Chapter Twelve

Neacal held Anna's face gently between his hands. The scent of mint and lavender from the salve was strong, but his mouth retained her full attention. Deliciously devouring. She found her hands exploring the well-developed muscles of his bare chest and the scars and ridges of his abdomen down to his belt.

A rough moan escaped him.

She knew she had only to drop her hand a bit lower to feel his arousal. Dare she do it? She opened her eyes to find him watching her in the firelight, his eyes midnight blue beneath his lowered lashes, his expression one of a need so strong it bordered on pain.

"Damnation, I—" He moved to arise, but she grabbed hold of his hand.

"Nay, please," she begged. She knew 'twas her words that halted him, not her grasp. "Neacal."

"Aye?"

"I want…" She halted, unable to believe her own brashness.

He released a breath, his tormented eyes searching hers. "What?" he whispered as if giving in, trailing his roughened fingers along her cheek. "Tell me what you want, lovely Anna."

A thrill of arousal coursed through her, his compliment making her bolder.

"I want… to make you feel better."

His brows formed a slight frown. "And what about you? What would make you feel better?"

"Touching you," she confessed, feeling wicked, but at the same time knowing this was something she needed to do. They needed each other.

His dark blue gaze turned inferno hot. "You may touch me all you like," he said, blowing out a heated breath, "but only if I can touch you, too."

She nodded, imagining his strong but gentle hands stroking every inch of her as they had the night before. She dropped her gaze to his belt buckle, the gleaming brass reflecting the firelight, taunting her. Hesitantly, she moved her hands to it and grasped the leather.

He sucked in a hissing breath and her gaze flew to his. Saints, but he looked hot enough to ignite and his eyes dared her to continue. A rush of excitement sizzled along her nerves.

Manipulating the leather and the brass buckle, she managed to unfasten his belt. It loosened, along with his gathered plaid. She tugged at the folds and it dropped aside, leaving him naked. Before she could get a good look at him, he turned her and drew her onto his lap. He unbuckled her belt, then pulled her clothing down to her hips. She shivered.

He leaned forward, pressing kisses across her chest to her breast. He blew out a hot breath and tugged her nipple into his mouth.

She gasped, arching her back, her arms holding tighter to his shoulders.

He pushed her arisaid , smock and petticoats down over her hips. In a few moments, she was just as nude as he was. His skin felt delightfully fiery against hers.

He lifted her, making her head spin, and deposited her on the bedroll on the floor. He tucked her head beneath his chin and held her close. His breathing was uneven, his rapid heartbeat pounding against her ear. "I don't know what the devil I'm doing," he muttered. "I should not touch you. You deserve so much better."

How could he say such a thing? She pulled back to look into his face."Shh." She kissed his mouth, holding his face between her palms. "You are the most amazing man I know."

His hands upon her derriere, he pulled her tight against his erection that lay long and hard against her lower belly. She moaned. He felt so astounding she was near ready to beg.

Inside, she already ached for him. Her arousal and her absolute devotion to him combined to form a tempestuous emotion and a need so wild and out of control she didn't know what to do. Kissing him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His heart pounded hard against her chest, and her own heartbeat drowned out all other sounds except his deep, rough moans.

"Anna, mo ghraidh. " Taking control, he rolled between her legs and continued kissing her, his lips and tongue stealing her reasoning. She could think of naught but having him immerse himself within her, the dark corners of his soul touching hers.

When he nudged his shaft against her most sensitive flesh, she gasped and clung tighter to his neck.

"Damnation, how I want you," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Aye, take me, Neacal," she whispered, opening herself to him, tugging him closer.

"'Tis madness. I should not."

"Please. I want you, too."

"Are you certain?" His dark, tortured eyes said he did not believe her.

"Of course, I'm certain." Sliding her hand down his firm, ridged lower abdomen, she reached for him. Her hand encountered his hard shaft. She palmed him and stroked up his length, then grasped him and guided him exactly where she wanted him.

He hissed again, then murmured Gaelic curses. Pressing his forehead against hers, he entered her slowly, inch by torturous inch. Though her body was unused to such an extreme invasion, she did not flinch at the intensity which bordered on pain.

Clinging tight to him, she thrust her hips. "Hurry, please," she breathed.

