The Highland Chieftain

by Amy Jarecki

  Instead, he pressed praying fingers to his lips, desperately trying to think of something to say to ease her suffering. “No refined woman should ever witness such brutality. Ah…” He looked skyward. “My actions were carried out only to ensure your well-being, m’lady.”

  She spied him over her shoulder. “But you were so brutal. So savage. I’ve never seen anything like it…and there were three of them.”

  Dunn lowered his hands to his sides. She thought him a monster. And why not? He’d acted savagely—showed no mercy. “Three ruthless men with no virtue among them. Men capable of unspeakable acts. If I hadn’t stopped them, you—”

  “I ken.” She nodded as she looked to her feet.

  How could he assuage her fears? Did she think him a heartless tyrant? Is that why he was so unappealing to her? “I hope you do not fear me. I am here to protect you, m’lady. I will do so at any cost.”

  Her inhale faltered as she faced him, keeping her arms crossed. “I believe you,” she whispered, looking like a queen, crusted blood at her temple and all.

  If only he had leave to draw the lass into his embrace and tell her everything would be all right.

  But she’d refused him.

  She wasn’t his to have and to hold.

  The air between them felt like a wall of stone.

  “What are we to do?” she asked, her expression growing forlorn.

  “I aim to take you back to Castle Leod.” He looked to the sky. “But ’tis a full day’s ride from dawn to dusk, and we only have a few hours of daylight remaining.”

  Holding out her palms, she glanced from side to side. “Where can we go?”

  “Somewhere the dragoons will not set upon us,” he said, knowing where to take her but unsure whether she would accept it. “Not far from here, there’s a hiding place used only by my kin. ’Tis rough, but we can build a fire, and I promise you will sleep in comfort.”

  “Rough? Is it a shieling?”

  He shook his head. “A cave—a place no one outside Clan MacRae kens exists.”

  “Good heavens,” she said, drawing a hand over her mouth. “Is there no inn?”

  “None where we will not be recognized.” He bowed his head. “I firmly believe it is where you will be safest, else I would not have suggested it.”

  “Your fealty to the MacKenzie goes without question. I will trust your judgment.”

  “Thank you, m’lady.” He beckoned her forward. “With Your Ladyship’s approval, I’d like to check the wound on your head.”

  Taking a step in, she cringed. “I must look a fright.”

  “Not at all.” He held up his hand. “May I?”

  She nodded and he carefully pushed aside her hair, pressing his fingers around the bruising. “Does this hurt?”

  “A little. Do I need leeches?”

  “I’ve never been fond of leeches. Mayhap there’s a salve in the captain’s saddlebags.” Dunn found a jar of ointment right where he would have expected it. Pulling off the cork, he sniffed. “It bears a strong scent of houseleek.”

  “The healer in Strathpeffer uses houseleek for everything.”

  “Then let’s give it a go, shall we?”

  “If you promise it won’t hurt.”

  “I hope it will not, but I trust Your Ladyship can endure a wee sting. We do not want such a head wound to turn putrid.” He scooped a bit with a finger. “Here. Let us try a small amount.” As he dabbed it on ever so carefully, Mairi stood without flinching.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “It didn’t hurt at all.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  The three horses that had followed had stopped down below to graze. Dunn grasped the reins of the mare he and Mairi had been riding. “If you’ll stay here and hold this filly, I’ll bring up the others.”

  “What do you aim to do with them all?”

  “Take them along so they won’t fall into the wrong hands. Besides, you need a mount.”

  Disappointment flashed across Mairi’s face so fast, Dunn might have imagined it. Shaking his head, he berated himself for the mere thought. They needed to keep moving, and he could ill afford to lose sight of his task to ensure Her Ladyship’s safety and return her to Cromartie with haste.

  Chapter Six

  Twilight fell, fingering shadows through the trees. Mairi rode one of the hackneys behind Mr. MacRae, blindly following him across hills and glens she’d never seen before. The horses moved slowly, hindered by the thick foliage, and she was forever batting away branches to prevent them from hitting her face.

