“No danger?” Jessalyn glanced at the faces of Auld Tam, Dougal, Alisdair, Magda and Flora—her loved ones and her kin. All the kin she had left. She shuddered in reaction. “Of course there was danger. Fort Augustus is crawling with Sassenach soldiers. What if ye’d been captured? What if they had given chase? I could have lost ye.”
“Ye dinna lose us,” Flora said. “We’re here, Jessie, safe and sound.”
“But for how long?” Jessalyn demanded. “What if they’re tracking us? What if they follow us back here?”
“They won’t,” Magda interrupted. “We did what we set out to do. We slipped in and out of the fort with no one the wiser.”
“Did ye take us fer fools, Jessie? We’ve been raidin’ since before ye were born. We made a plan and we followed it,” Auld Tam added, cackling with glee. “And we were victorious.”
Jessalyn wrinkled her brow as she glared at Auld Tam. “How can you claim victory? I don’t see any livestock or flour or oats. I don’t see any sugar or molasses or Spanish blankets or carts filled with supplies.”
“We got what we went after,” Tam replied, smiling broadly as he glanced at the men slung over the backs of the ponies. “That’s victory enough.”
“Highland captives?” Jessalyn found it impossible to keep the note of disbelief out of her voice when it took every ounce of her control to keep from shouting. “You risked your necks to rescue highland lairds we canna feed? What did you plan to do? Keep them as hostages until their clansmen can ransom them?”
“Nay, lassie.” Dougal jumped into the fray to defend Auld Tam and to try to smooth Jessie’s ruffled feathers. “We dinna bring hostages. We brought husbands.”
“Husbands? Whose husbands?” Jessalyn demanded.
“Yours,” Dougal replied.
Caught unawares by Dougal’s matter-of-fact pronouncement, Jessalyn’s breath seemed to leave in a rush. Her chest tightened as she reeled back in the saddle and nearly fell off her mount. “Mine?”
Auld Tam swung off his pony with a swiftness and dexterity that belied his size and his sixty years and rushed forward to catch Jessalyn before she lost her seat. He dropped the rope he held and reached up to help her dismount. “Easy, lass.”
Jessalyn ignored his outstretched arms and slid to the ground without assistance. As her feet hit the turf, she regained her breath and her composure. She stood her ground and looked Auld Tam in the eyes. “I’ve no need of a husband.” Jessalyn glanced over at the captives. “Much less three. Let them go.”
Auld Tam shook his head. “I’m sorry, lass, but that I canna do.”
“Even if your laird commands it?” Jessalyn asked.
“Even so.” Tam shifted his weight from one leg to the other and stared down at his feet.
“You captured three men without my knowledge in the hope that I would wed one of them. But I cannot feed the mouths we’ve got. So, let them go, Tam. I dinna want a husband.”
“We do,” Magda interrupted. “Only one is for you, Jessie. The other two are for Flora and me. We didn’t just capture a husband for you. We captured husbands for ourselves as well.”
“Oh.” Jessalyn knew she should be disappointed in her kinfolk, but when she looked at Magda and Flora, at the excitement and the hope gleaming in their eyes, she couldn’t be disappointed in them. Jessalyn watched as the young women waited with bated breath to see what their new laird would do. She inhaled deeply, then looked Auld Tam in the eye and made her decision. “Since our highland tradition allows for abduction of a spouse, Magda and Flora can keep the men they chose as husbands if the men agree to wed. But, Tam, I want you to release the man you captured for me,” Jessalyn ordered.
Tam reached under his bonnet and scratched his bald pate. “I’ve told ye before, that I canna do, wee Jessie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I gave my oath to your father as he lay dying. I promised him I would see ye well wed and I maun keep my vow.”
“I’m in mourning. My father’s barely been laid to rest, Tam. There’s plenty of time for me to acquire a suitable husband of my own choosing—at a later date. And you’ve plenty of years left. There’s plenty of time for you to see me wed,” Jessalyn insisted.
