The meal done and the instructions and orders given, the men sought their rest. The black-haired one took Fia by the arm and guided her back up the path towards the caves. Alan watched for any sign of force or fight and saw none. The man released her and let her go to the cave alone, waiting a short while before entering it himself. Alan took note of each man’s position around the fire and other places before he moved closer to the cave where Fia was.
Listening with care, he heard no sounds of a struggle within. And no sounds he would associate with unwanted attentions. If a man was forcing himself on a woman, there would be some sounds. Indeed, soft snoring echoed from the cave shortly after the flap was closed. So, Fia was safe? The black-haired man some kind of protector?
* * *
He had dozed as the night passed. Considering his choices, he made his decision and, by the time the first faint light of dawn began to inch its way into the sky, he had made it back down the mountain. With his horse readied and supplies packed, Alan watched from the other side of the shieling as Lundie rode slowly along the muddy road. He waited some time before mounting and following, staying just within the cover of the trees and off the road.
As Lundie had said he would be gone for three days at the most and now Alan knew his direction—north and west. Alan thought of which enemies of The Mackintosh and Cameron clans lived north and west of their lands.
Alan would follow him to his meeting, identify the one behind this plot and return to the camp before Lundie would. If possible, he would send word to Brodie, but if not, he would rescue Fia from the camp and have her out of there before it all went to hell.
A sound plan. A sensible plan.
* * *
So, two days later, with proof of treachery in his grasp from a different direction than the one Lundie had headed in at first, Alan rode hard to reach the camp so he could free Fia and get her the hell out of there.
He found disarray and confusion. He found blood and many signs of struggle. He found a camp emptied and left in a hurry.
But he did not find Fia.
Chapter Twelve
Niall woke from a dream to a dream.
He had dreamt of a green-eyed temptress who warmed his bed with the wonderful touch of her hands and mouth. Opening his eyes then, he found the very same woman in his arms. Niall dared not move for fear of ending it.
He remembered going to bed and fearing she would try to escape in the night while he slept. So, he’d wrapped the length of her hair around his hand and held it, and her, there. That much was clear.
When she had turned to him, when they had begun kissing and caressing, he did not remember. Nor did he care. In sleep she gave to him what she refused him in her wakefulness. So, as any warm-blooded man would do, he let her.
Once. Twice. Thrice more she opened her mouth to him and he tasted her deeply. Her body eased against him and the softness of her breasts pushed against his chest. He slid his hands around her, stroking her back and pressing her hips against his hard flesh. Her hands were busy as well, slipping inside his tunic and touching the black curls and skin of his chest there.
He was not a fool. He knew she would wake at any moment and it would be over, but for now, Niall enjoyed the touch of her hands and mouth on his skin and the feel of her filling his arms. For an impossible minute, he let himself truly dream that she was his.
Then her eyes opened.
He could tell the exact moment when she knew where she was for she stilled in his embrace, her hand yet within his tunic, and her fingers stopped swirling in the hair there. He mourned the loss of her closeness even before she moved away. A crude curse escaped in a whisper but her mouth was near enough to his ear that he heard it. He heard every word of it.
‘I am no such thing,’ he said, releasing her before she even protested his hold. ‘I assure you my parents were not that closely related and were indeed married at the time of my birth.’ Niall paused and then shrugged. ‘And, though I like sheep, I am not overly affectionate towards them either.’
She squealed and rolled away then, the cold of the cave quickly filling the space between them. He unrolled his hand from the length of her hair as she moved.
‘What did you do?’ she asked, standing and smoothing her gown down. He noticed that she continued to wear his trews under her gown. Right now, after having her so close, he envied those damned breeches. ‘Did you decide to take another boon?’ she asked.
Then, she looked at her hand and at him, or rather his chest now exposed by the loose ties at his neck, and then back again. He smiled, remembering her fingers on his skin.
‘I went to sleep,’ he said, sitting up then and tying the laces at his neck. ‘Little did I expect that my prisoner would accost me in such a personal way.’ He nodded at her hand. She gathered her fingers tightly into a fist and dropped her hand to her side.
‘I was asleep...I do not remember doing such a thing.’
The words were a falsehood that they both recognised. He did not argue it with her for he was more intrigued by this second use of profanity. Not so much its use, but the colourfully correct way in which she used it.
‘Where did you learn to curse so well? I’ve heard outlaws who did not use it as you just did.’ She blushed, the becoming pink spreading up her cheeks and making her green eyes appear darker then. Her embarrassment distracted her and she answered him.
‘From a cousin,’ she admitted.
‘And you were permitted to listen to and use such language?’
Young women of her age would not usually be exposed to such a thing. At least not among his family. His mother would have punished anyone who spoke thusly in front of his sister... His sister Elizabeth was about Ilysa’s age. He looked away and imagined for a moment how she would look now. Turning back to the lass, he listened.
