“Margaret,” she said. “People call me Maggie.”
The name didn’t sound familiar but that meant nothing. “Does yer chief know where ye are?”
She looked away, but not before he saw the flash of pain in her eyes. “Evan is my bràthair, and he does no’ know my whereabouts. We do no’ even know our whereabouts.”
He chose to ignore that last digging comment. He knew where they were, but she didn’t need to know that. “Tell me how a lass managed to get herself arrested and imprisoned by the English without them knowing she was a lass.”
She crossed her arms and looked away. And damn Colin’s traitorous mind, but all he could think about were those perfectly ripe breasts. “I’ve got nowhere to be and time on my hands, Sinclair.” Somehow calling her Maggie didn’t seem right. He’d yet to wrap his mind around the fact that she was a lass. “Although I might take another of those bannocks if ye have a mind to give me one.”
Her jaw worked as she stared at him. She was a tight-lipped one, to be sure. “Ye ate the last one.”
“Surely there’re more oats.”
“I’m not yer servant. Make yer own damn bannocks if ye want them.”
He hid his shock at her cursing. He shouldn’t have been surprised, since he’d heard her curse a dozen times, but that was before he’d known she was a she. What would make her want to dress and act like a man? Clearly, she’d been doing so for some time, for it came naturally to her.
“I’m weak. I’m recovering from a fever and sickness.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m no’ a cook.”
“The last batch of bannocks was no’ bad.”
“I’m no’ a cook.” Her eyes dared him to say what he was thinking, so he did just to see her reaction.
“Ye’re a woman. Ye know how to cook.”
He could have sworn she growled as she reached for the sgian dubh at her waist.
Colin held up his hands in surrender as he laughed out loud. “I was jesting with ye, lass. No need to get so upset.”
It took a moment before her hand fell away from the sgian dubh. “That’s no’ funny.”
“So ye don’ cook, ye wear men’s clothing, and I’m assuming ye know how to handle that dagger and sgian dubh Campbell gave ye. Ye’re quite an interesting woman.” Far more interesting than she should be.
Her jaw worked again. He could detect the anger built up inside her. Colin was good at reading people. Far too many times he’d had to size up a person immediately and go by what his gut told him. Most of the time his gut was right, but when it failed him, someone got hurt.
“I like fighting more than I like cooking, and trousers allow me to ride astride.”
An image popped into his head of a whole hell of a lot more than her breasts and her riding astride. He pushed the thoughts away. What a cretinous ass he was being. The color was high on her perfectly sculpted cheeks. Her shoulders were rigid and she was still standing with her feet wide apart, primed to run or fight, whichever was needed.
“I’m in no condition to fight ye, lass. Sit down.”
She hesitated for a long moment, then gracefully sat where she’d been standing, folding her legs beneath her.
Despite the two bannocks he’d already consumed, Colin’s stomach rumbled. He was a big man, and two bannocks weren’t nearly enough to tide him over. Especially since he hadn’t eaten in days and hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.
“If ye tell me where the oats are, I’ll make more,” he offered.
She pointed to the side of the cave where the blankets had been stacked and a few pieces of dry wood remained. Colin collected the oats and the bucket of water and proceeded to mix the ingredients. When they were cooking on the fire, he sat back, exhausted just from that small act of domesticity.
She’d watched him warily, and he realized she’d done the same in their cell. How frightened she must have been, keeping her secret, afraid someone would find out. He knew what the English were doing to the Scottish women, and more than likely, so did she.
Yet “frightened” wasn’t a word he would use to describe her. Wary. Watchful but prepared. No doubt she’d had some plan for if she had been discovered.
“Did Evan teach ye to fight?” he asked, referring to her brother.
She nodded. Mayhap she wasn’t one for many words. Odd, considering he’d yet to meet a woman who didn’t like the sound of her own voice.
“Do ye know my brother?” she asked quietly, with a touch of uncertainty. Interesting, that. Why would she be uncertain when she’d been so defensive?
“We’ve met once or twice.” The last time Colin had seen Evan Sinclair had been at Abernathy Abbey, when Alasdair Graham had called together a dozen clan chiefs and asked them to protect the Scottish people against the English. But Colin wasn’t telling her that. The meeting had been conducted with utmost secrecy, and he would continue to honor that code.
He pushed the cooking stone out of the fire and let the bannocks sit to cool. His stomach rumbled again. Hopefully, in the near future he could eat a real meal with meat. His mouth watered at the thought.
The Sinclair lass shifted and covered her mouth as she yawned.
“When was the last time ye slept?” he asked.
She shrugged and looked into the fire, but her shoulders were beginning to droop in exhaustion.
“Sinclair.”
She looked up at him with those bottomless eyes.
“Have ye slept since we reached the cave?”
“Some. Ye were restless. Kept waking me up with yer fevered dreams, calling for Fergus and such.”
Could it be that she’d stayed awake to care for him?
“I’m awake now. I promise no’ to call out in my sleep. In fact, I’m wide awake. Why don’ ye get some rest.”
Her head jerked up and their gazes locked. He could see from her indecision, her inability to trust him, that she’d been able to trust no one in prison.
