Journey with Joe (Middlemarch Capture Book 5) Read online

  Aengus Caimbeulach strode to Harriet, his big fists clenched at his sides. “Mungo! Dinnae make me repeat myself. I am yer laird, and the steed belongs to me. Hand the beast over to yer brothers before I take a stick to ye.”

  Joe growled—a vicious snarl of warning. One warrior turned and fired an arrow at him. It struck him in the haunch, and he roared his pain and fury. Mungo threw herself off Harriet and flung herself in front of the warriors who were nocking their arrows in preparation to fire again. Cinead hauled her out of the way to clear the warrior’s range of fire, but Joe had disappeared.

  Cinead backhanded her before grasping her arm and shaking her. “What did ye do that for? The beast is dangerous.”

  Not to her. Dizzily, Mungo jerked away to avoid another blow. She kenned not to complain to their father. She’d only earn another blow for her impudence.

  For an instant, when they’d poured down the cliff, she’d thought her father truly valued her. But nay, he intended to use her to secure advancement for him and his sons. She searched for Joe and still couldnae see him. Hopefully, he’d be all right, but at least he’d escaped.

  She should’ve done the same. Instead, she’d allowed hope to sway her judgment, and now she’d have the devil’s trouble to free herself from this marriage mire.

  Mungo’s shoulders slumped as she tried to imagine a life with the Grantlach laird. Even though he was an old man, he’d expect her to lie with him and produce bonnie bairns.

  “Move.” Raibert shoved her in the back. She stumbled forward with a pained cry before she regained her balance.

  “Dinnae push me.”

  “Hurry or ye’ll be sorry,” her brother warned. “If ye insist on dressing in men’s clothes, I’ll hit ye as a man.”

  With that dire warning ringing in her ears, Mungo dragged her aching body toward the path that led into the forest. She swiped away the blood dripping from the cut Cinead had made on her left cheekbone, then glanced through her tangled hair to search for Joe. She couldnae see him, but he’d come for her last time, and she believed he would again. But how could one man help even if he bore the power to transform into a big cat? They—she—were lucky her father hadn’t come across them the previous eve. She stumbled over a rock and winced at the thread of pain that traveled from her big toe and up her leg. Mungo limped along the beach, gritting her teeth with each step over and around the rocks.

  After last eve with Joe, she was no longer a maiden.

  The laird her father had betrothed her to would ken this.

  Foreboding seeped into her.

  This wouldnae end well.

  The scramble along the beach to find cover shot agony from his haunch. The arrow wasn’t deep, but he’d need to shift to pull it free. He’d suffered worse wounds than this and would recover. Though he’d never experienced an injury that ached and smarted so badly and dulled his strength. That fact caused concern.

  Joe ran until he rounded a bend in the coast. He dragged his fatigued body onto a path that wound up the side of the cliff. Once he reached the trees at the top, he sank to the ground in the middle of a pile of pink leaves. Gritting his teeth, he summoned a vision of his human form and focused until prickles under his skin announced the start of the transformation. Blood trickled from his buttcheek, and despite the pain, his mouth twisted in a wry grin. His brothers and cousins would never let him hear the end of this injury. He curled his hands around the shaft of the arrow and yanked hard.

  Bloody hell.

  For an instant, Joe thought he might black out from the pain. He groaned as he wrenched again on the shaft. With a pop, the metal arrow came free.

  Joe turned his head to study what he could of the wound. It still bled, but not profusely. He concealed the arrow beneath a stone and a pile of pink leaf litter. He also covered the drops of blood he’d left on the ground while extracting the arrow. Content with the concealment, he shifted into feline form and waited for the Scothage troop to pass.

  He spotted them not long afterward. As he’d expected, they’d sought an easier way up the cliff rather than repeating their rappelling trick. His gaze went straight to Mungo. She hobbled behind the line of Scothage men. He counted ten in all. A growl rumbled free. No, twelve. Two dark-haired men with black beards fought to lead Harriet after the group. One hauled on the reins while the second hurried her progress with the aid of a long stick.

