Highland Rake

  Dougald had been thinking about returning to see how Malcolm and his Lady Anice were faring, seeing if they had more trouble there where they might need his sword arm. Now he couldn't leave. Not until this issue with the Cameron lass was resolved.

  He handed the sleeping lass down to Niall, then dismounted. A lad led Dougald's horse away to join the others, tying them together in a group.

  Niall waited while Dougald rolled out another plaid of his, then motioned to it. "She can sleep there."

  Some of the men had gone off to hunt. Some were gathering kindling for the fire. Others were tending to the horses. A couple were standing watch. No one had to be told what to do. Everyone knew their duty.

  "Watch her," Dougald said to one of his men, then joined Niall and strolled away from the camp with him so they could speak privately.

  "I believe she is who she says she is," Niall said, "so why did you send Gunnolf back to look for the shepherdess?"

  "To see for ourselves if what she said about the shepherdess and her involvement with one of our clansmen was true."

  "What are you thinking, Cousin?" Niall asked. "That Lady Alana didna tell the truth?"

  "I am no' sure. What if the wench isna carrying a babe? What if this is all some elaborate scheme to cause difficulties between James and the Cameron? 'Twould not be the first time that a clan chief created such a ruse. Why was she alone? When she saw me coming down the hill, she didna run away, like any lass from another clan might have done."

  "Aye, Dougald. But remember when Lady Alana came across the border to aid our kinsman? Delivering Kyle's babe when the mother and son would have perished? Kyle's wife had lost two bairns already, and our healer was too ill to travel far that day."

  Deep in thought, Dougald rubbed his whiskery chin and thought he probably looked a bit like a barbarian to the lass, then folded his arms across his chest. "How did the lass know about Kyle's bairn?"

  "Kyle told me he had ridden across the border in search of her as soon as he had learned that our healer was too ill and that Lady Alana was visiting the shepherdess. He begged the lass to help his wife. You have been away these past several months so you might no' have learned about it, but the word has reached our clan as to how the lady is a well-respected healer among her people. Even our own healer wishes to speak with her and share techniques someday."

  "I see." That might have accounted for the other fragrant herbs he'd smelled on her, very pleasing.

  "If you dinna trust the lass, think you we should have attempted to find Rob MacNeill first and let her go on her way?"

  Now that Dougald couldn't have done. Not only because he would have feared for her safety if she'd been traveling alone at night, but because damn his hide, he'd caught her, and he really didn't wish to let her go. Not that he wanted to keep her, permanently, he kept reminding himself. She didn't even like him.

  "Do you know how long it might have taken us to find the right Rob MacNeill? With us being near the border and remaining there for too long, a battle might have ensued. If she had spoken the truth about who she is and the Cameron had learned she was with us and come after us, she could have been injured or killed in the fighting."

  "Aye."

  Dougald looked back in the direction of the camp. "Mayhap, though, the Cameron knew that Rob MacNeill was a common enough name. What if the Cameron shepherdess isna carrying a child? Or if she is, 'tis no' one of ours? What if—"

  "Lady Alana isna Lady Alana?" Niall asked, arching a brow.

  "'Tis entirely possible. That is why I decided to place her squarely in James's lap. He's the laird. She crossed the border, and he can decide her fate."

  "His lap," Niall said, his smile returned, the connotation that she had not been placed in the laird's lap but Dougald's own for the long ride here.

  "'Tis too bad she is a Cameron wench," Dougald said, acknowledging that despite his feelings that he should not be interested in such a woman, he was a bit intrigued.

  He motioned for them to return to camp.

  They would eat, get a few hours of sleep, and ride again with all haste for the MacNeill stronghold, and James's quick resolution in the matter concerning the lass.

  Then he and Gunnolf would be off on a new adventure. One that would have all to do with fighting battle-hardened men for a good cause, while leaving the lassies—and the trouble that always seemed to get him into—alone.

  Chapter 6

  James MacNeill snuggled in bed with his bonny lass, Eilis, unable to believe she was now carrying his child, though as many times as he'd bedded her since they had wed, the news shouldn't have been all that surprising.