  To keep the strays on their path, MacRae had tied them together with a lead line. They ambled along, grabbing bites of grass along the way. They’d been climbing for near to an hour when he turned left, leading them over a massive formation of solid rock. As they crossed into the open, Mairi glanced down. Good heavens! In a blink, her heart flew to her throat while the reins slipped in her palms. The downward drop seemed infinite. Darkness swallowed the earth below. She shuddered to her toes. A fall would end in an abyss of death. Before she reined her mount to a stop, the accursed horse followed Mr. MacRae out onto the shelf no wider than a plank.

  Mairi’s breath caught in her chest. Her skirts scraped along the rock wall to her right, but she was too frightened to tug them away. Every muscle in her body tensed. Her horse snorted and shook his head. She grappled for his mane. “Easy!” she squeaked.

  “Breathe, m’lady. We’ll be across in no time,” Mr. MacRae barked over his shoulder, his voice always sounding inordinately gruff and doing nothing to ease her terror.

  She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to relax her seat. A practiced horsewoman knew her mount sensed the tension from its rider. If Mairi was tense, the hackney would be ten times tenser. No matter how hard she tried, fear gripped every fiber of her body. The horse jounced. Her stomach dropped. Just as she sent up prayers for her soul, the hackney’s movement grew smooth, as if walking on a cloud.

  “’Tis all right to open your eyes, m’lady,” said the boorish Highlander. How dare he lead her out onto a narrow shelf? It was a miracle she hadn’t fallen to her death.

  “I thought you said…” Mairi’s jaw dropped as she opened her eyes. Through the shadows of dusk, she beheld a sight of pure beauty. Ahead, the mouth of a cave was concealed by moss and vines, rustling softly with the breeze. To the left, the forest opened to a mountain lagoon, fed by a waterfall that tumbled over the rocks in tiers. “What is this place?”

  He rode toward the loch, then reined his horse to a stop. “My kin call it Cavern of the Fairies.”

  “Do magical folk live here?” She stopped beside him.

  “None that I’ve seen, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they do.” He dismounted. “’Tis enchanted.” It sounded odd to hear such a rugged man speak of fairy folk.

  “Why enchanted?” she asked while he helped her down. This time his action was more efficient, and as soon as her feet touched the ground he released his grip.

  “Up here a man can ease his guard a wee bit—ponder his existence and feel the awe-inspiring gifts of our Mother Nature.”

  Scraping her teeth across her bottom lip, Mairi studied the man. Yes, she’d known Mr. MacRae forever but had never drawn so much of a conversation from him. Indeed, there was a greater depth to the laird than she’d imagined.

  He met her gaze, but only for an instant. Then, looking aside as if feeling awkward, he gestured to the horses. “Once I hobble these nags, I’ll see to your comfort.”

  She watched him make quick work of tying loose ropes to the front legs of each horse and removing their tack. Plenty of mountain grass grew about the clearing for them to eat. He tossed the soldiers’ saddlebags over his shoulder and offered his hand. “Allow me to escort you inside, m’lady.”

  Mairi placed her fingers in his calloused palm while he led her over the uneven ground and pulled aside the vines. “Inside I’ve rigged a comfortable seat lined with furs.”

  “Do you
stay here often?”

  “A sennight or two in summer mostly. This place is usually ten feet deep in snow during the winter months.”

  The cave was dark and musty, but true to Dunn’s word, a fur-lined chair sat waiting for someone to occupy it.

  “It will take a moment to give the furs a good shake.”

  Mairi stood while he hastened outside, shook the pelts, and dutifully returned, smoothing them over the natural stone chair. He seemed oddly endearing as he worked. A gruff man, so concerned with tending to her comfort. When she finally sat, Mairi sank into pure luxury. “Is this where you usually sit?” she asked, looking from wall to wall. The cave wasn’t large. It had a dry dirt floor, a fire pit, and along one side, a row of tidy bedrolls.

  “Aye,” he said, using a customary monosyllabic response.

  Reclining in the coziness, she sighed while she watched as he lit an oil lamp and set to starting a fire. Mr. MacRae was a quandary. His movements were precise and swift. He focused on his tasks without engaging in idle chatter. Yet his presence was dominant.

  Perhaps ’tis his rugged looks.

