How to Marry a Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  “Supposedly, MacCoinnich is unaware. They were to wed soon after my bairn took his first and last breath.”

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Mackbaythe is a sick bastard, and I have no doubt what you say is true. He’s an experienced liar and could easily fabricate some twisted story to ensure MacCoinnich became similarly enraged. And don’t underestimate MacCoinnich. That man’s army is not just large, but skilled.”

  “Let MacCoinnich come. It won’t be just the McTiernays he’s facing.” Dugan went on to explain Eògan’s attacks last fall on Conan and recently on Conor.

  Garrett’s stomach rolled. Dugan was right. If Mackbaythe did not follow Dugan, the wrath of the McTiernays would soon be upon this small clan. If that happened, Garrett had no intentions of being here when they arrived. Any man who picked up a sword in defense of Mackbaythe was a dead one, and he would never use his sword to protect a man who sent his son to perform such a monstrous, cowardly act. Dugan had to successfully abduct Adanel in order to get her father to follow him. Not just to save his child, but to save the lives of all the Mackbaythe clansmen who were innocent of their laird’s crimes.

  Garrett made his mind up. “I think there might be a way to get Adanel and be off Mackbaythe lands before anyone suspects something is amiss. But there will be conditions.”

  Dugan held his gaze steady for several seconds before asking, “And just what, seòlta duine, sacrifice must I make to realize this plan?”

  Garrett crossed his arms. “It won’t be just Adanel coming with you. I’ll need the help of Tybalt. He assigns the duties of every mercenary soldier and guard Mackbaythe has. He has no loyalty to the laird, and his life will be in jeopardy if he helps you. He, plus Adanel’s two guards—who are loyal to her not her father—as well as I will need safe passage to and while they are in McTiernay lands. Can you guarantee that?”

  Without hesitation, Dugan nodded. “None of you will be harmed as long as you do nothing to protect or interfere when we McTiernays dispense our justice.”

  Garrett wanted more assurances. He wanted guarantees that they would be treated well, but unharmed was the best he was going to get. Dugan was far too angry to ask for more. And if they stayed, they were inviting bloodshed not just for the guards and soldiers who signed up for such duty, but every man and woman around the area. Very few Mackbaythes had any respect for their laird. They would be fighting for principle, which in Garrett’s experience was not a good enough reason if pointless in the end.

  “You’ll need to keep your ‘message’ away from the flies and birds for one more day. It will take that long for me to put things in place,” Garrett stated, squatting back down to draw another map in the dirt. “When all is ready, I’ll have what we will need to get you and Adanel away without being seen. Meet me here just after sundown tomorrow.”

  * * *

  “What did you tell this McTiernay about me?”

  Garrett briefly glanced down at Tybalt, grunted, and returned his gaze to the darkness. “Only what he needed to know. That you are the scheduler.”

  Tybalt snorted but said nothing else. It was rare he was self-conscious about his height, but those who did not know him always judged him incapable immediately upon seeing him. Garrett’s plan did not include enough time to convince a Highlander that he was far more than he appeared.

  “You should have told me about Lady Adanel,” Garrett hissed.

  “Why? What could you have done?”

  Garrett shrugged, but he would have figured out something. It rankled that no one who knew of Adanel’s imprisonment had thought to tell him. But being kept in the dark of such things came with being a mercenary. Being loyal to nothing but coin meant no one was loyal to you. And for the first time in a long time, Garrett was not comfortable with the life he was living.

  “Does Lady Adanel understand the plan?”

  Tybalt puckered his lips before answering. “She knows that the plan to escape from her imprisonment is to happen tonight.”

  Garrett bit back an expletive. There was no telling how the woman was going to react upon seeing Dugan. They needed her awake, not passed out in a fit, and they certainly did not need her screaming. His thoughts were interrupted when Tybalt lightly elbowed him to get his attention.

  “That him?”

  Garrett nodded.

