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

Kára couldn’t read whether her words affected the statue of strength before her. If she didn’t feel the heat of his body against hers, she would think he was truly made of rock. Hard, without regret, unmoved by her words. What will move him? Her mind whirled. Tears? Doubtful. Threats? Laughable. Passion? She’d tried that, but she hadn’t been enough. She almost looked away with her apparent failure, but with a steadying breath, she kept his stare.

“Lead us, Joshua Sinclair,” she whispered.

Without any softening, he dropped his arms. “I leave at dawn.” He turned, striding past the bed where Brenna and Amma had witnessed the ridiculousness of her attempt to capture such a beast.

Her stomach hollowed in shame, bringing the usual pang of desperation. The familiar nightmare surfaced in her mind like it was yesterday instead of months ago, reminding her of her failure. Pale faces, as if they lay sleeping, among their few possessions in the fur-lined grave. Her mother, father, and older sister.

She looked at Brenna who had lowered down off the bed with the help of her amma. Fear lurked in her friend’s eyes. How cruel Kára had been, bringing Joshua to Hillside. His presence had given her people the hope that the Horseman of War might fight for them, and tomorrow they would watch him ride away from them, from her.

“He will not help us,” Brenna whispered.

“As if you could trust him,” Osk said, a sneer on his face. “He is a selfish bastard.”

Anger pushed past the shame Kára felt, and she rounded on him. “He could have easily slaughtered you last night, all of you.” She threw her arms wide. “Even Geir, but he showed you fools mercy. There is kindness in him.” And generosity. After being wrapped up with Joshua Sinclair, she knew there was much more to him than bloodlust and anger.

Kára looked to Brenna and Amma. Did they condemn her as sinful for trying to lure Joshua with…hell, the best experience she’d ever had in her life? Would Torben tell everyone in Hillside that she’d abandoned her people for a day of lust with the Highlander? Would their disapproval all be for naught if the Horseman of War rode away? “If I can get him to stay, he could give us the edge to stop Robert and his brutal sons.”

I leave at dawn. His words mocked her in the silence of the room, as if the people there were repeating them in their own minds, knowing she would fail as their new chief. Kára’s hands fisted tightly against her legs as she exhaled slowly, feeling her hope try to leave her on the breath.

With the numbers of her people falling, Robert’s power growing, and winter setting in, failure seemed ensured. She took a full breath, meeting the strong gaze of her amma. The wise woman gave Kára a slow nod, the strength behind years of survival in the harsh conditions on Orkney making her as stubborn as the rocks around them.

“There is nothing you can do to stop him, Kára,” Brenna said, holding her protruding belly as if she might hide the babe she would not acknowledge aloud.

Bloody hell. Kára reached up, sliding hands over her face to cup the back of her skull. Luring Joshua back to her den had been a risky plan, one of which she had quickly lost control. But… I got him here. The Horseman of War had done what she’d asked. If she were going to fail, Kára would do so after trying everything in her power to save her people.

“He is going to leave,” Brenna said.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she said, turning to her grandmother. “Amma, do you have any of the sleeping draught I give Geir when he cannot stop tossing from worry?”

“Aye.” Amma rose from her spot on the bed. She smiled. “The lemon flavor goes nicely in honey mead.”

“What are you going to do?” Brenna asked, her eyes wide.

“I am keeping him here until I can convince him to kill Robert and his spawn.”

…

“Bloody foking hell,” Joshua roared as he stalked naked around the small stone barn. Opening the door to let in a swirl of snow, he spied the sun through the heavy clouds.

Even though the Orkney sun did not rise high this time of year, he could still see it was near the apex of its climb. He had fallen asleep after eating and drinking what Kára had sent to him the night before. She hadn’t brought it herself, making him almost seek her out, but fury still ate at him. Fury at himself for falling for her tricks and at her for being so damn clever and beautiful.

A shiver tore through him, and he slammed the heavy door against the icy breeze and patches of snow tucked into the tall grasses. “’Tis the middle of the bloody day,” he said. He had never slept so long before. It wasn’t natural. “She poisoned me and took my clothes.” He turned in a tight circle. “My furs, my sword, my woolen wrap…and my boots!” he yelled, looking down at his bare feet, toes curling up from the cold ground. He was certain that he’d fallen asleep with them on last night, his tunic as well.

“She must have poisoned me,” he said low through gritted teeth. The only scrap he had, besides the strip around his arm wound, was the flower-painted quilt she had sent, along with peat and a torch to light a fire inside the barn. He grabbed the blanket off the wool tick that he had slept on next to Fuil and folded it around his waist into a mockery of a pleated wrap. It looked ridiculous, the brightly stitched flowers against his large form.

He had never been deceived by a woman before, or a man, for that matter. His brothers and he had played pranks on one another growing up, but he hadn’t anticipated a trick