, though this time not in fear.
She wanted to laugh in his face, but instead she spoke with as much reproach and irony in her tone as she could muster.
“Ye bound me who kens how long ago and yer thugs have only made it worse. Congratulations on yer brilliant use of logic.”
He stepped closer. She could not see him, but she could hear his footsteps, and more importantly she could feel a strange current between them as his body approached hers. “I had nae intention of ye gettin’ hurt,” he insisted in a voice that was almost soft. “Hold out yer arms.”
She scoffed. “Why? Are ye gonnae let me go as ye promised?”
The floor creaked and she could tell he had lowered himself in front of her.
With her eyes covered, her other senses were alight as he knelt at the side of the bed, his body lightly leaning against her thighs in a way that made her skin warm through her thin skirt.
The air around her prickled with his closeness, and the scent of medicinal herbs mixed with smoke and blood and something deep and woodsy threatened to distract her entirely.
He gently raised her arms and she did not pull away.
“Nay,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I cannae let ye go. But I can at least help.”