The Ranger

by Monica McCarty

  Thoroughly discombobulated by the heat rushing through her veins, she stammered, “W-what?”

  His eyes locked on hers. “Your basket.” She froze, her eyes widening. He couldn’t possibly know …

  She nearly sighed with relief when he added, “I don’t think I’ve seen you leave the castle without it.”

  Too observant—far too observant. Sir Arthur Campbell was dangerous in more ways than one. Her father would be furious if someone discovered what she and some of the other women had been up to.

  Angry for allowing him to rattle her, Anna quickly composed herself. “I only intended to go for a ride today—not visit any of the villagers.”

  He held her gaze for a moment too long. Again, she wondered whether he knew something. This time, however, her expression betrayed nothing.

  A series of excited barks shifted his attention down to the dog jumping on his leg. “Down,” he said, in a voice that brokered no argument. The dog immediately sat and stared at him with an adoring look on his face. “Your pup needs to learn some manners.”

  Anna’s mouth pursed. “He likes you.” God knows why. Squeezing affection from Arthur Campbell was like trying to get water from a rock—doomed to frustration and failure.

  His eyes narrowed as if she’d spoken aloud. “Animals usually have good instincts.”

  “Usually,” she agreed, leaving him no doubt that in this case she thought differently.

  The dangerous glint crept back into his eye. “And what about you, Anna? What do your instincts tell you?”

  To run. To hide. To get as far away from him as she could so it would stop hurting. It hurt just to look at him, at the square, dented jaw, sensually curved lips, and dark, amber-flecked eyes.

  She shifted her gaze, emotion welling in her throat. “I don’t listen to my instincts.” At least any longer. They were wrong. Her instincts had made her think there was something special between them. That he might need her. That he was lonely. And that he might be different from what he seemed: an ambitious knight, a battle-hard warrior, who lived by—and for—the sword.

  Even now, her instincts led her to believe that this simmering tension between them meant something. That if only he would take her in his arms and kiss her again everything would be all right. But it was too late for that. “Instincts only make you do things you regret,” she added.

  His jaw hardened, and the muscle in his jaw jumped ominously. He stepped closer. Close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. To smell the hint of sun and spice on his skin.

  Her legs started to melt.

  God, she’d forgotten how tall he was. It felt as though the walls were closing in. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think with him looming over her like this.

  He was using his fierce masculinity against her with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

  “And do you regret it, Anna?”

  She did not mistake the deceptive softness of his voice. She could feel the anger radiating off him—almost as if her change of heart mattered to him.

  Why was he doing this? Why was he trying to confuse her? He was the one who’d told her to stay away.

  “What difference does it make? Especially now. You made yourself brutally clear before you ran off with my brother.”

  She tried to brush past him, but he blocked her with the implacable shield of his chest. She could tell by the white lines around his mouth that he hadn’t missed her taunt.

  “So you are done with your spying, is that it?”

  Her eyes scanned his face. Is that what he thought? God, what did it matter? She dragged her gaze away and looked past him to the door. “Yes, that’s it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to leave.”

  She pushed against his chest with the heel of her hand, but he was about as yielding as a rocky cliff. A cliff with lots and lots of sharply cut rocks.

  “I told you I’m going with you.”

  “Your services are no longer necessary. I’ve changed my mind; I won’t be riding this morning.”

  She could tell by the way his eyes flared that he didn’t appreciate being dismissed. Well, too bad. He was the one who’d appointed himself her knight errant.

  The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and she wondered whether she might have pushed him too far. But with a twist of his mouth, he bowed dramatically and stepped aside. “As you wish, my lady. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  She swept past him, chin high. “I won’t change my mind. I’ve much to do before I go.”

  A hand on her arm brought her to a jerking halt. But even the harsh touch made her senses explode.

  “Going somewhere, Lady Anna?”

  She tried to wrench her arm away, glaring at him when he wouldn’t let her go. “It’s none of your business.”

