The Highland Chieftain

by Amy Jarecki

“Aye,” said another. “I reckon the captain will be taking captives and throwing them into the castle’s pit while we await orders from London.”

  A musket cracked, coming from the castle grounds. Mairi pressed herself against the tree, clutching the dagger with both her hands. “You are mistaken. This is no Jacobite gathering.”

  “We received a report just this morn stating the contrary.”

  “You are sorely mistaken, sir. This is but a gathering of Highland clans.” Her mind raced—how could she convince these men otherwise? “Tell me. Who dared to speak out against these kind Highland folk?”

  One of the dragoons puffed out his chest with importance. “It was a MacKay man, one of the Earl of Sutherland’s own.”

  The hackles on her neck stood on end. Sutherland was a backstabber? She knew the earl to be a royalist, but the gentry often waffled between their loyalties to Queen Anne and Her Majesty’s outcast brother, James. But Mairi couldn’t worry about posturing now. The ugly grins on the encroaching dragoons’ faces made her toes curl. Her dagger shook in her hands. One beast grabbed for her shoulder. She swiped the blade at his fingers. “Stay back, I said!”

  Another reached for her and, before she swung her knife his way, he seized her arm. Mairi jolted and shrieked. “Remove your hands this instant!”

  The blackguard’s grip tightened. “You think a wee dagger can stop us?”

  “You men will swing from the gallows unless you leave me be this very trice.” Mairi’s words came out high-pitched and rapid, betraying her fear.

  A dragoon snatched her other arm, twisting her wrist downward until the knife dropped from her hands.

  “Help!” she screamed as he pulled her back against his smelly body, crushing her throat in the crook of his arm while her hat fell to the ground.

  The vile beast pressed his lips against her ear. “We’re finished with chatting, wench.”

  “That’s right, you need to pay,” sneered the third as he tugged up the hem of her gown.

  All three attacked at once, grappling for her skirts. Kicking her legs, Mairi fought. “Release me!” She thrashed her head back and forth. Her arms flailed while her mind raced.

  “Help, help, help!”

  This couldn’t be happening. Fabric tore as her kick connected with a thud.

  A dragoon grunted.

  Hands released.

  “You bloody rutting bastards,” a deep voice growled.

  MacRae!

  Fists swung in every direction as Mairi twisted free from the last captor with such jolting force, she fell and scraped her head on the broken branch.

  Rolling away, she clutched her fists beneath her chin, watching Mr. MacRae savagely wield his dirk until all three soldiers lay dead.

  Blood dripped from his blade. He spun and looked her from head to toe, his eyes round and wild like a madman’s. “Have you been harmed?” he demanded, wiping his blade on a dead man’s coat, then shoving the weapon into its scabbard.

  Mairi’s mouth went dry, her entire being shaking like a leaf in the wind. Was she hurt? Too numb to feel anything, she replied, “I-I-I think I am well.”

  “We have no time to spare.” Lunging toward her, he thrust out his hand. “Jesu, you’re bleeding.”

  She touched her fingers to her temple and hissed. “I f-fell.”

  He stooped and tore off a strip from her petticoat.

  Mairi scooted away, tucking her legs beneath her. “Sir!”

  Grabbing her arm, he held her steady. “I just want to swab the blood, lass. Hold still.” Gracious, his voice was softer and deeper than she’d ever heard it.

  Too frightened to fight, Mairi did as he said. She clenched her teeth, expecting it to hurt, but his touch was so much gentler than she expected.

  He handed her the cloth. “Hold this against your head.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “I’ve seen worse, but we’ve no time to tarry. I must spirit you back to your father’s men.”

  The sound of fighting echoed from the castle grounds. “What’s happening?”

  “The troops claimed the gathering unlawful—and some arse decided to fire his musket. That’s when all hell broke loose.” MacRae narrowed his gaze, looking like the devil incarnate. “Someone betrayed us—lied to the queen’s dragoons about a Jacobite gathering.”

  Mairi gasped with her nod. “I-it was a Sutherland man—th-those awful soldiers said so.”

  “Och, I should have known. Sutherland is a backbiter of the worst sort.” He offered his hand. “Come now, I’ll help you mount.”