He gave a harsh growl, holding her head between his hands. He looked into her eyes, into her soul, and drove himself to her depths. She groaned and dug her nails into his firm arse. Holding still, he kissed her cheeks, her closed eyelids and her lips.

When he withdrew, she cried out at the thrilling, divine sensation. Not wanting him to go, she pulled at him. "Again."

He thrust, driving himself deeper still.

Crying out, she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Oh, please."

"Anna," he breathed. "Nothing has ever felt this good."

"Aye, Neacal. More."

Once he started moving, he propelled her into a pleasure so profound she had never even imagined it. His passion was dark and rich, so delicious and powerful it edged on pain. He drove her through a pleasure of unbearable intensity. She could do naught but cling to him in desperation, crying out, losing control.

He suckled her nipple and she thought she might die of the rapturous bliss. Then, he found her other nipple and drew it into his mouth. She arched her back as he plunged into her and she felt herself falling. She screamed, holding onto him lest she go flying off the edge of the world.

He locked his lips onto hers and continued to test the limits of her endurance. The pleasure burst within her like a thousand shooting stars. Feeling like she was flying and tumbling through the air, she screamed out.

Holding himself deep, he shuddered and growled in her ear. "Anna," he rasped.

She hugged him tightly to her. How precious he was, how dear to her.

They lay unmoving for long moments, simply breathing, absorbing the impact, holding each other. Neacal inhaled deeply, his heart still pounding with excitement. He could not grasp what had just happened. The absolute bliss had been unfathomable. How could such unimaginable pleasure exist in a harsh and painful world?

Though he didn't want to, he withdrew from her, lay down beside her and pulled her tight against his chest.

Aye, he'd bedded women many times before, years past, but never like that. Never a touching of souls. What on earth had Anna done to him? He no longer controlled his impulses, nor did he want to.

Some odd, light feeling bubbled up from the core of his being and a short laugh burst from him. He tamped down the urge and drew back, searching out Anna's gaze.

She grinned, watching him with understanding. Giving him permission to feel the joy? Did she feel it, too?

Unable to stop his smile, he stroked her face, so smooth in the firelight. What perfection she was, a gift only for him. At least, that was the illusion, but 'twas not true. She was not his but instead was bound to another man. The brief moment of happiness dimmed like cold embers. As elusive as sparks falling and fading in the frosty air.

He turned onto his back, disquiet worming through his body. "I am a madman. This confirms it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Making love to a woman who is taken."

"I'm not taken," she said with soft intensity. "'Tis why I'm here and not with the bastard."

Aye, well, there was a chief and a clan somewhere who disagreed, and therein lay the problem.

"So, you regret it," she said, her delicate voice disappointed.

When he turned onto his side again, he found her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He would rather hurt himself than make her cry. "Nay, of course not." Gently gathering her close, he kissed her lips. "'Twas the best hour of my life." And that was the truth. He did not simply say things to flatter her. If life was balanced, the pleasure he'd just experienced was equal in intensity and volume to the pain he'd suffered two years ago.

She blushed, her gaze dropping. "I don't wish to put you in any danger. When we part ways, no one will ken of it."

Part ways? Those words stabbed at him like daggers. He did not ever want to part ways with her. But how to say that… how to explain it? "I'll protect you from the bastard." Always, for the rest of his life, if necessary. He could not say that, and knew he was foolish for even thinking it. If the man had forced her to marry him, he obviously wanted her badly. "How does Blackburn feel about you? Does he fancy himself in love with you?"

She shook her head, her eyes growing troubled. "Nay. Far from it. He feels naught but greed. He wants to possess me like a thing . He has no heart, no soul. I was his rival's wife, and to make me his wife makes him feel powerful and victorious. For him to possess all that my husband had… 'tis like he is dancing upon his grave."

What a brute. He would not rest until the bastard was dead. "I'll never let him have you. I promise you that."

"I thank you, but I cannot let you put yourself in any more danger. I need to be away from here. But where shall I go?"

When he imagined her leaving, anguish reached in and seized his heart. "Nay. I'm not letting you out of my sight. He's the one who will be in danger."

"You are but one man. He has a garrison of several dozen."