  Stubble from his beard had grown in since the morn, leaving a dark shadow on his face. Most of his thick hair had come loose from its ribbon and shrouded his eyes. The lines on his face were deep for a man of thirty, making him look all the more dangerous. He even had a spiderweb etching the corners of his eyes with white streaks emphasized by his darker, tanned skin.

  He must spend a great deal of time out of doors.

  Once the fire was crackling, Mairi held out her hands to warm them. “Thank you.”

  He glanced up from placing a stick of wood in the flame, his expression piercing. “M’lady?”

  “Thank you for riding to my aid. Had you not arrived when you did, things could have…” Though her voice trailed off, she was unable to look away.

  His eyes grew intense as he froze, making her incredibly aware. But the moment passed with his severe nod as he reached for a saddlebag and pulled out a leather parcel. “I’ll wager there’s a wee morsel in here,” he said, as if saving her life was but a trifle. Sitting beside her, he pulled the thong and unwrapped it. “Look here. Dried meat and oatcakes.”

  Saliva swirled in her mouth, suddenly reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since she broke her fast. “It sounds like a feast.”

  “Nothing similar to your usual fare, m’lady.” He held out the opened parcel. “But it will keep you from going hungry.”

  When she selected a piece of meat, she inadvertently brushed the rough pads of his fingertips. The friction made her gasp. Shrugging it off, she chuckled and took a nibble. “’Tis salty.”

  “Preserved with brine.” He tore off a bite with healthy white teeth, watching her as he chewed.

  The firelight danced across his dark features, making him appear more menacing than he did in daylight. A shiver coursed over Mairi’s skin. No, she wasn’t afraid of him, but his looks stirred her insides with a tempest she didn’t understand. Mr. MacRae was bewildering, though a man she wanted on her side. It was no wonder Seaforth had put so much trust in the laird. If she were an earl or a clan chieftain, she would do the same.

  After shoving the rest of the strip of meat into his mouth, he rummaged through the saddlebags and found a flask. Shaking it, his eyebrows arched. He almost smiled. “’Tis full.” He pulled off the stopper and sniffed. After taking a hearty swig, he sighed and wiped his lips. “Who would have thought a scoundrel like the captain would develop good taste in whisky?”

  “All men drink it, do they not?”

  “The English generally prefer brandy and rum.” He held out the flask. “Beg your pardon, I’m not being mannerly. Would you care for a tot? It might make the wee bump on your head feel better, as long as you only take a sip.”

  Mairi pursed her lips. “Ladies must not allow their lips to touch the spirit of Satan.”

  “Suit yourself. Though I ken a great many noblewomen who do not mind a dram.”

  “Aye? Who, may I ask?”

  “The Baronetess of Sleat, for starters.” He took another drink, followed by an awkward pause. “Um…how?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I was just admiring how well you’ve learned the intricacies of ladies’ etiquette. It must have been difficult losing your mother at such a young age. Nonetheless, you turned into a fine young woman, if you’ll allow me to be so bold, m’lady.”

  Mairi’s mother had passed away shortly after she was born. Sadly, she had no recollection of her, though people oft remarked on how much they looked alike. “Thank you. Fortunately, I had an efficient governess.”

  “Whom you often evaded, as I recall.”

  “Ye ken about that?”

  “Och, our paths have crossed many times over the years.”

  She nodded. Truth be told, Mr. MacRae had seen her when she was a spirited teen. Good heavens, she’d been difficult for her father—difficult for anyone. Yet, after all her sauciness, Mr. MacRae still seemed to like her. Bless it, for the first time in sennights, a wee spark of daring flickered in her breast. She reached for the flask. “Perhaps I will have a wee tot.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up while he handed the drink across the fire. “For medicinal purposes.”

  “Aye.” She eyed him as she sipped. “I trust you will not tell my father, but I slipped into his study a time or two and helped myself.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “With Alasdair, mind you.”

  “Do not tell me your elder brother led you astray.”

  “He did, and now he hasn’t bothered to return my letters, he’s so absorbed by his duties serving the queen’s army on the Continent.” Mairi sipped again, the spirit already making her head swim. She cleared her throat. “This must be potent.”