‘Anyone who knows my cousin hears it. He mastered the art of profanity early on. Some look on it as his weakness and some consider it a skill. Most care not which.’ She smiled then as though remembering this cousin. ‘To ease your concerns, nay, I was not to listen and Rob did his best to control it when others who might be offended by such words were present.’ She sighed then. ‘My mother washed my mouth out with soap when I repeated Rob’s words before her.’
They stood there, each lost in thoughts of kith and kin, when noises from outside revealed the other men were also awake. Lundie would be leaving and Niall needed to speak to him first.
‘Stay here until I return,’ he said. Then he remembered her intention to escape. ‘Or must I bind you hand and foot to ensure you remain?’ She sighed then, a soft exhalation of breath that made him uneasy somehow.
‘I will remain because you owe me a boon now and I expect to collect it,’ she said.
He laughed at her words and her expression as he left. It was only as he walked away, Lundie in his sights ahead, that he realised what she’d revealed.
Her cousin Rob.
Robbie Mackintosh, second in command to his cousin Brodie. The man who oversaw the vast number of warriors in the clan and in the confederation formed by several others. A Mackintosh always led that powerful group. Several things worse than what the lass had said passed over his lips at this realisation.
If she was close enough to her cousin Rob, it went then that she was close to Brodie. How close akin would determine a number of things. Such as how soon he and the others would be exterminated for having kidnapped her. Such as how painful a death he would face for having ruined her.
Niall stopped and went back to her. He strode over and grabbed her by the shoulders, studying her face. He’d been given the names of those closest to Brodie and to The Cameron. He wanted to know whom he might encounter or hear about in preparation for this assignment. Thinking on the list he’d received from the King’s man who knew them best, Niall remembered Brodie’s closes
t counsellors and their wives’ names. And the lady’s companion and her...maid.
‘Are you Fia Mackintosh?’ he whispered. ‘Are you?’ He gave a little shake. ‘Tell me true.’
The shock on her face confirmed her identity to him. This young woman was a favourite of the laird and lady. She was trusted with their persons, their children and their safety and comfort.
One of the trusted few who had access to every part of their lives.
She would never be left in the custody of outlaws. Not for long. They truly were in more danger than she was.
‘Give me the rest of the day and I will come up with a way to get you out of here,’ he whispered. ‘But say nothing to anyone else.’
His thoughts spun wildly as he left the cave. Lundie had gone and would not return for two, mayhap three days. Somehow he would need to convince the others to leave here, without their gold, before the Mackintosh’s men arrived. And to leave without harming the lass. All of that without revealing how he knew of it and without exposing his role further.
Fia. Fia Mackintosh.
‘Aye,’ she whispered back.
‘Just go about things as you would,’ he said. ‘Stay out of their way as much as possible,’ he urged. She nodded and watched him closely. He felt like his wits had flown. Niall walked to the entrance of the cave and turned back to her before stepping outside.
‘We came in from the west,’ he explained. ‘In which direction should we expect The Mackintosh to enter the encampment?’ He knew two and she’d mentioned three more.
At first, he doubted she would answer. She had no reason to trust him. None at all, for he’d not given her anything but lies since they met. Well, other than the area of his birth. Every word he spoke to her was filled with lies. Then, when she did speak, he wished she had not.
‘All of them,’ she said.
* * *
He’d looked truly shaken by the knowledge of her identity. And yet, that he knew her name surprised her. She was a maid in service to the chieftain’s wife. Certainly, she travelled quite a bit with Arabella and would have been seen by others outside the clan.
She was quite visible at Drumlui Keep, having duties to both the lady and at times to her children and, even on rare occasion, to the laird himself.
But none of that explained how this lowlander knew of her and knew her name.
Well, he had ordered her to stay here and she would. Fia smiled then. Glancing around, she lost no time in finding his satchel and bags. Untying them, she dumped out the contents and searched through them.
There was something here he did not wish discovered and she needed to find it. An icy shiver traced its way up her spine, giving Fia a very bad feeling about what was coming. Listening for the sounds of approaching steps, she tugged open several smaller pouches and discovered coins, some gold, some silver or copper, in them.
Leaving one, she ran and brought her cloak over and shoved the smaller one into the lining. She might have need of coins, she told herself.
A wrapped bundle at the bottom of the sack drew her attention next. She tugged the string holding it closed free and discovered a small book of hours within the canvas covering. The edges of the pages showed use, constant use as though read daily over the years. So, he could read. An outlaw, a man for hire, would not have that skill. She opened the book, the kind made for women and very costly, and found a name written there.
Elizabeth Corbett. The last name was unfamiliar to her. Not a Highland family, for certain. Who was she?
A sick feeling rolled in her stomach and threatened to make her heave then. His wife mayhap? Mother? Why else would he carry such a personal and precious thing as a book with him?
Voices carried into the cave as Iain called out orders to the men, reminding her to hasten her search.
Fia dug deeper inside and pulled out more garments and a small, sharp dagger that would fit in her palm. After secreting it with her other hidden cache, she reached in and felt something small tucked or secured in a pocket within the bag itself. Turning it inside out, she untied the knotted leather strips and freed it.