  Tybalt watched the dark figure of a Highlander emerge from the shadows. Damn Highlanders. Tybalt doubted the top of his head reached this McTiernay’s shoulders. At least the man was wearing a Mackbaythe plaid and looked the part he was supposed to play. Tybalt was one of the few who knew by sight every single Mackbaythe guard and mercenary. For everyone else who saw the McTiernay walking toward them, he would be just someone new to be ignored and instantly forgotten. Then again, with each step Dugan McTiernay took, Tybalt was less sure about the man’s ability to remain incognito.

  Appearance alone made it clear that he was a large, deadly Highlander, but his walk made him stand out. With the exception of maybe Garrett, no one around here carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence born not from deference, but from knowledge of their own abilities and power. Such men could be terrifying or inspiring, and Tybalt had just put not only his life, but those of Lady Adanel and her guards into the hands of such a man.

  “This your scheduler?” Dugan asked as he approached.

  Immediately, Tybalt felt the Highlander’s gaze slide down and up his small frame. He hated being reminded of how short he was with such sweeping looks. Even most Highland women were taller than him.

  Dugan stopped a few feet away. He was close enough for the three of them to have a private conversation, but not so close that Tybalt felt physically smothered. As a result, Tybalt found himself both surprised and cautiously encouraged. Most soldiers tended to stand where he had to not just angle his head, but tilt it way back to look them in the eye.

  “I’m Tybalt.”

  Dugan used his chin to point at the sword hanging at Tybalt’s side. “You just wear that or do you know how to use it?”

  Tybalt blinked. At thirty-two years of age, that was the first time anyone had ever asked, even indirectly, if he had earned the right to be called a soldier. His smaller size made it impossible to have the physical strength of most Highland warriors, so most just assumed the sword to be merely symbol and nothing more. “I earned mine the same way you earned yours,” Tybalt replied.

  If Dugan doubted the assertion, it did not show. His deep-set blue eyes did not once waver as Tybalt returned the steady gaze with one of his own.

  No true soldier lived to be as old as he was without being able to live up to his station. Tybalt had scars that proved he had earned his right to be called a warrior, and Dugan was the first in a long time to recognize the possibility without first seeing them or making him prove he could do more than most with a blade. Soldiers always underestimated him, his skills, and his speed.

  Dugan looked at Garrett. “Alwyn will see my ‘message’ next time he visits his barn in the morning. All in place here?”

  Garrett nodded and then threw Dugan a large cape before gesturing to a small, inconsequential building wedged in between two larger ones. “We enter and leave there.”

  “That’s where the escape tunnel leads?” Dugan asked, taking a look at how close it was to the Village Tower where Adanel was being held.

  “Aye,” Tybalt stated. “None of the escape tunnels are very long. This one only extends about a hundred feet, exiting into one of the busiest areas of the village. Fortunately, they are regularly used and so seeing guards enter and exit will not raise suspicions. As long as her ladyship immediately blends in with those around her, no one will think twice about it, let alone assume it is her.”

  Garrett pointed to the hooded cape Dugan was holding. “Make sure her hair is completely covered, otherwise someone will notice, especially as she has not been seen in some time.”

  Dugan nodded and then pointed to the tower. Two figures could be seen standing as guards up on
top. “What about them?”

  Tybalt snorted. “I assigned two of Mackbaythe’s laziest men to guard the tower tonight with the promise they will have the next two nights off. By now, they are either drunk or close to it, and almost assuredly unaware and uncaring of what is going on around them,” he added with a sly smile. “There are going to be several guards roaming the streets tonight, but they are off duty, and therefore their focus will be solely on what interests them. The only ones you have to worry about are his men,” he said, pointing to Garrett.

  Garrett looked unconcerned. “I’ve assigned my men to oversee the valley and ensure no MacCoinnich soldier ventures to where he shouldn’t.”

  Dugan raised a brow. “Will your men ride with Mackbaythe?”