  She spied the bay hackney—something wasn’t right. “That’s not your horse—you have a big stallion. I’ve seen him.”

  “I’ll fetch Beastie once I’ve seen you safely to your da.”

  She nodded, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She glanced to the dead dragoons, choking back her urge to vomit. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “One thing at a time, m’lady. We must make haste.” He stooped and threaded his fingers together, making a step for her to mount. “I’ll give you a leg up.”

  Grasping the saddle with trembling hands, Mairi planted her foot in his palms and helped to pull herself up while the chieftain hoisted her into the saddle. Keeping her legs to one side like a lady, she shifted her knee over the pommel for balance. Then he mounted behind her. Her head grew dizzy as he reached around her and gathered the reins. Clapping a hand to her chest, she took a deep breath. Goodness, she must be overcome with shock.

  In an effort to control her tremors, Mairi pointed. “The soldiers’ horses are down by the loch.” But the tremors and the spinning of her head refused to stop.

  “I see them.” The laird slapped the reins. “I’ll have my men fetch them later.” Though gruff, his words brought a shower of relief, as did the arms surrounding her.

  Mairi glanced down to the strong fingers clutching the reins and gratefully leaned against his chest. Mr. MacRae’s arms felt fiercely, unquestionably secure after meeting with those vile dragoons. “Has the fighting stopped?” she asked.

  “Sounds like it may have.”

  By the saints, Mairi had been so fixated on the struggle around her, she hadn’t listened for anything else. Shouts roared from beyond the wood. The ground thundered with horses as well.

  Mr. MacRae urged the mare ahead slowly.

  Flashes of redcoats flickered through the forest, just as they’d done before the dragoons attacked. Mairi’s heart hammered so fast, she swooned again.

  The brush stirred.

  A rider leaped a horse over a clump of broom, aiming a musket directly at them. “There are more here!” he bellowed.

  Mairi shrieked.

  Growling curses under his breath, Dunn spun the mare in a half-turn and slapped the reins.

  Crack!

  Mairi winced. But as the musket fired, Dunn bent over her, protecting her with his body while he kicked his heels. “Faster, ye beast!” His words were low and intense.

  Snorting, the hackney picked up speed, careening through the forest. Running like a pursued fox, she galloped away from Urquhart Castle—galloped away from Da.

  Near the loch, the fallen dragoons’ riderless mounts whinnied and started to run as well. Crashing through the scrub, they fell in step with Mairi and Dunn. They bounded forward like wild horses trained to follow the herd’s lead mare.

  Leaning forward, Dunn ferociously wielded the reins like a whip, demanding more speed. Curled down to the horse’s withers, Mairi gritted her teeth and threaded her fingers through its mane, holding on for dear life. She flopped up and down, side to side, her hands and arms burning from the strength it took not to fall off. All the while, her heart continued to thunder with the force of a reverberating smithy’s hammer.

  “Relax your seat, lass,” Dunn’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. “I’ll never let ye fall.”

  Chapter Five

  The skirmish ended almost as quickly as it began. The Duke of Gordon’s army had fired a c
annon from the ramparts. The booming blast stopped the fight and, as the Earl of Cromartie and Lord Advocate to Her Majesty, Gilroy MacKenzie immediately addressed the army captain, who had come to and was being restrained by the point of Seaforth’s dirk. “You, sir, shall be stripped of your rank and imprisoned for your irresponsible and malicious conduct.” Gilroy gestured to his guard. “Lock him in irons and send his men back to their garrison.”

  The Cromartie lieutenant held up a set of manacles. “Just the captain, m’lord?”

  “Aye, we shan’t be responsible for feeding and transporting an entire company of Her Majesty’s dragoons.” Having asserted his authority, Gilroy turned full circle, sickly bile rising in his gut. “Where on earth is my daughter?”

  “I saw Lady Mairi heading for the forest, m’lord,” a man shouted from the rear of the crowd. “Alone.”

  “Och.” Seaforth returned his dirk to its scabbard. “That’s what MacRae was trying to tell me.”

  “Why in God’s name was Lady Mairi heading for the forest?” Gilroy shifted an accusing gaze to Robert Grant. “We are here at your invitation, sir. Explain why your men would allow the daughter of an earl to enter a forest unescorted.”

