Seduced by the Highlander

by Julianne MacLean

  She watched Lachlan leave the Great Hall and was about to follow him out when Angus spoke up.

  “What about your letter to your family?” he asked. “They must know you are safe.”

  She swallowed uneasily. “Yes, of course. I will write to my grandmother tonight, and I will tell her that I am on my way to Edinburgh. If you could see to its delivery…”

  “I will,” the Lion replied. “Sleep well, Lady Catherine.”

  “And the same to you, sir. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Drumloch Manor

  John Montgomery handed his horse and riding crop over to a groomsman and strode purposefully back to the house. He had just come from the magistrate’s office in the village and learned that they were calling off the search for Catherine. There had only been one clue about her disappearance—her possible stay at an inn on the first night of her capture. Beyond that, the magistrate implied that she had simply disappeared into the mist, which was not an uncommon occurrence when a Highlander was involved. The magistrate had suggested that John hire a few resourceful men who knew their way around the north country.

  Quite ridiculously, the man seemed to think there was some mysticism involved, but John knew better. The Highlander who had abducted Catherine had known something. Either he had information about her whereabouts over the past five years or he knew something about this family—perhaps what John’s great-aunt refused to reveal.

  John pulled his gloves off and slapped them against his thigh as he climbed the steps. The front door opened a few seconds before he reached it, and he found himself stopping under the wide portico, staring at his butler as if he were seeing him for the first time. John observed the man’s tall, thin frame and his neatly combed white hair.

  “How long have you been at Drumloch, Smythe?” he asked, stepping inside and removing his hat. “Forever, it would seem.”

  “Not quite that long, my lord. I began here in ’86.”

  “That’s long enough. It’s thirty-five years.”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  John watched him steadily. “Follow me, then. I have questions to ask.”

  John led the way into the library. “Close the door, Smythe. Very good. Now what secrets do you know about this household—specifically in regards to Lady Catherine, and her disappearance five years ago? She is about to turn five-and-twenty, and will come into her inheritance, but if she is not alive at that time, the funds will be forfeited to the Jacobite cause, and we cannot have that.” He studied the butler with suspicious eyes. “I understand you were very devoted to my uncle, the former earl.” He paused. “I also know that he was a staunch supporter of King James and his claim to the throne, but those days are gone, Smythe. You must know that. It is a hopeless cause and I do not wish to see this family’s fortune lost to it. This is a Hanover house now, and we are loyal to King George. So tell me what you know. There must be gossip below stairs. There always is. Where is Lady Catherine? Where would she go, and what the bloody hell is my aunt hiding from me?”

  The butler went white as a sheet but quickly recovered his composure and spoke with indifference. “I regret to say that I know nothing, my lord. Lady Catherine’s disappearance five years ago remains a mystery to us all, and if the dowager is hiding something from you … I daresay she has always been very discreet about family matters. There has never been any talk of secrets or gossip of any kind below stairs. With respect, my lord, I do not permit such indiscretions.”

  John had no doubt that Smythe would manage the servants with a firm hand, and that Aunt Eleanor would not likely confide in him. John doubted she would confide in anyone.

  “The housekeeper…,” he said on a whim. “How long has Mrs. Silver been serving this family?”

  “Longer than I have, my lord. She began in the kitchen, but established herself at a young age and has risen accordingly.”

  “She earned everyone’s trust, did she?” John circled around his desk and sat down. He leaned forward and removed his spectacles. “Tell her I wish to see her at once, and warn her that her position is at risk if she does not earn my trust. Go now. I do not wish to be kept waiting. There is a great deal of money at stake, not to mention the welfare of my dear cousin, Catherine. We must get her back. She has been through enough. She needs our protection.”

  “Very good, my lord.” Smythe turned and left the library.

  * * *

  Smack! The sharp sting of the dowager’s hand across Mrs. Silver’s face caused both dogs to lift their chins from their slumber in front of the fire.

