Page 1 of Highlander’s Sweet Poison

Prologue

Darkness fell heavy across the land, and she shivered. Blood drenched the fabric of her dress, or what was left of it, and the dried leaves beneath her provided no cushion to the hard ground beneath. Each breath she took rattled her lungs and sent even more pain searing through her body. Around her, the men chuckled and talked amongst themselves as they rested after breaking her—body and spirit.

She’d failed.

Tears dampened her cheeks. The sun had yet to rise, so she could not have been trapped for too long, but even if by some miracle they let her go after they were done with her or she managed to escape, she was too badly hurt to make it to the patrols of Loch Moran now to warn them of the mercenaries hiding in their woods, ready to attack.

Smoke from the fires she’d sent to the mercenary camp curled through the air, and she hoped that maybe it would spread and take her before the men had their chance with her again.

Maybe, just maybe, Gemma and Elizabeth would make it, and the village would be spared.

But there was no hope for her. No one was coming.

A wispy figure stood over, a ghost that haunted her still. Usually, he only haunted her dreams and thoughts. This was the first time he’d manifested while she was awake.

Or perhaps she was already dead, and he was greeting her on the other side.

It would not be a pleasant meeting. Even now, Fulton MacSeaver’s ghost sneered at her. “What did I tell ye, lass, about smiling at the other men, taunting them with yer beauty and yer magic? We highlanders are made of sterner stuff than that, and now look at ye. Yer skirts above yer waist and yer bodice torn. Is this what ye wanted?”

Even dead, her husband was a bastard.

“No one is coming to save ye. No one cares about ye. They all know what ye did. How ye kilt me. ‘Tis all yer fault, and now ye will pay.”

He was right about one thing. No one was coming for her. Theo was gone, and Thomas was in charge of the loch, and since he was the leader of the mercenaries, that only left Graeme.

Her dead husband’s cousin had no love for her and wouldn’t lift a finger to help her. No, this was it for her. At least her torment would soon come to an end.

Fulton’s ghost faded away as one of the mercenaries leaned over her, his eyes bright with lust. “Did ye hope that we were going to leave ye, lass? With a life like ours, we dinnae get much time for women, especially beautiful ones like yerself. Ye were blessed by the fae, aye lass?”

Men and their superstitions. Of course, a woman with a pretty face must come from supernatural origins. Or, as many of her clan had whispered, she’d transformed herself by magic to seduce men and lead them to their deaths.

A hand touched her. Jillian opened her mouth and screamed. At first, she didn’t think she had anything left in her, but the sound pierced the night and made the man hiss and pull back. A hand covered her mouth, and she bit it hard enough so that blood filled her mouth.

She would die tonight, but she had no intention of making it easy for them.

Just as someone grabbed her hair and slammed her head on the ground, a roar shook the trees, and a figure charged through the small clearing, his sword raised.

Now what? Jillian tried to keep her eyes open to see what was happening, but there was so little left in her. Closing her eyes, she drowned the noise, the sound of men dying around her.

“Will ye not just die already, ye unnatural creature!” Fulton hissed in her ear.

Not real. He wasn’t real. Her husband was dead, and she was about to join him.

“Jillian.”

Not Fulton’s voice, and certainly not the voice she was expecting. “Jillian, lass, I have ye. Can ye move?”

Graeme. Why in the world would he be saving her? Every time he looked at her, it was as if he were trying to kill her from the force of will alone. He had hated her from the moment she married his cousin.

Before she deserved to be hated.

His hand touched her hip, and she jerked, trying to crawl away.

“Jillian, lass, I am just pulling yer dress down,” he murmured, and the fabric tugged along her thighs. “I am going to cover ye with my shirt, all right?”

Turning her head, she stared at him as he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. Gently, he covered her with it and scooped her up in his arms. The wound on her back stung, and she inhaled sharply.

“I know, lass, and I am sorry, but I wilnae leave ye here for other men to find ye. We need to get ye to Agnes.”