Scot on Her Trail

by Lee, Caroline

  So he braced himself, then forced himself to meet her eyes. “I realized I wasnae giving ye enough credit. Since that morning in the stables at my father’s keep, I’ve thought of little else besides ye. Even after ye punched me for kissing ye again, I was enamored. My brothers teased me, but I couldnae stop the way my heart sped up when ye were around. ‘Twas why I kenned I needed to leave Oliphant Castle while ye were still there, because ye had nae reason to think kindly of me.”

  She’d finished her braid, but continued to hold the end of it in one hand. “I saw ye standing proudly with yer kilt up around yer ears in front of all of Creation, Dunc. I promise ye, I was no’ the only woman who had reason to think kindly of ye.”

  His lips pulled into a reluctant smile, knowing she was teasing him.

  “My point is…” With a sudden lunge, afraid if he hesitated, he’d lose the bollocks, he snatched her hands away from her hair and squeezed them. “I kenned ye and I didnae belong together, but I was still enamored. And then when I saw ye lying in the road that day…”

  He shook his head, still remembering the dread he’d felt. “Well, I still dinnae understand all that went on that day, but I do ken I cannae think of aught else than ye, Skye MacIan. I didnae intend it, but somewhere along the way, I fell in love with ye. I want ye to be my wife.”

  And then, when she didn’t say a word, he lifted his brows hopefully. “Please?”

  She didn’t pull away, but she did turn her head, though her gaze went straight back to that damnable tree again.

  “I think…”

  Her voice was so low, he almost didn’t hear her, and he was sitting right next to her.

  “I think, somewhere along the way, I’ve fallen in love with ye too, Dunc.”

  The confirmation of her earlier slip should’ve made his heart leap, but all he could think about was how…sad she looked.

  Releasing her hands, he placed one palm against her cheek and turned her gaze back to him. “And why does that confession sound so painful for ye, lass?”

  Where those…tears? Her lovely blue eyes were filling with tears?

  “Because I cannae marry ye. My clan needs me here.”

  It was a beautiful day. There were birds calling one another, and bloody bees buzzing around the wildflowers, doing whatever the fook bees did. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and he’d just made the most mind-altering love of his life, to a woman he wanted to marry.

  He’d be damned if he were going to let her go without a fight.

  “Tell me,” he demanded. “Make me understand why ye cannae—willnae—be mine.”

  With a sigh, she pulled away from him, lacing her hands in her lap and staring down at them. She looked more uncomfortable than at any other time he’d seen her.

  “My brother’s wife, Allison, comes from a small clan; a clan even smaller and less important than mine. She thinks being married to Stewart is some kind of big coup.”

  “It likely is.” He hooked his elbow around his knee to keep from reaching for her. “Although I dinnae ken much about marriage prospect for lasses, being a smith and all.”

  When she peeked up at him through her lashes, he saw something twinkling in her eyes. “Goldsmiths are still considered marital prizes, I believe,” she quipped primly.

  “Och, aye! I’m a veritable prince.”

  So why will ye no’ marry me?

  As if she heard his unspoken words, her shoulders slumped once more. “Well, Allison sees naught wrong with spending all of the MacIan coin. We barely made it through last winter, and that was with Fiona’s bargaining skills. This spring, it became obvious we wouldnae survive her spending.”

  “She’s frivolous?”

  Skye shrugged. “She sees naught wrong with buying velvets we dinnae need, and decorations we cannae afford, in order to make us look fancier than we are.”

  Frowning, Duncan considered her words. “And yer brother doesnae stop her?”

  “Well… When Fiona and I brought it up to him, he made it clear he wanted to keep her happy, at all costs, though I dinnae think he truly meant that literally. But regardless, the vile woman gets what she wants.” Skye grimaced. “She can be a right harridan if she doesnae get her way.”

  “So he just allows her to waste the clan’s money?”

  Skye met his eyes sadly. “Love makes one do strange things.”

  Like sitting buck-arse naked on a plaid in the middle of nature, where anyone could wander by, and no’ caring?

  He almost snorted in agreement.

