Maura took a shuddering breath. “They might know something of Rosie!”
“Aye. And they might see fit to cut your throat with nary a by-your-leave.”
Dugan did not enjoy having to put the fear of God into Maura, but he knew how rash she could be. She was impulsive and reckless, and so outrageously alluring, he was hard-pressed to keep from pulling her into his arms and raining kisses on every inch of her body and making her promise to take care. For him. For his peace of mind.
But he followed her down the stairs and stayed to watch for a moment as Maura joined the women and children in the hall. Without a pause, she took a screeching bairn from its mother so the woman could tend to her frightened younger children. She spoke quietly to the woman, who calmed visibly at her words. She moved among the others who had gathered for safety, turning chaos into order by assigning tasks and gathering children together for games.
She was as capable as any great laird’s wife, staying calm, keeping her dignity, and reassuring everyone that all would be well. Dugan gritted his teeth at the injustice of fate and went outside.
A light drizzle had begun by the time Dugan joined the rest of the men. MacDonnall had lined them up into a tight formation while they waited for the return of his scouts. He quickly led them out and away from the village to face the visitors, far from the women and children. Dugan rode to the front beside MacDonnall, his sword at the ready.
Two MacKay riders approached and shouted a greeting.
“We come on behalf of Laird Robert MacKay. In peace.” The two men were unarmed, but for the sgian dubh in their hose. The small knives were more ceremonial than lethal, and would do them no good against MacDonnall’s army.
But Dugan did not relax. Not yet.
“What is Laird MacKay’s business here?” MacDonnall called back.
“Our journey is only for our laird to speak of. He wishes to confer with you.”
MacDonnall hesitated for an instant. “Yer laird is welcome to join me in my keep.”
“And his brother as well, Laird?”
“Aye. He may bring one other. The rest of you stay where you are.”
The MacKay messengers gave a nod, then turned and rode back to the phalanx of highlanders wearing the MacKay plaid.
“No need for us to sit out here in the mizzle,” MacDonnall said to Dugan. He rode back to the keep and dismounted. “We can send the women back to their homes.”
Dugan agreed. He sensed no threat from the MacKays.
They cleared the hall, but Maura remained when Robert MacKay and his brother, Struan, arrived.
The formalities were observed, and when they had sat down to a table laid with ale and bread, the MacKay came to the point of his visit. “We are looking for a place called Kinlochleven. My brother believes we should have reached it by now.”
The hair on the back of Dugan’s neck stood up. He could think of no good reason for a northwestern laird to travel all the way to Kinlochleven, unless he was looking for something and someone in particular.
Hector Mackenzie and his piece of the map.
“Have ye kin there?” MacDonnall asked.
“No kin, MacDonnall, but a quest that is too private to speak of.”
“Aye, then. I’ll respect that.”
“Kinlochleven is still a long way off, MacKay,” Dugan said. “You still have several days more travel.”
The MacKay frowned and scrubbed one hand across his beard. “Then we are headed aright? We’ll come upon it if we keep up our present course?”
“I’ll draw a map for you,” Dugan said, though he knew a map would do him no good. Because Mackenzie had already sold his piece of the damned map. Dugan could not help but wonder if the MacKay possessed the fourth quarter of it.
The man’s quest added an urgency to Dugan’s. Perhaps the MacKay laird had started with more information than what Dugan’s grandfather had told him. If he had additional information . . . Mayhap he would turn up in the exact place where Maura was leading them.
“You are from the north country, Laird MacKay?” Maura asked.
“Aye,” the two men replied in unison.
“Do you know of Loch Camerochlan, then?”
“Ach, aye. ’Tis not far from our own lands,” MacKay said. He frowned and shook his head. “How do ye know Camerochlan? ’Tis a wee, out-of-the-way place.”
“I know someone there. A woman named Tilda Crane.”
