How to Blackmail a Highlander (The MacGregor Lairds)

by McLean, Michelle

  Elizabet put a hand on Alice’s arm but dropped it when another pain gripped her. Rose kept one arm firmly about her while the other still gripped the sword. She would need both hands to swing it, if it came to that. Alice prayed it would not. But they were far from the house and, with the fighting going on, she doubted anyone would even hear their screams. They should have stayed put. Should have stayed hidden.

  Philip, where are you?

  The men advanced, smiling, obviously seeing no threat. And they were probably right. But she’d be damned if she was going to make it easy for them. She tried to force her rising panic down and focus on the enemy before her. She could regret her impulsive decisions later. She needed to do what she could to keep them all alive. And pray help came before it was too late.

  One of the men lunged at her, and she slashed out at him, yelling for all she was worth. He apparently hadn’t expected her to actually fight him, because he didn’t move fast enough, and her dagger slashed through his arm. He grabbed the wound and glared down at his bloodstained fingers.

  “You’ll pay for that, you bitch,” he growled at her.

  Her hands trembled, and she gripped the dagger with both hands, ready to try again. But he didn’t give her the chance to get her bearings. He rushed her, knocking her off her feet. She went down with a cry, landing hard on her back. But she kept her grip on her dagger even as she tried to scramble away.

  Screams came from the other women, and Alice risked a glance. Rose had been backed up against a tree, though she’d managed to bloody her assailant. But the weight of the sword was obviously too much for her. Ramsay stalked Elizabet. By the look on his face, he was enjoying drawing it out, relishing the rising terror in his victim. Elizabet fumbled for the pocket in her skirts, and Alice prayed she’d managed to stash a weapon there.

  The man attacking Alice took advantage of her momentary distraction to lunge and straddle her, pinning her down with his weight. He grabbed the wrist holding the dagger.

  “No!” Alice shouted, trying to kick at him, even with her legs hampered by her skirts and his crushing weight.

  She sat forward and sank her teeth into his hand. The sharp metallic tang of blood and the foul filth of his skin flooded her mouth, and she kept from vomiting by sheer iron will alone.

  He bellowed in pain and let go. Her triumph was short-lived. His fist lashed out, catching her full on the cheek, and black spots filled her vision. Shouts rang out in the distance, and she prayed it was help coming and not her suddenly fuddled mind conjuring what she wanted most.

  The man snarled down at her and raised his fist again, but the sound of a shot ringing through the clearing distracted him.

  Alice looked to where Elizabet had been facing off with Ramsay. Her friend stood pressed against a tree, a pistol in each hand. She’d obviously fired one, as a faint puff of smoke dissipated from its muzzle. She dropped it as Ramsay clutched his side and staggered away from her, spewing rage-filled profanity.

  “I’ll kill you, you bitch! I’ll cut that bastard from your belly and let you watch it die as you bleed out like the miserable cow you are!”

  Alice struggled anew, terror for her friend adding strength to her tired muscles. The man atop her cuffed her again, and her ears rang.

  From the corner of her eye she caught the glint of the sun on the other pistol in Elizabet’s hand. Her friend fired. This time, the bullet found its mark, square in Ramsay’s chest. He sank to his knees and then toppled to the ground.

  Elizabet dropped the gun and slumped against the tree at her back.

  The man atop Alice was momentarily distracted by his leader’s defeat, but Alice knew it wouldn’t last long. And Ramsay, murderous bastard that he was, had been the only person keeping his men from doing what they pleased to her. She had to strike before he turned his full attention back to her.

  She gritted her teeth, redoubled her grip on her blade, and plunged it as hard as she could into the joint between the man’s shoulder and neck.

  He roared out his pain and surprise, clawing at the dagger still protruding from his neck. Alice pushed at him, trying to dislodge him from atop her. He yanked the dagger out and Alice screamed. She had no weapons left. Nothing but her fists so she pummeled him as well as she could.