“Nay, lass,” Tam said. “You dinna understand. I dinna promise to live long enough to see you suitably wed. I promised Callum I would see you immediately wed to one particular mon. This mon.” Tam reached for the rope he’d dropped earlier and pulled the pony forward. He unsheathed his dirk and sliced through the leather thong he’d used to secure the man’s hands and feet, then flipped the blanket off the captive. “This mon is to be yer husband. Yer father arranged it.”
She expected to see the plaid of a highland chieftain, but the first thing she noticed was the fact that he wore boots. Expensive, highly polished black leather boots; Jessalyn recoiled, automatically taking a step backward. Her father might as well have arranged her marriage to a wild kelpie because the next thing she noticed was the scarlet coat of the uniform of King George’s troops.
“This man’s a Sassenach. My father would never arrange this.”
“Och, Jessie, he did. And, lass, ye know that that’s the way of the world. Ye know it’s the way alliances are made.”
“That’s not the way Callum MacInnes made alliances.” Jessalyn shook her head in denial. “My father would never propose a marriage between his heir and his enemy—especially when that enemy is a common Sassenach soldier.”
“Aye,” Tam affirmed. “He would not. Under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances, lass, and as laird of the clan, Callum did what he had to do to protect his heir and his kinfolk. He spent his last breath making the arrangements for yer wedding.”
Although she wanted to continue to deny it, Jessalyn knew Auld Tam spoke the truth. She knew her father had breathed his last breath immediately after entrusting his favorite courier with a bundle of important papers. What she didn’t understand was why he hadn’t seen fit to entrust her to a fellow Scotsman—Highlander or lowlander. Jessalyn was sure that either would have been a better choice for her. “I would have been better off with someone from a neighboring clan. Why didn’t he choose one of those?”
“From which of our neighbors would you have had him choose? From the clans who supported the cause and are starving and forfeit like ourselves? Or from the clans who turned traitor and rallied around the English king?” Tam demanded.
Jessalyn frowned.
“Now, you’re thinking like a highland laird. Now you understand Callum’s reasoning.”
“Nay,” Jessalyn protested. “I dinna understand why the Laird of Clan MacInnes chose a murdering Sassenach soldier over his fellow countrymen.”
“Dinna fret so.” Tam reached out and traced the frown lines on Jessalyn’s forehead with the tip of his callused index finger. “Tisn’t so hard to understand. Callum thought ’twas better to capture an honorable enemy and turn him into a loyal Scot than to wed his only daughter to a mon and a clan who might be worse off than ourselves or to send her into a nest of murdering, traitorous vipers.” Tam winked at her. “Besides, this is no common Sassenach soldier.” He took Jessalyn by the hand and led her around the head of the pony so she could get a look at her husband-to-be. “This is his lordship, Neil Claremont, the seventh earl of Derrowford, grandson of the marquess of Chisenden and a soldier in German George’s Royal Engineers. He’s the mon responsible for building the roads to Fort Augustus and the fort itself.”
Jessalyn gasped. “Chisenden?” Everyone in Scotland knew of the power the marquess of Chisenden wielded. Jessalyn’s voice and her expression mirrored her awe and her dismay as she stared in fascination at the earl and frantically pondered her next move. “We can’t keep the marquess of Chisenden’s grandson here. Chisenden is sure to want him back. We could ransom him, but to do that we’d have to send a ransom request to the marquess and the marquess might decide to attack us and recapture his grandson rather than part with his gold.”
br /> “Jessie,” Tam interrupted. “There’s no need to fret. I have the marriage documents.” He patted his shirt front. “All properly signed and sealed by yer father and by yer betrothed.”
“I’m not fretting about the marriage documents.” Jessalyn lifted her gaze from the earl to Tam. “I’m fretting because we’ve got the marquess of Chisenden’s grandson hanging upside down and trussed up like a fattened goose. We’ve got to release him.” Jessalyn announced. “At once!”
“But, Jessie …”
“Now.”
Tam shrugged his shoulders, then lifted the earl of Derrowford’s feet and heaved him up and over the side of the pony. He didn’t have far to fall, but Derrowford landed hard. Auld Tam winced as the earl hit the ground with a thud.
“Tam!”
“Ye wanted him released.”