  “Ah…” The young laird’s shoulders inched up to his ears. “I’ll have my men investigate, m’lord.”

  “You had best do that or I’ll have your hide.” Gilroy whipped around to his nephew. “Come at once, Seaforth, and let Robert pray nothing untoward has happened to Mairi.”

  A commoner pushed through the crowd. “Beg your pardon, m’lord. Not long after Her Ladyship entered the forest, dragoons followed. I saw it all. That’s when Mr. MacRae took the captain’s horse and chased after them like he was hunting Satan himself.”

  “Good God, it grows worse.” Growling under his breath, Cromartie grasped Seaforth by the elbow and strode for the wood. “Why couldn’t anyone have ridden to Lady Mairi’s rescue aside from Dunn MacRae?”

  Reid’s lips formed a thin line as he strode ahead on long legs. “If I had my pick of any fighting men in the Highlands, Dunn would be my choice to go after the lass. I ken of no one who can match him in a fight.”

  Cromartie scowled. “And I might have had her married off by now…if you had thought with anything aside from your cock.”

  “My debt with you has been settled, and I expect you to honor it.” Seaforth shot him a leer. “Know this: Mairi may be a delightful gel, but she was never for me. I’m afraid you’d be in the exact same predicament—”

  Gilroy sliced his hand through the air. “No, I would not, you arse. My daughter would have been flitting through the crowd like a queen bee rather than moping like a shunned courtier.”

  “I would remember to whom you are speaking, Uncle. I may be your grandnephew, but the House of Seaforth occupies the clan seat, not Cromartie.”

  Bile burned Gilroy’s throat. He hated playing second fiddle to Seaforth. Unlike his nephew, Gilroy had earned his title through service to Britain and to the queen. It was no secret that Seaforth had Jacobite leanings, though by virtue of his good looks, he managed to capture the queen’s favor. Regardless, the Earl of Cromartie would hold his cards close to his chest when the time for the succession came, and he would not be on the wrong side of the argument. Blast Seaforth’s loyalty to the Stuart line.

  Followed into the forest by their lieutenants and countless others, the smell of pine wafted through the air. Birds flitted about as if all was amiable and peaceful on this midsummer’s day. The forest floor absorbed the sound of their footsteps, enhancing the call of the birds. It didn’t take long to find three dead dragoons.

  Something shiny flashed. Gilroy recognized the knife straightaway. “Good God, ’tis Mairi’s dagger.”

  Seaforth stooped to retrieve it. “Then why did they not return to the castle grounds?”

  Robert Grant examined the assorted prints. “They were chased. See?”

  “Stay back,” ordered Seaforth, holding up his palm to prevent the men from trampling the tracks.

  Grant pointed as he made his way around the prints, reading the story. “They mounted here and started heading back. By the depth of the prints, there were two on one mount.” He pointed. “There’s where a horse jumped through the brush—then MacRae’s mount dipped its hindquarters and spun.”

  “And it looks like at least four dragoons made chase,” added Seaforth, studying the clues a few paces along the trail.

  “Exactly.” Grant trotted ahead while the others followed. About fifty yards up, he stopped. “New tracks here, and they’re not as deep.”

  “That’s because they had no riders. I’d wager a hundred pounds these are from the horses of those sorry dragoons lying dead back there,” said Gilroy. He wasn’t about to be made to look a fool. “And my daughter remains in the clutches of a man whose interest in her has been expressed most clearly. This is an abomination. Worse, Mairi is running from a mob of government soldiers because of a wretched misunderstanding.”

  Grant slammed his fist into his palm. “Bloody Ewen Cameron. He’s behind this. He’s the only one who left the games this morning. Full of threats he was, the bastard.”

  “Damnation,” cursed Seaforth. “I never in my life thought Cameron would have stooped so low. He’s a Highlander through to the bone.”

  Grant scowled. “He’s a cattle thief and a thorn in my side.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s arse about Cameron. Dunn MacRae has abducted my daughter! Everyone kens I denied his suit, and now the blackguard has taken her.” Raising his voice, Gilroy addressed the crowd. “Fifty guineas to the man who seizes MacRae and returns Lady Mairi to Castle Leod. Unscathed, and if it means running a dirk across that bastard’s throat, then so be it!”

