The Highlander's Conquest (2 page)

“Your father sent this.” Sir Blane reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled scroll.

The seal was plain wax. “My father’s seal is not on this missive.” Aliah handed it back, intent now on figuring out a way to escape. Who was this man and why was he trying to
lure her away from her home? A sense of unease made her
suspicious
.

Sir Blane didn’t even bat an eye. “Ah, yes. Your father knows you well. As I told you, there was a battle. He lost his seal during the
encounter
and bid you forgive him for such.”

“Was he injured?”

The knight shook his head. “Not overl
y so. A few scrapes and bruises
.”

“And Arbella—”She sucked in a breath and held it, regaining her composure. “Was she near the skirmish?”

Again that odd look crossed Sir Blane’s face. “No, she was perfectly protected.”

Aliah broke the seal and read the short, two-lined note stating her presence was requested in Scotland. It was signed by her father.
His script appeared shaky, but that was not alarming as he’d just been in a battle.
After r
olling up the parchment, she set it aside and returned her attention to her guest.

Should she trust him? Could she trust him? Her father may have been forced to sign the missive. But why? What could Sir Blane possibly want with her? If
the knight
had her father and her sister, taking her wouldn’t further his cause.
Aliah’s
instincts were failing her.
Saints preserve me!

He tore off a hunk of bread, bit into it and chewed as his eyes roved over the room. She took the opportunity to study his features. His skin was
darkened from the sun
, and a brush of stubble covered his cheeks and chin. Aliah fought the urge to reach out and brush her fingers over it to see how rough it was. She would be doing penance for a month if Mother Superior knew the thoughts going through her mind. Pledging herself to God meant she should not care about the texture of his face. It meant that the way he smiled should not make her melt.

Aliah watched in utter fascination as his throat bobbed after taking a swallow of wine. “’Tis a homey place you have here,” he murmured.

Aliah glance
d
away from him and stared at the walls covered in tapestries her mother, grandmother and several other generations of Mowbray women had woven. Some depicted battle scenes, victories, while others showed glorious moments in their family’s history, like a man being knighted, or the birth of an heir. A few even depicted warm moments that she missed the most—especially the one that embodied her mother, with Aliah, Arbella and their brother Samuel as small children, playing at her feet
—a moment that had never come to pass
.
The latter was sewn by her aunt
some years
after
Aliah’s
mother
’s death as a comfort to the family
.
But to Aliah it was a constant reminder of what she didn’t have. She
still felt an empty void where the love of a mother should be.

“Aye, I suppose it is.” She glanced back at him. “Is your home not so?”

He shook his head, his eyes saddening. She wanted to ask why, what made his mood change, but didn’t. That would have been awkward
coming
from someone he barely knew.
And she didn’t want to offer him the chance to get more personal, even if it were only on a
basic
level.

His face cleared and Sir Blane pushed back from the table. “I hate to rush you, my lady, but we must be going now. ’Tis a long journey to our destination and the weather will soon be turning
surly
.”

Glenda gasped. Aliah had not realized her maid had returned, and she threw a disgusted look in Glenda’s direction. She knew what Glenda was thinking—that if Aliah were to leave she would surely die of the cold—and Aliah was also aware that it was utter rubbish. Glenda had been filling the girls’ ears with rumors and terrors of the Scots since they were babes, and while Arbella had taken them to heart, Aliah knew better—but only by accident. She hadn’t meant to
eavesdrop, but one evening after Glenda had consumed too much wine, Aliah heard her confess to another maid that her own mother had told her those things. And everyone kne
w that Glenda’s mother was mad.

Aliah had only ever met a Scot once —a woman in fact, who’d been married to a neighboring lord, and she’d been the epitome of grace and calm. If it weren’t for her Scottish burr, Aliah would have thought she was an English noblewoman. She’d begged to go with her father when he made the trek to congratulate them on their wedding and he’d acquiesced since Arbella and Samuel were both busy with their studies.

Ever since meeting the Scottish Woman,
Aliah
never paid much attention to Glenda’s
rantings
. And so, she didn’t mind the journey to Scotland for the cold, she minded it for another reason entirely.

“I shall need an escort.”

“Aye, indeed, my la
d
y, I shall provide you escort.”

She shook her head. “No, that won’t do.”

He gazed at her quizzically. “Why not?”

“I’ll need a female companion.”

He pointed to her maid. “This one shall do.”

Aliah rolled eyes at the choking noise that Glenda made. “Glenda does not travel.”