  “But surely Stewart sees the debt her spending is making for yer clan, does he no’?”

  She shook her head, looking resigned. “He’s never cared much for ledgers and numbers, and leaves the running of the place to the seneschal. ‘Tis how I’m able to sneak into his solar and put in new entries.”

  Like a flash of lightening, Duncan understood. “The coin ye take from yer robberies. Ye’re giving it to yer brother?”

  “Nay, I’m giving it to my clan. Even with all her spending, the money we’re losing isnae accounted for. For a while, I suspected Allison was taking more than she recorded, but I dinnae ken why or how. So I just do the best I can with Fergus and my men, and keep funneling the coin back into the MacIan coffers.”

  “For Allison to pilfer and waste all over again,” he spat out, disgusted by the woman who was giving her sister-in-law no choice but to be a highwayman, all so she could live in luxury the clan couldn’t afford.

  Skye didn’t reply, but didn’t deny his words either. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. When she propped her chin up on her knees, she appeared forlorn.

  Duncan couldn’t stand seeing her that way. He shifted closer to her, putting one arm around her shoulders, and pulling her close. They were still nude, aye, but the sun was warm, and despite the seriousness of their conversation, he still felt the languidness which came after a sexual release.

  With her head pillowed against his chest, he inhaled, smelling the leather-and-pear scent, which was uniquely Skye, and knew he wasn’t going to give up on her.

  “Thank ye for explaining why ye turned highwayman, Skye,” he murmured, knowing she’d be able to feel his words, as much as hear them.

  And he smiled when she primly corrected, “Highwaywoman.”

  “Yer clan needs money, and ye feel responsible. Well, my offer comes with a bride price, thanks to my father’s generosity. I hadnae paid much attention to it, because I didnae plan on marrying, even with his edict, but I understand ‘tis generous. Yer brother has Fiona’s bride price from Finn…if ye agreed to be my wife, he’d have double that.”

  “And Allison would fritter it away before the year was out, I dinnae doubt.” Skye’s words were muffled against his chest, but he still heard them. “I need to be here, to find a way to keep bringing in coin, else the clan will suffer.”

  If he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he heard genuine sorrow in her voice. Using his hold on her shoulders and back, he pulled her away just enough to stare down into her eyes.

  Aye, those were tears. It was sorrow.

  “I love ye, Skye,” he whispered. “Does that count for naught?”

  “That counts for everything.” She sniffed, forcing a watery smile his way. “And I love ye too. I hadnae planned on falling in love, Dunc, but ye are kind and level-headed and steadfast. I’d be proud to be yer wife…if I could.”

  Instead of despairing, Duncan’s heart leapt at her confession.

  She loved him and would marry him if she could.

  All he had to do was figure out how to make it so she could.

  Nay. Nay, ‘tis up to Stewart to figure out how.

  The realization struck Duncan so hard, he sucked in a breath.

  Aye, that was it!

  “ ’Tisnae fair to rest all of the clan’s woes and worries about the future on yer shoulders,” he whispered, his mind whirling with possibilities.

  “What?”

  Ste
wart needed to know all of this. He was the one who needed to control his wife’s pilfering and stop the clan’s money woes at the source. He was the laird, for fook’s sake!

  Not Skye.

  And once the laird took command of his clan—and his wife—then Skye would be free to marry Duncan.

  “Come,” he said, pulling them both to their feet in one swift movement. The little squeak she made told him she hadn’t been ready, but soon they were both standing among the wildflowers.

  “What are ye doing?” she gasped, as he scooped up her chemise and gown and tossed them to her.

  Shaking out his plaid, he grinned at her. “We’re heading back to yer keep. I have an appointment with yer brother.” Her eyes widened as he made short work of wrapping the plaid around him. “I’m going to marry ye, Skye MacIan. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter 10

  Her hair was still a mess, and anyone who looked at her flushed face and disheveled gown, would know exactly what she’d been up to, but Skye couldn’t bring herself to care.

