“Why did ye help me, then?”
Because I did not ken who ye were, Blaine almost said. Fortunately, he caught himself before he could speak the words. He cleared his throat. “There was naw way I could just leave ye lying there. Whit if ye gotten killed by someone else?”
The moments the words left his mouth, he realized how true they were. They stared at each other for a moment, then Blaine averted his gaze, turning away from her.
“I must be going noo,” he said. “Tell no one that I helped ye.”
Then, before she could respond, he remounted his horse and jerked the reins. A few seconds later, he was speeding out of sight.
***
The guards were the first to see Ness when she reached the castle, hot and weary from walking. Although anxious beforehand, the moment they laid eyed on her, they let out a collective sigh. Ness suspected that her father had threatened them with death by hanging. The reason for that was not a mystery to her.
The first thing Ness did when she entered the castle was go up the winding stairs and into her father’s bedroom chambers. Wilson McGregor was sitting on his bed, cradling his head in his arms.
“Father?” Ness said tentatively.
He looked up immediately, then gazed at her for a few moments, as though unsure that she was real. Then he let out a cry and shot to his feet, throwing his arms around her and sniffling into her shoulder.
“I thought I had lost ye,” he said, stepping back to take a long look at her. Ness felt his eyes take in her haggard appearance, including her bare feet and tousled hair. Then he smothered her in another hug.
“I am here noo, Father,” she said, smiling. “There is no need to worry anymore.”
Then, as she had suspected he would, he got angry. He held her at arm’s length and glared at her. Ness began to wish the ground would open up and swallow her, saving her from her father’s wrath. But that did not happen, and soon her father began to scold her.
“Whit is the matter with ye?” he boomed. “Ye did not return at midnight like ye promised ye would. Ye–ye had me and yer sister very worried. Why, for a while, we even believed ye had been killed!”
“I am sorry, Father. I–I was so caught up chatting with Matilda that I did not realize how much time had gone by until it was quite late.”
“Ye broke yer promise–”
“Father, the most amazing thing happened to me!”
At these words, her father stopped speaking and stared at her, eyebrows raised. For a few seconds, neither of them said a word. Every nerve in Ness’s body seemed to be on end.
Then the laird said, “Whit was so amazing that ye arrived home several hours later than agreed? And so shabbily dressed! Whit would people think of us?”
“Father, I was robbed!”
Wilson McGregor’s jaw hung open. He stared at his daughter as though she had descended from the skies. “Robbed, ye say?”
“Robbed. It happened all of a sudden, Father. Ten or twenty men surrounded our cart knocked me unconscious. By the time I woke up, they were all gone, along with my cart and jewelry! What was worse that cowardly Mr. Knightley ran away without even trying to rescue me. Ye should have him hanged.”
“So how come ye were able to return hame?” The laird shook his head. “I do not believe ye could have managed to make yer way back here in less than half a day.”
“I was helped, Father.”
His eyebrows shot higher. “Helped? By whom?”
Ness hesitated, the words of Blaine ringing in her memory: Tell no one that I helped ye.
He was of the Clan Campbell. That was bound to shake her father if she told him. The laird had taught her at an early age that that clan was never to be associated with, no matter what. Clan Campbell and Clan McGregor were like a cat and dog—if ye put them in one place, they would no doubt get into a fight.
Except…Blaine had not attacked her.
He had carried her home on his horse.
“His name is Blaine,” she blurted out, then winced, silently reprimanding herself for being so foolish. She could have come up with another name. Her father would not be able to tell whether she was lying or telling the truth. After all, there was no other witness.
At her words, the laird frowned. “Why does it sound as though ye are about to deliver bad news?”
“It is not bad news,” she said. Then she quickly added: “Not to me.”
“Blaine,” her father repeated slowly. “That name sounds quite familiar. Please tell me that it is not the person I think it is.”
He was already having suspicions. This was likely to end badly. Despite this thought, Ness replied, “He did not tell me what his surname was. He merely told me that his name was Blaine, and that he was on his way to Argyll–”
It appeared to Ness that the sound of the name of the town made her father suddenly angry; there was no other explanation. His face drained itself of color, and his eyes bulged until Ness feared they would pop out of their sockets.
“ARGYLL!” he roared. The color was returning quickly to his face now. Ness thought that it resembled a ripe tomato. “Tell me, Ness, whit colors was this man wearing?”
Tell no one that I helped ye.
Ness really needed to start listening to people.
“Ness,” her father urged. “Whit colors was he wearing?”
“B-b-brown and r-red–”
“A Campbell!” The laird’s nostrils flared. “I ken noo!”
“Father, I beg ye to listen to me!” Ness cried. Oh, if only she had heeded Blaine’s advice! Now her father was livid. But she could make him understand. She had to.
“Whit more is there to listen to?” he exploded. “Ye were brought to Glenstrae, not by Mr. Knightley, nor by any man of whom I might have been proud, but by the very son of my greatest enemy!”
“He was kind to me, Father–”
“A scheme to make ye take a liking to him!”