A hint of knowledge glowed in his green eyes. “That is Glenda?” He nodded. “Makes sense now.”

“You’ve heard of her
?
”

“Oh, aye. Your sister speaks of her often.” His smile was catching
and she found herself returning it
.

“What did she say?”

“What manner of horrid things we—I mean the Scots—would do to her.”

What did he mean by
we
?

He picked up his glass of wine and chugged it. Perhaps the slip of his tongue was the wine, or lack of sleep. If he
knew of Glenda from her sister
—
and she could only imagine what Arbella had said
—
she could trust him
,
couldn’t she?

“Where is it exactly that we shall travel to?”
she asked.

“The Highlands, my lady.”

A chill caught her and she tried to downplay the gooseflesh rising on her arms.
“And what is my family doing there?
I thought their destination was Stirling?
”

“’Tis
where they are seeking shelter. Stirling is in a bit of unrest.
” He waved his hand
, dismissing the topic
. “We must depart, my lady. Pack a satchel or two
. T
hat is all. We can send for more things if they are needed.
But we must ride quickly and too much baggage will hold us back.
”

Aliah sensed urgency in his tone, which made her
wary
. But all the same, this man knew her father and sister and said he would take her to them. She needed to see that they were safe, before she was cut off from the world by entering into the church where she would take a vow of silence for a year. She hesitated for a moment. He had to be telling the truth, didn’t he? She had her doubts but she didn’t have any other choice but to trust him. Her father and Arbella might need her help. How could she give herself over to the church if she gave into her fears and didn’t help her father and Arbella in their time of need? Reluctantly she stepped forward, tilted her chin and met his gaze.

“I will be ready within a half-hour. Would you care for a bath or some other comfort while you wait?”

He shook his head. “I thank you, my lady, for the generous offer, and while I would relish a bath, there is simply not enough time. I will see to my men and procur
e
a mount for you.”

Aliah nodded for Glenda to follow as she made her way upstairs to her chamber. Once inside, her maid broke into a terrified litany
, chewing her fingernails to the quick
. “My lady, you cannot go with him. You don’t know who he is, and he could be a barbarian himself for all you know. He will cook
you up for dinner. He could have done the same to your sister and your father
—absorbed their souls—
and that is the only way he knew you were here.”

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Aliah threw open her wardrobe and pulled out a leather satchel that her father
had given
her
. “Glenda, stop your blubbering
. Y
ou saw yourself he was English and he had a letter from my father.”

“Oh, I… Oh…” Glenda rushed around the room, doing nothing productive whatsoever.
The woman
opened the wardrobe wider, banging the door into Aliah’s shoulder
before shutting it again. S
he rushed to poke at the non-existent fire
, then turned to mess
with the coverlet on Aliah’s bed.
“You will at least pack your bow?”

“And my arrows,” Aliah said sarcastically. She pulled a couple gowns, shifts and hose from the wardrobe and tucked them into the satchel. “Help me change into a more suitable riding gown.”

Glenda clucked and tugged at Aliah’s gown until she shoved the maid’s hands away and finished the job herself. The woman was completely useless.

“Be
cautious
, my lady.”

“I assure you, Glenda, I will
not
let any man put my bones in his beard, no
r
shall I succumb to death
from
the cold.” She’d almost forgotten to get her cloak. She pulled out the black wool, fur-lined cloak, and then switched from slippers to her sturdy leather boots.

“Oh, I do hope that is the case, my lady. Arbella seems to have made it alive. Which le
a
ds me to believe you might also.”

“Your encouragement overwhelms me.” Aliah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Fare thee well, Glenda.”

Tears brimmed in the older woman’s eyes. Despite her fear of the Scots and all the crazy notions she’d filled their heads with, Glenda meant well, and had been the only
motherly figure Aliah
had
ever
known
. Dropping her satchel, she pulled her maid in for a hug, breathing in the scent of bread and rosemary that always seemed to cling to
her
. She would miss her.

“I shall return soon, Glenda.
” She wished to tell her maid of her promise to the church and that she
intend
ed to grace the
sanctuary’s
threshold come the first
day of spring, but word would
get to her father who was certain not to agree.
As much as she wanted to tell Glenda, she couldn’t take the chance.

Glenda nodded, wiping a tear with her sleeve. “I shall pray for your safety.”

“I thank you.” Before she lost the courage she’d summoned to embark on this
sudden
journey, Aliah quit the room and the only home she’d ever known.