“If I sleep now, ye’ll eat all the bannocks, and they look and smell a sight better than mine did.”
“As ye wish.” Colin shrugged, knowing that he’d pushed her as far as he could and that if he insisted, she would get angry. But he understood that her stubbornness came from fear of letting her guard down.
She’d have to learn on her own that she could trust him. Telling her wouldn’t do it, but in time she would learn.
He hoped.
—
Maggie’s eyelids drooped and she forced them open. She’d been freezing while bathing in the stream, but sitting in front of the warm fire was relaxing, and even though she knew better, the cave and the fire and, yes, even the warrior on the other side of the fire made her feel safe. It was a stupid thought. Maybe it was because she hadn’t felt safe in weeks. Maybe she was latching on to whatever made her feel secure. She didn’t know. She just knew that she was more tired than she’d ever been in her entire life. Bone-tired. Soul-tired.
Her eyes popped open, her inner warrior awakening. The feeling of safety was false, and she needed to be aware. She didn’t know Colin MacLean well outside a jail cell. She had no idea how close the English really were. The fire might be warm and comforting, but it was a fake comfort. The wolves were at the door, ready to come in. Hell, the wolf might just be staring at her from across the fire.
She thought back to that incident at the stream. How had she been so stupid as to let MacLean sneak up on her? That was a novice mistake and a deadly one. If MacLean had been a redcoat, she would have been dead. She was furious with herself for letting her guard down just for the enjoyment of her bath. She couldn’t be so careless again.
“Sleep,” MacLean said from the other side of the fire.
She sat up straight and forced her eyes open wider. “I’m waiting for the bannocks to cool.”
He smirked. “Ye’re falling asleep where ye sit. I promise to save ye some.”
She snorted. “I do no’ believe ye. I’ll take my bannock when it’s cooled.”
�
�When was the last time ye slept?”
She shrugged. “I sleep when I can.”
“And when is that?”
“What does it matter to ye?”
His eyes narrowed. “Since we’ll be traveling together, it matters.”
She could feel her body listing to the side, desperate to lie down for a moment. Just a moment. That was all she needed. She straightened and cleared her throat. “So ye’re willing to travel with me? A lass?” It was a stupid question and one she regretted immediately, but she’d always had a problem with her mouth running away from her.
“Sinclair land is no’ too far. I’ll safely deliver ye to yer brother.”
Even though she missed her brother terribly, she didn’t want to think about going home to him. There were reasons she’d left, and she was almost certain those reasons would be waiting for her when she returned. She’d attained nothing from her flight to Culloden but heartache and fear. And she didn’t want to humiliate herself by admitting defeat.
“Where will ye go, then?” she asked to keep her mind off her own problems.
MacLean’s gaze moved to the fire and he contemplated the flames for a bit. “Home, probably.”
“Where is MacLean land?” She’d heard little of the MacLeans. All she knew was that they were a small clan. Evan had never spoken of them, so that must mean that Colin MacLean was not marriage material, as Evan’s main focus lately had been on finding Maggie a suitable husband. Unless MacLean was already wed. But he’d not mentioned a wife. Now she was doubly curious.
“The opposite coast,” he said shortly.
“The Minch?” she asked, referring to a large body of water on the eastern shore of Scotland.
“Atlantic Ocean and part of Firth of Lorn,” he said.
“I’ve never seen the Atlantic Ocean.”
“It’s much like the North Sea, only a bit warmer. One body of water is much the same as the others.”
Her eyelids drooped again, and this time she let her mind drift. She hadn’t been quite this weary before, but in the dungeon she’d had to be constantly vigilant. A full night’s sleep hadn’t been an option because she’d been in constant fear that a soldier would appear and discover she was a woman, and she had to protect that fact at all costs.
That MacLean now knew her secret was both disconcerting and a relief.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Colin entered the cave after taking a quick dunk in the stream and changing into the clean clothes Campbell had given him. The brisk dip did wonders for his mind and body. He wasn’t feeling perfect, but he was much better than the day before.
They would leave today. He’d get the lady Sinclair back to her brother and be on his way, washing his hands of this burdensome sidekick.
He didn’t yet know where he would go after he relieved himself of her. He should get back to MacLean lands and check in with his brother’s steward. He guessed now the man was Colin’s steward. He also needed to take back the reins of his smuggling business. His brothers and his father would have said that he needed to leave off his illegal activities now that he was clan leader, but Colin disagreed. Now more than ever, his countrymen needed the contraband that he brought into the country. Besides, he was good at it, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. If anything, it brought work to some of his people and much-needed money. There was also the fact that he was sticking it to Abbott by continuing the operation.
First he would check on Sutherland to see how he was faring with his own smuggling business and see what had happened to the English lass he’d been hiding. It was the start of a plan, at least. What was nice about it was that he had choices, and he was no longer imprisoned by the damn English.
He entered the dark cave, his mind on the possibilities, when a swift shadow slipped in behind him and a familiar sgian dubh was pressed to his throat from behind. He stopped. The small knife was sharp, the form behind him slight.
“It’s me, lass.”
