Highland Deception (Highland Pride) (9 page)

“Come, lass. I willnae harm ye,” a man crooned to her, and panic set in.

She’d heard the voice before. What had someone called him? Her heart sank as a name penetrated her hazy memory.
Ewen.
Conall’s friend. The one who sneered at her every time they came to visit. The toad who had cornered her, groped her, and told her Conall sometimes let him watch. He’d said he would take pleasure in seeing him break her. Her head spun, and she was going to retch. She reached for her dagger, then remembered she’d lost it when she’d stitched up Malcolm.

Wood snapped, and boots clomping in the brush came nearer. Ewen was close. He was headed straight toward her, and she had nowhere to run. Cowering, she closed her eyes against the dizziness and prayed the thick bush was enough cover. A nearby sound caught her attention, and her eyes flew wide to see his face looming toward her as the mist cleared. A startled squeak escaped her lips.

He squinted, and the corners of his lips turned into a malicious smirk. She tried to bolt, but he caught her by the arm before she could even rise.

“Well, now, Margaret Murray. Conall has been looking for ye. Wonder what he’ll do when he finds out ye were with Lachlan. Isnae going to be pretty, wench.” He let go and kicked at her, striking her in the ribs.

She doubled over and drew a breath in sharply at the pain.

“Get up.”

She attempted to creep farther into the brush, but branches and leaves scratched her hands and face.

Trapped.

The toad reached down, grabbed her again, and yanked her to her feet. He dragged her out of the bushes and into the clearing with a dirk to her neck.

Maggie was glad to see Lachlan had defeated one man and was about to go in for the kill on the second. He swung and struck the man on his left side, and dazed, the man dropped to the ground and rolled to his side.

Ewen yelled, “Look what I have here.”

Lachlan froze.

“Put yer weapon down, or I’ll slice her throat.”

Lachlan turned to glare at the man holding her. Only one time before had she seen him look so deadly and menacing—when he thought she’d hurt his brother—and his furious gaze should have instilled horror in the man who gripped her. It terrified her.

Ewen boasted, “Do ye see this, Glenn? Look who I have here.” Thankfully, Lachlan was facing them and missed the recognition flashing in Glenn’s eyes as he writhed on the ground.

…

His blade grasped tightly at his side, Lachlan strutted casually toward Maggie and the bastard holding her. “Let her go,” he commanded.

The man tightened his grip on her arm and twisted the point of the blade so it almost dug into her neck. It appeared as if the breath caught in her throat.

“Glenn, get up. We can take ’er with us. The Cameron wouldnae risk the lass getting hurt.”

Lachlan spared a passing glance for the man he had just cut down with a killing blow from his claymore. Although he still squirmed, Glenn didn’t appear as if he would be going anywhere.

“Ye are already dead. If ye harm her, I shall make it slow and excruciating. Let go of her now, and ye can die a swift, painless death.” Tensed and ready to pounce, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. His steady voice was deceptive; he was anything but calm. Maggie was under his protection, and no one would threaten her and live. A rage he had never experienced before coursed through him and threatened to unleash the primitive beast he kept buried deep inside.

The fool backed up as Lachlan stalked forward. He stumbled slightly with Maggie but recovered quickly. The dead man—for he was dead as soon as he’d laid a hand on her—jerked her along with him, and her feet dragged on the ground.

Maggie peered straight at him. “Dinnae worry with me, Lachlan. I had rather die than go with him.”

His lip turned up at the brave words from his little lass. She was reckless, but he would get her out of this safely, and she would never be harmed again because of him. These men were here because they wanted Robbie and because of the piece of paper he had tucked in his sporran. She was an innocent.

“L-let go of me, ye brute,” she stammered as she grappled with the arm encircling her waist.

The dead man only laughed at her, then whispered in her ear, but Lachlan couldn’t hear what he’d said. The color drained from her face, and she went completely still. She stopped struggling and seemed resigned to whatever fate would come. Rage erupted anew.