  His eyes flashed, and he drew her near. She could feel the energy pulsing between them, dragging her under. His mouth was so close. “Tell me.”

  He couldn’t kiss her, she thought in a panic. She couldn’t let him kiss her. “I’m to be married,” she blurted.

  Twelve

  Arthur dropped her arm as if she’d scalded him.

  Married? The word landed like a hammer in his gut. He couldn’t seem to move. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve ending had turned to stone.

  “Who?” The toneless, vaguely menacing voice didn’t belong to him—it sounded like MacRuairi’s.

  Anna wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her hands started to twist nervously in the thick woolen folds of her skirt. “Sir Hugh Ross.”

  A knife wedged between his ribs would have skewered less sharply. The Earl of Ross’s son and heir. Arthur knew of him, of course. The young knight had already made a name for himself. He was a fierce warrior—a tactician on and off the battlefield. The fact that he was worthy of her made it worse.

  Arthur didn’t understand the rage pouring through him, nor the feeling of betrayal. She didn’t belong to him, damn it. Could never belong to him.

  But that didn’t mean he could forget that not a fortnight past he’d held her in his arms—and come damned close to taking her innocence.

  “It seems you had an eventful week, my lady. You work fast.”

  A hot blush stained her cheeks. “The details have not all been worked out yet.”

  His eyes narrowed, hearing something in her voice. “What do you mean, details? Are you betrothed or aren’t you?”

  She lifted her chin. Despite the blush staining her cheeks, he read the defiant glint in her eye. “Sir Hugh proposed to me last year, soon after my betrothed died.”

  “I thought you refused.”

  “I did. I’ve reconsidered.”

  All of a sudden, Arthur realized what this was about. With no help coming from King Edward, the MacDougalls had decided to turn to Ross for help, offering up Lady Anna to provide added incentive for an alliance.

  Whether she’d reconsidered or her father had done it for her didn’t matter. He couldn’t let them join forces. An alliance between Ross and the MacDougalls would hurt Bruce’s chances for victory. It was his job—his duty—to stop it.

  Arthur gave her a hard look. “And how do you know that Sir Hugh will be amenable to your sudden change of heart?”

  “I don’t.” She gave him a pointed look. “But I will do what I must to persuade him.”

  He didn’t need to guess what she meant. His reaction was instantaneous. Primitive. For one split second, rage took over and he lost control. His mind went black. She was one hair’s breadth from being pinned up against that stable wall with her lips crushed to his, his manhood wedged between her thighs, and his tongue plunging deep inside her mouth. Exactly where she belonged.

  But even out of his mind with rage, the urge to protect her was stronger. He didn’t trust himself to touch her, not like this.

  Anna’s eyes widened, and she took a prudent step back.

  But he held her in the trap of his piercing gaze. “So you have it all planned out?”

  She nodded.
“Aye. It will be for the best.”

  The fact that she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself didn’t give him any solace. “There is one problem with your plan.”

  She looked at him hesitantly. “What’s that?”

  “Ross is in the north. The roads are too dangerous for you to travel. The risk is too great. Bruce and his men could be on the move at any time. Your father won’t sanction this.” Lorn was a cold-hearted bastard, but he seemed to genuinely love his daughter.

  “He already has. My brother Alan and a score of guardsmen will escort me. King Hood might be a murderous brigand, but he does not make war on women.”

  Arthur fought to keep his temper under control. Lorn had to be desperate to have agreed to this. The bastard would do anything to win, even put his daughter in jeopardy. “If the rebels know you are a woman. In the dark, you will not be so easy to discern. You might be mistaken for couriers.”

  Had she forgotten already what had nearly happened to her in Ayr? Jesus, when he thought of the danger …

  His blood chilled. He thought about pressing her up against the stable wall again, this time to shake some sense into her. She could be hurt. Killed.