Ness felt her cheeks grow hot. The laird looked as though he might strike her, but she knew he would not. Her father would never stoop so low as to lift his hand against a woman. Nevertheless, he could be very strict in his rage. She had to change his mind about Blaine. “I am sure he had naw such intentions, Father.”
“Oh, really? And whit makes ye so sure of this?”
Ness took a deep breath. “Well, for one thing, he did not ken who I was when he picked me up. He said so himself.”
“A likely story!” The laird’s face was darkening. “There is nothing a Campbell would not tell ye to make ye trust him.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, forcing himself to calm down. Ness wanted to reply, but she refrained herself for fear of rousing his anger again. She watched as he took a few more deep breaths. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Ness, ye need to believe me when I tell ye that the Campbells cannot be trusted, ever. They are vile and belligerent, and extremely devious.”
“Father–” she started, but he raised a hand to stop her. His face looked very grave as though he was recalling a very terrible memory.
“Ness, do ye ken why we hate the Campbells?”
“Aye, Father.” He had told the story to her over and over again when she was but a little girl about to be put to sleep. “The Campbells were once our allies, more than a hundred years ago. We often fought side by side. But, one day, a crime was committed by the leader of the Campbells himself against the McGregors. The leader of the McGregors—that is, yer great-grandfather—flew into a terrible rage and sought to kill every last Campbell for this terrible act. Eventually, he calmed down and called back his forces before a war could take place. But he never forgave the Campbells.”
The laird nodded sagely. “And do ye ken whit atrocity was committed by the Campbell leader, William himself?”
Ness stared at him. “No, ye never told me Father, but–”
“It was he who killed yer great-grandmother.”
At these words, Ness fell silent. For years
, her father had kept this from her, but she had never suspected it. She had imagined that the crime committed was something less horrible, like theft or slander.
“Hoo…hoo did it happen?”
The laird looked as though he would rather smite himself in the belly than recount the tragedy, but after what seemed like a violent internal struggle, he heaved a huge sigh and began to speak.
“It began with a disagreement between William and Alan, over a stretch of land that they had won together after a battle against another clan. They had killed nearly everyone in the clan and driven the rest away. William claimed most of the land for himself although he and Alan had agreed to divide it equally. When Alan refused to acknowledge this, William became angry and captured yer great-grandmother, killed her, and tried to pin the blame on another clan. And this is why we dinnae befriend the Campbells, ever.”
The laird pursed his lips, signaling the end of the story. He hesitated, gazing into his daughter’s face, then walked out of the chambers, his footsteps heavy. Ness stared after him, frozen in shock and horror.
Blaine’s great-grandfather had killed her great-grandmother? But…Blaine had seemed very peaceful. If her father had not told her, she would never had thought that Blaine was related to a murderer.
Could this mean that Blaine himself was a killer?
No, of course not. It was impossible. The murder had happened over a hundred years ago. As horrific at it was, Ness could not see why her father could not put it behind him. Besides, Blaine’s ancestry did not mean he was not the evil man that her father thought he was. The laird was simply being unreasonable. And she would prove it to him.
Chapter 3
Manfred McCullough
There was no way Blaine was going to tell his father what had happened on his way home. He had slightly more sense than that. It was the daughter of the laird of the clan McGregor that he was not so sure about. She was very likely to have revealed everything to her father by now. The thought of it made Blaine very uneasy.
He could not pretend that he was not the least taken by her. After all, that was the main reason he had decided to give her a ride home on his horse in the first place. Despite her ruined dress, disheveled hair and grubby face, Ness was by far the prettiest woman he had ever met. Blaine would never have been able to live with the knowledge that he had abandoned such a bonnie lass in need.
But she was also quite unlike many other women Blaine had come across in his entire life. And not just in beauty. Aye, she was beautiful, but she was also strong headed. He had sensed this when she asked him to come and see her father. Blaine was certain that, given more time, she most likely would have made him go to her father, and that would have ended quite badly.
He just hoped she had not told her father everything.
Blaine shrugged the thoughts aside and pulled the horse reins, guiding his horse along the roads in Argyll. It was a very beautiful place, with nicely built houses. Although traders often quarreled over customers and space, the marketplace were mostly very peaceful. And, of course, there were the women. As Blaine rode by, a number of attractive women smiled and waved at him in unison. He noticed that he returned their greeting, but with less enthusiasm than he normally would have. He knew he had something to do with Ness, but he decided not to dwell on that thought.
He had other things to think about—oh, yes, quite important things. His father, Manfred McCullough, had sent him on a mission to secure an alliance with the Clan Wallace in Breas. The mission had been quite easy despite that the head of the clan, Wilson Blake had threatened to smite him dead in front of all the other men at the meeting. Blaine had handled it just fine. He had not even flinched when the laird threatened him; instead, he had spoken softly, and soon the laird had calmed down. Not much longer after that, he had secured ties between the clans—his motive all along.
Blaine could be very persuasive when he needed to. This ability of his was one of the things that set him apart from other men, besides his direct linkage to the leader of the Clan Campbell. It had helped him get out of trouble many a time, and it was the reason Manfred chose him. Of course, there was also the fact that Blaine was very deadly with a sword, but his ambassadorial skills were much stronger. Perhaps this was the reason he disliked Ness’s strong-headed nature.