The weapon dropped away and she cursed. Colin bit back a smile. She sure could cuss like a Highland warrior. “Ye best put that away before I take it from ye.”
“I’d like to see ye try,” she said as she stepped in front of him. The sgian dubh disappeared somewhere on her person, faster than the eye could see.
“I could if I wanted to.” He refrained from looking her body up and down. She had done a good job of hiding her form, but now that he knew it was there, he was drawn to it.
She snorted.
“Ye slept soundly all night,” Colin said, making his way to the other side of the cave.
“I did no’.”
He looked up at her in surprise. Why the hell did she have to be so defensive, even about sleeping, of all things? “Ye did so. Snored all night long.”
She rolled her eyes and he bit back a smile. He liked this lass. She had spunk and sass. She wasn’t afraid of sleeping on the hard ground and when to watch his back when necessary.
“We need to leave,” he said as he gathered up the blankets and began to fold them. “I thought I saw some English soldiers down the way a bit. They did no’ appear to be searching for us, but we canno’ take that chance. It’s time to move on.”
She nodded and began folding her own blanket.
“I saved ye some bannocks.” He nodded toward the two bannocks still sitting on the cooking stone.
She swiped one and took a big bite out of it, causing Colin to stare at her in wonder. Any other woman would have taken a dainty bite, but he was beginning to see that Sinclair wasn’t like other women. And that intrigued him.
“Where are we going?” she asked between bites.
“We’re taking ye back to yer brother.”
She stopped chewing and something passed across her face. Grief, sadness, pain, he wasn’t sure which. She brushed the bannock crumbs off her hands, refusing to look at him. “Where are ye going?”
“Do ye no’ want to go home?” He had a sudden thought. “Are ye afraid the English will find ye there?”
She shook her head. “It’s no’ that.”
“They can’t know where to look for ye, then. Home is where I’ll take ye.”
She helped him fold the rest of the blankets. They made certain the fire was completely out, and Colin took one last look around the cave before they exited. Silently, they covered the entrance and left everything exactly as they’d found it. They didn’t even have to speak to know what the other needed. Colin counted Sutherland as his best friend, but even he and Sutherland didn’t work this well together.
Colin was weary after all of that but determined that his weakness wasn’t going to hold them back. He knew they had to keep pushing forward. He needed to get Sinclair back to her family, and he needed to hide out for a bit. And recover. The fever had taken more out of him than he liked to admit. If he could get her safely to Sinclair land, he could then make his way to Sutherland and hide out there. Sutherland was good at hiding people, and Colin trusted him with his life.
With a plan firmly in place, they set out.
The lass rode behind him like she’d done on the way there, but this time it was different. This time he wasn’t burning with fever and struggling to remain upright. This time he knew who she really was.
He felt every move of her body, every brush of her skin against his. As she’d done last time, she continually looked behind them, covering his back. He was pleased with that. The Sinclair had taught his sister well. She was far better trained than any woman he knew and even some men.
And those eyes. Those smoldering dark eyes.
He shook his head in disgust. So she had dark eyes. That should make no difference to him. He vowed to stop thinking about them, and it worked for a few minutes before his mind wandered to the scene at the river and her amazing breasts.
What the hell was wrong with him? Had the fever addled his brain? He needed to stay focused on getting them safely to Sinclair land. He needed to be vigilant about the English.
The day wore
on, and his body felt the passage of time. His muscles ached as if he’d fought in a fierce battle for days. His head pounded and his vision began to blur. Behind him, Sinclair was starting to shift to find a more comfortable position. They should stop. The horse needed a rest and they needed to eat. But he found that he didn’t want to stop. Something was telling him to keep going.
“Ye need to stop,” a soft voice said from over his shoulder, nearly startling him out of his seat. It was the first time they’d spoken since mounting.
“We need to keep going,” he said, a bit too harshly.
“If we wear the horse out, we’ll be walking, and I do no’ think ye’re capable of going the rest of the way on foot.”
He straightened his back. Sinclair grabbed his waist, apparently to keep from being unseated. “I can too walk,” he said. She snorted, and he pictured her rolling those dark eyes. “I can,” he said with a little less vigor. He knew he was lying, but for some reason, he didn’t want her to think that he was weak, even though she’d seen him at his weakest. It was a point of pride.
“Well, I’m stopping.”
“In case ye’ve forgotten, I’m in charge of the horse.”
“There’s more than one way to dismount.”
He wasn’t entirely sure she was jesting. She was a wild one, unpredictable. He had no idea what she was capable of, and something told him not to take her threats lightly.
“I’ll ride on without ye.” He could make his own threats, and he was fully capable of carrying them out.
“No, ye won’t.”
“Yes. I will.”
“No. Ye won’t.”
He felt a shift behind him, but the most telling was the sudden silence. He twisted around to look over his shoulder and found Sinclair standing in the middle of the path a few paces back with her hands on her hips and a scowl twisting her lips.
“What the—? Get back on this horse, woman!”
“No.”
He reined the mount and turned it around. “Ye’ll get back up here or I’ll leave yer sorry arse behind.”
MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel Page 4