  “My brother will protect me. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  A vein drummed in his temple. A hundred men could not keep her safe. His struggle for control failed. “Don’t be a fool. You can’t go. It’s too dangerous. Send a messenger instead.”

  From the way her eyes narrowed and the set of her chin, he knew he’d made a mistake. For such a sweet-looking lass, she had a surprisingly formidable stubborn streak.

  “It’s already decided. And you, I’m afraid, have nothing to say about it.”

  Women should be meek and submissive, damn it. But here she stood toe-to-toe with him, not backing down one inch. He’d admire it, if he weren’t so furious.

  This time when she spun on her heel and flounced through the door, he didn’t stop her.

  Nothing to say about it. We’ll see about that.

  If Anna wouldn’t see reason, perhaps her father would.

  Bruce’s men were roaming all over the area—raiding, reiving, interfering with the supply lines—doing whatever they could to cause chaos and spread fear in the heart of the enemy. War took place not just on the battlefield but in the mind.

  A party of MacDougall guardsmen would be irresistible. Anna would have an arrow in her chest before they were close enough to realize their mistake.

  It was the threat to his mission that was twisting him in knots, he told himself. Preventing this kind of alliance—keeping MacDougall alone—was why he was here.

  But it wasn’t the messages or alliance he was thinking about. All he could see was Anna lying in a pool of blood.

  He had to turn Lorn from this foolish path.

  And if he couldn’t …

  There was no way in hell he’d let her go alone. If Anna took one step outside this castle, he was going to be right by her side. Where he could protect her and keep an eye on her.

  He knew one thing for damned certain: There was no way in hell she was marrying Hugh Ross.

  “Is something wrong, Annie? You seem upset.”

  Anna gazed over at her brother Alan, who’d come up to ride beside her.

  After traveling the first part of the journey by birlinn this morning, the rest of the trip would be made on horseback. The sea route from Dunstaffnage to the village of Inverlochy by way of Loch Linnhe had taken less than a half-day, a journey that would have taken days by land.

  She wished the rest of the trip would be so easy. Although three lochs and numerous rivers traversed Gleann Mor, the Great Glen, which bisected Scotland from Inverlochy at the head of Loch Linnhe to Inverness and the Moray Firth, the waterways were separated by enough land to make travel by ship infeasible. Instead, they would ride the roughly seventy-five-mile journey from Inverlochy to Nairn. With luck, they would arrive at Auldearn Castle just east of Nairn in four days. She was slowing them down, she knew, although it was a far more punishing pace then the leisurely one she was used to.

  Ironically, they would travel along much the same route King Hood had followed last autumn as he cut a swath across the Highlands, taking the four principal castles along the way: the Comyn castles of Inverlochy and Urquhart, and the royal castles garrisoned by the English at Inverness and Nairn.

  As the castles were still held by the rebels, they would be forced to find other, less perilous, accommodation on the way. To avoid Bruce’s men, Anna suspected she would be seeing quite a bit of the forest.

  It would be a welcome reprieve from the blazing sun. They’d been riding for a few hours, and though she wore a thin veil to protect her face, she was hot, sticky, and yes, as her brother had noticed, angry.

  Furious, really.

  The weather, however, was not to blame for her unusual black mood. That honor belonged to a certain interfering knight.

  She’d refused to look at him all day. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of exactly where he was: riding at the head of the party, scouting the road ahead for signs of trouble.

  Trouble. That was an understatement. His presence on their journey would be nothing but.

  “I’m fine,” she assured her brother, managing a wan smile. “Tired and hot, but fine.”

  Alan gave her a deceptively lazy sidelong glance. “I thought it might have something to do with Campbell. You didn’t seem very happy to hear he would be joining us.”

  Her brother was far too astute. A trait that would make him a good chief someday, but not one valued by a younger sister intent on keeping her thoughts to herself.

  Despite her best effort not to react, her teeth gritted together. “It wasn’t his place to interfere.”