"Are you thinking that matters?" Neacal would take them all down, two or three at a time, if he had to. He had not clawed his way back from death for naught. For him to have survived… that meant he had a reason to be here.

She was his reason.

"You cannot fight so many men without reinforcements." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Please be reasonable."

He couldn't fight them all at once; he knew that. He wasn't an idiot, simply determined. The important thing was that she was safe. "I'll take you back to Bearach, but in the meantime, I'll do whatever it takes to protect you from the beast."

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. "I wish I had never left Bearach. We were both safe there. Because of Chief Hamilton, I made a grievous error and I'm sorry."

"Don't fash over it. Like you said, 'tis only by surviving the difficult things that we grow stronger."

"You're the strongest person I know," she said, rubbing her thumb against his biceps muscle. His body quickened at the light pressure and he wanted her again. Already.

He tugged her against him and kissed her forehead. "'Haps physically, but you have a strength of mind and spirit that I admire. After all the terror and grief you have suffered, you create beautiful music which is surely sent from heaven."

He didn't understand it. Her soul wasn't clouded by the gloom as his was. A brilliant healing light glowed from her. 'Twas not only something he saw with his eyes, but something he felt. This same light burst forth with the songs her voice carried to float over everyone and give them a glimpse of paradise for a few moments.

"But I was afraid," she said. "That's why I left Bearach and made things worse."

He smoothed her golden hair back from her temple, then reverently traced the arch of her brow with his thumb. "You should've come to me for help."

"I didn't know what you would do. I feared you would evict all of us, and Eli is too old to endure the elements."

He frowned. "I would never do such a thing. How can you think I would?"

"I didn't know you then like I do now. I have to keep reminding myself you're not like most men."

He shook his head. "You have the right of it."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaned forward and lightly kissed his lips.

Lust blazed through him and he could not stop the low, breathy moan which escaped him. Drawing her close, he continued the kiss, turning it from innocence to a flash fire of carnal yearning.

Saints! He did not see how he would ever get enough of this woman. She threw her leg over his hip, spurring his reckless urges. Lying on her back, she pulled at his shoulders. He needed no more encouragement. He was more than ready to sink down into her perfect bliss yet again. And again, if she would let him.

She turned him into someone else… someone he did not know… someone happy.

When he drove himself into her yielding wetness, the magnitude almost overwhelmed him. Holding himself still, he absorbed the moment, absorbed the heat of her. He never wanted to forget this flawless but brief instant, the most amazing of his life.

Now he knew… she was the reason he'd survived.

"Neacal?"

"Aye?"

"Are you…?"

He withdrew, turning her words into a moan. Her hand clutched at his hair.

"What?" he asked.

"Naught," she breathed. "Just keep doing that."

And he did, he slid back in, deeper than before. The little female growl she uttered only made him harder. His next withdrawal and thrust was quicker.

She gasped. "Oh, aye. 'Tis amazing," she whispered.

She didn't have to tell him. He was already near crazy with the pleasure and the wanting. Of its own accord, his body moved faster. Long, deep thrusts. Aye, he wanted to claim every inch of her. She was his now, and that was final.

He captured her mouth and devoured it. He wanted her wrapped around every part of him. And she accepted him eagerly. He was thrilled to find her lustful greediness matched his own as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders.

Saints, he had never felt such a need to possess, take and give. Rising over her, he pulled her legs upward and pounded into her harder. His thrusts were almost violent. Teeth grinding together, jaw clenched, he hammered into her. She cried out his name, still begging him for more. Harder. And he gave. Finally, she screamed, her inner muscles squeezing him tightly, clutching onto him. He could endure no more. His climax blazed through him like a quick fiery fuse and then the explosion hit. Something beyond pleasure. Every inch of his body was on fire. He jerked, shoving even deeper into her, holding her still as he filled her. Aye, she was his. Forever.

He crashed to the bedroll beside her and drew her close in his arms. They both breathed hard, mouth to mouth.

"Anna." He cursed, not knowing what to say. There were no words to express the intensity of what he'd just felt.

"Aye, Neacal." Her slim arms surrounded him, held him tight. Her hands gently stroked the marred, tingling skin of his back. A giggle escaped her.

He pulled back to see her beaming.

"Oh heavens! That was astonishing," she said.

"Your smile is so beautiful," he murmured, kissing the corner of her grin.