“Not like that!” Jessalyn hurried around to the other side of the pony and automatically dropped to her knees, carefully cradling the earl’s head in her lap. She looked down and was awestruck by the sight of his masculine beauty. There was no other word to describe him. The seventh earl of Derrowford was a beautiful man. Even upside-down he had the face of an angel; a bruised and battered fallen angel, but an angel all the same. Jessalyn canted her head to one side and studied the earl’s magnificent face scant inches from the pony’s sharp hooves. Fresh blood oozed from a cut on his left cheekbone, trickled down his temple and into his thick dark hair.
Unable to curb the impulse, Jessalyn brushed her knuckles across his chin, noting the slight cleft in it and the prickly feel of whiskers in need of a shave. She reached out and gently swiped at the blood on his temple with the hem of her skirt, then looked up and pinned Tam with an accusing gaze. “He’s bleeding.”
Tam raised both hands in a sign of surrender. “Don’t look at me like that, lass.” He pointed to blood on the pony’s belly. “He was bleedin’ afore I heaved him off his horse.”
“What did you do to him before you helped him to the ground?” she asked. “You must have done something. I canna believe a big, handsome man like him came willingly.”
“He dinna.” Auld Tam grinned. “He might have been chained to his cot like an animal, but he dinna cower in fear or shame when he saw me.”
“Chained?” Jessalyn was outraged.
“Aye,” Tam said, scratching his chin. “He defied his fool of a commanding officer and was chained to his bed for his trouble. He dinna come willingly, but I tapped him on the other side of his head.” Tam pointed to the opposite side of the earl’s forehead where a slight bump and a bruise had formed. “With the flat of my ax,” he added hastily after seeing the look Jessalyn gave him. “I maun have left marks on his wrists when I cut him free, but I dinna raise blood on his braw face. I wanted him to look his best for ye.” Auld Tam shrugged his shoulders. “A stone maun have bounced up and hit him during the journey, but he dinna cry out. Aye, I ken he’ll make a fine Scotsman, lass. A worthy mate for the laird of Clan MacInnes.”
Chapter Five
Neil opened his eyes and blinked. He stared up at the provocative underside of a pair of pouty pink lips so close to his that he could see their fine texture, almost taste their soft inviting warmth. His head was cradled in her lap and one side of his face was pressed against two firm breasts. He breathed in her scent, identifying it as an enticing mix of warm woman and wildflowers. He knew that if he moved slightly and turned his face in the other direction, he’d discover an even more enticing, more intimate scent of her. But he stayed where he was and watched, in mute fascination, as the rosy tip of a tongue slipped between those luscious pink lips and moistened them. His body tightened at the sight and he groaned in reaction. It wasn’t the first time he had awakened to find himself in such a position, gazing at such a splendid sight and he fervently prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but the insistent pounding in his head and the dull ache in his right shoulder left some room for doubt. He groaned again; this time in pain, and flinched as she brushed his hair off his brow. “No,” he protested.
She ignored him and brushed at his forehead once again.
Neil squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath, then raised his arm to halt her less than tender ministrations. “No, Deborah. Stop! I’d like to oblige you, but I’m afraid this isn’t the time.”
She snatched her hand back as if he’d burned her.
Realizing he’d hurt her feelings, Neil reached up to catch hold of her wrist, missed, and tangled his fingers in her hair instead. He gently tugged at the silken strands entwined around his fingers, pulling her down closer to him until he brushed her mouth with his and discovered her lips were pressed firmly together. “Come on, love, don’t be like that,” he murmured seductively. “You know I find you endlessly desirable, my sweet, but my head is killing me! I seem to have had too much of whatever it was we were drinking last night.” He managed a crooked smile, then licked at the seam of her lips.