  Joe growled again as the switch-wielding man hit Harriet. She kicked out her rear legs and caught the man with a glancing blow on the thigh.

  The one leading the horse yanked out his bow and aimed it at Harriet. Mungo screamed and snatched the reins from him. Immediately, Harriet calmed. She nuzzled Mungo and followed her docilely once they recommenced their trudge along the rocky shore.

  They chose a less challenging path, farther down the beach, their pace swift. Once they reached the grasslands at the top of the cliff, Joe hauled himself to his feet and followed at a distance. Stiffness and numbness assailed his buttock and his other muscles ached. His vision blurred, and only determination dragged him onward.

  He refused to leave his mate to her fate. They’d relax their guard soon since they didn’t realize he was following them. When the opportunity to grab Mungo arose, he’d take it because there was no way he intended to let her bully father marry her off to the laird of another Scothage clan.

  His mate, and he kept what was his.

  11 – In Caimbeulach Custody

  Her father set a brutal pace, and Mungo hobbled along the forest paths, convinced she’d collapse. Raibert and Cinead walked at the rear, keeping a healthy distance from Harriet’s hooves and teeth, but pushing Mungo to keep walking, despite her battered body.

  Joe’s prediction that she’d notice her waterfall topple this cycle proved correct. Every muscle ached, and her fragile bones objected to every stiff-jointed step she took.

  She had to escape. Impossible with her two brothers watching her so closely.

  “What is the Grantlach laird giving Father in return for me?” she whispered to Raibert. He’d tell her because he’d ne’er resist the urge to impart the information and gloat over the facts.

  “Fifty coos and we’ve already received a bag of currency. Father wanted three steeds, but the Grantlach refused. He said they were difficult beasts.” Raibert glowered at Harriet. “I can see he has the right of it, but once we get the steed to the keep and deprive the fiend of food, she’ll come around. All females require a firm hand.”

  Mungo gritted her teeth to barricade her indignation. Her brothers were fools. She’d always treated her coos with firm kindness, and they’d thrived. Harriet had taken to Mungo’s strokes and soft touches straight away. Joe and his cousins had never experienced half the trouble Raibert and Cinead had with Harriet.

  She must escape, and if she took Harriet with her, she could move swiftly. Blacklight would be best. Meantime, she’d pretend she’d accepted her father’s edict. She’d follow every instruction and give them no trouble. Soon, they’d ease up on their close attention, and she’d seize the opportunity to flee.

  She’d only have one chance.

  No mistakes.

  “How many cycles journey to the Grantlach castle?” she asked, her first attempt to get her brothers to relax.

  “Seven. Maybe eight cycles,” Raibert replied.

  Mungo fell silent. Where was Joe? The arrow had struck his hindquarter, but he’d had the strength to escape while she distracted the soldiers. Anticipation filled her as she scanned the thick bushes bordering the path. The abundant pink-and-green foliage offered excellent concealment.

  Some of her cheer faded. Joe was one man against some of her father’s best fighters.

  Nay, if she wished to escape, she’d need to extract herself from her father’s clutches. She’d travel to the land bridge that Joe spoke about and pray this bridge was a fact rather than fiction.

  Her father pushed onward until the twittering birds fell silent and the blacklight chased away the last
of the cycle. Her brothers had rapidly grown tired of dodging Harriet’s hooves and soon Mungo walked at the back of the single file of warriors. Despite her aches and pains, she took care not to fall behind or alert any of the group to her escape plans.

  “We make camp here. Make a fire,” her father ordered. “Mungo, give the steed over to yer brothers and collect berries and plant spears for dinner.”

  Mungo plucked a Caimbeulach plaid from Harriet’s saddle. She handed the reins to Raibert and walked away without another word. She explored a meadow, near to where they’d stopped. With her mind busy with plans for escape, she picked young pink shoots off the canips plant until her plaid bulged away from her body. Next, she plucked plump burgundy berries from prickly bushes. The vines clung to her arms and left new scratches to add to the ones she had already. Mungo ignored the blood and pondered how to spirit Harriet from the camp.