  “You have betrayed me,” Eleanor said. “You wretched woman. You have behaved intolerably! I would shoot you dead if I could, but I will have to settle for ending your employment, and I promise you—no other decent family will ever accept you into service after this. You will soon find yourself destitute or scrubbing pots in some village alehouse. If you’re lucky.”

  Mrs. Silver lifted her chin and glanced down at the growling dogs with a cool, derisive expression. “I’m afraid not, milady,” she said. “The earl has promised me employment here indefinitely, and he has rewarded me with a substantial increase in my wages.”

  The dowager scoffed. “So your loyalty was bought for a better price? Is that it, Mrs. Silver?”

  “Aye, milady. The earl was very kind, and concerned for Lady Catherine’s welfare. She was abducted by a Highlander. I could not, in good conscience, keep information from him which might result in her rescue.”

  The dowager swung her cane through the air like a whip and knocked over a vase of fresh flowers. “He is concerned for her money, you fool! He doesn’t give a fig about her welfare! She has already been ruined in every way. What is the point in saving her now, except to hold on to her inheritance? And as for being concerned…” She paused and pulled her lips into a thin line. “I was concerned once before, and traveled all the way to Italy to bring her home, only to be disappointed by her yet again. She is a disloyal, ungrateful gel. This is the second time she has run off, and I am through with her. I am done with you, too, Mrs. Silver. Get out of my sight.”

  The dowager whistled, and the dogs followed her into her dressing room, where she waited for the door to close behind the wretched, unfaithful housekeeper. For a long moment the dowager sat in silence.

  Though the room was quiet, her heart was pounding in her ears like heavy claps of thunder. She could endure it no longer. She fell to her knees and collapsed into a fit of despair.

  “Damn her!” she cried. “Damn that wayward child! How could she have left us like this?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Tell me what I need to know about Murdoch and Raonaid,” Lachlan said to Angus as he tossed a loaded saddlebag over the back of Catherine’s horse. “Where are they living, and will he think I have come to seek vengeance for his invasion of this castle three years ago?”

  “He is living outside Edinburgh,” Angus replied. “Directly south of the castle in a stone manor house called Blue Waters, which he has let from a sea captain. Murdoch will speak with you if you tell him you are there on behalf of his sister. We have agreed on a truce, he and I, since we cannot escape the fact that we are brothers by marriage.”

  “What are the terms of this truce?” Lachlan asked.

  Angus leaned a shoulder against the side of the stall. “Murdoch has agreed never to come within a ten-mile radius of Kinloch.”

  “And what have you agreed to?” Lachlan asked as he buckled the saddlebags.

  “I’ve agreed not to hunt him down and kill him like the dirty dog that he is. To this day I believe I got the lesser end of the bargain.”

  Lachlan regarded him keenly. “Well, I suppose there must be sacrifices. You are married to his sister, after all, and I doubt she’d be pleased if you dirked her own brother. Even if he does deserve it.”

  “Aye, and my wife’s pleasure has always been my primary concern.”

  Lachlan nodded with a grin. “
I remember. But are you sure you don’t want me to take care of him for you? I could make it look like an accident.”

  The corner of Angus’s mouth curled up in the smallest hint of a smile. “Your offer is very tempting, Lachlan, but I’m a man of my word, so I will keep to the truce.”

  “So will I, then,” he replied, “unless he pulls a dirk on me, or tries to put a musket ball in me, in which case I will consider the terms null and void. Anything else I should know?”

  “Aye. There is the issue of Murdoch’s renewed interest in another rebellion. It might cause trouble for you.”

  “How so?”

  Angus glanced over his shoulder as if to ensure there was no one about. “Catherine’s father might have been a loyal Jacobite, but her cousin, the earl, is a stanch Hanoverian with no love for Highlanders.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. He shot me in the arm.”

  “Did he, now? Well, you might want to keep that to yourself. It only serves to prove that Catherine may be an enemy. She certainly stands in the way of a great deal of money for the Jacobites. We all know what will happen to her inheritance if she does not live long enough to see her twenty-fifth birthday.”