  She couldn’t believe it when her father told her that Sir Arthur had attempted to change his mind about the journey. Failing in this, he’d asked to accompany them. His skills as a scout would help ensure their safety, he’d argued. Her father had agreed, much to Anna’s dismay.

  So instead of ignoring him for a single day, she would be forced to endure his constant presence for days, possibly weeks.

  Was he purposefully trying to torment her? What she had to do would be difficult enough without him around.

  “He’s a knight, Anna. A scout. Reporting on the enemy position is exactly what he’s supposed to do. And I can’t say I’m not glad to have him along. If he’s as good as he claims to be, we can use him.”

  Anna turned to Alan, aghast. “You agree with Father?”

  His jaw locked. Alan would never openly criticize their father, even if—like now—he wanted to. “I would have preferred you stay at Dunstaffnage, although I understand why Father insisted you come along. Ross will be more amenable to a direct appeal.” He smiled. “You’re a minx, Annie-love, but a bewitching one.”

  Anna’s mouth twitched. “And you are annoyingly overprotective, but I love you, too.”

  He laughed, and Anna couldn’t help joining him.

  Sir Arthur turned at the sound and caught her unprepared. Their gazes snagged for an instant before she turned brusquely away. But it was long enough to send a fist of pain slamming into her chest. Why did it have to hurt so badly?

  Alan didn’t miss the exchange. He sobered, his gaze once again intent. “Are you sure that’s all, Anna? I know what you said, but I think there is more between you and Sir Arthur than keeping an eye on him for Father. I think you care for him.” The throb in her chest told her he was right, even if she wished it otherwise. “We can appeal to Ross without the betrothal,” her brother said gently. “You don’t need to sacrifice your happiness in the bargain.”

  A swell of emotion rose inside her. How fortunate she was to have such a brother. She knew not many men would feel the same. Happiness was not usually a consideration in marriage between nobles. Power, alliances, wealth—that was what mattered. But the love Alan had found in his marriage had given her brother a unique perspective.

  Yet they
would have a much better chance at gaining Ross’s support with an alliance. Alan knew that as well as she did.

  Besides, helping her family would never be a sacrifice. Especially since there actually had to be something to sacrifice. Arthur had made it painfully clear that there was nothing between them.

  “I’m sure,” she said firmly.

  The certainty in her voice must have convinced him. Alan rode with her awhile longer, recalling previous journeys they’d made in the rare times of peace, but eventually he returned to his men.

  They made good progress the first day, reaching as far as Loch Lochy before stopping for the night at an inn near the southern head of the loch. The small stone and thatched building looked ancient, and given its position near an old Roman road, Anna suspected it might be.

  She was stiff and achy, feeling every hour of the long day in her legs, bottom, and back, and grateful for the roof and bed, no matter how crude. She washed and managed a few bites of fish stew and brown bread before collapsing into bed, her maidservant, Berta, snoring on a pallet beside her.

  The second night, however, they were not so fortunate. Her bed this night would be a pallet in a small tent in the forest just south of Loch Ness.

  It had been a long day, made longer by Arthur’s steady stream of scouting reports. To avoid potentially dangerous situations, such as open stretches of road or natural places for ambushes, at times they veered well off the road. Which meant that instead of the twenty-five miles they would have been on the road, they’d probably ridden thirty-five through the dense forests and rolling hills of Lochaber.

  It seemed an overabundance of caution to her. So far they’d seen nothing out of the ordinary—villagers, fishermen, and an occasional party of travelers. If Bruce’s men were patrolling the roads, they hadn’t made themselves known.

  Perhaps the extra miles were another way Sir Arthur had devised to torment her? As if his presence were not enough.

  Not used to the long days riding, Anna’s legs shook as she knelt at the banks of the river to wash her hands. She lowered her face, hoping to shock away some of her tiredness, but the cold splash of water did little to refresh her.