Highlander's Seduction (The Matheson Brothers #3)

“We’ll be right behind you.” Kirk gripped her hand. “Cloak yourself, but only you. Obviously shielding us all sapped some of your strength.”


“I dinnae usually transport so many so far either.” She cloaked herself as he’d asked.

“That’s better.” Fingers tightening around hers, he nodded.

Together, they snuck after Iain and Finlay as they crept through the thick underbrush running alongside the main pathway to the inn. A hundred yards in, they all stopped and lowered to a crouch, the underbrush keeping their position well hidden. She tucked herself in behind Kirk and rested one hand on his back so he’d know where she was.

At the side of the inn near the stables, a lad with a brown woolen cap, his dusty tunic’s sleeves rolled to his elbows, brushed down a black war horse tethered to a long rail next to a corral holding several more horses. Within the wooden beamed enclosure, another lad fed handfuls of oats to the animals within.

A stout warrior wearing the MacKenzie plaid belted at his waist and a massive claymore holstered across his back, stepped out of the inn with its low hung eaves and stony facade. With a slosh of the ale within an earthenware tankard he held, he plunked it down on the front step then crunched across the stony courtyard toward the lads. Wiping spittle from his mouth, he narrowed his gaze on them and grit out, “We were never here, nor the lad we have with us. Am I understood?”

“Aye, sir. We’ve seen no one.” The boy rubbing down the war horse dipped his head in obedience while the other lad in the enclosure nodded as he picked up a pail of water and hauled it from one horse to the next.

“Good, ensure that remains so.” The warrior turned and marched toward the trail next to their hidden spot. He strode past them, within fifteen feet before disappearing through the thick line of pine trees toward the bay.

Iain motioned his brothers closer and they tightened their huddle. “We’re not letting the MacKenzies take Joseph past this point. If we do, it’ll be near impossible to get him back without an army in tow.”

“Agreed,” both Finlay and Kirk murmured.

“We stay close, cover each other’s backs, just as we always have and always will. Kirk”—Iain clasped Kirk’s forearm—“go and subdue the idiot that just headed toward the beach, as quickly and quietly as you can. That’ll be one less man we need to worry about when the rest leave the inn. Whistle out if you need a hand. We’ll remain here and alert for the others.”

“Sure will, although don’t forget to whistle out if you need a hand.” Kirk glanced up into the dense foliage of the closest tree, swept her into his arms and hoisted her into the safety of the wide bow, her position hidden even though she was cloaked. “Stay right there where I know you’ll be safe.”

“I shall, provided you remain safe as well.” Although naught would stop her from joining the battle if she was needed. He and his brothers were kin, and she always protected her people, no matter who the adversary. “Be careful.”

“Always.” He blew her a kiss then stole through the trees toward the enemy.



High above in the canopy, birds chirped, and on the gentle sea breeze sweeping in off the water came the promise of all Kirk fought for—freedom for his clansmen. No one would take one of his or Cherub’s kin and get away with it.

Stealthily, he snuck behind a wide trunk and searched the bay. The MacKenzie warrior untied the galley’s rope from around a large boulder, coiled and tossed the rope inside the hull then gripped the bow and shoved the galley off the beach and into the water.

The MacKenzies were preparing to leave, and he didn’t doubt the rest of the warriors would soon be heading down that trail. Leaving his brothers to battle the remainder of their enemy on their own wasn’t something he’d ever do. They fought together, always at each other’s sides, and now wouldn’t be the exception.

He nabbed a decent sized rock, one that fit snugly in his hand then jogged as soundlessly as he could from the tree line down the beach toward the beefy warrior. The urge to teach his adversary a lesson, to never bring an innocent child into the middle of a war, thrummed strongly through him. The MacKenzies were a thorn in their sides, a constant threat against his Matheson kin, a threat he needed to send winging back home with their tails between their legs.

Boring down on the MacKenzie, he yelled, “I see you’re ready to leave.”

The MacKenzie swung around, the surprise in his eyes there one moment but gone in the next. He heaved his claymore free and Kirk slung the rock at him. It hit the warrior square in the forehead and he groaned, eyes going dazed as he fell to his knees. Flinging water, he stumbled to push back up.

“No. You’re going down and staying down. We honestly don’t have time for a fight right now, not when I’m needed elsewhere.” He whipped his sword free and slammed the hilt down on the MacKenzie’s head.