  In the stables, Duncan swung her down from his horse, and his hands lingered at her waste. Although she’d brought her own horse on their little adventure, she’d returned to the MacIan keep sitting on Duncan’s lap, her horse following behind, and knew what message that sent to anyone who saw them.

  Allison would have a fit when she found out Skye wasn’t “acting as befitting the sister of a great laird.”

  Well, Allison could go suck on a year-old egg for all Skye cared.

  Because Duncan wanted to marry her, and judging by the determined tilt of his lovely lips, as he took Skye’s hand and strode toward the keep, all the Heavenly Saints couldn’t keep him from accomplishing his goal.

  She lifted her skirts in her other hand and didn’t bother hiding her excited grin.

  A fortnight ago, she would’ve said she had no interest in marrying. Just a short time ago, she would’ve said she was destined to live the rest of her life working for the betterment of the MacIan clan.

  But then…she’d come apart in this man’s arms, heard him declare his love for her, and now she had hope for a real future, which surprised her.

  They slowed when they stepped into the great hall, but he glanced over at her and squeezed her hand. “I love ye, Skye,” he reminded her.

  And that was enough to make her heart flutter.

  “Whatever ye have planned, best have yer words ready.” She jerked her chin toward the stairs on the far side of the hall. “My brother’s likely in his solar, just up there.”

  Duncan nodded firmly, but didn’t head directly for the stairs. Instead, he stopped to pick up the scabbarded sword he’d left on one of the trestle tables earlier. Had it really only been a few hours ago she’d barreled into him in this room, delighted to see him again, though terrified what his presence meant?

  Hefting the scabbard in his left hand, he reached for her once more…but suddenly jerked to a stop. Bean had materialized out of nowhere, looming menacingly over Duncan. Skye’s love tilted his head back and scowled up at the giant.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “Want me to hit him, milady?” Bean rumbled.

  Before she could say aught, Duncan lifted the sword in his left hand and poked the other man in the chest with the hilt. “I have a gift for ye.”

  Skye and the giant were both surprised by his declaration. Bean took a step back, blinking in confusion as he glanced at Skye. She shrugged slightly, not knowing what Duncan meant.

  “A gift?” Bean repeated, his voice full of suspicion.

  “Aye.”

  Duncan dropped her hand and drew the sword. Both Skye and Bean tensed for his attack, but instead, he flipped the weapon around and offered it to the giant, hilt first.

  As Bean hesitated, Duncan said, “I ken ‘tisnae my best work, but I also ken ye’re without a full blade. Yer sword is broken, and as I was making this one, I thought ye might like a new one.”

  Slowly, the giant wrapped his hand around the hilt, pulling it from Duncan’s grip. It was clear to Skye he was confused by the gift.

  Had no one ever given him aught before?

  Her fingers rose to the ring she’d tucked back under her gown, clutching the metal through the silk. Duncan had every right to hold a grudge against Bean—and her as well, for that matter—but he’d made the other man a gift, and had offered her marriage. He was most definitely a very special man.

  Seeing the giant was still confused, Skye spoke around the lump in her throat. “I thought…I thought the sword was yers?”

  Duncan shrugged, stepping back and reaching for her hand again. “I need one, aye, since I left mine lying in the road when I was beset by a lovely highwayman.” He winked at her. “But I’ll have time to work on another one later.”

  He’d put another’s needs before his own, and that told her everything she needed to know about this man she’d fallen in love with.

  “ ’Tis really for me?” Bean rumbled in confusion.

  “Aye, Bean.” Duncan’s voice was gentle. “Because ye need one.”

  “Well, then…” The giant shrugged, then switched his hold on the sword. In one motion, he pulled a different sword from his own scabbard and held it out—one blade in each hand, his size dwarfing the weapons—and nodded happily. “Here’s yers.”

  Duncan dropped her hand and lunged forward to snatch his sword from Bean. “Ye saved it!” He beamed down at the blade. “Thank ye, Bean!”

  “ ’Twas no’ mine,” the bigger man said with a shrug. Then Bean stepped back and lifted the sword Duncan had made for him. He studied it for a moment, then in one quick movement, snapped the blade over his knee.

