The Devil in Plaid

by Lily Baldwin

  Fury coursed through him. He turned away from her, his hands gripping the mantle.

  “Speak to me, Jamie.”

  “I am angry,” he growled. He turned to face her. “Not at ye. I am angry at our fate.” He shook his head. “Ye cannot go. I will find another way, one that does not put ye at risk.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye’re my husband, and I am ye’re wife—but not first. First, we are laird and lady. This is my duty.”

  “Nay, ‘tis mine,” he barked.

  She took a deep breath. He watched her grapple for control. At length, she said in a steady voice. “I am capable of more than making yer keep smell nice. I can do this, Jamie.” She took his hand, her eyes beseeching. “Let me do this.”

  He expelled a slow breath and cupped her cheeks. “Ye’re a stubborn woman and great lady, Fiona MacDonnell.”

  A smile curved her lips. “Fiona MacLeod, if ye please.”

  He kissed her. “I do please.”

  “Then I can go?”

  “I cannot promise that I will not recant what I am about to say, but…” He expelled another rush of air. “Aye, ye will take this Hamish and his son our message, but only Alasdair and Matthew can know. In the final hours after we march, I will reveal the truth of our plan to the rest of the warriors.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “This is the right course. Three clans will join together for lasting peace.” She stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I will be there and back before ye even have time to worry.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Fiona stole into the lady’s chambers. Careful not to wake Abby, she tiptoed across the floor with a candle in hand to Esme’s side of the bed and nudged her sleeping maid awake.

  Esme stirred. Her eyes blinked. Then her lids flew open. Fiona quickly brought her finger to her own lips, ensuring Esme did not speak. She motioned for her maid to follow. Hearing Esme’s soft footsteps padding behind her, Fiona carefully eased the door open and passed into Jamie’s empty chamber.

  “My lady, what is—” Esme started to say, but then she faltered. Her gaze traveled over Fiona’s person. “Why are ye dressed?”

  Fiona clasped Esme’s hands and held them close to her heart. “I cannot tell ye where I’m going, but I know I can trust ye to keep silent. And I need ye to help subdue wagging tongues. If anyone asks after me, tell them I awoke with a headache and took to bed. Will ye do that?”

  Esme nodded. “Of course I will, my lady, although I do wish ye’d tell where ye’re going?”

  Fiona shook her head. “I cannot, but I promise ye, I will be well-protected.”

  “But, my lady,” Esme began, only to shake her head a moment later. “I know better than to argue with ye when ye’ve made up yer mind.” She expelled a long breath. “Ye have my word.” Esme pulled her into a crushing embrace. “Be careful, dear one.”

  Fiona returned her beloved maid’s hug. “I will be back well after nightfall on the morrow.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Now, back to bed with ye, and remember, do not say a word—to anyone.”

  “I promise, my lady.”

  Fiona galloped across the rolling moorland, gray and violet beneath the light of the full moon. Flanked by Matthew on one side and Alasdair on the other, she felt cocooned by strength and unquestionable loyalty. Still, the darkness was a constant reminder of the risk she took, but she would face any danger if it meant saving her clan.

  Being a leader meant sacrifice—a lesson her parents had instilled within her from an early age. Her nobility came with great privilege and even greater responsibility. It was for her people that she rode, for the children she prayed to God she one day would bear, and their children.

  “We should reach MacKenzie territory before first light,” Matthew called to her over the din of their horses’ hooves.

  “Good,” Fiona said in approval. First light was the perfect hour to pay a busy fisherman and his young son a visit.

  Hamish MacKenzie was a kind man with a ring of flaxen hair around his otherwise bald head. His son, Finn, was a hardworking and obedient lad, and his father’s pride. Fiona had not visited their seaside hut on her last visit to the MacKenzie fortress, but she had encountered Finn on his daily deliveries to the keep several times during her stay.

  With confidence, she drove her heels into her horse’s flanks to reach their destination faster. As the sky began to lighten, she saw a small croft in the distance. A thin line of silver smoke curled out from the rooftop.

