Highland Velvet Read online

  It was when she turned her head the third time that she thought she saw something. It seemed like an eternity before lightning illuminated the wall again. Her neck felt as if it would break from holding her head up.

  The lightning flashed, and suddenly all her pain left her. There, to her left, about halfway down, was a familiar flash of the red plaid Alex favored.

  She waved her hand, and the men pulled her up. “Alex! Down there!” she gasped, her mouth filling with rainwater. She impatiently wiped her forearm across her eyes. “He’s on a narrow ledge. We’ll tie a rope around me. I think I can get to him.”

  “Let me go!” Francis said.

  “You’re too big. There’s not enough room on the ledge. Get me some rope and I’ll put it over my shoulder. Understand?” Her shouts were accompanied by hand gestures.

  The men nodded, and almost immediately she was coiling a rope to put around her shoulder. She gave one end to Douglas. “When I jerk twice, pull him up.” Next she tied another rope about her waist. “When Alex is safe, get me.”

  She walked to the edge of the cliff. She wouldn’t look down at the hard nothingness below her. She paused for a moment. “Tam is my successor,” she said, without adding that he would be only if she died.

  The heavy rope cut into her waist, and although the men eased her down as slowly and gently as they could, she slammed against the rock wall several times. Her knees and shoulders ached painfully, and she could feel the skin coming off her hands as she clutched the rope. Think of Alex, she thought, think of Alex.

  It was a long time before she reached the narrow ledge. There was barely room for her to put her feet beside Alex’s big body. After some careful maneuvering, she managed to straddle his hips.

  “Alex!” she shouted above the lashing rain.

  The young man slowly opened his eyes, then looked at Bronwyn as if she were an angel on earth. “Chief,” he whispered while closing his eyes, the sound of his words lost in the storm.

  “Damn you, Alex, wake up!” Bronwyn screamed.

  Alex opened his eyes again.

  “Are you hurt? Can you help me with the rope?”

  Alex suddenly became aware of his surroundings. “My leg’s broken, but I think I can still move. How did you get here?”

  “Don’t talk! Just tie knots!”

  She was standing in a precarious position, and there was very little room for moving about. She bent forward, keeping her legs straight, not changing the placement of her feet, as she and Alex fastened the rope around his body. They made a crude sort of sling, the rope going between his legs and around his back.

  “Are you ready?” she shouted.

  “You go first. I’ll wait.”

  “Don’t argue with me, Alex. This is an order.” She gave two hard tugs on the rope, then felt it tighten as the men above pulled it up. She frowned as Alex slammed against the wall, further injuring his leg.

  When he was just above her head, she plastered herself against the rock. The rain slashed at her; the sheer wall of the cliff was hard and menacing against her back. Suddenly she felt very alone—and very frightened. Her concern for Alex had motivated her early courage, but now she had nothing. Alex was safe, and she was so alone and so frightened. It flashed through her mind that where she wanted to be right now was in Stephen’s lap, sitting before a fire, his arms around her.

  The rope about her waist tightened, and she had no more time for thought. Yet even as she held on to the rope, her hands tight, her feet wrapped about the cord to relieve the pressure on her waist, the image of Stephen stayed with her.

  Somehow it was no surprise at all when she reached the top of the cliff to find Tam and Stephen pulling her up. Stephen put out his hands and caught her under the arms, then lifted her onto the land. He caught her close to him in an embrace that nearly crushed her, but she enjoyed the pressure, was glad she was no longer alone. He held her away from him, her face between his hands, and studied her. His eyes were dark and shadowed. She wanted to say something, that she was glad to see him, glad she was safe again, but his expression didn’t allow for words.

  Abruptly he moved his hands to her arms, then began an impersonal inspection of her. He tossed her back against his arm and ran his hand over her legs, frowning at the bloody places on her knees. All her soft feelings left her. How dare he inspect her in such a way in front of her men!

  “Release me!” she commanded.

  Stephen ignored her as he looked up at Tam, who hovered over them. “Several cuts and a few bruises, but it looks like nothing serious.”

  Tam stood up from his half-crouch and nodded. About ten years seemed to leave him.

  Bronwyn kicked once and struggled against Stephen. “If you are quite finished with me,” she said haughtily, “I’d like to go home.”

  Stephen turned to look at her, and she understood the expression on his face. He was angry—very, very angry. The rain was beginning to lessen somewhat and dawn was lighting the sky. She sat up and attempted to pull away from him. “I need to see to Alex.”

  “Alex is being cared for,” Stephen said flatly, his teeth clenched. His hand firmly clasped her wrist, and as he stood he pulled her with him. He started toward his horse, dragging her behind him.

  “I demand that you release me,” she said as quietly as possible, since all her men were standing near them.

  He whirled on her, jerked her close to him. “If you say one more word, I just may throw that bit of shirttail over your head and beat your backside black and blue. Alex is safe—safer than you are at the moment, so don’t tempt me further. Is that clear?”

  She put her chin in the air and glared at him. But she gave him no cause to carry out his threat. He turned and pulled her toward a waiting horse. He gave her no time to mount but picked her up and slammed her into the saddle so hard her teeth jarred together. Instantly he was on his own horse.

  He held the reins to her horse. “Will you follow me, or must I lead your horse?”

  She couldn’t bear being led away like some naughty child. “I’ll follow,” she said, her back straight, her chin high.

  They rode away from the men on the narrow cliff path, and Bronwyn didn’t look back. Her humiliation was too complete. Her men respected her, obeyed her, but Stephen tried to reduce her to a child. Rab ran along beside the horses, following his mistress as he always did.

  They rode for over three hours, and Bronwyn knew they were headed for her northernmost estates. The country was hilly, wild, with many streams to cross. Stephen kept a slow, steady pace, never looking at her but sensing when he needed to slow down to wait for her.

  Bronwyn was very tired. She hadn’t eaten since before the cattle raid during the night, and now that seemed like days ago. She was so hungry her stomach felt as if it were eating itself. The rain had slowed to a cold, wet drizzle, and she was chilled to the bone. She shivered often and sneezed a few times. Her legs were cut and bruised, and no matter which way she turned, the saddle rubbed on a sore place.

  But she would have died before she asked Stephen to stop and rest.

  Toward midday he halted, and Bronwyn couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Before she could dismount, he was beside her, pulling her down from her horse. She was too weary, too cold, too hungry, to even remember the happenings of the night.

  He stood her on the ground, then walked away from her. When he looked back, she saw that none of his anger had gone away. “Why?” he asked, and the word showed how much control he was using to keep from lashing out at her. “Why did you drug me?”

  She tried to hold her shoulders straight. “The MacGregors were planning another raid, and I had to protect my people’s property.”

  His eyes were cold and hard. “Has no one ever told you that it is a man’s duty to lead a war party?”

  She shrugged. “That is how you’re taught in England. We’re different in Scotland. I was fostered when I was seven, just as my brother was. I was taught how to ride and, if need be, how