Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  “It’s settled then.”

  “What about Grandfather? Will Aunt Glynis let her go?” He had a suspicion this had all been discussed previously.

  “Yer cousin Brodie will remain in the Highlands to help his mother since Lachlan has take Ian’s place at the mill. And Glynis still has Bridget, though she behaves more like a son than a daughter. Da believes Lissie will heal faster if she is away from MacNaughton Castle.” She patted his hand. “As I said, I have a feeling about her. She was meant to be a member of our clan so I’d like to support her if I can.”

  “When will you ask her?” Perhaps he could also help remove the pain from those tawny eyes.

  “We leave next week so it must be soon.”

  Less than an hour passed and MacDunn returned for another dance. Mama’s delight was infectious, and he searched the crowd for Lissie. He found her with the children, dancing in a circle around Gavin, who hopped and tapped his feet in the center.

  “May I interrupt to request this reel?” He bowed low and was pleased to see her smile. She curtsied in response.

  As they made their way to the group of dancers, Gideon leaned near her ear. “I have a secret. I’ve never danced a Scottish reel. Are they much different?”

  “When we begin changing partners, it can get a bit confusing. Just hold out yer arm, and someone will send ye in the correct direction. The round is complete when we meet up again.”

  “I am in your hands, my lady.”

  Her giggle sent a flush of pleasure through him. Better than brandy on a cold winter night.

  Chapter Eight

  “There is nothing in the whole frame of man which seems to me so unaccountable as that thing called conscience.”

  Robert Burns

  Gideon prayed he did not make a fool of himself. The fast-paced reel began in a circle, all participants holding hands. They split off into four lines, connected at the center, and moved in a clockwise direction but not with hands held. No, the dancers put their arms around each other’s waist and twirled. It felt so natural to pull her against him, have her cling to him as the steps quickened and the momentum pushed their bodies closer together. When they separated, he missed her curves pressing next to his until the clasping and whirling began all over again. This time when the dance ended, he was truly out of breath. Lissie’s chest heaved as she gulped in air, the smile on her lips so sincere and inviting, he almost dipped his head for a kiss. With extreme self-control, he restrained himself to a hand at the small of her back.

  “I need some fresh air,” he heard his mother exclaim. “Gideon, why don’t you bring Lissie out with us?”

  “Aye, that’s a grand idea,” agreed Alisabeth.

  “Rory, would ye get a drink to soothe my parched throat?” Maeve rested a hand in the crook of his elbow, and said over shoulder, “We’ll meet ye both in the garden.”

  Gideon held out his arm and Lissie accepted. Twilight had descended and a breeze stirred the leaves of bushes and plants. “So walks without a chaperone are permissible? At home, this would be scandalous.”

  “It’s fine unless ye have some devious plot to kidnap or have yer way with me. But with yer mother coming soon, I dinna think ye’d risk it.” She peered up at him, straight-faced but mischief sparkling in her amber eyes. “I didna think ye the type but still waters run deep as they say. We’re told as children every Englishmen has at least a wee bit of villain in him.”

  He stopped and faced her. “Lissie! I can assure you—”

  Her laughter hung on the night air. “The English have no sense of humor, I swear it.”

  “I’m offended. Of course we do. I do. It’s just a more subtle humor. And I’ll have you know, I pulled plenty of pranks at university.”

  Gideon heard a rustling sound at the edge of the garden. He paused at a stone bench. Guiding Lissie onto it, he peered into a dense grove of trees. “I believe there are faeries watching us from the branches.”

  She turned her head quickly, eyes squinted in concentration. “Where—” She smacked his arm as he sat down next to her chuckling. “Ye’ve proved yer point.”

  “I’m curious. Are Scottish women generally as educated as you? The books you’ve read, the politics. It doesn’t seem to fit with this life.”

  “We canna be learned without being pompous like the English?”

  “Pompous?” He puffed out his chest and realized too late how it looked. With a guffaw, he admitted, “I suppose many of us give that impression.”