  “According to her father’s last will and testament, it will be forfeited to the rebellion.”

  “Aye, and the situation is especially sensitive these days, since the attempt on the young prince’s life. Many Scots are shouting for justice, and they look at every Hanoverian as a murderer. The fact that Catherine was recovered in Italy does not reflect well on her, since the Stuart court is currently in Rome.”

  Lachlan stopped what he was doing and faced Angus with a frown. “What are you speaking of? Do you mean Charles, the son of King James? He is an infant in the cradle. Are you saying someone tried to murder King James’s newborn son?”

  Angus regarded him with disbelief. “You truly have been obsessed with your curse, Lachlan. You’ve not seen what’s been happening all around you.”

  Instantly frustrated, Lachlan swung around and yanked at the saddlebags to ensure they were soundly in place. “Well, that’s about to change.”

  He could no longer continue to live for his vengeance alone. If Murdoch and Raonaid succeeded in raising another rebellion, more of his countrymen would die.

  And who the devil tried to kill young Prince Charlie?

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked Angus pointedly, facing him again. “I could try to talk sense to Murdoch. Perhaps discourage him from starting another war.”

  Angus moved forward and stroked Theodore’s neck. “That won’t be necessary. My good friend Duncan MacLean, the Earl of Moncrieffe, knows the right people, and he is planning a trip to Edinburgh very soon. He will take on that challenge. He has no love for Murdoch. But you…” Angus’s blue eyes narrowed. “Just keep Lady Catherine safe. Use false names at all times. Do not stay long in Edinburgh, and keep your presence there a secret. After you’ve met with Raonaid, deliver Catherine home to Drumloch as quickly as possible to collect the inheritance. Once it belongs to her, it will no longer be a temptation for the Jacobites.”

  “It won’t be easy to keep our presence a secret, once we meet Raonaid.”

  Angus nodded. “I understand your concern, but I know Raonaid. She will not betray a twin.”

  Lachlan eyed him carefully. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “Then do what you must to keep her quiet. Whatever it takes.”

  Four other clansmen entered the stables just then, and Lachlan turned. “Good morning,” he said, forcing himself to focus on the task of leading these men into the Lowlands and delivering Catherine safely back to her family. “Are you packed and ready to go?”

  “That we are, sir,” Roderick replied. “You remember my brother, Rodney?”

  Indeed, Lachlan had known these men for many years. One was tall, dark, and lanky; the other was short, big boned, and fair-haired—their differences due to the fact that they had the same mother but different fathers.

  “Aye, good to see you again,” Lachlan replied as they shook hands.

  “This here is Gawyn MacLean,” Roderick said. “He’ll be doing the cooking for us.”

  “He’s one of Duncan MacLean’s men,” Angus mentioned. “We fought together at Sherrifmuir and wreaked havoc together for a few years afterward. He’s an expert swordsman and fast on his feet.”

  Gawyn was a tall Highlander who sported a shaggy mane of red hair and a matching beard. His freckled face was marked by a diagonal scar. He stepped forward to pump Lachlan’s hand.

  “And this is Alexander MacEwen,” Roderick continued. “He knows every loch, glen, and glade from here to the bottom of the Scottish Borders. He’ll keep us heading in the right direction, won’t you, Alex?”

  The fourth clansman reached out to shake Lachlan’s hand as well. He was a good-looking young lad with brown hair and gray eyes.

  “Are you new to Kinloch?” Lachlan asked. “I don’t remember your face.”

  “Aye, sir,” Alex replied in a polite tone. “I’m second cousin to the chief’s wife. I came up from Glasgow six months ago, took a shining to the place, and never left.”

  Angus gestured toward Alexander with a toss of his golden head. “He’s a good man, and I’d trust him with my life. He and Gwendolen grew up together. He’s a fast rider, and good with a sword.”

