and endured the past two days. She was so very tired, and it hurt just to breathe.
Think, Laurel, think, she thought to herself. She still wasn’t safe regardless of what the large highlander said. She needed to find some quick means to get as far away from here as possible. She looked up and saw a quiet strength in his silver eyes. Here was someone who would honor his word—if Laurel could only get him to promise to bring her with him, wherever he was going.
“Please take me with you,” she softly pleaded. “Please help me—just for a little while. Once I am far enough away…” and just then, her strength gave out. She reached out and grabbed Conor’s arm just as she crumpled to the ground.
Conor and his guard were momentarily stunned. She had given no indication that she was on the verge of collapse. Finn reached down to pick her up. But Conor abruptly stopped him, reaching down himself to take her into his arms. A fierce desire to protect her came over him as he lifted the frail, limp form. He whispered into her ear as he walked toward the campsite, “No harm will come to you, lass. I give you my word of honor.” Then he put her down on his plaid and covered her to protect her from the night’s chill, smiling as he laid the small dirk next to her hand.
Chapter Two
Just before dawn, Laurel stirred from her sleep and sat up, once again feeling pain course through her body. Last night’s recollection was distant, half dream, half nightmare. Looking around, she was momentarily alarmed waking up in the middle of a camp full of Scottish, bare-legged giants. Then she remembered. Her side was aching, and it still hurt to breathe, but her head was not pounding as it had been.
Laurel stood up, closed her eyes, and recalled the rugged man with lustrous gray eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. She carefully reached down and picked up the dark woolen blanket of greens and blues she had slept on. She lightly fingered the soft, well-used cloth accented with bright colors of gold, red, and burgundy and wrapped herself in its warmth. It smelled of horse flesh and of the man who had promised to keep her safe from harm. It was odd, but the blanket and its smell comforted her as she walked into the woods for some privacy.
Conor saw her rise. He had been watching her sleep for most of the night. She had moved very little while she slept, as if any change in position caused pain. It was hard to see what she looked like in her current condition, but he could not deny that something about her captivated him.
He watched her grab his plaid, drape it around her, and go into the woods barely lit by the sun’s dawning rays. She walked gracefully, with dignity and full of calm. Not at all as if she had narrowly escaped some harrowing experience.
Conor shook his head for the hundredth time, trying to get control of his wayward thoughts. He had never seen a woman in such a state of physical chaos. But even so, he wanted her on levels he couldn’t explain to anyone—especially himself.
Conor stood up abruptly. He needed to concentrate on the day’s ride and returning home. Once there, he would find a safe place for her, and then resume his daily routine. He went to gather his guards so they could break camp.
By the time Laurel returned, the rest of the group was up and preparing to leave. The youngest of the enormous Scots was the first to see her standing on the edge of the clearing watching them. The others, seeing Clyde’s unexpected halt in activity, looked to see what had affected their younger brother so.
It was a tall, slender female with long gold hair and incredible blue-green eyes. Her arm was badly bruised, her dress was torn, and she was wrapped in a McTiernay plaid.
Laurel was also transfixed by the sight of the five Scots. They were all highlanders. Their strong rugged features, dress, and weaponry were unmistakable. Some of them were still quite young, but in a few years they would grow to be giants as well. Each had coppery-brown hair ranging from a light auburn to a rich dark shade of brown like their leader’s. All of them had bright blue eyes that sparkled, with the exception of the youngest, whose unusual liquid gray eyes reminded her of the giant who had promised his protection.
Laurel looked around for their leader or any of the other men she had encountered last night, but none were in sight. A moment of panic invaded her. She needed to leave immediately. Surely, by now someone had seen what she had done and was looking for her.
One of the men approached. “Lass? Are you all right, lass? You look a mess, begging your pardon.” As he spoke, the others began to surround her, each compelled to help.
Laurel quickly realized they meant no harm and were only curious. “Umm, you are right. I am a mess. I believe it was a brother of yours who helped me last night.” She paused as she saw the four younger men grin. The oldest of the five, on the other hand, was scowling. She decided to ignore him and directed her attention to those more agreeable. “Do any of you gentlemen know where I could wash my face?”
All of them started shaking their heads. The youngest one with the gray eyes clarified, “There is only one place near here, miss, but it is a very small creek, and it is back towards Douglass land.” He pointed down to the area she escaped from last night.
Laurel blanched noticeably.
“But there is one up north a ways, miss. We’re going there today,” mentioned one of the twins.
“You could come with us,” offered another.
Laurel beamed at their youthful enthusiasm. Her smile caused an instant positive reaction in the group. Even Cole—who hated everything English—suddenly wanted to help this maiden who had been attacked so viciously.
Conor returned to see his brothers ogling Laurel as if she were an angel just arrived from the heavens. It was evident that her bewitching effect was not only limited to him. His guards, Loman and Hamish, had been discussing her when he arrived that morning, and now his brothers were practically gaping at her. Even he had been staring at her all night.
In the dim firelight, her hair had appeared a burnished yellow, but now, in the morning sunlight, the pale, golden halo could render a man senseless. Her face was heart shaped, with large eyes, high cheekbones, a pert little nose and full, rose-colored lips. It mattered not that her hair was matted and unclean. Men forgot who they were, their skills, and their duty when they saw visions such as this one.
He scowled at his brothers, narrowing his gaze. Laurel turned to see what had caused the men to jump in response. Then she saw him. Last night, he had given his word that no harm would come to her. Or was his pledge of protection just a dream?
“Did you mean it?” she whispered as he came near.
Damn, she had the most hypnotic eyes. Now that she wasn’t angry, they were a much lighter color of blue mixed with an unusual shade of green. Framed by long dark eyelashes and a perfectly shaped eyebrow a few shades darker than her pale hair, they were a little large for her face. Her right cheek was slightly swollen and the bruise on her arm was deepening in color and size. Seeing the evidence of her injuries in daylight, Conor quelled the anger stirring in him and reached out to take the plaid she was handing him.
The gasp from his brothers was audible. Whoever had beaten her had done so mercilessly. The reason behind her restless sleep was abundantly clear. They all began asking questions at once.
“What happened to you, lass?”
“Who did this to you?”
“Here, lass, sit down.”
“What’s your name, lass?”
