Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

whispered. Torture through terror was worse than death, something she knew too well.

He leaned forward, too, his hand sliding across to squeeze hers on the table. “From what I could see, aye. Did Lord Robert take her from ye?”

Kára nodded. “She is not… He does not beat her then?”

“His daughter, Jean, rides her. The mare’s spirit seems high. I saw no signs of abuse.”

Tears came to Kára’s eyes, and she sniffed them back. When Broch had been taken, she had mourned her as if she’d died.

Joshua nodded to emphasize his words. “Lord Robert may treat his workers terribly, but his horses are kept fed and groomed. And his daughter is kinder than he.”

Kára knew of Jean Stuart, Lord Robert’s second eldest daughter. She was a well-known beauty who was said to keep many lovers. Had Joshua been one? A tightening twisted in her middle like a worm.

“Which is why I was leaving his service,” Joshua continued.

Kára looked at him. “Because of Jean?”

“Nay, because Robert is a bloody tyrant,” he said. “And I refused to raise my sword against the Orkney inhabitants.”

“And yet you left him and his henchmen alive to threaten, steal, and torture us himself,” she said and stood, pacing to the bed. “Us, the Orkney inhabitants.” She couldn’t quite keep the sneer out of her voice.

Joshua turned on his stool, his gaze following her. “I am not of this land, Kára,” he said, his brows low. “I do not wish to become involved with the politics.”

“You became involved as soon as you started training his men to become more efficient at subduing or killing us,” she said.

He stood, going to her. Clasping her upper arms, he bent to meet her eyes. “I trained his men to protect themselves when set upon. It was easy to see that the inhabitants here are not a true threat, so I did not train them offensively.”

She held his stare without blinking. “We could be a true threat if we had someone strong to lead us, someone who knows how to win a war against a tyrant.”

Joshua exhaled, dropping his arms to cross them over his chest. “Lord Robert is the uncle of James, the king of Scotland. If I kill him, I could bring war to my clan in Scotland.”

“Robert is an illegitimate uncle,” she countered.

“Legitimate enough for the king’s father to have given Robert the earldom of Orkney before he died.” He stared into her eyes, his face turning to stone. “Has Robert done something to ye, Kára, something other than take your horse? Because if he has…” Joshua’s lips curled back, showing his teeth in a near snarl. “I will rip his ballocks off and choke him with them before cutting him from neck to navel for his guts to roll out.”

Her eyes widened at the detailed threat. What could she say? Robert had not raped her, if that was what he asked. But he had harmed her, nonetheless. And then there were his sons.

“Or…” Kára said slowly, “he and his eldest son, Henry, could disappear in the sea. Without any witnesses, King James would have no reason to suspect you.”

“Did either of them do something to ye?” he asked, rooted to the spot, his barely held anger ready to explode into violence. She could lie and incite him to race off to kill Robert and perhaps even Henry and Patrick, maybe even the sheriff that called himself The Brute of Orkney. But without his armies or help from her people, the Stuart soldiers and the bloody Brute would surely kill her last hope for vengeance. One man against a hundred armed soldiers could not win, no matter how well trained he was.

She shook her head, the lie falling easily from her lips. “No.”

His frown relaxed, and he slid the bend of his finger along her cheek. “We have been wrapped up together for a night and a day, and I know nothing about ye. And I want to.”

“Stay then,” she said, pressing closer. “Do not go back to your Scotia.”

“It is my home, lass. I have plans to be there for Samhain to honor my father’s spirit.”

She huffed, and her lips pressed tightly. “Come to my home first. Meet my family,” she said. “Someone in Hillside may know how to get you across the firth if Lamont will not take you.” She needed more time to convince him to help her. Getting him to stay on Orkney was the first step toward persuading him to fight for them. She interlaced her fingers with his, tugging him toward the bed. “This evening, come to Hillside. Right now, though, are you up for number five?”

He growled low, making her gasp as he caught her around her hips to lift her in the air. He nuzzled against her breasts. She wrapped her hand around his arm over the dark lines that made up the tattooed design of his ancestors on his bicep, the head of a horse and encircling design of the ancient Gaels.

On his back was the symbol for war, a fiery horseshoe with a sword across it. She had memorized every scar and mark on his beautifully chiseled body. He’d held nothing back from her, giving her access to every part of his physical form. Now if she could also seduce his mind and heart to stay. She must. For my people.

…

Snow spit down from heavy clouds in small squalls as Joshua held Kára before him on Fuil. They had slept and tupped through the night and morning. Kára was certainly not some shy virgin. With little prompting, she had told him exactly what she liked, and he was more than eager to give it to her.

They’d emerged from her den in the late afternoon to ride to her village. Hopefully, he would be able to find a captain willing to shuttle him across the firth, although the thought of sailing away from the intriguing Kára Flett made a sourness creep into his stomach. He’d bedded his share of wild