A ring. Not a wedding ring as she first thought, this was a man’s signet ring with a round, carved bevel on it. She held it up, trying to use what light streamed into the cave to see the image carved there. Letters. A name. In Latin. A crown.
She nearly dropped it when she recognised the symbol of royalty.
Rings like this one were not simply passed around freely. It spoke of someone close to the King. It spoke of protection by the King. Only nobles and the very wealthy or very important got close enough to the King to even kiss one of these rings.
How had this self-professed outlaw gotten this ring? Surely he could not have stolen it and had that go unnoticed. Rings like these were created for express reasons and given only to a very limited number of specific persons. Fia sat back on her heels, still trying to understand or to guess how a king’s ring came to be in Iain Dubh’s belongings.
He came from the lowlands. He could read and speak like a nobleman. He carried a symbol of the King’s protection with him.
What and who was he?
Realising that she was taking too long, sitting there and wondering about all this, Fia folded and placed everything back in the bag as best she could remember. Tempted to keep the ring in her possession, she instead tied it back into place. She would wait for the right time to face him with what she knew.
When she was summoned from the cave, it was Martainn who escorted her to the clearing. The men were eating all the extra bannocks she’d made the previous day to break their fast. Micheil would go hunting for supper, she was told. The small, agile man was probably capable of chasing down all manner of creatures of the forest.
‘The men hiv need of yer skills, lass,’ Iain Dubh said as she approached. A pile of garments lay in a heap before her. ‘Ye can sit here and enjoy the day out of the cave while ye mend them. Or ye can take them back wi’ ye while we wait on Micheil’s bounty.’
She needed to get a better idea of the condition of the surrounding area for when the time came, so she nodded. ‘Here in the light would be best,’ she said. Her gaze moved back to him every few seconds as she tried to take notice of his movements and discover more about him through the rest of the hours of daylight.
* * *
Micheil returned with several rabbits and she prepared them to eat. The sun remained shining brightly as though apologising for being absent these last days and it felt good to be out of the cave for so long. With her skill of doing one task while listening and watching others, she learned that none of them knew who Lundie was meeting with. Also, they were simply in it as long as the gold continued coming.
Hired men, every one of them. Though he made sure to match their accents and coarse words, it was so clear to her that he was something different and more than the rest. The King’s ring in his leather bag simply confirmed all the suspicions and caused more questions to swirl in her thoughts.
The winds grew chill as the sun set and the men began to ready themselves for the night. A couple of them went back to the cave to sleep, preparing the protection from the winds that sleeping out in the open did not give them. Without her cloak, it became too cold to remain and she asked to return to their shelter. Iain nodded and Martainn followed her to make certain she did not stray.
She entered and gathered together what she would need for her escape and the days it would take to get back to Drumlui and its village. Why Brodie’s men had not arrived yet, she knew not. The obvious answer was the weather. Only the foolhardy or daft would risk travelling in a Highland storm. Or, had they, the outlaws, covered their path so well that no one suspected they were here? But Brodie would send someone to rescue her, of that she had no doubt.
If they did not arrive soon, she would be forced to rescue herself.
Niall watched as she left, Martainn close on her heels to see her back to the cave. Something was wrong, very wrong, but he had other matters to arrange now. Accustomed to lying to each and every one of the men in this endeavour, it felt very strange to prepare to tell the truth. It must be done carefully and in the correct order for it to work. These villains must be convinced to leave the possibility of gold behind and to do it soon, without hurting the lass.
To make that happen, he feared he must do exactly that. Would she play along with his act or expose him? From the way she’d studied him all day long, Niall believed she suspected he was not a simple outlaw. Though he’d like to share that truth with her, he dared not. Not until the others had left and she was freed to go back to her home.
When Conran and Iain Ruadh did not leave the fire as quickly as the others, Niall took the opportunity to plant the seeds of distrust and fear. Holding out the flask of uisge beatha to them, he waited for them to drink. The spirit was strong and bitter but favoured by the locals. Then he leaned back against the tree behind him and shrugged.
‘The lass was quiet,’ he said. ‘Did ye see her glancing at the path all day? As if she expected someone’s arrival.’ He let the words hang out there for a few moments.
‘She did seem to be distracted. Kept looking off in the distance,’ Iain Ruadh said in agreement.
‘I wonder if she kens who was here before.’ Niall tried not to smile when Conran picked up on that.
‘This place? Aye, there are signs that others have used this place all over it,’ Conran added. ‘Do ye think it was her people?’
‘There are stories about Brodie Mackintosh hiding out in the hills from his cousin. ’twas many years ago, but everyone kens about it,’ he said, nodding at them. He let them think about it for a minute or so and then jumped to his feet.
‘Good Christ! Do ye think he will bring his warriors here looking for the lass?’
The two stood up as well, looking from one to the other and then at him. He tried not to smile. They were accustomed to following orders and not thinking for themselves.
KIDNAPPED BY THE HIGHLAND ROGUE Page 12