  “Ah,” Lachlan replied.

  A shadow passed across the open stable door just then, and Catherine stepped into view, wearing the shabby old cloak he had purchased from Abigail. Beneath it, she wore a modest blue skirt with green plaid trimmings, and green stays over a white shift. Her hair was swept up into a loose, untidy knot.

  It was all part of the disguise—to prevent her from looking like an heiress—but he wasn’t sure how much good it would do. She was still breathtakingly beautiful. All the men, including the great Lion himself, went speechless for a moment while she stood before them in the doorway.

  Lachlan approached her. “Good morning, Lady Catherine.” He respectfully offered his arm.

  Her expression warmed at the sight of the same chestnut gelding he had purchased for her at the inn where they spent their first night.

  Patting Theodore’s nose, she whispered, “We meet again.” She ran her gloved hands down the smoothly muscled length of his neck. “Well groomed, I see.” She stroked his shining mane, and he responded by nuzzling her ear.

  One of the stable hands hurried forth to hold Theodore steady while she mounted and settled her pretty bottom into the saddle.

  “Well, gentlemen? I am ready to depart. Shall we venture onward?”

  Lachlan looked up at her, sitting proudly and cheerfully in the saddle while she looked down at all of them with a charming enthusiasm that sparked around him like fireworks.

  After a decade of seducing countless, nameless women who wanted nothing more from him than a quick tumble in a haystack—and never once becoming besotted with a single one of them—this feeling in his gut plagued him. His desire for Catherine was insatiable, and it was dangerously distracting.

  But somehow, somehow, he had to find a way to accept that he could not have her. He certainly could not make love to her, and he didn’t think he could manage all the other things without it eventually coming to that. Which created a problem. For although he was a renowned Scottish warrior who faced death and doom without hesitation on the battlefield, he did not know if he was strong enough, or brave enough, to resist the tempting allure of Lady Catherine Montgomery.

  Clearly, she was the greatest challenge of his life.

  He had never wanted her more.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The first full day of travel passed quickly, the moments weaving together into an impressive tapestry of changing landscapes, which were as beautiful and moving to Catherine as any grand opera or priceless work of art.

  Earlier in the morning, when the cool Highland mist hung low over the dewy grass in the meadows, they had trotted across the castle br
idge, galloped over the field toward the east, and slipped gingerly into the cover of the forest, where autumn leaves detached themselves from the treetops and floated lightly to the ground all around them.

  Alexander, the youngest clansman and closest to Catherine’s age, had ridden ahead to scout out their route, and returned after an hour to discuss the best options with Lachlan, who rode several yards in front of Catherine.

  The other three Scots rode behind her, and though there was no one to talk to, she could not complain of boredom—at least not yet—for the journey itself was enough of a challenge and distraction to keep her mind occupied.

  Late in the afternoon, they were forced to cross a fast-moving river, and Catherine had to coax and wheedle Theodore down the slick muddy slope to reach the water. They slipped and skidded at the bottom, and together plunged into the icy river with a heavy, shocking splash that pulled a gasp from her throat.

  Theodore kept his footing over the slippery rocks below the surface while the cold water swirled around them and penetrated Catherine’s skirts to the tops of her thighs. At least the sound of the rushing water drowned out Theo’s panicked whinnies.

  When they reached the other side and galloped up the bank, she ran her hand down his russet neck, gentling him. “Well done,” she said. Her own heart was racing, and she was relieved to have made it across.

  She looked up then, to find Lachlan watching her intently.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, waiting for her just ahead in a grove of junipers.

  “We’re fine.” She urged Theodore into a light canter and rode past Lachlan, to lead the way. He soon caught up with her and trotted alongside.

  “Do you know which way we should be going, lassie?” he asked.

  “I haven’t a clue,” she confessed, “but I am confident that you will rein me back in if I lead us astray.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to check on the others, who were out of sight, though Catherine could hear them shouting as they crossed the river.