  Blood poured from his wound, soaking into her gown and splashing on her skin. She shrieked again in rage and despair, trying desperately to escape from the warm sticky liquid drenching her. The man’s face paled. His eyes went wide. And he slowly slumped on top of her.

  Alice kicked and struggled as his foul breath left his body in one last sigh.

  Her momentary relief changed to panic. His dead weight was slowly crushing her, squeezing the air from her body. She twisted and shoved, her desperation growing. Sobs escaped her throat. She tried to hold them back, but overwhelming frustration mixed with panic were more than she could conquer.

  Then, his weight was gone. She dragged in a deep breath and blinked through the sunlight at the man who’d taken his place. She couldn’t see his face and when he gathered her in his arms she fought against him.

  “Alice, stop, lass, it’s me,” he said. And she finally recognized the familiar touch of Philip’s hands on her body, of his chest beneath her cheek, and she collapsed against him, clutching his shirt in her hands.

  Another bolt of panic shot through her, and she pushed away from him again, trying to crawl to where she’d last seen her friend.

  “Elizabet!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Philip lunged after Alice, his heart thudding in his chest with the fear pumping through him. “She’s well, lass. She’s well.”

  Alice stilled at that and looked at him with a frown. He pointed to where John was cradling his wife, and Alice sagged, all the fight draining out of her.

  “John’s alive?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Took a wicked blow or two, but aye. He’ll live.”

  “I think her pains have started.”

  He smoothed her hair from her blood-covered face with trembling hands. “Dinna fash. She’ll be taken care of.”

  “Rose?” she asked, starting again.

  “Aye, she’s fine. A bit bruised and spittin’ angry, but fine. Ye can rest now.”

  Philip pulled Alice back into his arms. Blood soaked through her dress and covered her skin. His hands frantically checked her for injuries. She winced a few times, but nothing seemed to be fatal.

  “Not mine,” she said, her voice so low he almost couldn’t hear it. She held her trembling, blood-covered hands out in front of her. “The blood isn’t mine. I…I killed him.” Her voice choked off on a sob.

  “It’s all right, love. Shh, mo cridhe, it’s all right.” He held her tightly to him, his chest burning with emotion. He kissed the top of her head. “Ye did what ye had to do. Ye did well. Let it bide, now. I’ve got ye.”

  She finally relaxed against him, and he wasted no time in scooping her up in his arms so he could carry her back to the house. He focused on putting one step in front of the other. Nothing more. Because if he thought of how he’d found her…covered in blood with that man atop her…he’d lose his mind.

  He didn’t even remember running to her side. He’d entered the clearing and saw them and…then he was staring down at the dead man. He didn’t even remember pulling the body off her. The only thought in his mind had been getting to her. Saving her. But she’d already saved herself. All the women had done exceptionally well. Surprisingly, considering their condition and the tools they’d had.

  But it shouldn’t have been necessary. If Alice had simply done what he’d asked…

  He shied away from that line of thinking. For the moment, he needed to focus on Alice. He could berate her later. It would be best if he had some time to compose his emotions first. With fear for her and adrenaline from the battle still raging in his blood, he didn’t trust himself to speak calmly about the situation. And the last thing he wanted to do was add to her ordeal. Whatever mistakes she’d ma
de, she’d already paid for them tenfold.

  But they would discuss it. She had to learn she couldn’t follow every impulse that came across her mind. This wasn’t one of her father’s palaces. And men like Ramsay wouldn’t stop because of who she was. That lesson, she’d obviously learned.

  He held her closer to him and marched straight to their room, calling for a bath to be set up. It was a terrible bother to have the tub brought up and filled with hot water, but she was too soiled to simply wipe down. He wanted to get her clean before she became fully aware again. She’d killed her first man. An experience that could shake the strongest of men. He didn’t want her to wake still covered in the man’s blood.

