Scoundrel’s Redemption (Highlander’s Pact #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

“T here they are.” Teagan crouched behind a copse of bushes with the others and narrowed his eyes on the Sassenach encampment. “The bloody fools settle on Scottish soil as if they own it.” He shook his head at Malcolm, who had rejoined them a while back. “They have nerve. I will give them that.”

“You mean my brother has nerve,” Cecille said softly, narrowing her eyes as well. “But then, like Bartholomew, he thinks himself above your countrymen.”

“So, how will we go about this?” Greer cocked a brow at Teagan, clearly wanting a role in this. “What can I do?”

“Yes,” Alfred joined them, “w-what can we do?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Alfred’s stutter had lessened some. Especially since he downed Bartholomew.

Teagan shook his head, not sure how he wanted to go about this yet. Though tempted to say he would rather Greer stay out of harm’s way, he knew better. Since this morning’s battle, and whatever traumatic event it brought her back to, she needed this. He sensed her ready to face her demons. Slay her dragons.

He would never forget the moment her pain pulled him free of his stupor. Her tortured expression had matched his inner angst. It had broken him out of his flashback so he could get to her. Soothe her. Help any way he could.

Since then, he had wondered where she’d been .

Why she whispered that she knew him.

What had happened? What terrorized her so much that her legs gave way when she tried to reach him? Because she had. He felt it despite his own horrific stupor. Then, despite being rendered immobile, she still pulled him free of his demons, the dark place he’d been, hinting at a deep connection betwixt them. One beyond the desire they had shared the night before. If what they’d shared could be called mere desire.

It had felt like so much more, though he’d yet to lay with her.

He could still taste her sweet juices and smell her honeyed scent. Still hear her throaty groans. See her beautiful body arching in pleasure. Still imagine her peaking for the first time. Going somewhere she’d never gone before. Feeling things he longed to make her feel time and time again.

“How do ye want to go about this?” Adlin asked Teagan and Malcolm, joining them as well. He looked at Cecille. “For ’tis yer brother, aye, lass?”

“’Tis,” she confirmed, considering the ample amount of men Randolph had with him. She looked at Greer. “You say you want to help. What did you have in mind?”

“Avoiding too much bloodshed,” Greer replied readily enough. “And retrieving the gem we both know he carries, for he would not trust it out of his sight.”

Cecille looked at her with surprise. “Then, you do not want him to keep it?”

“I wished him to keep it when he remained in England.” Greer shook her head. “Now that his greed and pettiness has driven him to go after my sister, I don’t want him to keep much of anything.”

Approval lit Cecille’s eyes. “That sounds quite specific in a roundabout way, daughter.”

“Oh, ’tis, Mother.” She glared at Randolph, likely recalling all too well what she’d suffered at his hands. “Concise, indeed. ”

“I ken yer desire to help but,” Teagan began before Greer cut him off.

“If you understand my desire to help, then there should be no buts.” Her warm yet suspiciously devious gaze met his. “I can distract him whilst you see to business.”

With that, before he could argue or stop her, she was gone, with Alfred in pursuit.

“Hell and damnation,” he cursed.

“You have awoken something in her, Scotsman.” Cecille’s concerned gaze remained locked on Greer as she made her way into the encampment. “And I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing at the moment.”

“Och,” he muttered. Very much a bad thing.

He went to stand, but Malcolm yanked him back down, put a finger to his mouth, and gestured in Greer’s direction. It seemed she had a plan, and Alfred played right along.

“Uncle,” she called out. When she staggered a little, Alfred took her elbow, offering her stability. She put the back of her hand to her forehead when Randolph’s men stood and unsheathed their weapons. “Please, Uncle, I need your help.”

“Smart girl,” Cecille whispered, despite her obvious tension. Her gaze cut to Teagan and Malcolm. “You best be ready to take them all down at a moment’s notice.”

“’Tis bloody foolish,” Teagan cursed under his breath for no other reason than his heart was in his throat with every step Greer took. Just one strike, one whip of a dagger or swipe of a blade, and she would be gone. Lost to him as quickly as he found her.

“’Tis bloody brave,” Malcolm praised as Randolph stood.

Though he drew his own blade, the Englishman gestured that his men stand down.

“What’s going on?” Randolph looked from Greer to Alfred and frowned. “Did you defeat the Scotsman? What happened?” He looked around. “Where is everyone else? Bartholomew?”

“I…” Greer inhaled a ragged breath. Her hand fluttered over her chest in distress. “I had no choice.” She shook her head. “This is not what I wanted, but I had no choice.” She sniffled as though crying. “Why would I want to leave such wealth? Such a promising life?”

“ ’Twas hard to believe.” Randolph kept his weapon at the ready and eyed the darkness around him. “Where is your aunt? My sister?” He scowled at Alfred. “Tell me that damnable Scot is finished!”

“That would be ye, I imagine,” Adlin said out of the corner of his mouth to Teagan. “It seems ye made quite the impression, lad.”

“Yes, he did,” Cecille agreed. “And may he make more of one on my blasted brother before all is said and done.”

“Why is she doing this?” Teagan shook his head, barely able to think straight with Greer in so much danger. While he knew she faced her demons, this seemed like too much. Out of control.

“Because she’s on a much-needed grand adventure,” Cecille reminded, her gaze pained when she looked at her daughter. “Or should I say, finally breaking free from all that held her back? Fighting her oppressors the only way she knows how?”

“Yet ye sit here so calmly,” he grumbled.

“You have no idea how I sit here,” Cecille’s voice wobbled with emotion. “All I know is Greer cannot go forward without going back. Nor can she free herself without facing her fears. Even if those fears are in the form of an uncle who’s but a fraction of the monsters she’s seen, yet a monster all the same.”

