Turning back towards Drumlui Keep, Alan planned his search. On the morrow, he would head west and search out signs of their destination. By the time the keep settled for the night, he was packed and ready to leave at first light.
* * *
He rode west away from Glenlui until signs of them disappeared. That led him to the far side of the mountains where the entrance to the camp lay hidden. But, before he could follow the secret path on to the mountain, the winds shifted and a storm arrived out of nowhere. From the intensity of the change in direction and from the coldness that now blew across the land, Alan knew he needed to find or make a place to sit this out.
He came upon the shieling just as the snow and wild winds made travelling impossible. Once he’d tied his horse inside the shelter of the dwelling’s back wall, he tugged off the blanket and saddle and dragged all his supplies and such into the meagre hut. Not much more than four walls and sod roof, it would still give him some refuge from the dangerous weather.
Alan pushed the layers of tartan off his head and looked around the small space. A wooden pallet would keep him off the ground and somewhat dry. When he opened the small chest in the corner, a few sacks of staple foods were revealed, along with a jar of honey and a heavy girdle on which to cook. A stack of peat along with some logs lay in the corner.
The Mackintosh made certain these shelters could keep someone who needed them alive for some time. Which was practical in these remote areas where they grazed their cattle before taking them to market. It meant that a man could stay here and oversee the herd. And now, in the time of the change of the seasons, it meant surviving when the winds turned against you.
* * *
Though the snow had changed to rain two days later, the winds whipped it across the land, making it foolhardy to fight. Then, with another two days of torrential rains, the road back to Glenlui as well as the one up the mountainside were unpassable. Oh, he tried, but sank into the mud that seemed almost knee-deep in places.
Any signs left behind were gone for ever, so Alan simply bided his time while the spring storm blew itself out. He was not worried, for, if he could not travel in this, neither could those holding Fia.
Chapter Nine
When she finally had given up fighting his hold on her, Niall felt all the tightness in her disappear at once. As quickly as the panic and fear had begun, it finished with her collapse. He did not release her then, choosing to hold her close. To keep her warm, he told himself even though he knew there was another reason.
He wanted her. He wanted to have her.
She surprised him with every word she spoke and action she took. Even this emotional torrent that came out of nowhere like the storm that still raged outside was unexpected in its timing and strength. He thought she would have fought him off or tried to escape much sooner than this. But his rather cross tease about her Dougal had triggered it.
She’d been struggling to keep going and had probably not even thought about the repercussions that would face her if she returned home. She was correct—a woman would be counted ruined by his, their, actions even if he did not touch her again. Even though the only thing she had given up was a searing kiss. It mattered not to their common laws or the Church.
If this had happened when he was Lord Niall Corbett, certain behaviours would be expected.
Well, first, he would not dally with a virgin who worked in service to him or his family. Oh, no one would question his right to do so, but he’d never been one to pursue any woman who did know what she was doing in the bedchamber. If she had been gently or nobly born, he would be expected to marry her. Whether he’d actually taken her virtue or not, keeping her in his intimate company for as long as he had and sleeping with her every night would have forced a marriage contract.
But he was Iain Dubh, thief and ransacker of villages, secret agent for the King, in the company of rogues who were being paid to bring trouble to the lands of Brodie Mackintosh. And she gave no sign of being anything other than a common villager with hopes of marrying hapless Dougal.
It was a harsh assessment, but one he needed to make to keep him on task in spite of the temptation she was. If, when this was all sorted out to his satisfaction, he—Lord Niall—could do something to ease her way, he would.
Aye, ’twas his fault that she was involved at all. If he’d been paying attention to his role in the attack on Drumlui, he would never have noticed the brown-haired, green-eyed beauty walk by him. And he would not have dawdled watching her discussion with hapless Dougal. Things might have gone differently and the young man might have convinced her of his worth and they might have been kissing in the shadows instead of her running into the thick of things.
Whom was he trying to convince of this foolery? He would have noticed her anywhere and she, with her stubborn bravery, would always run into trouble instead of away from it. Even now, when she should still be resisting him, she turned to him in sleep and accepted his comfort.
* * *
Though the winds and rain had lulled him into sleep, he did not remain there. When morning, or this day’s excuse for it, arrived, he lay awake trying to see his way out of this. When the weather cleared, Lundie would leave and seek out their sponsor for the next target and for their payment for the last. By the time he returned, Niall would have reached the end of the fortnight Lundie had ordered.
What could he do with her? He could not leave here now to take her to safety. Knowing the Mackintosh, there would be men out searching for the ones responsible for the attacks...and for the lass. The man was relentless in protecting his lands and his people. Only with their stealth and speed and with the guidance of the man pulling their strings had they managed to stay ahead of his retaliation.
The lass had changed that. And the storms.
As though his thoughts had wakened her, Niall felt her body tense as she came awake. Her indrawn breath warned him of her fear.
‘Good morrow,’ he said, easing his arms from around her. ‘I wish I could tell you the storm has moved on, but alas, it has not.’ He kept his tone even and calm, giving her a chance to get her bearings.