“Ye willnae leave this land alive, ye ken that?” Lachlan shook his head at the man’s ignorance. “Do ye ken how far north ye have come?” He let out a harsh chuckle as Ewen tensed and his eyes darted from side to side. “Ye are on my land now.”

“If ye step closer, I will slit her throat. I’d rather take ’er alive, but I will kill ’er if I have to.”

White-hot fury exploded in Lachlan’s veins.

Just as he was readying to pounce, Maggie’s hands darted up and grabbed the arm holding the dirk at her neck. She yanked the blade away from her as the heel of her boot came down on the scoundrel’s foot. Despite her attempt, his filthy hands still held their grip on her. She struggled, but the other arm holding her did not budge.

As Lachlan dropped his sword, bolted forward, and latched onto the arm with the knife, Ewen yelped. Maggie ducked down, out of the man’s reach, and won free. The dead man and he tumbled to the earth with Ewen pinned under Lachlan’s much larger body. He raised the rogue’s arm and forcefully thrust it back into a nearby rock, over and over until the man’s fist unclenched and the weapon fell to the ground.

Lachlan struck the man in his face. Once, it felt good—he would never touch Maggie again. Twice—the man’s hands had been on his woman. Three times—he would never touch what belonged to another man again. With each punch, some of the rage that had overwhelmed him was released. He didn’t know how many times he hit the battered and bloody face before he heard Maggie’s calming voice through his haze of fury.

A light touch on the small of his back roused him. “Lachlan, ’tis enough,” she said.

He kept going.

“Lachlan, he cannae harm anyone.”

She knelt down beside him as her hand moved to his shoulder and he stopped the relentless pounding. The bastard didn’t move. He was motionless, and it appeared as if he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Maggie circled around to his front and took his bloody hand. She inspected it as he blinked her back into focus. “Are ye hurt?” she asked.

He wanted to laugh. She was asking if he was hurt—she was the one who had had a blade to her throat. Stretching his hand out for her, he tenderly took her chin and pushed it up so he could inspect the damage. There was a small pinprick where the tip of the blade had dug into her tender flesh.

“Are ye hurt?” he questioned as he rose and pulled her up with him. He wanted her away from this violence. A lass like her should never have to see anything like this.

The horses were still close by, so he gathered them quickly. He spared a thought for the fallen men, but his priority was getting Maggie to the castle and making sure the others had made it back. He would send someone to dispose of the bodies later. Glancing around to inspect the carnage before they left, he noticed one was missing.

The one he had fatally wounded was gone, and his horse was missing as well, although he wouldn’t make it far. Lachlan would send a few Camerons out to look for him. In his weakened condition, he shouldn’t be difficult to track.

“Come, we arenae far from Kentillie. We need to get ye to safety. I dinnae ken how many more men there are.” In the back of his mind, he considered the missing man, although Maggie probably hadn’t noticed and had no idea they were still in danger. Better he did not tell her.

Reaching up, she took his face in both of her hands. The gesture was so gentle it took him by surprise.

“Thank you, Lachlan.” Her eyes watered, and she pushed up on her toes while drawing his face down to hers. Her lips brushed his and lingered. The kiss was tender and sincere and sent shock waves straight to that part of him that wanted to be buried deep inside her.

She pulled him in closer, and he groaned at the desire her sweet caress elicited.

As his hand slid to her nape, he groaned again then ended the kiss. It was not safe here, and if this continued, she wouldn’t remain an innocent much longer. He wanted nothing more than to stake his claim on her, fill her, and make her cry out his name. But this was not the place, and he couldn’t risk taking her until he knew who she was.

The sooner they moved, the quicker he would have her out of danger—he wanted her locked away behind the fortified walls of Kentillie.

“Maggie, I want ye, but no’ here, lass. ’Tis no’ safe.” Reluctantly he pulled away, then remembered. “How is your head?”

“’Tis hard to concentrate and everything seems fuzzy, but ’tis settling down. It doesnae hurt.”

“We will ride slowly to make sure we dinnae jostle ye anymore.” He picked her up and put her on her horse, making sure she had her balance before he released his grip.