“Wise words,” Adlin murmured, listening to Alfred’s explanation that he got Greer away from the Scot, but it hadn’t been easy. The fighting had been overwhelming. He wasn’t sure who lived or died. All he knew was Greer wanted to flee, so he saw her safely here.

“For if ever a lass is facing her fears, ’tis your wife, Teagan.” Adlin nodded with approval. “Ye should be verra proud.”

He was, but that didn’t make this any easier. He envisioned Greer coming out of her shell as time went on, not thrusting her shell aside altogether and doing something so bold and dangerous. But then he shouldn’t be all that surprised considering how quickly she was blossoming. How eager she seemed to break free.

“So, you managed to break off from your mother and the Scotsman?” Randolph went on, responding to whatever tale Greer and Alfred spun. “Because they chose to fight Bartholomew when he came for you?”

“I tried to sooner.” Greer inhaled a choppy breath and staggered a little as though exhausted. “But that man…” She released a broken sob. “That Scottish beast was just as you claimed these Scots to be.” Another broken sob. “He did things to me…”

“Oh, goodness, child!” Randolph’s gaze skirted over his men, his worry clearly not for what she’d suffered but that her reputation might be tarnished. If that happened, she could no longer make a beneficial marriage.

“Come sit and rest.” Randolph urged her to sit beside him, coaxing her to say what he wished. To retell her tragedy to suit his needs. “Tell me what happened, dear niece. Tell me how these awful Scots nearly ruined you, but alas, did not have you in the end.”

Adlin snorted softly and shook his head at Cecille and Teagan. “He really is a bit of a nefarious character, is he not?”

“He is a bit of something,” Cecille replied, disgusted. “He’s a tedious, horrid man.”

“Well, of course, I fought them off before Bartholomew and his men arrived,” Greer said in response to her uncle’s statement about the Scots not ultimately having her. Her eyes widened, and her hand went to her heart. She sounded wounded and distressed. “Surely, such is not in question? Surely, you do not think I would allow one of these heathens to…” She squeezed her eyes shut as if truly pained before she looked at Randolph again. “I hope you don’t think poorly toward my good honor? ”

“Oh, but she is my daughter,” Cecille praised on a whisper. “Just listen to her.”

Teagan was. Closely. And was impressed.

Nevertheless.

Was Randolph buying it? Or was he biding his time? There was no trusting the man. He was an equally efficient actor. A genuine liar.

“’Tis going too smoothly,” Malcolm murmured, as though reading his mind. “I dinnae like it.”

“Nor I.” Teagan narrowed his eyes on the men surrounding Randolph, then those at nearby campfires. “Something is amiss.”

“’Tis,” Malcolm agreed. His gaze skirted the wood line, his instincts as attuned as Teagan’s. “What, though?”

“What indeed?” Cecille frowned. “Randolph seems quite taken by Greer’s tale.”

“He does,” Teagan eyed the Sassenach again, “ seems that way.”

“I would never think any ill-will toward your good honor, my dear niece,” Randolph said, pulling them back to the ongoing conversation. “I would, however, wonder at the man who stumbled into my camp early this morn who told a different story entirely.”

Greer barely had a chance to look surprised before Randolph yanked her to her feet, put a knife to her throat, and narrowed his eyes on the dark woodland around him.

“Show yourself, sister,” he called out. “Show yourself, you traitorous bitch!”

“Here I am,” Cecille called back, standing without hesitation.

Teagan and Malcolm started in different directions, doing what they often did during war. Hoped for the best but prepared for the worst without saying a word.

While Teagan’s terror for Greer cut to his core, his instincts kept him moving. Thinking clearly. Covering ground stealthily. Quickly and without sound.

Randolph would never see him or his brother coming .

“I’m here, brother,” Cecille called out again, heading Randolph’s way. “Let her go.”

Her brother chuckled and eyed the forest, warning his men to be at the ready. They were likely surrounded, but not to worry, he still had the upper hand.

Meanwhile, Alfred went for his blade.

Randolph narrowed his eyes. “I would not do that.” His dark gaze flickered to his sister. “Tell whoever you have with you to throw down their weapons and step into the light, and I will let Greer go.” He pressed the blade tighter to Greer’s throat. “Otherwise, your daughter dies.”

“Dies over my dead body,” Teagan nearly ground out but bit his tongue and stayed to the shadows, drawing ever closer, just like Malcolm did from the other side.

“Throw down your weapons,” Cecille called out obediently, her voice shaky. Unlike Greer, she wasn’t acting, but he didn’t blame her. Randolph pressed the blade so tightly against Greer now, blood trickled down her neck.

The same delicate neck he’d worshiped the night before. The same soft, vulnerable skin. His heart slammed into his throat at the thought of never tasting her again. Never hearing her soft voice. Seeing the compassion in her eyes when she cried over his scars.

“Nay,” he cursed, unable to hold back anymore. Knowing, without question, he was losing control. But the thought of losing her made him physically ill. Lethally enraged. Unable to see reason.

Even as he knew full well he wasn’t close enough to them yet.

Nonetheless, he aimed his dagger, ready to throw, only for someone else to whip two of theirs first. Not Malcolm either. Nay, these were different, the marksmanship flawless. One pinned the exact spot just above Randolph’s elbow that made him drop the knife to Greer’s throat. The second sliced clean through the side of Randolph’s neck.

A sizeable warrior around Adlin’s age with silvery black hair and familiar blue eyes stepped into the light. His identity, as it happened, stunned every last person there, including, interestingly enough, Randolph’s warriors.