  “We are firm believers in education for both sexes. First, it was religious in nature. All of God’s creatures should be able to read the bible.” She shrugged. “My da doesna believe women’s minds are inferior to men’s, so I’ve been educated like a son except for going to university.”

  “I agree with your father.” They sat for a moment, enjoying the quiet of the evening and the faint sounds of pipes and violin floating on the still air. She looked forward, a wistful expression in her golden eyes. Gideon leaned closer, breathing in the lavender scent of her skin and hair.

  “Do you believe in romantic love?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “The poets do. Yer mother does…”

  Yes, he wanted to murmur in her ear. You make me believe in things I never thought possible. Instead he quoted Lord Byron:

  “And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

  But tells of days in goodness spent.”

  Alisabeth turned her face to him, her eyes searching his, their faces close.

  “A mind at peace with all below,

  A heart whose love is innocent!”

  Gideon tilted his head, focused on those full pink lips, knowing he could not deny himself a kiss. Just a kiss. He bent close, their breaths mingling—

  A soft whimper jerked them from the moment. Alisabeth leapt to her feet. A rustle of leaves and another high-pitched moan, like an injured child or small animal. She picked up her skirts and moved around the bench.

  “Lissie, wait. You don’t know what it could be.” Gideon mumbled a curse, both at the interruption and her disregard for safety as she hurried into the shadows.

  “Gideon!” He looked down the dark garden path they had taken, barely illuminated by the castle lights, and saw a dark form moving toward him. A scream pulled his attention back to the small copse of trees. Without hesitation, he darted into the woods.

  “Lissie!” The muted colors of her clothes made it hard to track her. Panic squeezed the breath from his lungs. “Lissie!”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the glint of a blade and knew the first true moment of terror in his life.

  ***

  Alisabeth thought a child had wandered off from the cèilidh. Her heart went out to the poor thing. She was also thankful for the respite. Without a doubt, she would have kissed him. Saints and sinners, ye’re a wanton, disloyal—

  An arm went about her waist and pulled her off her feet. She let out a scream before a hand clamped over her mouth. Her feet kicked at the legs behind her, fingers scratching at the arms that held her so tight she could barely suck in a breath. A second dark figure loomed in front of her.

  “Shut up and I’ll let ye live, ye MacNaughton whore.”

  She froze. His face was hidden by the night, but she knew Ross Craigg’s voice.

  “Ye no-good, conniving piece of cow dung. Tell yer lickspittle to put me down. Calum will have yer head for this.”

  The back of his hand sent her head spinning. She saw bits of light, and Ross’ face came in and out of focus. An ache began in her jaw and threaded down her neck.

  “Not before I have his grandson’s.”

  Her body went still. “Ye’ve gone mad as a March hare.”

  “Lissie… Lissie!”

  “Here comes the gentleman in question. Now remember ye’re a Craigg for just a moment, and no harm will come to ye.”

  “Why?” She spit blood f
rom her mouth. “Ye know ye’ll never get away with murdering a MacNaughton, let alone an Englishmen. Ye’ll have the law of Scotland and England after ye and me as a witness.”

  “Ye’d stand up for that fousome English pig over yer own kin? Then ye are no blood of mine.”

  “If you harm a hair on her head, I’ll kill you. Slowly. Very slowly.” The voice was deep, quiet, and deadly. “You know, we English have had centuries of practice.”

  Rage shone in Ross’ eyes as he turned to confront the earl, only to be met with a fist to his face. Sprawled on the ground, he rubbed his jaw. “I’m not paying ye to keep my company. If he knocks me down again, slice the lass’ throat,” he said to the ruffian holding Alisabeth.

  The man grunted in confirmation, his foul breath making her gag. He pulled her hands behind her back. She winced at the pain that radiated up her arms.

  Ross Craigg rose, pulled a pistol from his belt, and pointed it at Gideon.

  “I understand you hold no love for the MacNaughtons. But think of the consequences to the rest of your family.” Gideon held up his hands as if in surrender but took a step sideways, out of the direct path of the gun.