He glanced over his shoulder one last time and scanned for the missing man. A chill ran down his spine, but he turned and they were on their way.

Chapter Seven

When Ewen had the blade to her throat, he had threatened to take her directly to Conall; she would no longer have the protection of her family. Their wedding could take place immediately. Her stomach had turned, and she still wasn’t sure how she had tamped down the nausea and panic. The recollection made her hands sweat and her heart race in fear, and she shuddered.

How had Conall’s men found her? It was too quick, especially considering the meandering they had done to avoid the jagged peaks of the mountains. His men would have had to do the same thing, so how had they been able to track her? Her family should barely even realize she was gone, much less Conall, and there was no way they could have determined she’d ridden north with Lachlan and his men.

Could she be putting Lachlan and his people at risk? If Conall found her, he would let nothing stand in the way of retrieving her. Her betrothed was powerful, but so was Lachlan. She prayed she was not about to start a war.

Her time at Kentillie would have to be short.

The fog had cleared, and she didn’t want to dwell on something she couldn’t control, so she attempted to focus on the scenery as they rode. It was beautiful here. The terrain had changed along the journey, becoming harder to traverse, and the rolling hills of her home had turned to vast mountains. They were the largest she’d ever seen, and their majesty was mesmerizing.

Kentillie Castle came into view as they rounded a mountain and rode out into a glen.

“’Tis beautiful,” Maggie said without even realizing it. Lachlan had been silent and on guard since the attack, but with his home in view he seemed to ease.

“Aye, ’tis. This is the River Arkaig. It runs behind the castle.” He motioned to the fast-flowing water that had come into view. Pride resonated in his voice, and she could see why.

“Loch Arkaig is to the west and Loch Lochy to the east. Castle Kentillie is in the middle.”

The land was lush and fertile—it was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Along with the green foliage, varying shades of purples from heather and thistle bushes dotted the landscape. Orange and yellow rowan trees were scattered about on the sides of mountains and streams, and hardy-looking, reddish-brown cows with long hair grazed in the open spaces and on the sides of the hills. She found herself looking at the vegetation as they passed, recognizing some herbs she could use and others she’d never seen before. This place was heaven.

As they rode through the gatehouse, a tall, willowy woman rushed up to greet them. Lachlan dismounted, and Finlay helped Maggie down from her horse as the lady drew Lachlan in and whispered something in his ear. Despite her height, she still looked small next to him. Her long golden hair, pulled back at the nape of her neck, had just started to gray. She had aged beautifully and had probably once been the most bonny lass in the area.

Easing back, she said, “Malcolm said ye were bringing a lass.”

The woman beamed at him, then her gaze traveled to Maggie and perused her from head to toe. Her regard remained steady and unreadable as her focus returned to Lachlan. Maggie wasn’t sure if the woman was taking her measure or had dismissed her.

“Malcolm is here, then.” Lachlan’s tense shoulders relaxed. “What of Alan and the lad with him?”

“Aye, they are all back, except for the three you sent south.”

The lady smiled, and eyes the same shade of blue as Lachlan’s turned from him and riveted on her. “Lachlan, boy, where are yer manners? Please introduce me to the lovely lass.”

He actually flushed. “This is Maggie.” His gaze shifted toward her shyly. She’d never seen him embarrassed, not thought him capable of such an emotion, the big brute of a man who cut down the ox and then three men at one time.

“Maggie, this is my mother, Elspeth.” Was he ashamed to introduce her to his mother?

Oh, God, what would the woman think of her? She’d not considered how the rest of his family might react to a poorly dressed stranger he’d picked up on the side of the road. Days had passed since she’d changed into Robbie’s old castoffs, and her boy’s clothing suddenly seemed heavier. She probably smelled bad, too. Och, her hair—she’d not had the brush the rest of the journey and had resorted to finger combing and then pulling her tresses back to keep knots at bay.