She gave a startled gasp at the intimacy of that gesture and he took advantage of the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
Despite the painful pounding in his head and the sudden, insistent throbbing in his groin, Neil knew he’d made a mistake. She tasted of sweetness and innocence and although he used his tongue to tease and tantalize, to lead her through the intricate steps of the mating dance, she didn’t follow his lead. She willingly accepted his kiss, but she didn’t kiss back. She didn’t know how. It was quite apparent that the woman he held in his arms had never had anyone kiss her the way he was kissing her. Neil ended the kiss, abruptly releasing her as he opened his fist and stared at the strands of hair curling around his fingers. They were a dark reddish color, not coppery red and not brown, but something in between. They certainly weren’t blond and they didn’t belong to his mistress. “Who are you?” he demanded, pushing back out of her lap so he could see the rest of her face. “Because you sure as hell aren’t Deborah.”
“Who’s Deborah?” she countered in a soft, musical voice.
“My mistress.”
His head hit the ground with another hard thump as the lady shoved him out of her lap and scrambled to her feet.
“Wheesht, lad!” The big burly highlander who had barged into his quarters stepped into Neil’s line of vision and kicked him in the ankle. “Dinna be talkin’ about your mistress in the presence of your lady wife.”
“My what?” Neil jackknived into sitting position, then pushed himself to his feet.
“Yer lady wife,” the highlander repeated. “Do ye not ken?”
“There’s obviously been some mistake.” Neil swayed on his feet, then shook his head as if to clear it, groaning slightly as the insistent hammering continued. “I have no lady wife. I am not married.”
“Of course yer not married—yet.” The highlander chuckled at the notion, then shrugged his shoulders at the young woman standing by his side, tightly gripping her skirts in one fist. “I maun have tapped him a bit harder on the pate than I thought.”
“You tap pretty hard, old man. I remember that. And I remember everything else.” It was a lie. Neil remembered bits of the previous evening, but he seemed to be missing the most important parts of it. But, of course, there was no need to let the highlander to know that. “I remember you.” He threw the old highlander a dirty look. “And there’s no way I would ever forget her.” He smiled at the girl.
She didn’t return his smile. She turned away from him as a becoming blush colored her flawless cheekbones. She frowned at the highlander, then let go of her skirts. “He dinna know anything about this either. Did he, Tam? That’s why you captured him,” she accused.
“Nay, Jessie,” Tam protested. “I told him I was there to bring him to his weddin’ and I abducted him because that’s the MacInnes way. We would have abducted him even if ye’d known him forever and even if he’d spent years courtin’ ye and bringin’ ye gifts and posies. It’s tradition.”
Neil impatiently raked his hand through his hair while th
e old man and the young woman exchanged words in their incomprehensible language, then froze as he caught sight of the blood on his fingers, the iron manacles encircling his wrists and the iron rings still dangling from them. His memory of the previous night returned in a rush. He stalked over to the old man and roared, “Where the bloody hell am I? What have you done with my men? And what do you intend to do with me?” He fired the questions at the old highlander but the girl he’d kissed so passionately stepped forward to answer him.
Jessalyn didn’t flinch as the earl of Derrowford towered over her. She inhaled slowly, allowing him to express his anger and his concern over his men and his own future, before calmly confronting him. “You’re deep in the highlands. In a village far removed from Fort Augustus.” Jessalyn told herself that the small lie would protect her kin from the earl and his compatriots’ wrath and offered a silent plea for forgiveness to the heavens. She ruthlessly dismissed the notion that she didn’t want the earl of Derrowford to learn that the fort he was building and his mistress lay just a few hours away around the loch. Once she decided whether or not he could be trusted, she would tell him the truth. Until then, Jessalyn vowed to confess her sin at morning mass. “I do not know how many men you had in your command.” Jessalyn placed her hand on his sleeve of his scarlet coat. “But my gentlemen have assured me that the raid on your fort was bloodless and that your men were unharmed.”
“Where are they?” he demanded.
“Here, sir,” Marsden answered. “And I think they’ve got Stanhope as well.”
The muffled voice came from behind him. Neil turned toward the sound and discovered he was surrounded by highlanders. In addition to the old man and the young woman before him, two older men and two red-haired young women were seated atop shaggy, short-legged highland ponies. Each young woman led a pony with a tartan-wrapped bundle tied across the back. Thirty or so villagers, old men, women and children, barefooted and dressed in threadbare clothing formed a circle around them. Neil narrowed his gaze at the tartans that concealed his men, then faced the young woman before him. “Are those my men?”