Highland Deception (Highland Pride) (5 page)

He readjusted his cock. It was still stiff as stone and ached with a throbbing need for release. If he’d not come to his senses, he might have taken her standing at the edge of the water. In fact, his cock begged him to go back and do so now, but his head disagreed. What was he going to do?

If she stayed with his clan, he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist those blue eyes and the full lips that had so eagerly parted to let him in. There was only so much temptation he could resist. Maggie had to go before he made more mistakes he would regret. Currently, she was untouched and her family could make a good match for her, but he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her for long. The faster she was sent home, the sooner he would come back to his senses.

She must be a spy of some sort. Why else would she have appeared when she did, to save them and gain the confidence of him and his men? And she had shown an unusual interest in Robbie. If she were one of Conall’s spies, the boy could be in danger.

Once she had fallen asleep, he had checked her bag for weapons and not found anything inside that appeared dangerous. But poison was a woman’s weapon, and he didn’t have the knowledge to analyze all the herbs and small bottles of liquid she had tucked away. He would have to watch her closely when she mixed up whatever concoctions she was making.

Shaking his head, he knew he couldn’t fault the men for the appreciative glances aimed her way when she returned to the clearing. Her midnight-colored hair was down, still wet and clinging to her as she swayed seductively into their midst. Her shirt was slick with water from her swim and hugged her body, showing off her curves. He had held those curves in his hands and wanted to again, but she might be the enemy. Every eye was on her, but she didn’t notice, because she fixated on him. His groin tightened at the thought, but he quickly squashed down the lust.

Mouths watering, his men gaped. Judging from their reaction to her, there was not a chance in hell he could keep them away if he didn’t secure her by his side. His fists clenched and urged him to knock sense into them. Although Lachlan was hesitant to be near this bonny but dishonest female, if he did not keep her close, one of his men would take her and might spill all the clan’s secrets—something he could not allow, given the letter in his possession. Spy or not, she was his.

No one else would lay their hands on the pale flesh he could still feel under his fingertips. Still tasting her on his tongue, honey and innocence, he growled as his men continued to ogle her. Damn, why did she have to be so comely?

Maggie looked at him with penetrating sapphire eyes that beckoned him to touch and taste her. They seared him and heated his blood. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she wanted him, that she was skilled in the art of seduction. That couldn’t be true. The way she trembled in his arms spoke of someone terrified of being in a vulnerable position with another. She had returned his kiss in the water, but it was unskilled, leading him to believe she had never been kissed before.

Spy or innocent, he was guided by his values and honor to protect her until she could be returned safely. Especially after his rough treatment of her—faint bruises marked her neck where he had nearly… God, he did not want to think about what he had nearly done to her.

A male form swaggered toward her, and Lachlan’s shoulders tensed. As Finlay, the shyest man of his group, blushed and drooled over Maggie when he held out a trencher filled with cheese and bread, Lachlan found his own breathing deepen and his chest tighter. She accepted the proffered plate and smiled at his cousin. Her eyes lit, and Finlay reached out to pat her arm as Lachlan ground his teeth. Bashful or no’, the man would be one of the group he sent to find her clan.

Next to saunter up to her was his brother, then the rest. Suddenly she had an audience. The only ones who stayed away were Alan, Robbie, and Seamus, the lone married man in the bunch. They all still watched her, though.

“Enough,” he called. The startled men took a step back and riveted their gazes on him, while Malcolm studied him, perplexed.

What had the wench done to him? He’d never before lost his senses over a woman. For Christ’s sake, he was bothered that his men were just looking at her.

After clearing his throat loudly, he said, “Time to be on our way,” his words clipped. The men gathered around her quickly dispersed, although Alan grinned and gave Lachlan a defiant smile. The bastard knew he desired her. Of course, after his outburst they would all know, while he hadn’t yet had time to analyze the strange emotions swirling in his head. He did, however, understand the ones that caused his shaft to tighten and ache.

“Alan,” he called. Once his friend strode up, he pulled him over to the side and muttered, “Keep an eye on her.”

His friend’s brow rose. “Ye want her.”