The last thing on her mind after the attack today had been meeting his mother. Hers would have cringed at her appearance, but it was difficult to read Lachlan’s mother. Where had the woman learned to hide her emotions?

I could use a lesson in it
, she thought as Elspeth held out a hand. Maggie grasped it and said, “I am pleased to meet ye, Elspeth.”

Despite Maggie’s tattered appearance, the woman pulled her in for a tight embrace, which was warm and motherly. She seemed genuinely happy to meet Maggie. That surprised her, as she had expected Elspeth to distance herself instead of welcoming Maggie as if she were an old friend. Why would any of them trust her? Maybe Elspeth was still unaware of how she had come to be in Lachlan’s company. What would Malcolm have said about her?

“Get cleaned up, Lachlan, ye are a mess. I will take this lovely lass and get her some proper attire.”

Now Maggie couldn’t hide the blush as Elspeth walked with her arm looped through hers and led her through the gates. A blessed calm washed over her as she realized this was what she had wanted.

She was free.

Maggie took a motherent to enjoy the view of the mountains and river. Lachlan had described it perfectly, and she was already in love with the fortress in front of her. It loomed large but offered a sense of security she had never known. While she could, she would enjoy her time here, in this safe place, a sanctuary that would allow her to move on without fear to the next part of her journey.

“Malcolm tells me ye saved his life.” Ah, this was why the woman was being so kind.

“I stitched his wound, but I think he would have mended well with some rest.” She tried to minimize her role in the whole affair.

Maggie had never been good at receiving compliments, probably because she was not accustomed to being paid any. Her mother had ignored her accomplishments, while her father had always complained she was not feminine enough. Retreating with her brothers had been a welcome respite from not living up to expectations, and she had spent all those years in the forest because she didn’t want to be anything like the women her father and men of his ilk wanted. She would never be one to fawn over a man to the point her children no longer mattered.

Maggie sighed. She would probably never have children. The thought made her heart ache.

“He also tells me that my oldest has developed a fondness for ye.” At Elspeth’s statement, Maggie’s steps faltered and her jaw dropped open, but no words came out.

What else had he told her?

As the woman drew her into the great hall, her embarrassment vanished. The beauty of the hall captivated her attention. Although she had imagined it would be large, because she had heard of the strength of the Cameron clan, she had not expected it to be so ornate.

Artfully woven tapestries hung from the walls depicting stories from the history of the clan. Elspeth pointed them out as they passed, telling her a brief history of each, and she beamed as she passed on the stories of the clan’s home and heritage. Her enthusiasm was contagious—not that Maggie knew much of clan Cameron—it was the thought of someone taking interest in something other than her misplaced loyalties. A mother who loved her sons and her legacy.

She instantly felt a connection to this woman.

Elspeth turned and studied her. “Are ye going to tell me where ye are from?” Maggie froze, and Elspeth continued, “I dinnae ken if ye are aware of what Lachlan has had to deal with, but deception willnae be tolerated here.”

Her chest rose and fell as she took a fortifying gulp and breathed in. “I dinnae intend to deceive anyone. I dinnae tell my surname to protect myself.” Guilt assailed her for her selfish reasons. “I have nae intention of harming or misleading anyone. I plan to be out of yer way shortly. If ye are uncomfortable with me here, I can leave now if ye wish it.”

The idea of leaving now left her cold, because she wanted to have a little time with Lachlan first. Yearned to feel his skin against hers, to know what it was like to have a man touch her in intimate ways, to give her a small handful of memories to cherish after she took her vows. But she would give that up if this woman asked her to go.

Elspeth scrutinized her for a few motherents and then said, “Ye seem honest. I have a way of knowing good character, so for now, ye can stay.”

“Thank ye for your kindness and welcome. I dinnae plan to stay long, and will need to be on my way soon. My presence here cannae be good for yer clan.” She bit her bottom lip, privately scolding herself for revealing so much.