This he pondered as he reached his father’s castle. It was a large, somewhat gloomy place that Blaine quite disliked seeing. There were a number of men riding about on horses; they yelled his name and saluted when they spotted him approaching the stables. Blaine raised a hand in greeting and slid off his horse, heading for the castle.
His father was walking across the main hall when Blaine met him. He stopped in mid-step and stared at his son for a few seconds. Blaine shifted on the spot, returning the stare. Then his father broke into a smile.
“Ye are late,” he said, but there was no anger in his tone.
“I…” Blaine almost blurted out that he had made a trip to Glenstrae before arriving in Argyll, but he caught himself in time. “It was rather late when I departed from Breas.” That was the truth; he just hoped Manfred did not press for more information.
Manfred’s smile grew wider. He was a slim man in his fifties, with a lean face and a graying ponytail. Blaine thought his father looked quite older than he had before Blaine left Argyll, which unsettled him. Was the laird sick?
Before he could ask, his father threw one arm across his shoulders and began to lead him down the stairs. “Come with me. Let us take a walk.”
He already had his son in a tight grip—what other choice did Blaine have?
“How was yer trip to Breas?’ Manfred said. His voice came out in a slow drawl. It was how he always spoke; apparently, everyone in his lineage had always done so, from Eric the Mighty. Except Blaine.
“The usual.”
“I figure ye mean wonderful, then?”
“Do not pretend ye are thrilled to see me, Father,” Blaine said loftily. “Ye are merely happy that I have brought back guid news.”
Manfred’s smile wavered, but he quickly held it in place. “Ye bring more guid news than yer brother Hiram does. Speaking of news, how many times did Blake boast of his vast army and threaten to kill ye?”
At these words, Blaine could not resist a grin. “I lost count after the twelfth time.”
“Well, he is ours noo. I learned a long time ago that having the greatest army does not always guarantee power. Especially when yer enemy has a powerful speaker like Blaine McCullough here.” He patted his shoulder; there was a fondness to it that surprised Blaine.
“Where is Mother?” he asked.
“Oh, in our bedchambers.” Manfred gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Been asleep for hours. Noo, as I was saying, with yer abilities, we could make peace with as many clans in Scotland as possible. Ye have a–”
“Perhaps I could go to Glenstrae and persuade the clan McGregor to end their grudge with us.”
The words tumbled out before could stop them. The laird froze in his steps, staring at his son, his face contorting with shock and what seemed like irritation. Blaine was stunned, too. Had he just spoken those words? This was what happened when you picked up beautiful women who happened to be from enemy clans: they planted ridiculous ideas in your mind and made you say the wrong thing around your father.
“Whit did ye just say?” Manfred McCullough’s voice sounded dangerously calm. Damn that Ness and her unreasonable ideas.
“Whit I mean, Father, is that we can gain their trust, after which we can crush them under our heel. This may take some time, but it is possible.”
Manfred beamed at his son again. “I like the way ye think.”
Blaine heaved an inner sigh. That was a really close. He fleetingly wondered if he had not just doomed Ness with his previous statement. Well, it would be entirely her fault—the silly woman had caused him to speak, albeit indirectly.
The laird gave a violent cough. Blaine cringed in spite of himself. “Ye ken, for a mome
nt there, I was of the opinion that ye were actually considering allying with those wretched McGregors for good. If I did not ken better, I might actually have suspected that ye had befriended one of them.”
If only ye knew how right ye are, Blaine thought.
“Those scoundrels will one day will be crushed. And it will be by the Campbells, I tell ye, son. They signed their death warrants the day they swore enmity with us, I tell ye.”
Blaine nodded his assent absently. The thought of men charging into battle because he had failed to use his diplomatic skills on time crept into his mind. If that ever happened, men, women and children would suffer terribly. He tried not to cringe at the startling thought of Ness lying on the ground, slain.
He had heard the story of the enmity between Clan McGregor and Clan Campbell from his father. He had been taught the Campbells had caused everything. He knew otherwise, however. Had William, his great-grandfather, not claimed more land than he should have, nobody would have had to die at his hands. But Blaine never mentioned this to his father, who believed that Alan McGregor had caused his wife’s death by challenging William. Sometimes, people chose to cling to the lies that appealed to them.
“But there is something else I wish to discuss with ye, my son,” Manfred said. He sounded quite solemn.
Blaine gave a frown. What else could his father possibly want to talk about? And why was he talking like that? Nevertheless, he did not protest when the laird turned completely to face him, placing both hands on his shoulders. Manfred looked at the stone wall behind Blaine for a moment before meeting his eyes again. The light in his eyes seemed to be fading away by the second.
“I am quite pleased with yer prowess in convincing other clans to ally with us. But ye are growing older, son. I see the change every day.”
Blaine gave a shrug. “So? How does my age affect my diplomatic skills? If anything, I am becoming much wiser than I was.”
“I ken, but…” The laird paused and stared at his son for a few seconds. “I wish ye would also consider getting married sometime soon.”
Captivated by the Enemy: (Scottish Highland Romance) Page 2