Lachlan caught the man’s arm as he turned to go. “Dinnae let anyone touch her.” Alan just winked and gave him a mischievous, lopsided grin. They had been friends far too long, and Alan knew him better than he knew himself—Lachlan was staking a claim on her whether he’d intended to or no’. It was the last thing he needed, but he couldn’t stand back and watch his men become infatuated with her. Clan Cameron was in a precarious position, and he couldn’t afford any wagging tongues loosened by lust. Aye, that was the reason for his agitation.

“Finlay, Gillies, come.” He grabbed a satchel and tramped into the woods without looking to see if they followed, because none would question their laird. “Double back and find where she came from. She doesnae belong here with us. Either she is a spy, or her clan will be looking for her. We need to know the truth.”

The men nodded, and Lachlan continued, “Start with the Macnabs, then the MacLarens, and branch out from there. She was on Macnab land when we found her. She’s well educated. Someone will ken who she is.” He didn’t have to remind them how bonny she was.

“They all support the Royalists, so we have nothing to fear from her.” Finlay’s relieved tone gave Lachlan the impression his cousin had already developed a fondness for the wench. “Should we tell their chiefs of the letter?”

“Nae, ’twould be best coming from me, along with an invitation to Kentillie. I will arrange a meeting to discuss how we should proceed. Argyll’s support to weaken King Charles’s reign is strengthening—Conall is a prime example of the traitorous bastards—and I fear the earl’s drive to push his beliefs on the rest of our country is growing. Our best chance at squashing their efforts will require caution.”

“Do ye think the Macnabs and MacLarens can be trusted?” Gillies asked.

“Aye, but best ye dinnae tell anyone Maggie is with us, not until we ken she isnae a threat.”

“I dinnae see her as a danger. She saved yer brother,” Finlay continued to defend the lass.

“Aye, but she could also be a Covenanter spy. Mayhap Conall’s spy. She came out of nowhere when Nathair showed up.” The swirling doubt in his own mind was echoed by Gillies’s words.

“Do ye think Conall will send more men?” Finlay asked.

“Aye, he will be looking for Robbie, along with his letter. Did ye see the menace in his eyes when the boy identified him?”

“Aye, ’tis the only safe place for him, being with the Camerons. At least until Conall’s dead or rotting in prison,” Gillies said.

“He’ll have noticed by now Nathair is missing.” Finlay said.

“That is why I want both of ye to go. There is safety in numbers. Be careful where ye ask questions. Ye never know who is listening.” Lachlan paced as he gave his instructions.

“What if our activities are questioned?” Finlay asked.

“Take this.” Lachlan tossed a bag to him. The cousin they had escorted to Edinburgh a few days earlier conveniently provided them an excuse. “It’s some of Fiona’s things she was sending to her sister. It can be a ruse to give ye reason to travel back through the area. Ye can say some of her belongings got mixed in with ours, and ye needed to return to Edinburgh to give it to her.”

“Didnae ye send Dougal to find Maggie’s family?”

“I only sent him to ask who owned her horse. He’s just to say he found it wandering and nothing of her. I dinnae think he will be recognized, anyway. He was not with us when we came upon the letter or during the altercation.” Lachlan shook his hand out. His knuckles were still bruised from the punch he’d landed on Conall’s jaw.

“We will take care,” Gillies said.

“And take only horses from our stables. Ye don’t need to be seen on any of Conall’s.” They turned to walk back to the camp, and Lachlan continued, “Return as quickly as ye can.” He wasn’t certain how long his resolve would hold out. Maggie was a distraction he didn’t have time for, especially as his clan became increasingly mired in politics.

He not only had an obligation to protect Robbie—he was sworn to the Catholic Royalists. If he was able to thwart Conall’s plan to align with Argyll, he might be able to stop the fanatical Covenanters from forcing their religion on others. King Charles shouldn’t have tried to impose Catholicism on the Covenanters, but he didn’t see that his oppression had sparked their movement. There would be war soon if something couldn’t be done, and the last thing he wanted was to send his men to fight.

Nae, the bonny Maggie, with curves his fingers itched to feel again and innocent lips that had been sweet and willing, was a diversion he didn’t need and couldn’t afford. Neither could his clan.