  They'd made love and she was sound asleep, he only drifting off, when someone opened the door to his chamber. He was instantly out of bed, sword in hand, until he saw his advisor with a lad of six and ten, Tavis, who had ridden with Dougald to inspect their lands for trouble.

  If the lad had returned this quickly and was the one wishing to speak with him near the crack of dawn, something was amiss.

  James threw on his plaid and belted it, then joined the men in the corridor, shutting the door behind him. "What has happened?" He envisioned Dougald and Gunnolf in a dark dank dungeon again, needing his rescue.

  The boy looked done in, having ridden long and hard to get to the castle that quickly. He swayed on his feet, his face dirty, his eyes bleary.

  Eanruig's black hair hung about his shoulders, a shadow of a beard clinging to his hard jawline and his blue eyes narrowed with worry as he clasped his arm around the lad's shoulders to hold him upright.

  James said, "Get him some ale and something to eat, would you?"

  "Aye, that I will do." Eanruig hurried off to the stairs.

  James sat the boy down on a bench and again asked, "Tavis, look at me. What has happened to Dougald and the others?"

  "He bade me come as quickly as I could, my laird. I rode to the village to exchange horses, just as you taught me when word needed to be sent quickly."

  "Aye, aye, but what of our men?"

  "'Tis the lass they have with them that is the trouble." Tavis yawned, dark circles shaded the skin beneath his green eyes.

  "A woman?" James would have laughed, knowing Dougald and the way he was always getting way over his head when it came to women. But the boy looked too worried to make light of it. "What woman?"

  "The Cameron lass she said she was."

  "Cameron lass?" James wasn't following the gist of the trouble.

  "Aye. The Cameron lass. The niece of the Cameron himself."

  James's mouth gaped for a moment. "Lady Alana?"

  "Aye." The boy nodded vigorously, the mop of red curls covering his head shaking violently, shedding dirt from the long ride.

  Eanruig rejoined them, mug in hand and a chunk of brown bread in the other and gave them to the lad.

  "What is the trouble?" Eanruig asked James.

  "Seems Dougald has captured the Cameron's niece."

  Eanruig's eyes widened.

  "Aye," James said on a heavy sigh. He looked at the boy as he greedily drank of the ale. "He took her hostage, I presume? She was trespassing on our lands?"

  "Aye, my laird. She was indeed. Near Fairen's lands where he grazes his sheep. But he wasn't grazing his sheep, and instead she was spying on Dougald and the other men while they were bathing in a loch. Naked."

  As if there was some other way to bathe in a loch. James raised his brows. "Indeed. And you?" The lad looked like he hadn't bathed in months. Smelled like it, too.

  "I was the guard. And I spied her first."

  "Aye, good thing, too."

  Tavis frowned up at James as if he had something really bad to tell. "Dougald took off after her without the rest of us to watch his back. The men said he shouldna have run off after her all alone like that. Gunnolf said Dougald wanted her for his own. Niall said he wanted the fae."

  "The fae?" James asked, surprised.

  "Aye. That was what they called her. She looked like the fae
with the white clouds and blue sky behind her, while she was wearing blue like the sky."

  The fae. James recalled rumors that some said Lady Alana was of the fae, that her father saw her home after he had been murdered. He'd heard Lady Anice, Malcolm's wife, had the fae ability to see into the future. Dougald had been worried about Malcolm's safety, should the woman turn out to be a witch.

  James didn't believe in the superstitions of his people or of those of other clans'. As a young girl, Alana had obviously been distraught to see her da and the others in her clan murdered in front of her. James could imagine Alana envisioning her father was with her, ensuring she made it home all right, when in reality she had been in shock, too scared to know what really had happened.

  "What was she doing on our lands? Did she say?" James asked the lad.

  Tavis put the half empty mug and partially eaten chunk of bread down on the bench, then rubbed his eyes. "Looking for Rob MacNeill."