“I hope one day ye have the courage to tell me what ye are running from.” Elspeth gave her a small smile. “But for now, let’s find ye some appropriate clothes and get ye washed up.” She looped her arm back through Maggie’s and led her through the great hall, pausing only to issue orders for a bath to be brought to the room she would be putting Maggie in. They walked up some stairs and down a short hallway with a view overlooking the spacious room below.

Elspeth led Maggie into a chamber, saying, “I’ll be back shortly,” and left her to the peace of being alone for the first time since she’d left home. It wasn’t long before a bath was brought in, the woman reappearing with a linen shift and a deep green woolen arisaid. Just after dropping the garments on the bed and a tray of pastries with a cup of ale on the small desk near the door, she said, “I’ll let ye bathe in privacy,” and was gone again.

After taking off her boy’s shoes and garments, she folded and stacked them neatly by the door, where she noticed a pair of slippers matching the emerald hues of the plaid had been laid out for her. Returning to the bath, she dipped one finger in to test the water. ’Twas warm, so she climbed in and bathed with the soap that had been provided. Once done, she dried herself and walked over to the bed.

She picked up the soft shift and slid it over her head, then went to the desk and discovered a brush had been left for her as well. ’Twas refreshing to have her locks cleaned, and she set to work combing the long tresses, but let them fall loose when she couldn’t find anything to tie them back with. After having the ale and pastries, she found herself becoming drowsy, so she sauntered back over to the bed and ran her fingers over the woolen fabric, noting the vibrant colors and fine craftsmanship.

The green would look nice on her. Men had always told her she was beautiful, but it had never been important to her before. On many occasions, she had purposely made herself look unattractive or had not tamed her hair because she didn’t want men looking at her, but tonight was different.

She wanted Lachlan to notice her, and she wanted him to desire her—her only experience with a man should be a good one, and she had little time to tarry. Who knew when Conall would come for her, and she needed to be long gone before then. As her mother had ranted about her father’s indiscretions, the woman told her about men and bedding; it could be a magical experience or it could go horribly wrong. Craving the intimacy he had promised as he held her the previous night, her body heated and a flush crept over her that made her knees wobble.

Pulling the covers back on the bed, she decided to lie down until Elspeth returned for her. Clean and sated, ’twasn’t long before she drifted off into a deep sleep.

…

“Where is Maggie?” Lachlan’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the great hall.

“When I made it back to her chamber, she was sleeping peacefully. I didnae wake her.”

Rubbing his eyes, he sat. “I had to write some letters to some of the local clan chiefs.” He looked to Malcolm and continued, “I’ve invited them here to see proof of Conall’s betrayal. Robbie will testify before them, but reluctantly and only if he has to. The boy doesnae want the attention.”

Hours of consulting with the council of Camerons had his head spinning with thoughts of Conall or his henchmen’s imminent arrival. There was no doubt the bastard would be coming for Robbie and the letter, so they had talked defense. A rotation of guards would be on the lookout for the bastard, because he was sure the man was crazy enough to enter his land. But what worried him most was whether Conall would use his alliance with the Earl of Argyll himself and bring the Covenanter army swooping down on the Camerons.

Time would not be on their side, so it was crucial that they draft letters to the local Royalist lairds he could count on. By the time Conall discovered his latest group had been unsuccessful in capturing Robbie and retrieving the missive, Lachlan hoped to have the proof of his betrayal in the hands of other lairds. The fate of all the Royalist clans currently rested in his hands.

“Maggie may leave in the morn. Are ye sure ye should allow it? We’re still unsure as to her loyalties or if she is as innocent as she appears,” his mother said.

“We are likely better off if she does. Even if she is a spy, I dinnae think she has learned much that Conall doesnae already know.” Lachlan put a forkful of roasted chicken in his mouth. The bonny lass abovestairs was not where his thoughts should be, but the thought of her leaving so soon soured his mood further.

“Ye dinnae mean that. She cannae be out there on her own.” Elspeth waved her hand at nowhere in particular.

“I willnae let any harm befall her. We can see her to the convent.” He scooped up another bite. ’Twas a shame she would suppress her spirit and give a body like hers to God, but he had to honor her wishes.