Chapter Four

After returning to the glade, Maggie let her gaze drift to Lachlan. But he took one look at her and, as if nothing had happened between them, turned away and strode off through the thick green shrubbery and lavender heather into the opposite woods with two of his men.

“Why does he find me offensive?” Maggie asked, discouraged, when Alan came to stand beside her.

“Ye misread him, dear lass.” Alan laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“How so?” Lachlan’s changing currents of emotions had utterly perplexed her.

“’Tis no’ ye he finds offensive. ’Tis the thought of a beautiful woman, which fortunately or unfortunately for ye, puts ye into the untrustworthy wench category.”

This man only confused her more. Maggie’s head quirked to the side. “Why?” she asked.

“Lachlan overheard his betrothed plotting his murder. She was a bonny lass he had known all his life. Now he doesnae trust women. But he wants ye. I can see it. He’s trying to deny it, but we all saw it just now.”

“What did ye see? I see him avoiding me like a leper.” Her gaze wandered restlessly to the woods where he’d disappeared.

“In his own way, he just warned us all to stay away from ye.” Alan laughed harder. She didn’t see anything humorous in the matter. “Watch yerself, lass. He’s sworn to never marry. Dinnae hope for that outcome.”

She didn’t want marriage, either, but she wasn’t about to tell Alan—all men assumed that was a woman’s goal in life.

“Are ye Presbyterian, lass?” His good humor had fled, and she blinked at the change. His face had become granite, and his eyes met hers with a steely challenge. Like Lachlan, he had obviously hoped to trip her up by pretending friendship. She got the sense her answer would tell him much, and whatever he learned would be passed on to Lachlan.

“Why does it matter what my religion is?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head.

“The Camerons are Royalists. If ye are a Covenanter, ye will have to seek refuge elsewhere.”

“I believe everyone has the right to worship in whatever way they please.”

“’Tis noble of ye, but where are yer clan’s loyalties?”

She looked away to avoid his scrutiny, fighting back the bitter feelings from years of being told her fate was for the good of her clan. Despite that, she would not betray her people by speaking about them to a stranger.

Lachlan had probably told all of them his suspicions about her, so she considered what she could say without confessing too much. Giving up the pretense that she couldn’t remember who she was, she eyed Alan. “I willnae tell ye of my clan. But if ye must ken, I am Catholic.” She squared her shoulders, and his features lightened.

“’Tis enough for now. He’ll no’ send ye away.” Alan smiled and nodded toward Lachlan, who strode back into their midst. “So ye best decide if ye want his attentions. He’s already decided he wants ye, even if he won’t admit it.”

Lachlan motioned, and Alan left her side. She turned her back to think about what she should do next—stay with these men or sneak out and continue on her own. Then she remembered she was free of her betrothal, and soon she would be done with all the politics. Although Lachlan and his men regarded her with wariness, they were her best chance to reach the north safely and stay out of Conall’s grasp. Before long, she would be ensconced in a colony of women who wouldn’t care about her family’s allegiances. Really, it didn’t matter what these men thought of her, because she would be where no one could use her—unless she stumbled and told them her father was the Duke of Kirk.

As a Royalist, Lachlan would approve of her marriage to Conall, who was the Earl of Lundin’s son and would someday be the governor of Edinburgh. He would want to keep the Royalists in power there. Her heart sank. If he knew whom she was betrothed to, there would be no hope—Lachlan would treat her just like her father had and turn her over to that monster.

If Lachlan was prepared to go to battle for the Royalist cause, he wouldn’t hesitate to hand a stranger over to someone who fought for the same side. It had just become even more important she keep her identity secret.

…

Lachlan walked into the clearing to Alan’s laughter as he stood near Maggie at the edge of their camp. His shoulders tensed at his friend’s close proximity until he noticed how Maggie watched the man dully, her eyes solemn and troubled. Her pale skin had turned a light gray, and her distressed state made him forget his plans to ignore her. What the devil had he told her? She looked away and refused to meet his eyes.

Lachlan pointed to Alan and crooked his finger in command.