  "Rob MacNeill? There are at least a dozen or more men named such in our clan." Why would the Cameron lass be looking for one of James's distant kin? Or he may have been a man who had sworn allegiance to the clan and taken their name.

  "Aye, that was what your brother said."

  "Which one was she looking for and why?"

  "She said Rob was the father of one of her kinswomen's bairns. She wanted him to know of it. She said he was a sheepherder."

  James cursed under his breath, annoyed one of his men could be so foolhardy, risking his own neck for what? "Where is Dougald now?"

  "He and the rest of our men and the lady are on their way here."

  James closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them and said, "Tavis, get your rest, lad. You have done well."

  Clutching the mug of ale and the chunk of bread again in his tight grip, Tavis nodded, then stumbled off toward the hall where he would take a pallet with others sleeping there.

  "What will you do?" Eanruig asked, sounding like he wasn't even sure how to advise him in this matter, when he usually had no trouble speaking his mind.

  "Return the lass home with great speed and take care of the matter of Rob MacNeill and the Cameron wench, who is carrying his bairn."

  "Rumors are rampant that the Cameron is making arrangements with another clan to wed his niece off to their clan," Eanruig warned.

  James frowned at him. He hadn't heard any of the rumors. "Which clan?"

  Eanruig shook his head. "'Tis a guarded secret, which is why I have no' come to you with the news prior to this. Those who say he is in negotiations say he threatens death to any should we hear of it before he officially releases the word."

  James let out his breath in a huff. "One of our enemies then, no doubt."

  "Aye."

  "'Tis fortunate she is on her way here then." James was coming up with a much different plan for the lass.

  "How so? Will you blackmail the Cameron into giving up the negotiations for the safe return of his niece?"

  "And once he had her back, he would wed her to whichever clan he decides on? Nay, if the lass is who she says she is, Dougald will wed her."

  Eanruig offered a rueful smile. "He may no' like the idea."

  James waved his advisor's concern away. "Dougald loves all the lassies. He has taken it upon himself to bring her to us. Seems only fair, he should have every right to claim her." James clapped his advisor on the back. "Ready a contingent of men to meet Dougald in the event the Cameron learns of this and attempts to pursue them across our lands."

  "Aye, my laird. Will you be riding also?"

  "Nay. I will await my brother's return. I will have enough to deal with on the morrow." Then James entered his chamber and closed his door, intent on snuggling with his own lassie, hoping that Dougald would find pleasure in the Cameron lass.

  The last he recalled of seeing Lady Alana, she was bonny indeed. Whether they would love each other in time was another matter though. He hoped that his brother could have a woman to cherish as he treasured Eilis. But it was high time Dougald settled down. An alliance with the hot-headed Cameron clan would not be a bad arrangement either.

  He yanked off his belt and plaid, tossed them aside, and climbed under the covers. Immediately, Eilis nestled against him, her hand sweeping across his bare chest. "What is wrong?" she whispered.

  "Naught is wrong. Dougald is getting married is all."

  "Dougald?" she said with such surprise, James smiled.

  "He said naught about this to anyone, has he?" she asked.

  "Nay. He doesna know it yet, lass. Sleep. We will see him and his bride-to-be tomorrow eve if all goes well."

  ***

  Lady Alana could not sleep. The ground was too hard, the night air too chilly, the worry about how her uncle would react when he learned she was with the MacNeill clan, and what Laird MacNeill would do with her continued to plague her. She breathed in the smell of Dougald's borrowed spare plaid, the scent of pine and heather and leather, of wood smoke and his musky smell. Or was it on her? Wrapping her in its essence from having ridden in his arms all day?

  She'd never been so close to a man, not like that. To feel his heated body pressed hard against hers, his arm clamped tightly around her, possessively, protectively, to feel the way she'd aroused him, all wantonly intriguing. Yet, she reminded herself that any lass who sat on his lap would have stirred the same craving.

  She opened her eyes and saw Dougald sitting on a tree stump beside one of the campfires speaking to one of the lads who had ridden with them. He was talking quietly so as not to disturb the others who were sleeping. She realized then that several of the men were wrapped in their plaids, stretched out near her in a semi-circle, probably to protect her and ensure she did not attempt escape. One was happily snoring, and she realized that was another reason her sleep had been disturbed.