"I feel like singing." Anna sat up, hardly able to keep her happiness under control. "Would you like that?"

Neacal lay on his side and shifted his gaze to the low-burning fire.

What had just happened? Her exuberance could hardly be contained within her body. She wanted to shout and sing from the mountaintops! But the sudden dimming of Neacal's expression ensnared her and squeezed the air from her excitement.

"What is wrong?" she asked him.

"Mayhap tomorrow. 'Tis late and we need to be as quiet as possible."

He was right of course. Disappointment overshadowed her just as it did every time he left the great hall during her performance. "You truly don't like my singing," she stated, knowing the truth now.

His gaze lifted, spearing her like sharp daggers. "I love it beyond words."

"Then why…?" She was afraid to ask. Why do you leave? Why do you pull away?

"Your singing… your lovely voice affects me in ways I don't understand." The words sounded wrenched and torn from him. He shook his head, hesitating, as if admitting something he didn't want to. "Sometimes your singing cuts to my soul and releases all sorts of demons. I feel as if a gale storm is ripping through me. So damned beautiful… there are no words."

"Oh." How was it possible that she could touch him so deeply? She felt humbled. He must have locked away his emotions since the torture. She supposed most anyone would in order to survive, otherwise the agony might overwhelm.

"It hurts, but it also heals and calms me." He dropped his gaze. "I'm sure you must think me insane."

"Not at all." She touched his face and his whiskers scratched her palm.

He placed his hand along the back of hers, turned his head and kissed her palm, his flame blue eyes meeting hers again. Her heart skipped a beat. Heavens, how could she guard her heart from him? She feared there was no avoiding falling for him. It had already happened.

When he drew her into his arms again, she went eagerly.

***

The next day, the wind blew colder and an icy rain hissed through the air. Neacal took a roundabout trek around the side of the mountain to gaze down toward the glen to see if any intruders approached. When he saw that none did, he returned to the cottage around noon. They ate the porridge Anna had cooked during his absence, then they bathed each other and made love well into the evening while the fresh pot of rabbit stew bubbled.

As they were eating the evening meal, Dunn scratched at the door, obviously smelling their food. Once he'd devoured his portion of the stew, he lay down contentedly by the fire-pit.

Since the weather had turned colder, he knew Dunn enjoyed staying inside with them.

Sometime later, Dunn woofed low, waking Neacal. The dog leapt to his feet, sniffed at the door, then growled.

"Damnation." Neacal jumped up.

"What is it?" Anna whispered.

"Someone is out there. Get dressed." Rushing, he belted his plaid in place at his waist and slipped on his boots, ignoring the rest of his clothing. He grabbed his sword, dirk and targe and hurried to the door. He placed his hand upon Dunn's head, hoping to quiet the animal.

Neacal listened. Hearing footsteps, he muttered a curse. Had the MacCromars come for Anna, or was it some of his own clan, searching for him?

"Release the lady and send her out!" demanded a voice outside the door.

He met Anna's terrified gaze where she stood frozen in place by the fire-pit.

"There is no lady here!" Neacal said in a disguised, elderly voice, hoping they would think him an old shepherd.

Outside, something crashed against the door. Being barred with a wide, strong plank, it didn't budge.

Neacal knelt, lay his sword aside, and pulled a heavy, flat flagstone across the floor, revealing a hidden tunnel. "Hide in here," he whispered to Anna.

"Oh, thanks be to God." She hurried toward it. "Come with me."

"Not yet. I want to off a few of them first."

"What? Nay, you cannot fight so many." Her worried eyes pleaded with him. "Blackburn probably sent his whole garrison."

"Get yourself in there, lass." He pushed at her gently. "You too, Dunn."

The dog growled at those outside and scratched at the door.

He dragged the dog toward the hole in the floor and pushed him inside after Anna. "Go, Dunn," he commanded.

"Please hurry," Anna urged him.

"Aye. Only a few minutes." With the two inside, Neacal replaced the large flat stone, concealing the hole, then picked up his sword. He kicked at the fire, extinguishing most of the flames. He didn't want his enemies to be able to see him should they burst inside.