  Garrett pursed his lips together and then gave a shrug. “Most of the mercenaries Mackbaythe hires can be deadly. They are not inclined to drink and aware of their surroundings at all times, which is why they are alive and I use them. But their numbers are not as many as Mackbaythe claims, and they have allegiance only to themselves. My guess is about a third will decide it is time to move on when they discover Mackbaythe is marching to war. Half of those that remain have been itching for a fight, so it will take little to persuade them to join Mackbaythe’s cause. That will leave about another dozen, who will join simply because they will demand lots of coin and get it. Where Mackbaythe gets his money I know not, but he does seem to have a great deal of it.”

  “The port that profitable?” Dugan asked incredulously. Cole was successful, but it was costly to run a castle and maintain an army. But a mercenary army, even a small one, was significantly more expensive.

  Garrett threw a hand up in the air, his expression one of mutual puzzlement. “He ships almost all goods MacCoinnich sells, and he has some lucrative deal he made years ago with the MacLeods.”

  Tybalt grunted. “Mackbaythe’s corrupt. He steals from both MacLeod and MacCoinnich. They know it, and they even expect it, but he’d have been dead long ago if they knew how much.”

  “Do you?” Dugan asked.

  Tybalt shook his head. “I’ve just run the figures. I know every man and woman in these parts. The port is busy, but not large enough to generate the coin Mackbaythe disperses. He has no steward, and separation of duties between the port- and dockmaster ensures that no one person knows enough of anything to threaten him with exposure.”

  Dugan’s eyes went to Garrett, who just gave him a look that said that there was more than one reason he had wanted Tybalt to join them.

  “What about the guards at the tunnel and tower exits?”

  “They are clear now,” Tybalt answered, “and Garrett will make sure that no one enters while you fetch her ladyship. Brùid and I will take care of any guards who opted not to go out on their free night.”

  Built for both habitation and defense, the towers were where some of Mackbaythe’s most prized men—either for their bloodlust or their ability—were allowed to sleep. Tybalt assigned the maniacal ones to the main castle and the most deadly to the Fortress overseeing the ships entering and leaving the harbor. The ones he trusted, as well as himself, he assigned to the Village Tower where Lady Adanel was kept, on the top floor. He also stored the majority of the weapons there.

  This made the effort of getting Adanel out both easier and more complex. Fewer men, but they would be harder to contain. Hopefully, most had already taken advantage of their unexpected time off and were out of the tower seeking carnal pleasure. With Brùid and his giant size and strength, Tybalt did not foresee any lingering guards as being a serious problem. “Nigel is with Lady Adanel, waiting for you. He will help convince her to come with you.”

  Dugan ran his tongue along his teeth. “She has no choice.”

  Tybalt’s bushy brows shot up in alarm. “Garrett promised her ladyship would be safe with you.”

  Anger flickered in Dugan’s eyes. “She carries my child. You can be assured that she is in no physical danger from me and that I will ensure she is protected.”

  “Even after the babe is born?” Tybalt questioned. He did not know Lady Adanel well, but he had made promises and did not like the cold look in Dugan’s eyes.

  “As long as she does nothing to impede the McTiernays’ revenge on her father or cause harm to the child, she has no reason to fear me or any other McTiernay.”

  Tybalt swallowed. Her ladyship was carrying a McTiernay babe? No wonder the laird had kept postponing such an advantageous wedding.

  Tybalt nodded and was about to turn and head down the street when Dugan’s hand reached out and gestured for him to wait. “Now I have a question. Just why are you so eager to help a McTiernay you don’t know and betray your own?”

  It was a fair question, and Tybalt was a little surprised Dugan had not asked it right away. Then again, if he had, he would have had nothing but intuition to judge the answer. It took surprisingly little conversation to gauge the measure of a man, and Tybalt knew that the words he was about to speak would seal his fate.