  Both Duncan and Skye reared back in surprise at the suddenness of it.

  But Bean nodded happily and tossed the broken blade over his shoulder, not seeming to notice when it hit another table and bounced off. He held up the short part of the blade, still connected to the hilt, and smiled.

  “Perfect!” With a flourish, he slid it into his scabbard and patted it happily.

  Pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, Skye cut her eyes toward Duncan. He was staring bug-eyed at the giant, his mouth open wide in surprise.

  I could’ve told him Bean would do that.

  But instead of explaining the gentle giant refused to use a blade, she simply reached over and placed one finger under Duncan’s chin, closing his mouth.

  The nudge seemed to shake him from his shock, and he blinked, then smiled at her. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, mayhap we could—”

  “What’s amiss?”

  This time, ‘twas Fergus who interrupted them, hurrying toward their little group, with Pierre on his heels. Both men gripped the hilts of their swords and eyed Duncan menacingly.

  “Peace, Fergus,” she said, with a weary sigh. “Ye have nae need to harm Duncan.”

  Her old retainer switched his glare to her, taking care to sweep his gaze over her sloppy braid and disheveled dress. “That tarting custard.” he growled.

  Hearing the threat in the dessert-filled curse, Duncan tugged her closer, stepping in front of her.

  The dear man thought to protect her from Fergus?

  She placed her free hand on Duncan’s arm. “Peace, I said,” she repeated to both men. “Naught’s amiss. Duncan has asked me to be his wife, and we’re going to see Stewart.”

  Hopefully, Dunc has a good plan to ensure my clan is provided for, so I can leave them without worry.

  At her news, Fergus’s face lit up. “Ye’ll be heading to Oliphant land then?”

  “Dinnae look so pleased, auld man,” she said with a frown. “I thought ye’d miss me…”

  “Lass, I just want ye out of harm’s way!” Fergus stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms, and Skye released Duncan long enough to return the hug.

  “Fine,” she mumbled against his shoulder, “but I’m taking ye with me.”

  “And me?” Bean rumbled.

  “I’d take y
e all to Oliphant land if I could.” She pulled away with a deep breath, offering a sad smile to her friends. “Ye’ve been like family to me, and have always answered my calls when I needed ye.”

  “Félicitations pour vos fiançailles!” Pierre slapped Duncan on the shoulder. “Est-ce à dire que nous avons fini?”

  “I dinnae ken,” Bean rumbled with a shrug. “Almond, mayhap. Or blueberry.”

  Duncan frowned briefly at the big man, before shrugging and turning to Pierre. “Oui. Certainement. Je m'occuperai de Skye à l'avenir.”

  While Pierre nodded, pleased, Skye gaped at Duncan. “Ye speak French?”

  “Aye,” he drawled. “Master Claire was born and raised in Paris before she married. I had to learn when I apprenticed with her, else I’d understand little of the skills she was teaching me.”

  “So all this time…” Skye glanced between Duncan and Pierre. “Ye ken what Pierre’s been saying?”

  Pierre grinned. “C'est agréable d'entendre le français parlé par quelqu'un d'autre.”

  And Bean, bless his soul, nodded. “I like apple ones the best too.”

  Skye pinched the bridge of her nose. Bean had been translating for Pierre all these months, but what had the Frenchman truly been saying?

  “Looks like today’s the day for visitors,” Fergus said under his breath.

  All of them turned to see Skye’s brother Stewart descending the stairs, a scowl clearly evident on his face. Behind him, Allison—her brows only half-plucked because Skye had run out when she’d gotten news of Duncan’s arrival—was being escorted down the stairs by her own brother.

  Skye couldn’t hold back her own scowl when she saw him. “What’s Harold doing here?”

  Allison’s brother Harold was even more of a pain in the arse than she was. After his visits, large amounts of gold always went missing from the coffers. Skye had always suspected it either he was stealing it from Allison and Stewart, or the man was whining to his sister to steal it for him.

  Even now, the man was dressed above his status in a fine velvet robe, despite the heat of the day. He and Allison were as alike as twins, with their bushy orange brows and frizzy curls.