Something smashed against the door again and part of it splintered. He peered through the crack. In the torchlight outside, he saw that four men were drawing the log back to ram the door again. When they were close enough, Neacal thrust his sword through the opening, jabbing their hands which held the log. One of the men cried out, lost his grip and dodged back. The rest tossed the log at the door, then scuttled back for cover.

"Go in there and drag him out by the hair!" their commander shouted, holding a torch about twenty feet away. "He has Lady MacCromar and we must rescue her."

"Lady MacCromar, my arse," Neacal muttered. He was determined that Anna would be Lady MacDonald before the month was out. All he had to do was kill a murderous brute.

Was Blackburn MacCromar out there?

Neacal hoped the men would come in after him. The door was so narrow only one man at a time could enter, and he could off each one separately.

Outside, the men held several torches aloft. He could easily see when three men charged toward the door of the cottage, their swords drawn. He held the advantage, for he stood in the darkness.

When the first man burst through the door, Neacal aimed to the side of his targe and ran him through. 'Twas too easy. He shoved the screaming man backward into his comrade and that man's blade conveniently stabbed into him, too. Shouts of pain resounded. The second man pushed him aside and raised his weapon, but not in time. Neacal's blade was already slicing the man's throat. The third man suffered a similar fate and staggered back outside before falling.

"Who's next?" Neacal shouted, battle rage surging inside him. Damnation, he was ready for more action.

The men outside were in a tizzy, yelling and arguing amongst themselves. They reminded him of fishwives instead of warriors. He shoved the broken door closed but still watched them through the splintered hole.

"Come on, bastards," he hissed quietly.

Their commander strode forward and flung his torch onto the shieling's thatch roof.

"Hell." 'Twas time to take his leave.

As he dragged the large flat stone back from the opening, the popping and crackling of the burning thatch reached his ears. "Anna, they've set the roof afire." Without waiting for her response, he tossed their remaining supplies down beside her, along with his bow and arrows, her sack, clothing, and anything they might use. He crawled down into the cellar and pulled the stone back into place. Dunn nosed at him and whined.

Neacal turned in the pitch darkness and almost bumped into Anna.

"We cannot hide in here! The smoke will kill us," she said. Her fingers dug into his arm.

"Nay. Calm yourself." He clasped her shoulders between his palms. "This is not just a cellar. An underground tunnel leads out."

"In truth?" Her voice shook.

"Aye. Three of the crofter's sons helped me dig it last year, before I stayed here." He refused to remain anywhere without an alternate escape route. "Do you have your things?"

"Aye. 'Tis so dark in here, I can see naught. Where is the tunnel?" Anna asked, her voice anxious.

He looped the quiver full of arrows over his neck and shoulder and took the bow in hand. His sword and dirk remained in their scabbards. "Over here. Hold onto my plaid." He felt his way along the stone wall.

"Where does it emerge?" Right on his heels, she bumped into him.

"Near a different trail down the mountain."

"I'll be glad to get out of here."

"I'll go in front," he said.

They crawled along the tunnel. Seeing naught but pure darkness, he used his hands to feel his way along the muddy, damp passage. The air was dank and loam-scented, but when it turned fresher, he knew they were approaching the exit.

He emerged into the night. The moon shone through scattered clouds. He took Anna's hand and helped her stand. "Are you well?"

"Aye." She breathed deeply. "A little mud and dirt won't hurt me." She tossed the sack of clothing over her shoulder. "Where will we go now?"

"I'll show you. Come, Dunn." After checking all his weapons and making sure they were in place, Neacal tucked her hand around his elbow. "A few hundred yards up the mountain, there's a hidden outcropping of rock with several bushes and boulders surrounding it." In the dimness, he helped her maneuver through the rocks and heather until they reached their destination between two hills.

He found a well-concealed spot behind the ragged outcropping. "You and Dunn will wait here."

"Where are you going?" Anna asked, her hand tightening around his elbow. "We should all remain hidden until they leave."

"Nay. Once the shieling burns and they don't find our bodies inside, they'll be searching for us. They may even find the tunnel. Right now, I have the advantage because they don't know we've escaped. Remain here, seated behind these rocks until I come back for you. Take this." He handed her the dirk. "Stab any man who tries to grab you."

"What are you going to do?"