The MacKay brothers looked at each other, then at Maura. “Then we’ve bad news for ye, lass,” said the laird. “Tilda Crane died but a few weeks ago.”
“What!” Maura jumped up from her chair. “Died? How?”
“She drowned.”
Chapter 28
Maura’s brain froze inside her skull. Drowned? Tilda Crane was dead?
She came to her feet in a rush. “What of the child, the crippled girl in her care?”
The two MacKays shook their heads. “We do’na know of any child, lass.”
“But you must! Tilda Crane was her nurse,” Maura cried. “Who is taking care of Rosie now?”
“Rosie?” The MacKay laird’s expression was one of puzzlement.
“Lass, we do not typically spend any time at Loch Camerochlan,” Struan said, “but only happened to pass through on our way south.”
“ ’Tis the only reason we heard of the woman’s death, for drownings are not common.”
Maura made a dash for the staircase. She ignored the voices calling to her, so desperate was she to be on her way to find Rosie. If Tilda was gone, then who was taking care of her sister? Was she still at the loch?
She ran up to the solar and shoved her few belongings into her traveling bag, only to be whirled ’round by a pair of strong hands.
“What are you doing?” he growled.
“What does it look like, Dugan?” she demanded, shoving her hair back behind her ear.
“You are acting rashly. Just because—”
“My sister—my helpless sister—has been left to fend for herself, and you think I should remain calm? You do not understand, Dugan. Rosie is . . .” She swallowed back her tears. “She is all I have.”
“Maura, I’m only saying—”
“Saying what? That she is all right on her own? She is not, Dugan! She needs care, and as despicable as Tilda Crane might have been—at least she took care of my sister.”
“Maura . . .”
“Who has been caring for Rosie since the Crane woman’s death? Do you think anyone at the loch would take in my poor crippled Rosie?”
“Aye, lass. I do,” he said gently, and Maura felt tears roll down her cheeks. “ ’Tis what highlanders do.”
“I must get to her.”
“Aye, you will. I’ll take you there.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Will that be before or after you turn me over to Baron Kildary?”
He muttered a low curse and Maura knew his answer.
She turned away to fasten the ties on her bag.
“Maura, all this time, we’ve been traveling in the direction of Loch Camerochlan.”
“So?”
“Unless you’ve been misleading us, the treasure is on our way there. Give me the clues.”
Despair shuddered through her. “Give you the clues?”
“Aye.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, implacable.
Maura stood frozen in place. She knew Dugan was just as dedicated to his clan as she was to Rosie. But neither of them could count on the gold being where the clues indicated. If they did not find it at Loch Aveboyne—
She had to get away. “We’re wasting time.” She went for the door.
“Maura—”
She turned to face him. “If I give you the clues, will you let me go on my own to Loch Camerochlan?” she demanded.
He remained silent.
Dugan wanted nothing more than to promise Maura he would take her to Loch Camerochlan himself.
But ’twould be an empty promise. If they did not find
the treasure at the place where she led them, he had to make use of the only other method he had to acquire the funds he needed.
The ransom.
It went against everything in him to turn her over to Kildary, but he hoped and prayed it would not come to that. He remembered a few unsavory bits of gossip about the man and if any of them were true . . .
Gesu.
The MacKays were already outside mounting their horses and starting to ride away when Dugan reached the hall. Maura was taking her leave of Angus MacDonnall, clearly anxious to get started.
“Lass, I could see the MacKays’ news was not good.”
“No, Laird, ’twas not. I must be away immediately.”
MacDonnall looked over her head at Dugan. “I regret yer visit must be cut so short,” MacDonnall said. Then he winked. “We were only beginning to know each other.”
Dugan bristled at his old friend’s blatantly flirtatious gesture. “She’s coming with me, MacDonnall.”
“Your kinswoman appears to have a mind and a purpose of her own, MacMillan.”
