Highlander's Heart (Clan Matheson #2)

“Raise the portcullis!” The call came from the guardsman standing atop the battlements. The portcullis rose, the clunky sound of its chains reverberating across the outer yard. Horses’ hooves pounded then a score of Matheson riders galloped out and rode away from them along the grassy path and up the cliff side trail between their keep and the fae village farther along the loch.

Another group of warriors, all wearing the MacDonald plaid, marched through the gate and strode down to the sea-gate landing where their galley remained moored at the end. MacDonald men on board the galley already busied themselves as if they were preparing to leave. How odd. Searching the sea-gate for one of her clansmen and finding none, she said, “Is there a reason why your men appear—”

Donnan grabbed her, shoved a thick wad of cloth into her mouth from his sporran, jammed a grubby sack over her head then hauled her hands behind her back and shoved her front up hard against the trunk next to them. She fought to move but he snagged twine around her wrists, bound them together. In her ear, he rasped, “I came back here to the keep after stringing Gerald up, told my men to be prepared to leave the moment I returned, hopefully by dawn, then I rode back to the encampment to find you. Surely you didnae think I’d truly ever accept another bride of fae blood, other than you?”

He’d lied, outright lied to her. The bastard.

“There is one thing you need to learn about me, Layla. I never break a vow. I agreed to wed you and I shall.” He stroked a finger down her arm and she shivered with disgust.

“I am already wed to Tor,” she mumbled through the cloth although her words were almost indistinguishable and damn it, she was now without any sight. She couldn’t use her skill if she couldn’t see what she needed to move or manipulate. So very few knew exactly how her father’s and her skill worked. How had he?

“Loss of sight, loss of skill.” He snickered in her ear. “You’re surely wondering how I knew. I’ve always known. My father instructed me well on all he’d discovered over the years having known your father as he did. And by the way, you will repudiate your handfast vow once we reach Dunscaith, and following that, you’ll be speaking true marriage vows with me afore a clergyman. ’Twill be those vows alone that shall count and none other.” He jerked on her restrained hands, tightened the knots. “I will bed you the moment that is done, then you’ll bear my sons who will be as strongly skilled as you are. I will accept no other satisfaction.”

“Tor!” She screamed his name down their link as Donnan heaved her over his shoulder and her belly thumped into his rock hard shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldnae have trusted Donnan, nor taken my gaze off him. You must hurry.”



Layla’s words echoed through Tor’s mind and made his heart stutter as he galloped across the moors toward the castle. He followed her thoughts, picked up that Donnan had shoved a gag in her mouth and blacked out her sight by hooking a sack over her head. Her hands were bound and her belly jolted into Donnan’s shoulder with each step Donnan took as he carried her around the forest’s edge toward the sea-gate, just out of her Matheson guardsmen’s sight. She sensed the fresh breeze coming in off the loch then the crashing of the surf. Heavy footsteps clacked on the stone landing. Donnan’s. The rocking of the galley underneath her feet as Donnan set her down then strung her to the center mast and tossed a heavy covering of some sort over her. He tracked each of her movements, and that of their enemy.

Hell, no one would ever hurt or terrorize his mate and get away with it. He gritted his teeth, faced Tavish as they rode. “Layla’s in trouble.”

“What’s happened?” Tavish picked up his pace as he sat low in the saddle, bent his head over his destrier’s neck.

“He’s blacked out her sight and restrained her, disabled her ability. What she can’t see, she can’t move. He’s now tossed her on board his galley and they’re about to set sail. I won’t lose my mate.” He thrust his knees into his mount’s flanks and flew alongside the stream and into the forest. Never had he ridden so hard or so fast. “See if you can reach Julia, Tavish. Alert her to what’s happening.”

“I’m updating her right now.” Tavish grimaced and remained silent as he spoke to his mate along their merged link. With a glance at him, Tavish muttered, “She said Kirk and Cherub left earlier for Stirling to see Gilleoin and Nessa, a flying visit, one they’re not expected back from for another hour or two. Julia’s alerting the guard and searching for Gregor as we speak.”