  Hissss. Lachlan called from behind Ross, his sword drawn. “Stand down, Craigg. This canna end well for ye.”

  “Och, luck is on my shoulder. The grandiose Lachlan returned to take his brother’s place. We’ll take both of ye down.”

  Gideon again spoke softly, taking another sidestep toward Alisabeth. “You still haven’t answered the lady’s question. Why?”

  “Her da”—he jerked his head at Alisabeth—“can taint his offspring with the MacNaughton’s but I’ll not be his toady. I never asked for peace between our clans. I should be head of the Craiggs.”

  “No one would ever follow such a cur,” Alisabeth hissed.

  “It doesna matter. Nessie’s my property, not the chieftain’s. I decide who my blood mixes with and who marries my daughter.”

  “So ye’ll take the noose rather than see yer daughter married to a MacDunn? Ye’ve lost yer mind, mon.” Lachlan moved his sword slowly back and forth as he crouched in preparation for the fight to come.

  “I’ll not take orders from the MacNaughton, who listens to a spawn of the devil.” Ross sneered at Gideon. “Ye’ve been here a month, come into my village, and know my business. There’s something unnatural about ye, and I intend to rid us all of that peculiar power. It’s done enough harm, in my opinion.” Ross spit on the ground in front of Gideon.

  As he bent his head in disgust, Lachlan lunged forward. The sword sliced Craigg’s hand, and the pistol tumbled to the ground. Ross drew his own sword and faced Lachlan. At the same time, Alisabeth kicked backward, knocking her captor off balance. As she hoped, it was enough time for Gideon. He seized the opening and landed a punch to the man’s head. She broke free. Her pounding heart sent waves of pain through her skull.

  “Run, Lissie.” The earl threw another punch before the other man’s knuckles connected with his jaw, and they landed together in a heap on the hard earth. The rogue straddled Gideon and pushed his face into the dirt. Gideon’s fingers crawled up his assailant’s shirt, found his neck, and squeezed. The man raised an arm, a dagger clenched in his fist.

  Terror gripped Alisabeth. Her heart constricted at the thought of another man she cared for dying before his time. Across the clearing, Lachlan and Ross stood nose to nose, swords crossed. Ross’ shirt was torn and blood splashed down his kilt. Lachlan kicked him in the stomach and raised his blade. Ross charged, screaming like a mad boar.

  Lissie dove for the pistol. Her body sprawled on the ground, dirt filling her mouth and stinging her eyes. The pungent smell of pine filled her nose as she rolled over on her back. She cringed at the sound of crunching bone as Gideon landed another punch to his attacker’s jaw. Moonlight glinted on metal and she realized Gideon had a dagger in one hand. A low rumble sounded in his throat as the metal flicked up and into the ruffian’s gut. His eyes went wide, his mouth open, and he slumped over Gideon.

  Lachlan cursed and she saw him gripping his leg, blood dripping between his fingers. God forgive me, she thought, as her teeth began to chatter. The smooth wood of the handle in her palm gave her courage. She aimed at her cousin’s back as he raised his broad sword over Lachlan’s head. Tears blurred her vision. Her fingers squeezed the trigger. The impact of the shot sent her reeling backwards into the bush.

  A yowl of pain and a curse. Alisabeth blinked, praying the bullet hit the right man. Ross screamed, the clash of steel against steel, and then Calum burst into the opening.

  “What the devil is going on here?” He picked up the lifeless man by the collar and inspected his contorted face.

  The crack of branches, mumbled oaths, and Ross Craigg disappeared into the darkness. Lachlan yelled, attempted to limp after the fleeing figure.

  “Run ye feckin’ traitor!” He grimaced and squeezed his thigh, trying to staunch the flow of blood. “Ye canna hide.”

  Gideon was on his knees, his breath coming out in pants. Lissie’s courage fled, and she collapsed. Tears poured down her face as sobs wrenched her body. Her fingers dug into the cool earth. Then strong arms scooped her up.

  “Shhh, it’s over.” Gideon kissed the top of her head and held her close. “I have you. You’re safe now.”