  “We’re nearly there,” she called to Matthew. Her pulse raced. Wind whipped through her hair. She could not wait to see the look of surprise on Finn’s face when she galloped up to his doorstep.

  “Blast,” Alasdair shouted. “Look to the East!”

  Fiona sucked in a sharp breath and yanked on her reins. In the distance, half a dozen MacKenzie warriors crested the top of a gentle slope.

  “They’ve not seen us,” Matthew said. He jerked his horse about.

  “There’s no place to hide,” Alasdair shouted. “Our horses are spent. We cannot out run them.”

  “They may not be loyal to Ranulf,” Fiona cried. “They could be allies.”

  “I pray ye’re right, my lady,” Alasdair muttered. “They’ve spotted us.”

  Fiona’s chest tightened as the unknown warriors raced toward them.

  What if they were Ranulf’s men?

  Her gaze darted across the bare moors. “What are we to do?” Her heart pounded. “We must do something!”

  “Stay calm,” Matthew snapped.

  A moment later, they were surrounded.

  “Praise be to Mary and all the Saints,” Fiona gasped when she recognized one of the men. “Good Morrow, Captain Tormod.”

  Tormod’s eyes narrowed on her. Nothing about his manner or expression was reassuring.

  “Ye know me, Captain. ‘Tis I, Lady Fiona MacLeod, formerly of the clan MacDonnell. I was betrothed to Adam.”

  “We ken who ye are,” Tormod snarled.

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  Alasdair drew his blade, angling his horse in front of Fiona’s. An instant later, the MacKenzie warriors unsheathed their own swords.

  “Nay,” Fiona cried at the fierce men.

  “Stay between us, my lady,” Matthew shouted, moving his horse on the other side of her.

  “We are allies,” she pleaded.

  “She lies,” Tormod shouted.

  Alasdair growled. “Ye will not speak of my lady in such a way!”

  “Please,” she beseeched. “I have come as friend to the Clan MacKenzie. Will ye not welcome me as ye once did?”

  Tormod lowered his blade, but his eyes flashed with anger. “Ye claim to be friend to the Clan MacKenzie, do ye? Ye who have raided and slaughtered our people!”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. “We are not guilty of those crimes.”

  “Lies,” Tormod snarled. “I saw yer men with my own eyes. I saw the colors of the MacDonnell and the MacLeod. There are other witnesses, too.”

  Fiona shook her head. “Ye’ve been played false. ‘Tis Ranulf MacKenzie, no doubt, seeking to gain yer loyalty by pitting ye against us. But, Captain, ye must believe me. We want to help ye.”

  “What help could ye possibly give us?”

  “My husband, Jamie MacLeod, has amassed an army. His kin from the isles have joined ranks with my father’s warriors. As we speak, they are preparing to march from Làidir.”

  Tormod glared at her. “Then ye admit ye mean to attack.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Nay, Captain Tormod. Hear me out. We’ve not wronged ye. Ranulf has put our colors on his ruthless gang and killed yer people to confuse loyalties.”

  Tormod shook his head. “That cannot be.”

  “And why not?” Fiona scoffed. “He killed yer laird. He killed Adam. Do ye believe there are limits to his depravity?”

  Tormod held her gaze. She could tell that he weighed her words.

  “We m
arch to aid yer people,” she insisted. “We want to help ye take back yer clan.”

  Tormod slumped in his saddle. “I no longer know what truth is.”

  She nudged her horse closer. “Captain, our Lord is truth.” Then she slid to the ground. “The son of God does not live in the heart of Ranulf MacKenzie.”

  “Lady Fiona,” Alasdair snapped. “What are ye doing?”

  She crossed to the captain’s side. “Take me,” she said. “Take me as yer guarantee.”

  “Nay, my lady,” Matthew shouted.

  Fiona ignored his protests. She crossed her wrists in surrender and looked up into the captain’s surprised gaze. “My laird is ready to march and fight on behalf of yer people. This madness stops here. If ye doubt my word, then take me. If I’ve lied, and my laird attacks out of greed, then ye can stay his hand with me as yer captive.”