  “Three reasons. Several months ago, Brùid, one of Lady Adanel’s guards, came up to me and asked if I could help her disappear. I thought the request both strange and unwise at the time for anyone who knows Laird Mackbaythe knows what that means if caught. I naturally refused to help with what was in my mind Brùid and Lady Adanel’s execution. Brùid then asked if I could somehow assign Nigel as her ladyship’s second guard, ensuring that either he or Nigel was always with her. I agreed for I always liked her ladyship and knew that she and Nigel were close. Brùid last made me promise that if I ever learned of a way that Lady Adanel could safely escape, I would do everything in my power to make that happen. I said I would knowing that what was being asked was impossible. Even if I could think of a way to sneak her out, there was nowhere for her to go. Then last night Garrett approached me with a plan that involved a McTiernay soldier who could ensure she would be safe and protected. You are allowing me to fulfill that promise.”

  Dugan looked unmoved. “And the other two reasons?”

  Tybalt pursed his lips, hesitating before saying his thoughts out loud. “Eògan. If I help you, not only are the lives of Lady Adanel, myself, and her two guards saved, but those of all the men, women, and families around you.” Tybalt narrowed his eyes and Tybalt’s voice dropped. “My helping you will ensure the fight is not here, but on your land, risking McTiernay people. And last, if you succeed, for the first time in two generations, the Mackbaythes will be free of tyranny and have a chance to regain their pride.”

  Chapter Seven

  Adanel paced in her room, praying Nigel would return soon. He had gone to get the midwife, but that was hours ago.

  A new ship had come into the port, and since Nigel said she was escaping tonight, it had to be the Destiny’s Fortune. Thank God, because she was out of time. The MacCoinniches had arrived two days ago, and soon they would demand to see her. Whether she was pregnant or not, her father would be forced to oblige. She had only been able to delay doing so this evening by claiming that she felt a growing aching in her lower back—the first sign she was going into labor. But she could only be in labor for so long before she produced either a child or was claimed by death. By tomorrow morning, her father needed to believe that she was the latter.

  The midwife was bringing the berries from one of the more dangerous nightshade plants. Most shied away from it as it was unpredictable and potentially a deadly poison. However, taken in the right amount, the fruit was also used as a sedative for major injuries and surgery. When used, it made one appear dead. The midwife Nigel secured was supposedly knowledgeable in its use, having used it once on her son when stitching him after his being forced to participate in one of her father’s torture-filled entertainment nights. He was not a large man and had no training, and therefore he had not been able to adequately defend himself. If his mother had not a talent for healing herbs and medicines, he would have perished. Tybalt had stationed the man safely away from the castle, and in return, his mother was to
serve as midwife. When the time was right, she would proclaim Adanel dead from labor complications.

  At the sound of the door opening, Adanel spun her head around. “Nigel, thank God! Did you . . .” She froze midsentence. A man she had never thought to see again was standing right in front of her. “Conan,” she whispered in shock.

  Her McTiernay soldier was standing before her. She could recall every detail of his face and body vividly. Nightly dreams of him saving her had turned into nightmares. In some, he just denounced their love, in others, she ranted and railed at him for not listening to his heart, but more frequently, she was forced to watch him marry his new wife and profess his love to her. Regardless of the dream, her McTiernay soldier was there looking exactly as he had the day he left her. The man standing before her did not.

  His hair was the same sandy brown, his chest was still broad and muscular, and he still held himself in that semi-arrogant way that hinted of his inexorable self-confidence, but at the same time commanded respect and obedience. It was smaller things, such as his facial features, that time had altered. The lines around his eyes and mouth were etched a little deeper. The angles on his cheeks look sharper, and there was at least two days of stubble on his chin. But it was his once warm blue eyes that had changed the most. No longer inviting, they looked like dark, angry thunderclouds—dangerous, cold, and able to deal deadly violence to victims in its path.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, my lady, but I never have been Conan. Your plan to ensnare one of the famous McTiernay brothers failed.”

  Adanel blinked. The hostility in his tone matched the arctic coldness of his gaze. “But my father said that . . .”

  “Your beloved father did try to kill Conan, twice. Once last fall and once on his wedding night. You’ll be disappointed to learn he failed both times.”

  Adanel sank onto the bed, barely registering what he had just said. All she could think was that her McTiernay soldier had survived her father’s campaign to see him dead. “You’re alive,” she whispered. “You’re alive, and you’re here.”