Chapter Two

G
ritting his teeth, Blane helped the lithe and bonny lass climb onto her mount. Her curves were supple beneath his fingertips, reminding him
in the most inopportune way that
it’d been several weeks since his last encounter with a woman. And he loved his time with a willing, wicked lass or two.

Aliah de Mowbray was born to tempt a man. Long, golden locks plaited down her back with a few wisps fluttering free around her face. Her skin was flawless, creamy perfection and he wanted to drip honey over the curve of her shoulders and lick it clean.

But she was not for him. The lady was simply his
latest
mission. He never failed to complete a task. She didn’t even realize who he really was, not that he would tell her. Disguise was his best cover—and for his own safety. Being discovered as a Scot dressed as an English
knight
in the midst of England when the English King Edward was trying to rid Scotland of Scots was not in his best interests.

Neither was meddling with an English maiden.
Not when he had another agenda to tend to—one that he’d been bent on for over a decade. No lass, no matter how bonny, would
get in the way of his objective and his retribution.

“Och,” he grumbled
, momentarily
revealing
his Scottish brogue
and
drawing her attention.
Damn!

C
rystal blue eyes flashed on him. Intelligence radiated in her gaze and he realized
she’d heard him
.

“Is aught amiss?”
she asked. Her hands tightened on
the
reins, a small move,
and
ordinarily not something he would have noticed, but he’d been on high alert since entering enemy
territory
.
One could never be too careful, and he’d slipped up.

He needed to be steadfast, another mistake could prove fatal. He cursed himself. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He was far too careful, so what was it about this golden haired lass that made him lose sense?

Blane was a master of disguise.
H
e’
d been traveling in and out of England under the guise of a merchant, farmer, lord or knight without anyone ever realizing he was Scots.
He didn’t make mistakes. And yet,
being
in her company for
no
more than an hour
,
he was reduced to a drooling pup.

He cleared his throat, hoping
it
would
also
help clear his mind. He was Blane Sutherland,
brother to Laird Magnus Sutherland of the Highlands, and he was a master
of deception
. To Lady Aliah, he was Sir Blane of Yorkshire, her escort.
If she found
out the truth
,
she would never travel with him willingly.
If his older brother Magnus or his younger brother Ronan found out about his misstep, they would tease him mercilessly.

“All is well, my lady,” he said, making sure his English accent was strong. If she were to find out he was Scots now, she would run screaming.
Likewise if she learned that the missive he carried was a forgery. Blane had never laid eyes on the Baron. He could be dead for all he knew, but Arbella had
insisted on the ruse, stating that Aliah would never come otherwise.

He tilted his head to study her, seeing the bow and arrows strapped
to
her back. Nay. She would not run. Shoot him was more like it. Best he ke
ep
on his toes and not make another idiotic mistake.
Blane wasn’t sure if he was more worried about his brother’s anger at not bringing him the English lass, or Aliah’s sister Arbella
’s wrath
if she found out that Blane had failed.

They
shared
a connection Aliah was not even aware of. His brother, Laird Magnus Sutherland, had stolen Arbella from her intended and married her. The match seemed perfect but Aliah would never believe it. Not until she saw them together. Blane had barely believed it himself.

“I thought I heard you mutter something.”

Blane glanced toward his boots and made a pretense of wiping one vigorously on the barren ground of the courtyard. “Merely stepped in a bit of
horse
manure.”

She wrinkled her nose, but asked no further questions.

Blane signaled for his men to mount and did so himself, adjusting his cloak from beneath him.
His men didn’t speak, under strict orders, unless they were with him in private
. Gr
unts
,
nods and shakes of their heads were all they used to communicate.
Lucky for them, it worked, leading most people to speak only with Blane. There was less chance of discovery that way.

From atop her horse,
he spied
Lady Aliah
studying him. Her gaze
made him feel hot, and
he
willed away any more thoughts of her, lest he speak to her
in
Gaelic and
reveal his misrepresentation
. Instead, he flicked his hand toward the wolfhound.

“The dog stays.”

Aliah shook her
head
. “Nay.”

Blane frowned, not understanding. “Nay?”

“He comes with me. As my personal guard, Sir Blane.”

Blane raised a brow. The dog was no guard. Hell, Blane had stepped into the place and issued a few hand motions and the pup had fallen at his feet. “’Tis a long and arduous journey, my lady. I dare say your guard will not make it.”

The woman lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. What he’d thought to be a sweet natured woman quickly turned haughty. Stubborn.

“He goes or I stay.”