  "You see, Callum, when you find the right bonny lass, you must protect her and cherish her above all others," Dougald said quite seriously to the lad.

  Alana nearly laughed at the notion. Dougald was known to have been with many lassies. He did not stay with one to cherish her above all others. She had thought he would be teaching the lad something about fighting or surviving if separated from his clansmen, or the tending of fires, or hunting, or something important. She should have known Dougald would be talking about the subject he knew best—lasses. Even if he did not know how to truly love one and forsake all others. In that regard, he was just like her brother.

  Who had vanished after he'd scolded her and left her to her own devices, she just realized. Not that he could do anything for her anyway.

  In response to Dougald's advice to the lad, she gave a soft snort of derision, not meaning for them to hear her. She couldn't believe he would speak to the boy of the matter of loving a woman. To her chagrin, both Dougald and the lad looked in her direction.

  Dougald's mouth curved at one corner to see her awake. She should have closed her eyes, feigned sleep, ignored the man, but she glowered at him instead.

  "Off to bed with you now, lad. Seems the lady has something to say to me," Dougald said, his gaze still on her, the sparkle in his eyes and the crinkles beneath them indicating how much she had amused him.

  Callum's dirty face split into a grin as he observed her. "Do you no’ think I should listen to what she has to say? Then what you have to say?" He glanced up at Dougald. "Seems to me that I could learn much."

  Dougald chuckled. "Nay, no' this time. Off to bed with you."

  Not seeming in the least bit disappointed, Callum rose to his feet, grabbed his blanket, then found a spot as close to Alana as he could without disturbing any of the other men. Which was why she realized he hadn't been upset about Dougald making him retire for the night. The lad unrolled his blanket and gave her a big smile before he lay down. Then he rolled himself up in his plaid and watched her.

  She wanted to shake her head, but couldn't hide a smile instead.

  "Come with me, lass, if you canna sleep. Tell me what is on your mind," D
ougald said, motioning her over to the fire.

  She remained where she was. "You, sir, are a rake. How could you teach the lad the way of women when you clearly…" She paused when two of the men's heads lifted off their plaids to look at her.

  At first she thought they were annoyed she had awakened them, but then she saw the sleepy looks of amusement in the crinkles beneath their eyes and the small uplifted turn of their mouths and knew they wished to hear what she would tell the laird's brother about the way of women.

  She unfurled herself from Dougald's blanket, stood, then wrapped it around her, walked over to the fire, and looked down at Dougald. "I have naught to say to you regarding your interest in women."

  "You had an opinion earlier, my lady." He raised his brows, daring her to speak her mind. "What were you going to say?"

  She shouldn't say a word. She knew that whoever was now awake, including three guards who were watching over the camp, would be listening. Then again, she wasn't one to hold her tongue when she believed the words needed to be said.

  "You have a reputation with the ladies, sir," she said. Just like her brother had had. She knew the appeal was there, the smooth charming way of them, their glib tongues.

  The flames reflected off Dougald's dark eyes as he studied her, watching her every reaction. His mouth was cemented into a smug smile, but he didn't say anything to refute her claim. He was a handsome devil of a man, his dark hair windswept, making him look wild and untamable, and she could see where women could be intrigued by such.

  "You are known to be a rake. You dinna cherish a lass above all others," she continued, as if he didn't get her meaning the first time.

  "Ah, mayhap my exploits are more tale than true." The sparkle in his eyes said he very much liked the way this conversation was going.

  She was not an unreasonable woman, and she did consider the notion for as much time as it required for her to take a seat where the lad had been sitting on the grass. "Some, mayhap." Because she knew how men told tales, sometimes over way too many tankards of ale, and the telling of these tales would grow bigger and bigger until the telling was so exaggerated from the original story, that no one would have recognized it. She also knew there was often truth to the tale, no matter how much it had been embellished.