“Excuse me, Maggie,” Alan said, loud enough for Lachlan to overhear as he gave her a mischievous grin. Lachlan didn’t miss the wink Alan shot her way as his friend strutted toward him.

“What did ye say? She doesnae look pleased.” Irritation rumbled through him.

“I told her that ye despised beautiful women. She seemed disappointed. I think she wants ye. I told her not to expect anything from ye.” The smirk on his face said he was stifling another laugh.

“Were ye trying to do me favors? Because if I wanted to bed her, she probably willnae want me now.” He’d not thought about her rejecting him and pushed the unpleasant idea from his mind.

“Nae, she wants ye. She just doesnae seek a broken heart. I warned her to guard it. What she does with the information is up to her.” Alan patted Lachlan on the back.

He didn’t want to analyze why his friend’s words bothered him. They talked about wenches all the time, but something was different. He was compelled by an odd need to protect Maggie from anything, or anyone, that would hurt her. Mayhap it was because he’d caused her enough pain already.

Lachlan growled at Alan, then glanced over to the lovely nymph. He had carefully crafted secure walls to keep himself guarded, but he feared somewhere down deep she might be the one to break through those walls and lure him into more than casual bedsport. “We dinnae even ken who she is.”

“Does it matter?” Alan asked.

“Aye. She’s educated. I dinnae think she’s a simple farmer’s daughter. If being with her brings war with another clan, ’tis no’ worth it.” Lachlan kept his eyes locked on the woman in question. With her back to him, his eyes could trace the dark curls reaching to her waist.

“And if she isnae so important? Would ye want her then?”

Maggie slowly spun toward them and met Lachlan’s gaze with sad blue eyes that turned heated within an instant. A fire sparked, and her defiance blazed. She glanced away, her rebellious curls swinging around her shoulders in subordination. He took it as a challenge.

Lachlan had been with others since his betrothal had been dissolved, but he couldn’t deny the desire coursing through him. It was only a matter of time until he gave in to the growing need. “Aye, Alan. I want her.”

He had just become the predator and she the prey.

…

Frustration beat at Lachlan’s chest because she wouldn’t look at him. They had been riding for hours, but she sat stiff on the back of one of their newly acquired horses, not sparing a glance at him. Alan’s warning had scared her. When he’d met her, she had seemed fearless to the point of putting herself in danger. Could it be true she was afraid of nothing but a broken heart? Or was there something more?

“Where’s Freedom?” she had asked as he’d put his hands out to help her mount.

“I sent Dougal ahead with him. Wanted to make sure there were no more surprises.”
Now you are the one lying.
He had justified it by thinking,
It’s only half a lie and to protect the clan.

She’d frowned. “Why Freedom? Does Dougal no’ have his own horse?”

“Aye, he does, but I sent him with extra, so he could make better time.”

She’d stepped up into his hand like she was a princess, mounted, and then turned her head to ignore him.

She had a defiant streak in her. A lass who would goad him and ignite a fire in his blood. It was refreshing to see a woman who didn’t jump at his command. But her recklessness was unnerving—she had jumped into a battle to save a man she didn’t know and run into a river naked in an unknown area with unfamiliar men close at hand.

Now she challenged him in front of his men. He slowed to ride beside her, and she sped up. When he sped up, she slowed down. The men snickered, and Alan was openly amused at his plight.

Maggie was making herself unavailable to him, and strangely, her curt dismissal of him made him want her more. Aileen had always been the one to initiate their interludes. This lass was making him work for her affections.

He dropped behind again and studied her regal bearing. She obviously had some tutoring, and she rode a horse well. Why would an intelligent, definitely innocent lass be going away from her home instead of toward it?

She had not protested last evening when he had told her she would have to travel to Kentillie with them before they would be able to return her—he’d expected her to argue and insist they take her home immediately. Shocking that instead she’d looked relieved, even happy over the idea of not being reunited with her family.

They stopped for a rest. Dismounting, Lachlan frowned at her. “Maggie, come,” he ordered.

His voice was harsher than he’d intended, yet how was he supposed react to the defiant stance she’d taken with him? Her eyes pinned him with suspicion, but she slowly obeyed and walked a few steps behind.