  She clung to him, her body convulsing. “D-did I k-k-kill him?”

  “Och, lass, ye just nicked him. But he’ll wish ye finished him off once we find him.”

  Calum looked around the clearing and shook his head. “Let’s get out of here and into the moonlight so we can see the damage,” Calum ordered. The bedraggled group exited the copse just as Maeve and MacDunn reached the stone bench.

  “God’s bones,” yelled Rory. “What kind of treachery is this?”

  “Lissie, my poor lass, are ye all right?” Maeve’s face changed from concern to horror as she took in their battered faces. “Who did this?”

  Gideon groaned as he lowered himself and Alisabeth onto the bench. “That cowardly Craigg. He used Lissie to draw me into the woods.”

  “Why?”

  He began to explain when Alisabeth peered up at his face. She gasped. “Oh, no.” She gently touched his swollen eye, pulled on his bloody cravat, and used it to dab at the blood splattered across his nose and mouth. “Does it hurt?”

  “Och, no. It’s nothin’ but a gash in my leg, needing a stitch or two or dozen. But dinna worry about me, sweet sister.” Lachlan sat down heavily next to them. “I’m sure it will only fester and bleed until the surgeon has to take it off. Then ye can fetch whiskey for me and tell me what a hero I am.”

  Calum guffawed and bent to investigate his grandson’s wound. “Ye always were a wee bit dramatic, lad. It’s barely a scratch. A swallow or two of the good stuff will have ye forgetting the pain.”

  Peigi arrived and the cacophony of voices began again. Finally, Calum raised his hand. “We need to be getting back to the cèilidh before our guests notice. I think we should keep this to ourselves for now.”

  “I agree,” said Peigi, after learning of the attack. “Poor Nessie and Hamish dinna need their wedding day spoiled by this. Gideon, can ye help Lachlan up the back stairs? We’ll go through the kitchen.”

  He nodded. Alisabeth reluctantly moved off his lap, a chill going through her as she left his warm arms. “I’ll clean them both up and get the cook to help sew up Lachlan’s leg. She’ll keep it to herself.”

  “We’ll take turns and check on all three of ye. I’ll think of an excuse for yer absence.” Peigi turned to Calum. “Lissie found the wedding brought back memories of Ian and retired early. Understand?”

  Calum nodded. “Lachlan and Gideon have become fast friends and fell in the whiskey barrel. They’ll be dead ‘til morning.”

  “I thank ye, all of ye,” said Rory. “Ye’re a good mon, Calum MacNaughton, with good kin.”

  The disheveled group slowly made their way around the edge of the garden. Maeve and MacDunn rejoined t
he festivities. Peigi handed Alisabeth a lantern. “Call for me if ye need anything, lass.”

  Lachlan led them through the back passage of the old keep. “I’m glad Lissie is going to England. With Ross Craigg on the loose, I’d be worried for her.”

  She stopped at the bottom stair and looked over her shoulder. “What? England?”

  Her brother-in-law’s blue eyes went wide. “Now I’ve gone and done it.”

  “Done what?” Her hands shook with anger. “Who has been making plans for me without my knowledge?”

  “Mama planned to ask you tomorrow. She wants company for the winter and thought you might enjoy a change.” Gideon held up his hands. “She only checked with Grandfather to be certain there were no objections before she asked you.”

  Lissie took a deep breath. England. She’d always imagined traveling and had grown close to Maeve. Perhaps a change would be good for her. With Lachlan leaning heavily on Gideon, she turned and led them up the stairs.

  “I think it’s best if we go to Lachlan’s room to keep rumors at bay if we are discovered,” Gideon requested as they arrived at the top of the landing.

  “But her room is right here and mine is at the end of a verra long hall.” Lachlan’s slurred words betrayed his weakening state after the narrow stairs, his face a sickly white.

  “Humor me, please, when I worry about Lissie’s reputation. It’s ingrained in the English.” His lips quirked up in a smile as they arrived at a landing. “I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you the rest of the way.”

  “Over my dead body.” With that, he crumpled in Gideon’s grip.