Aye, that she did. And if she were more reasonable, she would have shown him the clues she’d seen on the map long before now. ’Twas entirely possible Dugan would have known a better route to the site, and his need to make haste was all the more important now that the MacKays were on their way to Kinlochleven. Though they would be days behind him once they reached Hector Mackenzie’s village, Dugan could not afford to waste any time at all.
Maura started out the door, but MacDonnall stopped her, taking her by the shoulders. He planted a kiss on each of her cheeks.
Dugan felt his face heat and his teeth clench as he watched Angus’s display of affection. One more minute of it and he would have to—
MacDonnall released her. “Fare thee well for now, then, lass. And good luck to ye.”
“Thank you, Laird.”
“Mayhap I will come and pay you a visit at Braemore Keep. ’Tis a long time since I was up in MacMillan territory.” He gave Dugan a sly glance. “How will that suit ye, Dugan?”
Dugan mumbled a disparaging remark but did not mention how unlikely it was that Maura Duncanson would ever set foot onto MacMillan lands. ’Twould require explanations Dugan had no intention of giving.
They walked outside where Dugan saw that the misty rain had not abated. “Ride ahead,” he ordered his men. “We’ll be right behind you.” He turned to Maura. “Maura, you’ll drive the wagon.”
She bit her lip and looked up dubiously at the high bench.
“Allow me,” MacDonnall said, assisting her to climb up to it.
“MacDonnall, have you an extra length of wool to spare?” Dugan asked.
“Of course—the servants will see to it,” the laird replied, sending one of the lads into the keep with Dugan’s request.
“Dugan, we are wasting time,” Maura said.
“Only another minute more.”
He could see that her anxiety was far from abating, and she shot a frustrated glance in Dugan’s direction. He ignored it and waited for a servant to return with the cloth he’d requested. She might not thank him for it now, but he knew she would appreciate it later.
“ ’Tis plain t’ see ye’re upset,” MacDonnall said, holding her hand and lingering over it. “I pray yer travels take ye to happier news.”
Her chin began to tremble and Dugan saw tears fill her eyes. He turned away.
“You are very kind, Laird,” she said to MacDonnall.
One of the servants came out of the hall with a long, heavy length of MacDonnall plaid and gave it to Dugan.
He climbed up to Maura, pleased as hell to put an end to Maura’s tête-à-tête with Angus and to get on the road again. “This will help to keep the rain off you,” he said as he wrapped the cloth ’round her head and shoulders. “I don’t want you to become ill.”
“No, of course not,” she said with a catch in her voice.
She took the reins in hand and Dugan jumped down from the wagon. “Here are my gloves,” he said, handing her the worn leather.
Maura pulled on the gloves, but her hands were nowhere near large enough to keep them from falling off.
“Wait,” he told her.
“I think mayhap the lass ought to ride your horse, Dugan,” said MacDonnall, “and you drive the wagon.”
“Not today,” Dugan retorted as he pulled two lengths of thin leather from his pack. MacDonnall knew naught . . . he had no idea how uncomfortable Maura had been after a day on horseback—or why. He was loath to cause her any more pain.
He returned to her. “Give me your hands.”
She reached down to him and he savored the moment of contact as he tied a band of leather ’round each of her wrists to keep the gloves securely in place.
“Thank you.” The tears she’d been holding back spilled down her face and she wiped them away with her gloved hand.
“You can do this?” he asked. Her tears would remain forever on those gloves.
She sniffed. “Yes. Of course.”
“That’s the brake,” he said, “next to your left foot.”
“I won’t need a brake, Dugan. I have no intention of stopping.”
The slow pace made Maura frantic. She had no idea how long it would take to get to Loch Camerochlan, but she needed to get there as quickly as possible. Dear Lord, Rosie was on her own.
The thought of how her fragile sister fared without her nurse gave her a chill.
Mayhap she should have pleaded her case before Laird MacDonnall. He might have helped her . . .