  The captain reached down and seized her, lifting her onto his horse. In a flash, the clang of metal rang out as Matthew and Alasdair attacked the surrounding MacKenzie warriors.

  “Nay,” she cried.

  “Stand down,” the captain called out.

  Heaving warriors surrounded her, their faces strained, their blades at the ready. Alasdair and Matthew glared at the captain.

  “Release Lady Fiona,” Matthew demanded.

  “Ye’re both under my command,” she snapped at her men. “Return now to Làidir. Tell my laird to keep to our plan. Tell him Ranulf MacKenzie has tried to sully our name, and that I’ve offered myself in goodwill to our allies. Tell him to look for the torch fire.” She choked down the sudden fear forming a knot in her throat.” Her voice softened. “Tell him that I love him.” Grasping for courage, she straightened in her seat. “Go now,” she urged.

  She could see the struggle on Matthew and Alasdair’s faces, but even if they wanted to flout her command, they were outnumbered.

  “Where will ye keep her? The dungeon?” Alasdair thundered.

  “She will be kept in the high tower. If the MacLeod is good on his word, and ye’re indeed our allies, then she will be released when we are all victorious.”

  Matthew’s nostrils flared. “If she is harmed or if ye betray us and hold with the wretch Ranulf, know that Laird MacLeod’s wrath will be delivered ten-fold.”

  Fiona watched as her men turned their horses around and galloped away.

  “I hope ye know what ye’re doing, my lady,” Tormod said behind her as he turned his horse around.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said, her voice steady, despite the shiver of fear coursing up her spine. “Ye just focus on the plan ahead. How will ye get me into the keep without Ranulf finding out?”

  She could feel the captain’s heart beating against her back. “I will sneak ye in through an unguarded passage, known only to the laird of the keep who is dead and me, his first captain. I will have to blindfold ye, of course.”

  “I understand,” she said. Then she turned and looked Tormod in the eye. “I spoke the truth, Captain. We have not raided yer people. Ye must believe me.”

  Tormod sighed, and his face softened. “The horror of these last weeks have been so great, ‘tis hard to know who to trust or believe. But I once believed ye to be the perfect wife for young Adam.” His voice broke. “God’s blood, Ranulf’s villainy is too great. He took the life of good men and has pitted us against one another.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Ye can trust me. In two days’ time an army will march to yer aid. If my laird sees three torches lit side by side on the eastern parapet, he will know we have an accord. Open the gates and let our men inside. Together, we will rid yer keep of Ranulf and his men.”

  Once again, his face went cold. “Open the gates to an army? How can I know the MacLeod does not seek to conquer us?”

  She looked at him boldly. “Because ye hold his wife prisoner.”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “What do you mean ye left her with them?” Jamie growled.

  “She surrendered herself into the captain’s possession,” Alasdair explained.

  Jamie’s fists clenched tight. “My wife has proven herself to be a shrewd and sensible woman. Why would she give herself over to the MacKenzie?”

  “She did so to gain their trust.”

  “But why would this captain need reassurance of my word? Our clans have never feuded.”

  Matthew stepped forward. “He claimed that men wearing our clans’ colors have raided MacKenzie land, killing innocent people.”

  Jamie’s eyes widened. “That’s a lie.”

  “Lady Fiona told him that Ranulf had to be behind the attacks, not our clans. She told him that ye had an army ready to march and would join ranks with Clan MacKenzie, but the captain refused to take her at her word,” Alasdair explained.

  “That was when she offered herself as a guarantee,” Matthew added.

  Jamie raked his hands through his hair. “Why would she do that?”

  Alasdair came forward. “Because, my lord, she did what was needed to move our plan forward. She did what was needed to safeguard her people.”

  “Damnation,” Jamie said through gritted teeth. He wanted to hit something, to beat something to the ground. “I…I…” He whirled around, seizing Matthew by his shirt and plaid. “I need to get my wife back!”

  “Listen to me,” Matthew said. “I can see ye’re incensed and rightfully so. Ye’re worried and—”

  “And ready to kill someone, so tread carefully,” Jamie snarled.