  She spied some yamlets and prized them from the soil. About to turn back to the campsite, she spied something else. A sleep herb. The leaves were a different shape to those of the canips plant but she doubted the men would notice. They’d want to eat. That’s all they’d be interested in—filling their bellies.

  She’d feed the men, and hopefully, the herbs would put them to sleep. Much easier than trying to flee on Harriet and facing a peppering of arrows. Aye, perhaps if she unfastened Harriet’s tether and let the steed wander off as a second avenue of escape.

  By the time she’d filled her plaid with more yamlets and the sleep drug leaves, it was almost full blacklight. She hurried back to their camp. The men sat around a fire, two harebeests roasting over the flames. Not much meat for fifteen people.

  Mungo slouched her shoulders and slinked to the fire, keeping her gaze downcast. She buried the yamets in the hot coals and tore up the leaves into smaller chunks.

  “Do we have a pot?” she asked Raibert.

  He squatted beside his pack and pulled out two receptacles. Without a word, he handed them over then returned to his position by the fire. The men passed around flasks, but not one of them offered Mungo a drink. She was used to invisibility although her father’s indifference cut deeper than normal.

  He didn’t care.

  He’d never care.

  She needed to accept the truth and move on.

  Mungo added the berries to the pot. “Do we have water?” she asked Raibert.

  “Here.” He handed her another flask. “Hurry. I’m hungry.”

  Mungo bit down on the tip of her tongue to still the reply that trembled for release. Her brother was an arrogant clot-heid. Only slightly younger than her, he thought himself better, this idea boosted by their father.

  He was wrong. They were wrong.

  Her other two brothers held the same arrogant clot-heid attitude.

  Her brothers took their cues from their father, and she deserved better.

  She poured water on top of the berries and capnip and added the sleep leaves to the mix. Not one man noticed her furtive actions. They were too busy drinking and gossiping about the Grantlach clan. Evidently the women were shapely and free with their favors.

  Mungo grimaced. The men never spoke this way in front of Reilynn. They wouldnae dare. Yet another example of where she stood in the Caimbeulach hierarchy.

  She extracted a dirk from Raibert’s pack and used the point to stir her vegetable and berry stew. Then, she dug the yams from the coals and tested them for readiness. Finally, she checked the harebeests. Cooked.

  Dinner was ready.

  “Raibert, everything is ready to distribute.” Mungo retreated to the outskirts of the fire while the men divvied up the food and started to eat. As she’d expected, not one of them worried about her welfare. Once they’d taken their share, she approached the fire and scowled at the empty stew bowl. Agitation slumped her shoulders, and she no longer had to pretend to stoop. Avoiding eye contact, she reached for a piece of harebeest.

  “Here, Mungo.” Raibert spoke with his mouth full of food and held out his plate. “I’ll take that.”

  Wordlessly, Mungo dumped the meat on his plate. More plates hovered in front of her, and she refilled them. Not one man noticed she hadn’t eaten. Once, she might have resented their actions. She might have protested and earned herself a cuff around the ears. But now, resignation flooded her. Things would never change. Her father considered her responsible for the death of his beloved wife. She used to worry she’d failed. If only she’d resembled her father. If only she had acted with more feminine behavior. If only. If only.

  After meeting Joe and his friends, her thinking had shifted. She’d realized none of this was her fault. She’d been an innocent child.

  Her life could’ve been worse, if not for Reilynn’s unstinting love and Janeet’s gruff manner of putting her to work in the kitchen.

  Once the men finished eating, they pulled out their flasks and drank deep of the yelarb liquor made by their clan brewer. Mungo collected the plates and scraped off the remnants. The men had enjoyed her stew.

  “Wash them in the stream,” Raibert ordered in a slurred voice.

  Mungo bit her tongue and followed his orders. On her return to the fire, most of the men slumped forward, relaxed into slumber. Her father snored, and Mungo scowled at the man who should’ve loved her. Two men spoke in low murmurs, but everyone else seemed unconscious.