  John’s housekeeper offered to wash Alice and get her situated, but he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight again. He carefully bathed her, checking her everywhere for injuries. That bastard had hit her hard enough to blacken her eye, and her cheek would be swollen for a few days. If he’d been alive, Philip would have killed him all over again. Slowly. She also had a bump on her head and various other bruises, but nothing that would leave permanent damage.

  Once he had her washed and in a clean shift, he tried to put her in their bed. But she insisted on checking on the other women first. She opened the door to reveal a startled Rose, one arm poised to knock, the other arm full of bundles.

  “Rose? What is it?” Alice asked, voice full of concern.

  “My pardon, my laird, my lady,” she said with a small curtsy and nod to each of them, “but I must beg your permission to leave for a short time. I would never ask, but I have no choice.”

  Alice frowned but answered, “Of course, you may have as long as you need.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” she said, the relief evident in her voice. She went at once to the small room off the main chamber where she’d been sleeping and began to pack.

  “Only please tell me what is wrong,” Alice said, following her. “Perhaps I can help.”

  A worried Elizabet and John entered. “Is Rose here?” Elizabet asked. “The housekeeper said she sat still barely long enough to have her wounds tended and then announced she had to go save William and ran up here.”

  Philip pointed to the women. Alice asked, “Rose?”

  She sighed and glanced up. “William has not yet returned, and there has been no word from him. The search party doesn’t know where to look. I do.”

  “Then tell us,” Philip said. “We’ll send more men—”

  “You can’t spare them,” she said, adding a “Sir,” with wide eyes when she realized who she addressed. “I can find him quicker, with less trouble to the rest of the house.”

  John strode back to the chamber door and called out to one of the young lads who was always nearby to do his laird’s bidding. After a quick exchange the boy ran off, and John came back to the group.

  Alice watched with a worried expression as Rose shoved a few more provisions in her saddlebags and checked back through them to make sure she had everything she could possibly need. Food, a few medicines that might be useful, bandages, a flask of whisky.

  “Are you sure you wish to do this?” Alice asked her as Elizabet tucked extra supplies into the bags. “At least wait for morning.”

  “I cannot,” Rose said. “He’s already been missing for several hours, and he was wounded. He would have returned by now if he could.”

  Alice and Elizabet exchanged a glance, and Rose jutted her chin in the air. “I know what everyone thinks. But you don’t know William as I do. The man is as stubborn as they come and not nearly intelligent enough to give up and die like a normal man. He’s out there suffering somewhere. I owe the fool. And so, I’m going to find him and bring him home, so he can suffer in peace.”

  Her words might have been harsh, but Philip recognized the worry beneath them. Rose and William had been through quite an ordeal on their way to Glenlyon to warn the MacGregors of Ramsay’s imminent appearance. Whatever had gone on between them had bonded them enough that Rose felt the need to go find the missing William, despite her apparent animosity toward him.

  As most of the men and women at Glenlyon and Kirkenroch had felt the same way about their partners at some point in their relationships, Philip understood but kept it to himself. He was the last one to be doling out relationship advice. But he could do something to help.

  He stepped up and handed Rose a small dagger. She looked at him with surprise but took it readily enough and slipped it into the pocket of her skirt.

  “Young Rob is armed as well,” John said, nodding to the stable boy who had joined them and who stood, slightly nervous-looking but determined, ready to accompany Rose as she looked for William.

  Rose didn’t seem to know what to say but finally nodded and murmured her thanks. Elizabet gave her a quick kiss on her cheek and wished her Godspeed before being whisked off to bed by an impatient and disapproving midwife.

  Rose gathered her things, and everyone else accompanied her to the courtyard. John pulled young Rob aside for some last-minute instructions, so Rose mounted her horse and nodded at each of them.

  “If you’re not back by tomorrow, we’ll send riders out after you,” Alice said. “I understand your wish to find William, but I don’t want to lose you as well.”