  Mr. MacRae reached for the flask. “Pure spirit.”

  She reclined into the furs and watched him drink. Why had such a man offered for her hand? Of course, Mairi couldn’t ask. It would be uncouth to bring it up. Besides, she knew why—he’d done it to make her feel better. In her observation, through the man’s gruff exterior lay a kind heart.

  She reflected for a moment, then smiled to herself. She didn’t understand why, but since they’d raced away from the redcoats, Mairi actually felt more herself. Perhaps being in the midst of life-threatening danger reset her priorities. “I think I like being away from people. At least for a time.”

  He stirred the fire with a stick. “Spending time alone revives the soul.”

  “Truly? I usually prefer crowds to solitude.”

  “Indeed you do,” he said as if her preferences were well-known throughout the Highlands.

  “So, what do you like to do with the time you spend alone reviving your soul?”

  He shrugged, tossing the stick onto the fire. “’Tis not often I am able to wander off by myself. I’m usually charged with carrying out the earl’s bidding. He is quite good at delegating tasks.”

  “Aye, but when Seaforth is otherwise occupied, what do you do?”

  “I suppose I mostly tend to my clan and kin.” He scratched the stubble along his jaw. “But when I can steal precious time alone, I hunt. If there’s time, I come up here.”

  “To your magical place?”

  He gave a nod—almost grinned. “A man could live out his days in these hills. The pool’s spring fed. There’s wildlife aplenty.”

  “Do you think you’d be satisfied up here all alone for days on end?”

  “Satisfied? Aye. But ’tis a fanciful dream. The chieftain of a clan is much like an earl. I have the souls of my kin to protect. There are always barns to raise, roofs to repair, and mouths to feed, rents to collect and—”

  “You have Seaforth’s affairs to dispatch between it all,” she finished.

  “I do.”

  “Why—?” She stopped herself from asking why he hadn’t married. I’m such a dolt. Perhaps the whisky had loosed her tongue too much.

  “Why?” he pressed.
r />   “Nothing. ’Tis not for me to ask.”

  Pursing his lips, he looked away as if he knew what she’d been thinking. “The hour is late and we have a long ride ahead of us on the morrow.”

  * * *

  Once Dunn ensured Her Ladyship was resting comfortably on a bed of furs, he stoked the fire and placed his sword beside his bedroll and his dirk by his head, where he always kept it when sleeping. He gave the cave a once-over before lying down. His gaze stopped at Lady Mairi. Resting on her side with her back to him, she looked like a goddess incarnate. A mane of long red tresses sprawled in every direction. His fingers twitched as his eyes meandered along the curve from her shoulder to her waist, then her rounded hip. Never in his life had he beheld a woman who stirred his blood like Mairi MacKenzie.

  Earlier, the fire had danced across her fair skin, making it luminous. A bit of mischief had returned to her enormous eyes. He’d been ever so aware as she’d watched him. She asked innocent questions, making simple talk, completely oblivious to how much he enjoyed her attention. If only the eve could have lasted forever. He liked having her eyes on him. Liked being alone with her, listening to the sweet lull of her voice, watching her blush at the slightest distraction.

  He climbed between the furs and lay on his back. The fire danced across the cave’s ceiling in a prismatic display of amber. He pictured Mairi through the movement. Who wouldn’t? With impeccable manners, Her Ladyship had selected a piece of dried meat and carefully bit into it, chewing delicately. And then it had been priceless when she sipped the whisky, however it didn’t surprise him that her elder brother had introduced her to it. Alasdair had been a ruffian as a lad, though the heir to the Cromartie earldom was making a name for himself in the wars.

  But Dunn’s mood soured when her father’s words came to mind. Nay. I cannot consider your proposal, sir. I’ve a grand alliance to make with Mairi’s hand, and the only place I will find a suitor equal to Seaforth is at court.

  Court. The mere word soured his stomach. Lady Mairi didn’t belong among the queen’s vultures. No, Dunn couldn’t picture Her Ladyship cloistered with the nobles at court, watched by noblewomen who preyed on innocent Highland maids. Mairi needed to be free, to allow her spirit to soar, to laugh and dance without critical eyes judging her every act.