She nearly laughed through her tears. The MacDonnall did not know she was a Duncanson, and was unlikely to take kindly to that information. He did not know Dugan was after the French treasure, and Maura did not want to consider what Laird MacDonnall might do if he knew they had what they needed to find the site.
“Slow down, Maura.”
“But Dugan—”
“You risk breaking a wheel at this pace.”
“Then let’s rid ourselves of the wagon,” she cried. “I can ride with you as I’ve done before!”
The exasperating man shook his head. “With the extra weight, Glencoe would have to go even slower. Besides, we’ll need the wagon. For the gold.”
Maura swallowed back her tears. She had driven a conveyance like this only once before, with Deirdre Elliott’s husband, and they had gone even slower, though they’d had a clear path.
She had to follow Dugan’s instructions or risk delaying their progress even further. But her worries did not subside.
“Dugan, I’ve heard that highlanders are superstitious,” she said.
“No more than anyone,” he replied.
“Do you think the people at Camerochlan will consider my sister bad luck?”
“Why would they?”
“Because she is different!” Maura cried. Hadn’t she explained Rosie’s difficulties to him before? “She can speak only a few words . . . and her spine is crooked, which makes it difficult for her to walk.”
“Maura—”
“And the Crane woman drowned! Won’t that be construed badly?”
Dugan shook his head. “Highlanders are a hospitable lot, Maura. They are more likely to give Rosie shelter than shun her.”
“If you are just saying that to—”
“Maura, have you yet encountered an unfriendly highlander?”
“I—”
“Or been shown anything but hospitality since leaving Fort William?”
“Only from the MacMillan laird, who still plans to give me to that horrid Kildary, without a care!”
It hurt her deeply. In spite of the moments of exquisite tenderness between them, Dugan still did not deny that the baron owned her. Not even in the heat of passion. Or now, when he knew Rosie’s peril.
Maura did not know what to do. If she could get away from the MacMillans, she would do so immediately. But she was not in possession of the map, and she knew only the general direction of Loch Camerochlan. She’d a
lways felt she’d be able to find her way there, but Dugan wasn’t about to let her go free. She had no choice but to take him to Loch Aveboyne and show him the clues.
She prayed no one had already gone there searching for the treasure and taken it.
Dugan did not like seeing Maura in pain, and what she was suffering physically on that hard bench was only a small part of her anguish. She had risked everything to get away from Lieutenant Baird, only to fall directly into Dugan’s scheme to collect the money he needed from Baron Kildary.
’Twas hardly an honorable thing to do, but he could never forget his responsibility to his clan.
“Dugan, please let me go,” she said. “If you promise to set me free, I’ll give you the clues.”
“You would go all the way to Loch Camerochlan alone?”
“What difference will it make to you? You’ll have your gold and I’ll have my sister.”
But it did make a difference. The idea of Maura traveling alone through the wild northern highlands made his blood turn cold. Oh aye, highlanders were hospitable people, but Dugan had not forgotten the highwaymen who’d accosted her when she was barely out of Fort William. And he knew there were plenty more of those lurking about these cliffs and crags.
“This is the route to Loch Camerochlan, Maura,” he said. “We continue as before.”
Maura’s silence as she drove the wagon through the glen was like a wall between them. He understood her worry about Rosie, but the lass had been without her caretaker for some time, according to the MacKays. Either she’d survived with the help of others at Camerochlan, or she’d already perished. Another few days’ delay would make no difference.
“Where do we go once we reach Loch Monar?” Dugan asked.
“North,” she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
Dugan considered the possibility that she would lead them all the way to Loch Camerochlan and bypass the site of the treasure altogether.
“Pull up, Maura,” he said. “Let’s have a look at the map.”
“I know where I’m going, Dugan.”
“That may be,” he said without giving voice to his concerns. “Did you know the Duke of Argyll is likely to be at Loch Monar, already searching for the treasure?”
The Warrior Laird Page 23