  She sat on the ground near where her brothers had ordered her to tether Harriet and waited for the remaining men to fall asleep. Her thoughts drifted to Joe, his decency and his gentle touch. His kisses. His skilled lovemaking.

  For once she’d think of herself. She’d stop trying to please her father because nothing she did would ever be enough. She’d find Joe and together, they’d get to the island. While she respected Joe and had gifted him with her virtue, she was savvy enough to ken this mightnae be enough for a future. He mightnae think of her in the same way, but she’d consider this an opportunity.

  Aye, the potential for a new future.

  Mungo rose and straightened to her full height. She squared her shoulders and reached for Harriet’s tether rope. With deft hands, she unfastened the reins and led Harriet down to the stream, all the while waiting for a curt protest from one of the men.

  Satisfaction filled her when no one uttered a peep. Mungo and Harriet crossed the stream and ambled away from the campsite. When the fire no longer glinted through the blacklight, she ignored her aches and mounted Mungo. She rode down the track they’d traveled during the whitelight. The glow from the biggest moon showed her the path, and she nudged Harriet to increase her speed.

  They’d find Joe, then they’d leave for the island.

  Time for an adventure.

  * * * * *

  Middlemarch Resort, Ione Island, Planet Tiraq

  Sly Mitchell pounded on his oldest brother’s door, his worry for his twin bringing urgency. It was a brown door, the same as the one on the villa belonging to him and his mate Cinnabar. Saber’s door bore a plaque that said The Big Kahuna. Scarlett, their sister, had given it to Saber on his birthday. Pleasure trumped his concern for an instant as he read the words and noted the bright red, blue and yellow on the plaque, the black writing and the Hawaiian flavor. He smiled, despite the fear that had dragged him from his bed, and thumped his fist on the door again.

  Only a few days ago, his friend Liam, king of the Seelie court, had arrived at the resort with the words of a spell to reverse the curse Princess Iseabal had placed on him.

  The reversal spell had worked.

  He could see and he’d never again take his sight for granted.

  “Maybe you should wait until the morning?” Cinnabar said from behind him.

  The buttons of her hastily donned shirt didn’t match. He peered more closely. Her shirt was inside out and her red hair needed a brush. She’d be mortified once she noticed, but he grinned, full of a joy that didn’t stop. Sometimes, he feared he might burst from the thrill of everything he possessed. A mate he adored and the return of his vision. His
family and friends.

  Now all he needed to do was save his twin from whatever trouble he’d landed himself in.

  “Saber, wake up!” He banged on the door for a third time.

  Without warning, the portal flew open and his big brother stood in the entrance. Naked, apart from a pair of boxer shorts. He glared, his black hair standing up in tuffs and his visage flashed impatience. “This had better be important.”

  “Something is wrong with Joe. I need to find him. Cinnabar won’t let me go alone.”

  Some of the oomph faded out of Saber’s attitude and concern slid across his features. “You sure?”

  “Everything was fine until this afternoon. I thought I was imagining things but it’s worse now. Saber, something bad has happened.”

  Saber nodded, not questioning Sly’s certainty. Although Sly and Joe couldn’t read each other’s minds, they sensed when something was wrong with their twin. “Joe said they’re bringing the cattle ashore in the cannibal’s territory. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Let’s grab supplies and take the flymo. It’s close to daybreak. We’ll set down near the land bridge and track them from there,” Saber suggested.

  “Take food from the kitchen to gift to the cannibals,” Eva said from behind Saber. “Believe me, you don’t want to end up in their cooking pot. It’s hot and uncomfortable.”

  Saber grinned and turned to face his mate. “Excellent idea.”

  Fear and anxiety slid through Sly without warning. He cursed. “We need to leave. Now.”

  12 – Mungo To The Rescue

  Joe forced his legs to move. He wobbled along the forest trail in feline form. Had to get to Mungo. Save her from her father. Her mean brothers. From a marriage she didn’t want.