He took her hand and was surprised at how it molded into his, although she eyed him suspiciously. “Come. ’Tis good to stretch while we’re stopped.”

“Aye,” she said as she smiled innocently up at him. “I am stiff. I dinnae ever remember riding so long.”

“Do ye ride much?”

“I used to, but no’ so much anymore. I miss it.” After a sigh, she continued, “There is something liberating about riding.”

“Is that why ye named yer horse Freedom?”

Instead of answering, she stared off into the distance. His temper flared as it dawned on him she was not going to answer such a simple question.

He rounded on her. She stopped short to avoid colliding with his chest and jerked her hand from his as she backed a step. The whites of her eyes were large as she swallowed.

“Why are ye in men’s clothes?” Fingering the edge of her loose-fitting white shirt, he raked his gaze downward to her trews. He pinned her with a steady gaze, but her eyes shifted to the side. She would lie, then. How he wanted to growl in frustration.

“I—I dinnae recall,” she stammered. He grabbed her hand and towed her along.

“Ye arenae good at lying, lass.”

They had made it to a copse of trees, and he continued on, pulling her when she hesitated. Her trembling fingers led him to believe leading her away from the group scared her, but he wanted to touch and taste her. If he got some honest responses from her in the process, it would be worth it.

“My answers may not be what ye want to hear, but if I am less than honest, I am doing so in order to protect myself. I swear my intention is no’ to harm anyone.” She held her shoulders back and head high, but the hitch in her voice belied her confident resolve.

He stopped short and turned to face her. She sucked in her breath sharply. A glimpse of the tops of her breasts as they rose and fell under the material of the shirt caught his eyes, and his gaze drifted down and lingered motherentarily. Before she could react, he had snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her in close.

He huffed out a breath. “Maggie, I dinnae ken what kind of game ye are playing, but ye are going to get burned.”

Through his shirt, he could feel her heart beating like a scared rabbit’s, and he lowered his head to give her a punishing kiss. As soon as their lips touched, he remembered her innocence and he slowed. He gentled the caress until she tentatively matched his pace. She moaned, inciting him and urging him on.

One hand came around to knead her breast. She gasped in his mouth, and her eyes flew open. She was shocked, but her pupils dilated and begged for more. Her lids closed, and she pressed into his touch.

His groin tightened, and he leaned down farther as his mouth closed on her neck and suckled, gently biting down and pulling back. As she melted into him and moaned, her head tilted to give him purchase. He nibbled on her ear and then blew hot air gently into it.

“Oh, sweet Maggie, I do want ye,” he whispered, his voice husky.

He nipped again then eased away to see his desire mirrored in her eyes. Never had he seen a more alluring sight than the wanton woman who had sprung to life with nothing more than his kisses. Her windblown hair, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips enticed him to take more. She might be lying about who she was, but the yearning in her eyes was real. She wanted him.

Blushing, she bit her lower lip under his scrutiny, and he wanted to surrender and take her. But he was laird. He was stronger than that. He couldn’t have her if it would bring war to the clan. “I have to know first. Where are ye from?”

She stilled, and her breath caught. Instead of answering, her gaze drifted away from his.

“Where are ye from?” he insisted as he splayed his hands into her hair, grasped her head, and forced her to look up at him.

“I cannae tell ye.” The passion that had reflected in her eyes motherents ago vanished. It changed to fear.

“Why, Maggie? Why will ye no’ tell me?” His ragged voice tinged with frustration, and the question came out harsher than he intended.

“Because.” She shut her eyes. When she opened them again, they pooled wet with moisture. “If I tell ye, ye will send me back.”

One tear escaped and trailed down her face, but she ignored it. The little lass pushed off him with a strength he wouldn’t have thought possible as her defiance reared. “Ye willnae soften me with yer kisses. Ye dinnae have to take me with ye if ye do not wish. I will go on my own. I am no longer yer concern.”

Faster than he could blink, she had ducked around him and was darting through the thick woods. Never had he seen such a small lass move so quickly. Stunned, he’d not expected her to reject him and take off, especially after experiencing the passion he’d stirred in her.