Faster than he would have thought possible, she rolled from his side, tugged her cloak free and jumped to her feet. Backing away, she stumbled until she hit the wall.
‘Have a care for your...’
Too late, for she bumped her head against the stone and winced. He pushed back the rest of the blankets that she had not dragged free and stood. She reached up and touched the side of her head where she’d been hit. Nodding, she seemed to gather her wits and walked around the cave, setting this and that to rights. Without a word being spoken, she gathered up her mended gown and folded it neatly, placing the needle and thread back in the wooden box now.
‘So, how long can this last?’ he asked.
‘Spring storms are the most unpredictable here in the Highlands,’ she said without looking away from the task she’d set for herself.
She seemed to do anything that would keep her from his immediate area or that would have her pass him by, as though she thought he would reach out and grab hold of her and force another ‘boon’ from her. He would not mind another searing kiss but from the way she avoided him, it had not affected her in the same way.
Or it had and she was trying to ignore or deny it.
He thought the latter.
Thinking on it, he knew it was the latter. She had melted into him, leaning against him, sighing against him and even touching him in spite of her claim she would never do such a thing.
‘So, a few more hours? Days? What would your guess be if you made one about this particular storm?’
She stopped and stood, tilting her head to one side and listening. Another loud crack signalled more damage from the powerful winds. She closed her eyes and he fought the urge to kiss that tempting mouth once more. But, more kisse
s would simply bring more danger to an already perilous situation between them. Lucky for him, she opened her eyes then, ending the dreamy expression she wore with a frown aimed at him.
‘When the winds shift to the other direction, it’s a sign of the coming end. From the feel of this one, another day, two at most,’ she said. ‘The good thing is that ’tis rain now instead of snow. If the snows continued, we could have been trapped here for weeks.’
He would not mind a few weeks with her, peeling back the layers of stubborn innocence to reveal the truth beneath. She spared him one glance as though his thoughts were apparent. Well, if she looked lower than his belt, they would be.
Even two more days would require something more than the few strips of dried meat among their supplies. Niall leaned against the wall, observing her very methodical approach to cleaning. She searched through the sacks and boxes there and separated the foodstuffs from the other sacks, placing them away from the opening of the cave. When she realised he was watching her every move and action, she pushed her hair back and shrugged.
‘’Twill keep them dry and from drawing the attention of creatures who might seek shelter from this storm, too.’
Practical. Eminently practical and experienced, too.
Niall realised now that this was their weakness—not a man among them was from this area of Scotland. If their plan had involved one or two short attacks, quickly done, then that would not matter. But on a longer undertaking, having someone who knew the area and, by God, the storms, would have been helpful.
He also understood the reasons for hiring men without ties to the area—no loyalty to those they targeted, dependence on their leader, easily dispensable for there would be no one to notice their absence. The last one worried him, though he knew it would be part of any endeavour like this—witnesses, anyone with knowledge who could tie the attacks to someone other than The Camerons as was the plan, would need to disappear when all this was done.
His companions might not have figured that out yet. They did not think ahead or above the basic arrangement they’d agreed to. Attacks for gold. They mayhap even thought they would walk away with that gold when all this was done. Niall knew better, for anyone powerful enough to manipulate these two Highland clans would not leave witnesses. Lundie would survive only if his connection to their puppet master was one of strong kinship.
Did Lundie know the way this would go? Niall suspected he did. Lost in his thoughts about the coming weeks and his quest, he’d not noticed that she’d stopped moving about. She stood now studying one corner of the cave where a small niche was formed out of the rock from ground to ceiling.
‘What is it?’ he asked, coming to her side. Examining the unnoticed alcove now, Niall found traces of black soot coating the wall, surely a sign of past fires.
‘Does it not look as though fires may have burned there?’ She voiced his very suspicion.
Niall reached up and followed the stone until he found the softer patch of soil. Pushing against it, the dirt and roots finally gave way and fell apart, showering mud and leaves down on to the floor of the recess. A small opening would vent the smoke from a fire now. And it was cleverly placed to angle to the side, so the rains did not enter so easily.
‘With such a thing, you can cook in here while the storm rages outside,’ he said. ‘’Tis clear that people have lived here and used these caves in the past.’
His observation did not seem to surprise her. Not at all. Niall crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze. If he had not been watching closely, he would have missed the tiny flinching in her own gaze at his words.
‘Aye, some of the Mackintoshes lived here for several months years ago,’ she said softly. ‘My mam told me stories about those terrible times in our clan.’
‘If I fill the pot with water, you will be able to make some porridge. Can you make twice as much as you made before?’ It would feed them until they could leave the caves and seek some fresh game.
When she did not refuse, he bade her to see to herself before lifting the flap and going out into the storm. Niall stood for a moment there at the entrance and saw the fallen trees across the clearing. The heavy snow of last night had turned to rain now and it flowed in torrents, down from the highest point in the camp towards the stream at the bottom. The force of the rushing water cut deeply into the existing paths, leaving them to look like slashed scars all along the ground.