  “I do not condone what yer wife did, but I do admire her courage and her quick thinking. We have a plan that puts the lives of innocent people first—”

  “Is my wife not innocent?” Jamie shouted.

  “Of course,” Matthew snapped. “But our enemy is still one man and his henchmen, not the entirety of the clan MacKenzie. Yer wife made a difficult choice to preserve yer plan, to ensure a clan war doesn’t start. Have faith in her. Have faith in the strength of yer alliance. Do not make her sacrifice in vain by now marching on the keep.”

  Jamie’s mind raced. “How can ye be sure she isn’t in danger?”

  “We cannot be certain, but one way to ensure her life is forfeit is to attack. She made them a promise—that you amassed an army to free their clan. If ye act contrary, then ye put her life at risk. All we can do is to protect the trust she has earned.”

  Jamie’s heart pounded, drumming in his head. A cry of rage tore from his lips as he released Matthew and seized the table beside his highbacked chair and threw it against the wall. The wood splintered. His chest heaved as he fought for control. He whirled around and faced his men. “All right. We proceed as planned. But know this—if any harm befalls her, I will bring my vengeance upon the clan MacKenzie ten-fold.”

  “Trust me,” Matthew said. “I made that very clear.”

  A soft rapping sounded at the door. Jamie whirled about. “Enter,” he growled.

  His eyes widened in surprise when the door swung open and Esme and Abby rushed into the solar. They both dipped into a deep courtesy before Esme blurted, “Forgive me, my laird. My lady confided in me about leaving Castle Làidir last night, but she told me to expect her return by now. I know I’ve overstepped the boundaries of decorum by coming to ye, but Fiona is more than my lady, she is my dearest friend. I wanted to ask why she has not returned, but we heard ye shouting through the door. And now I ken.” Breathless, Esme clasped her hand to her bosom.

  Abby stared up at him, her face ashen. “Has she really been taken by the MacKenzie?”

  “Blast,” Jamie cursed, ushering the women further into the room. He looked out the door to see if anyone else might have overheard his tirade, but the corridor was empty. Raking his hand through his hair, he turned back, locking eyes with Esme. “What did she tell ye exactly?”

  “Only that she had to leave the keep, but she did not tell me where she was going or why,” Esme answered.

  “She told ye nothing else?”

  Esme shook her head.

  Jam
ie was relieved to know that the nature of their plan was not known to the maids. “Yer lady is inside the MacKenzie keep. She was taken by one of the guards.”

  “Ye must get her back,” Abby cried.

  Jamie put out a calming hand. “I intend to, but ye must say nothing, not to anyone. Do ye understand? Yer lady’s safety depends upon yer silence.”

  Esme’s face hardened. “I pray ye march swiftly upon the MacKenzie and show no mercy.”

  Jamie’s nostrils flared. “I promise ye, Esme. I will bring our lady home.”

  Chapter Thirty

  When Fiona had journeyed to Clan MacKenzie to spend time with Adam and his family, she had always looked for the high tower from the road. It was the tallest point of the MacKenzie stronghold. Whenever she glimpsed the banner waving from the high turret, Fiona knew their journey was nearly at an end. But Fiona never could have imagined that the tower, which had once been a beacon of hope, would one day become her prison.

  She paced the narrow circumference. There was no casement. One day had passed or could it have been two? She knew not the hour or even whether it was day or night. She had the light of one fat candle by which to see. She felt purposeful and helpless all at the same time.

  On several occasions, she had questioned her sanity—she had surrendered herself to another clan. Now, she was leagues from Jamie and all she held dear.

  Her heart started to race, but she shook her head against the doubt that once more invaded her thoughts.

  Clan MacKenzie was not her enemy.

  Ranulf and his gang of brutal mercenaries—they alone deserved her scorn, and thankfully, they did not know she was so close at hand.

  She imagined Ranulf moving beneath her, somewhere in the keep, planning his dominance over the region; all the while, those he would suppress had their own scheme—one that would unite the clans against him.