  Rose nodded. “I understand. The place he spoke of shouldn’t be too far from here. If he’s not there then…” She shrugged, and her face paled slightly. Then she straightened her shoulders and gripped the reins. “I’ll be back soon. Or will send word,” she promised, glancing at Rob.

  Then she turned her horse and led it over to where Rob now waited. John saw them to the gate and then hastened to his wife’s bed. Alice waited, raising her hand in farewell once more, worry and sadness making her already pale face more drawn. Philip wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “She’ll find him,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

  “How can you be certain?” she asked.

  “Because she’s as stubborn as you are,” he said. He chuckled when Alice glared at him and drew her closer. “And because she loves him, I think.”

  “Then I pray she finds him quickly.”

  She and Philip watched until Rose and Rob disappeared over the horizon. The moment they were out of sight, Alice leaned heavily against him, her strength seeming to leave her in a rush.

  “There’s nothing more we can do for them now,” Philip said, sweeping her into his arms again. “I’m taking ye straight to bed.”

  The fact that she neither protested nor made lewd suggestions sent fresh spikes of worry tearing through him. He brought her straight to their chamber and tucked her into bed.

  And then he sat in a chair beside her and watched her chest rise and fall.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been there when John came in. Long enough for the sun to be setting in the sky and for his eyes to feel as if they were full of sand. He started when John put his hand on his shoulder.

  “How is she?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet.

  Philip looked back at her. “She’ll do, I think. She’s got a nasty bump on her head that worries me, and her face will hurt something fearful for a few weeks. But she’ll heal. Your lady?”

  The ghost of a smile touched John’s lips, though his face remained drawn with concern. He gestured to the door and waited until Philip joined him in the room across the hall before continuing.

  “She’s physically well. The pains have subsided, but the midwife is insisting she stay in bed to be safe. Your lady and her maid defended her well. She wasna injured.”

  “But?” Philip prompted when John didn’t continue.

  John sighed and rubbed a hand over his bruised face. “She frets over her father. The man was a criminal whom she’s glad to be away from. But he was still her father, after all. I think she hoped to make peace with him someday, and that’s no longer possible. And she worries about her mother. I’ve promised to inquire after her.”

  “And Ramsay?”

  John shook his h
ead, his smile a bit more real this time. “She shot that bastard dead where he stood and, as far as I can tell, isna suffering any qualms over it. I dinna even ken where she got the pistol. But I’ll thank every saint in heaven the rest of my days that she had it.”

  Philip snorted. “I wish we had seen that.”

  “Aye.” He heaved another great sigh. “We lost some good men. And the search parties found no sign of William. There’s been no word from either him or Rose yet. The last he was seen, he was being chased by several of Ramsay’s men. He led them away from the chamber where the women hid. His actions saved them all, but…” John frowned.

  “Take heart,” Philip said. “There’s still time yet.”

  John nodded, but there wasn’t much hope in his eyes.

  He sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “But Glenlyon still stands. Ramsay was too fixated on finding me and Elizabet to waste his time attacking the castle. The men he set to the task were fodder. A diversion while he made his way here.” John looked down at his hands. “I thought I was protecting her by staying by her side. Instead, all I did was act as a beacon and led that bastard right to her.”

  Philip clapped his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “We did as we felt best. Perhaps ye should have left. And I should have stayed. Perhaps if Alice had stayed put like I’d bid her…if she’d never come at all…” His jaw clenched against the urge to rage and rail at her stubborn impulsiveness. He didn’t know what had led to the women being out in the forest, but those who’d hidden in the dressing chamber had been found safe and sound. When he’d opened that door and seen that Alice wasn’t there…

  He jammed a hand through his hair and paced back and forth in front of the room’s hearth.

  “The women did well,” John reminded him. “Even little Rose. She nearly severed the leg of the man who attacked her. The lass could barely lift the sword, but she put it to good use.”

  “Aye, but they shouldna have been there in the first place,” Philip said, nearly spitting the words out.