Should he tell her he intended to fight a one-man battle with them? Nay, she would worry too much. "I'm going to remain hidden and see how many of them there are." That was true, at least. He didn't need to tell her the rest of his intentions.

"Please, have a care." Her fingers gripped his hand.

"I will." Neacal bent and kissed her quickly on the forehead. He wanted to kiss her lips but there was no time to enjoy it. "Sit down there." Taking her hands, he helped her sit on a flat rock, then petted the dog. "Stay, Dunn. Quiet," he commanded. "Stay with Anna. Guard." The dog was well-trained and should obey his orders even while he was gone. Dunn whined but lay down beside Anna.

"Good lad. Anna, I'll return as soon as I can, mayhap in an hour." He hoped.

"Aye, please do hurry."

Carrying his sword, bow and arrows and a couple of smaller knives, he hastened around the side of the moonlit hill. Finally, the burning roof of the cottage came into view. He silently picked his way among the boulders, gorse bushes and small trees behind the structure then to the east of it, in the direction opposite Anna. He'd draw them away from her hiding place.

The bastards surrounded the cottage, moving this way and that, some laughing, others shouting. As they stood back from the heat and flame, their silhouettes made them easy targets.

He nocked an arrow, aimed and let it fly toward one of them. The whoreson yelled and dropped to the ground. Ducking out of sight, Neacal quickly nocked arrow after arrow, taking down an enemy each time and counting, for he'd had two dozen arrows exactly and he'd reclaimed the ones he'd used on the rabbits. Once he ran out, he'd have to use his sword on the rest of them.

Six… seven men down.

The remaining knaves—only five or six in his estimation—screamed and ran for cover. Someone shouted an order and a flaming arrow shot in his general direction. It landed several yards from him among the rocks. He moved further away into the darkness, then peered around a large boulder. Their archer shot more arrows toward the place he had been. He would collect those arrows to use when he could. In the meantime, he waited off to the left and could easily see two of them crouched behind a rock. He took aim and sent an arrow sailing toward the closest one. He cried out and tried to crawl away.

"Coward!" one of the enemies yelled. "Come out and show yourself!"

Neacal gave a smirking grin. In his estimation, a coward was one who set a cottage on fire in order to flush out the occupants to capture or kill them. Where was the honor in that? But there was much honor, cunning and skill in the Highland way of fighting. The whoresons were free to come and hunt him down if they were brave enough.

"Go find the bastard!" their commander yelled.

"Aye, find me if you dare," Neacal whispered. This was what he'd been training himself for during the past year, though he hadn't even known it.

Three men fanned out and raced into the rocks and bushes where he had been hiding earlier. Catching sight of one, he shot an arrow, but it ricocheted off a rock.

Damnation, his only miss.

"He's over there!" one of the searchers yelled, pointing in his direction.

He hastened up the mountain, hoping to draw them further away from Anna.

They made a substantial amount of noise as they clambered up the stony hillside, rocks tumbling, their swords clanging against them from time to time.

Neacal paused and waited for the men. Squinting in the predawn light, he could make out their movements below. His survival and Anna's depended on him taking out every last one. If they were to catch him, they didn't plan on letting him live. And if they captured Anna, Blackburn would surely beat and abuse her… and eventually kill her. Neacal refused to let that happen.

He took aim at one of the men and released an arrow. A shout echoed down the glen.

His comrades yelled out and took cover.

"We have to get the hell out of here!" one of them bellowed. "Before we're all dead."

One man against a garrison of around fifteen. Not bad.

Did they think they deserved his mercy after they'd tried to burn him and Anna alive?

"Come on, you cowards!" Neacal yelled, itching for a fight. "Come get me if you think you have the stones for it!" he taunted.

Rocks clattered below and in the dawn glimmer, he picked up the movements of the two remaining men. At first, he thought they'd accepted his challenge, but then, he saw they were retreating… running back toward the burning cottage and their waiting commander. Once in the clearing, they sped up and raced past their shouting superior. Maybe he wouldn't run. Neacal slipped down the hillside, watchful for any movements to the side. He wanted to make sure none of the enemies were lurking about.

Stopping behind a boulder, Neacal nocked an arrow and drew aim at the enemy, not fifty feet away. The man turned, his gaze landing on Neacal. The commander leapt behind a large rock, pointed a pistol and fired.