He’d set the cooking pot out to gather water and it was overflowing from the night’s snow and rains. They would have to build a fire and he needed the metal girdle pan as a support. After he carried the pot inside, he made his way, buffeted by the strong winds, to the other cave. He lost his way once, struggling to see while the winds blew branches and rain at him.
Lundie stood watching him as he approached.
‘Did ye see the damage there? And the trees down over there?’ Niall asked, roughening up the way he spoke. ‘And the water is tearing up the path down to the stream.’
He needed to crouch low in order to make it in without hitting his head, but once inside, the space there allowed even Anndra to stand at ease. The men were sitting around the walls, leaning back, whiling away these hours when they could do nothing else. He nodded to them.
‘There is a cooking place in the cave, so the lass is making porridge,’ he said. The others cheered at his news.
‘I need to see to things,’ Lundie said. That meant leave to visit their benefactor. ‘I canna wait much longer or I will miss him.’
‘The lass said once the winds turn, the storm will blow itself out.’
‘I mayn’t be able to wait for that. Otherwise, no gold. And no gold...’ Lundie glanced over at the others. No gold meant they would become as unpredictable as the storm outside. Niall nodded his understanding.
‘How long will ye be gone?’ Niall asked. He had a good understanding of where they were now and which lord owned what lands around them. If he knew where Lundie was headed, it would give him the clue he needed.
‘Three days, I think,’ he replied.
That was more than he’d told Niall in the past. From here, Lundie could reach the western coast and return. He could make it to Inverness in the north, Inverary in the south and over to Skye in the west and back in three days. He could even reach the eastern edges of the Highlands towards Edinburgh. Too large an area with too many possible lairds and chieftains to sort it out...without something more to go on.
‘Tell me what ye need.’ Niall let the words remain there without saying more. Then he turned to leave. ‘I wi’ bring the porridge when ’tis ready.’
‘Will she be a problem if I leave ye in charge?’ The others had heard the question and turned their attentions to the conversation.
‘I’m certain the lads know their gold depends on following yer orders, Lundie.’
‘When I return, we wi’ visit a village I ken,’ Lundie said. ‘And we’ll see to some entertainment for all of us.’ The promise of pleasure from females of a particular nature made them all smile.
‘If she keeps cooking for us,’ Martainn called out, ‘we can leave her be.’ The man hated that the chore of cooking for them had been thrust on him, so this made him happy enough.
Niall retrieved the metal rack that would hold the pot up off the fire and the iron girdle pan and made his way back along the now-flooded path. If the rains continued at such a pace, the entire top of this mountain would wash away. Finally, after slipping and nearly sliding halfway down the mountainside, covered in mud, he arrived back at the other cave.
Although more dirt would not matter to the cave, Niall did not wish to get the pallet he’d made wet or muddy. So, before entering, he let the rains rinse most of the muck off his boots and his trews. It mattered little for he was well and truly soaked in the time it had taken him to walk back and forth. He finished and pushed the flap
back to enter.
Niall thought he’d been loud enough to wake the dead. Her reaction—she jumped up and moved quickly to the other side of the cave—spoke of suspicious behaviour to him. Then, he spied his own small leather satchel. Where she’d dropped it.
‘What are you doing, lass?’ he asked, stalking across to stand before her.
Chapter Ten
The usual sense of merriment in his gaze was gone now. Fia backed up and away from his belongings. She pushed her hair behind her ears and watched as he came towards her now. Taking her shoulders, he pulled her up so that her feet did not touch the ground and their faces nearly touched.
Nearly.
Anger poured off him in waves, much as the cold did from his wet clothing and hair.
‘I asked you what you were doing.’ He shook her a bit, staring at her eyes as she tried to speak. ‘Tell me,’ he said roughly, his voice louder than she’d heard before.
‘I was...seeking a way to start...’ she stammered out. ‘To start the fire.’ She tried to point to it, but he held her shoulders so tightly that she could not move her arms. ‘I thought...’
‘You thought what?’
‘There was not one in the sewing box or anywhere else,’ she finally said. ‘I thought you might have one in that.’
He did not move or look away for several seconds and, for the first time since he’d kidnapped her, Fia felt herself in danger...from him.
‘Truly, Iain,’ she whispered. ‘I only sought the flint to light the fire.’
The anger that controlled him in those few, tense moments seeped away and he nodded at her. Lowering her until her feet touched the ground, he took in a breath and exhaled it quickly.
‘I keep it here,’ he said, taking a step back and reaching to his belt. He took the stone and a small piece of metal out of the small pouch and held it out.
Her hands shook when she accepted it from him. Clutching it, she waited and watched to see what he would do next. Granted, no one liked their belongings rummaged through, but she’d had a good reason. And it was going to take some time to heat the water and cook the porridge on the small fire that they could build there.
KIDNAPPED BY THE HIGHLAND ROGUE Page 9