There was no time to argue, and hell, Blane always lost when he argued with his own sisters, Heather and Lorna
. H
e wasn’t about to get into a match with a beautiful temptress
. H
e’d probably offer to carry the massive dog upon his lap if he did.
Blane shook his head in exasperation and sent a prayer up to the clouds that the dog made it all the way to Dunrobin Castle, his family’s seat in the Highlands. “Very well, my lady.”

He flicked his horse’s reins, listening to
Gunnar’s snort of irritation. The horse had a mind of his own about who was in charge, although, he was an excellent companion in battle and upon the road.

They usually traveled to England
for
less dangerous
purposes
. Blane was in charge of delivering and generating wool sales for his clan—the thing that the Sutherland’s thrived and prospered off of. Sutherland wool was thick, soft and kept
anybody
warm no matter how col
d and frozen the earth might be or how barren their hearth. ’Twas a commodity that many paid heavy coin for—and none paid more highly than the English, as unfortunate as that was.

As they passed through the gates, Lady Aliah’s men nodded to her from their guard posts. How easy it had been for him to come through their gates, to lie his way into their good graces and then to take their lady away. It astounded him. He was offended for her, and once they r
eached Scot
land, and she knew who he was, he would let her know.
Any liar with good acting skills could have conned their way through the gate and taken her away.

It’d been plain to see how
worried
she was
over her father and sister, just as Arbella, his sister-by-marriage
,
had said the lady would be. H
e’d let Arbella tell Aliah why she’d married a Highlander instead of the English noble
occupying a Scottish stronghold that
she’d been promised to.
Blane
didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of that one.

Crossing over the small bridge and onto the dirt-packed road, he increased his pace, and his men and Aliah followed.
They traveled north along the road. If he
had
his way
,
they would travel through the woods, but the trees had already lost their leaves, their brown crust covering the forest floor in a dangerous blanket, hiding broken branches and raised roots. Best to stick to the road for now.

He glanced up at the sky, mostly white with cloud
s
covering the sun, and
a
hint of grey
in-between
. The air smelled crisp as it always did in the fall.
They’d ride for a few hours before stopping
to rest, but then they’d continue on until nightfall
.
If the temperature dropped too much, he’d have to procure them a place to sleep, although he preferred for them to make camp in the woods, where no one would question Lady Aliah being in his company.
Blane spurred Gunnar forward. H
e wanted out of this Godforsaken country as quickly as possible.

Several hours later, Aliah approached him, calling out to him over the sound of the horses’ hooves. “My lord, there is a village just ahead. Might we stop to rest a moment, take a drink from their well?”

Blane was immediately on alert. Why would she want to stop in the village? Had she realized that he was not who he said he was? She’d asked for a drink, perhaps she was simply thirsty. He reached behind him and handed her his wineskin.

“What is it?”

He smiled crookedly. “The drink of the gods.”

Her eyes crinkled up in a way he’d come to know as her questioning look, and he found it to be altogether adorable and disturbing. Not breaking their pace, she took the wineskin and drank deeply.

“’Tis naught
but water,” she said accusingly.

Blane laughed heartily. “Aye, and you took a rather generous gulp thinking it would be something else. Whisky perhaps? Did your father not let you have aught but watered wine?” he teased.

Lady Aliah frowned and thrust the wineskin back at him. “You’re a cad, sir. I was simply thirsty.”

“I see.” He laughed some more and took the wineskin, securing it behind him.

“I was.”

“And are you now?”

“Nay.”

“You see, ’tis the drink of the gods, your thirst is miraculously cured.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Aye, a miracle.”

Blane chuckled all the more. “Now, if you had taken a drink from my men, I could not vouch for your lucidity after, for I do believe they have faith in the gods of liquor.”

A couple of the men behind him chortled.

Blane
winked at Lady Aliah. “You see? Y
ou are safer with me.”

He couldn’t tell if the becoming shade of pink coloring her cheeks was a blush or the c
hill air
.

“Do you still need to rest, my lady?”

She glanced at him sheepishly. “I need
but
a few moments.”

“Ah, I see.” Having sisters he understood her need to stop and relieve herself. His sisters always seemed to have to stop every few hours whereas the men could go nearly all day without breaking their pace.

Lady Aliah’s cheeks flamed redder, sending a flush down her neck. He imagined if he pushed back her cloak, even her dainty ears would be crimson, and he knew for certain her breasts would be strawberries and cream. Suppressing a groan, he held up his hand for his men to stop as he came to
a
stream.
Dismounting, he walked over to her horse and reached up to grasp her around the waist.