  * * *

  After galloping for the hills, Dunn slowed the hackney to a fast walk, a pace the animal could sustain for hours. Still in full military tack, the stray horses continued to follow their lead mare. Dunn knew exactly where to go. He knew the Highlands like he knew his own soul. And if he didn’t want to be found, God save anyone who tried.

  Now with the precious cargo riding in front of him, he’d be even more vigilant. Christ, he’d nearly turned into a madman back there when he’d found those three scoundrels with their hands on Lady Mairi. He could have torn the limbs from each rutting bastard one at a time, and even that wouldn’t have been punishment enough.

  To shelter her between his arms made him feel more like a man than winning a hundred caber tosses. With her hat gone, mussed locks of luminous red hair had come unpinned and lightly brushed Dunn’s face. Leaning forward, Dunn inhaled her scent. The fragrance was heavenly and ethereal, and reminded him of magnolias in full bloom. Her bonny perfume made something in his heart twist. Aye, he would protect the lass with his dying breath if need be. Perhaps it was because she was a MacKenzie, a daughter of the clan that Dunn and his forefathers had vowed to protect for centuries past. True, he fancied the lass. He couldn’t deny his affection went deeper than lust. Lady Mairi was meant to be put on a pedestal and adored.

  He steered the horse through the forest and up a rocky crag, one high enough to have a clear view across the glen carved through the eons by the waters of Loch Ness. At the top, they rode in a complete circle until he spied their pursuers. “Look.” He pointed. “The dragoons have turned north. They’ve lost our trail.”

  “Thank heavens.” With her deep sigh, Mairi’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

  “Aye, but mark me, they’ll double back. With the extra horses in our wake, I’m afraid we’ve left quite a trail.”

  “What can we do?”

  “We must keep moving. Keep them guessing. Do not worry, lass. I’ll not let them find us.” He dismounted and reached for her. “Before we travel any farther, I should have a look at your wound.”

  Placing her hands on his shoulders, Mairi trembled as she allowed him to help her down. Dunn’s palms closed around her waist, so small, his fingertips touched. He held her aloft a moment longer tha
n necessary, savoring her—everything about her, from her bonny blue eyes to the creamy texture of her skin, the bow shape of her lips, and the hint of freckles across the bridge of her dainty nose. She was featherlight, and he held her like a precious artifact that needed the utmost care. And as she exhaled, she blew life into his limbs.

  Ever so gradually, he lowered her toward the earth, watching those sky-blue eyes. Innocent, they had rings of navy blue around the outer edge of her irises, making her stare all the more intense. Why had he not noticed the rings before?

  “Fascinating.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  He blinked. “Did I say something?”

  “‘Fascinating.’ You said ‘fascinating.’”

  Och, he needed to hold his tongue. “Forgive me, m’lady, but your eyes are mesmerizing.”

  Biting her lip, she squeezed his shoulders and looked downward. “Though I feel safe in your arms, Mr. MacRae,” she said as if his compliment hadn’t been uttered, “I do believe I am able to stand on my own two feet.”

  Good Lord, he hadn’t yet set her down? “Ah.” Though he might have stood there for an hour without tiring, it was unforgivably forward of him to linger. He set the maid on her feet and then stepped away and bowed. “M’lady.”

  She, too, took a step back, putting more distance between them, then rubbed her outer arms.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “Nay.”

  “Do you fear me?”

  She glanced sideways. “I just…” Her shoulders curved as furrows formed in her brow.

  “Are you in pain? Did those brigands hurt—?”

  “Nay. ’Tis just that everything happened so quickly.” She turned her back and, burying her face in her palms, shook her shoulders. “Those men were—and then you—and then we—oh, heavenly Father!”

  Dunn’s heart twisted. Good God, he’d ridden into battle and had seen horrors this lass could never imagine. And there he’d stood like a lovesick dastard, holding forth about Her Ladyship’s fascinating eyes. Stepping nearer, he reached out his hand, but stopped before touching her. She wouldn’t want that.