“I — I made a mistake,” she stammered and took an involuntary step back. The excitement that she felt a moment ago was gone, and a combination of disappointment and confusion took its place. The men stared at her as if she was a creature that had just materialized from the forest, and they didn’t know what to do with her. Then remembering her mission, she blurted. “I’m searching for Blane Cunningtoun. Do ye ken where he is?”
“What would a wee laddie like ye want with Blane?” Donnell said, scanning her from head to toe.
“I desire tae see him,” she said, belatedly remembering to deepen her voice in order to sound more masculine. She needed to show that she wasn’t intimidated by the swarthy Highlander. Straightening to her full height, she leveled her focus on the warrior. “I have a message for him.”
The man shrugged. “He’s in there,” he said, jerking his thumb to the tent behind him. He resumed his task of chopping wood, dismissing her. His kinsmen likewise went back to their own work.
Without making any further noise to bring attention to herself, she ran toward the structure. The canvas flap was already open and she slipped inside. When she entered, she immediately saw Blane seated on the ground, eating his supper.
Blane looked up as if he heard someone approaching, and threw the partially eaten bread into the bowl in front of him. His piercing eyes zeroed in on the entrance of his tent while a frown marred his handsome face. His hand had already grabbed the claymore that rested beside him.
“I’m told that I would find ye here,” she said, clearing her throat. She pasted a smile on her lips, waiting expectantly for his response.
When he saw her standing there, he relaxed his grip on the sword hilt. “Who are ye?”
He went back to eating his oat bread, although his keen eyes scanned the length of her body, and lingered on the great kilt. His gaze traveled back up and settled on her countenance. There it stayed while his brow creased in puzzlement.
Mairead let out a nervous laugh. She was still dressed as a lad, and he didn’t know her identity. “’Tis me, Blane,” she said, removing her cap and allowing her hair to flow down. She clutched the hat in her hand, anxiously waiting for his reaction to the revelation.
“Mairead?” he asked, shock and disbelief on his face. “Mairead!” He got up and embraced her.
When he set her back on the ground, she studied his features. While there was a blend of surprise, confusion and concern, there was nothing romantic on his visage.
“What are ye doing here, lass?” He observed the great kilt she wore. A frown furrowed his brow and his voice tightened with disapproval. “And why are ye dressed like this? This tartan disnae belong tae Clan MacGregon.”
“I’m aware of this,” she said, fingering the kilt with nervous fingers. She had practiced so diligently on her speech, but the last thing she anticipated was to be questioned about her attire. “I traveled here tae see ye, and ‘twas safer tae dress as a lad.”
“Tae see me?” He glanced behind her as if to check if anyone accompanied her. When there was no one, a furious look crossed his face. “This is madness! Dinnae your brothers tell ye that ‘tis foolish for ye tae be in the war zone?” He paused, and creased his brows as if some new thought occurred to him. “Is everything all right at home?”
“Aye, everything is fine…” she tried to grasp for a better explanation, but the response lay frozen on her tongue. She believed that Blane would receive her with open arms, but he only looked at her with censure.
“Then why are ye here?”
“Well I—I wanted tae see ye before the war started,” she said, searching for the right words. “When Rory banished ye from Tancraig Castle, I dinnae approve of it. And I wanted tae tell ye that I’ve missed ye.”
The vexation broke from his brow, and a hint of a smile played upon his masculine lips.
“I missed ye too, Mairead. I miss everyone at Tancraig.”
Blane missed everyone, his statement echoed in her mind. Suddenly she realized that she had almost made a dreadful blunder. It was Thom that she loved. He was the one who caused her heart to race uncontrollably and her skin to flush. With Blane she felt nothing except for brotherly affection. It was impossible to wed him now that she knew the truth of her heart. She had convinced herself that he would save her from her troubles, but if she married him she would do an injustice not only to him but to herself as well. Then another sudden idea struck her as she realized that she was wasting her time conversing with Blane. Instead, she should be stopping Thom from making a fatal mistake.
“’Tis nae safe for ye tae be here,” Blane repeated.
“Aye,” she agreed, refocusing on his conversation. “’Twas foolish for me tae come here.”
“I’ve always known ye tae be a sensible lass,” he nodded, appeased by her willingness to concede to her errors. “I’ll have tae take ye tae your brothers.” He twisted his mouth, displaying his dislike for the task. Somehow that small action made her feel guilty. Bad blood still existed between him and Rory, and she wasn’t doing them any favors by forcing them together.
She started to move away from him. Going back to her brothers wouldn’t help at all. They wouldn’t trouble themselves with the messenger. They would only be concerned about taking her home. And with no one to stop Thom, he would face peril. Somehow she had to figure out how she would get to Thom.
“Nay,” she said firmly. “There’s nay need. I can find my own way.”
“Ye ken that I cannae allow ye tae go on your own,” he said, shaking his head. “I dinnae want the men tae mistake ye for a camp follower and cause trouble.”
“I have my disguise.” She placed the hat back on her head, and shoved the hair into place. “I’ll be fine.”
He frowned at the worn cap. “I ken that Rory and I have our differences, but I dinnae think that he would want ye tae wander out on your own. Ye will come with me.”
“I arrived here unscathed,” she said, her tone becoming defiant. Blane was no better than her brothers in telling her what to do. “I can take care of myself.”
“Dinnae be daft.” He reached to retrieve his claymore. “How did ye come here anyhow? Someone must have escorted ye here. Who was it?”
“’Tis nay one ye ken,” she said quickly. When Blane became preoccupied with adjusting his boots, she backed further away from him. Once she felt the tent canvas brushing against her elbow, she ducked through the opening and ran outside. She could hear his shouts behind her, but she didn’t turn back. Mairead ran through the thick underbrush, and not heeding the roots and dried bracken that grew on the ground, she stumbled to the ground. She was about to get up when someone grabbed her ankle.
“Dinnae make any noise,” a voice hissed, as he dragged her into the dense vegetation. “’Tis me, Makolm.”
At the sound of Makolm’s familiar voice, her body sagged with relief.
“I’m glad ‘tis ye.” She had many questions to ask him, but this wasn’t the time to indulge in them. She moved to settle herself more comfortably in the hiding spot when she noticed a strange woman beside the scholar. Mairead opened her mouth to introduce herself when she heard Blane’s bellow. She dropped to the ground with the others following suit.
“Mairead!” Blane called, his voice echoing through the area. His heavy footsteps crunched the fallen leaves, the sounds coming closer and closer.
Her body tensed and she held her breath. Through the shrubs, she could view the tops of his boots. If he found her, he would take her to her brothers. And then the prospect of getting to Thom would be almost nil.
But then Blane moved away and disappeared from sight.
Long minutes passed and the three of them stayed as still as possible. After a bit, her friend spread the branches apart and peered intently through the opening. Finally, he let out a long breath. “I think he’s gone.” He gave her a sardonic smile. “I came back tae see if ye were all right, but then I saw ye racing out of his tent like a wulver was after ye. I take it that
the reunion with Blane didnae go verra well.”
She shook her head and confessed, “My feelings for him wasnae what I imagined.” But then her apprehensions about Thom rushed forth. Reaching over, she grasped the scholar’s sleeve. “I fear that Thom is in jeopardy, Makolm. We have tae find him before he gets himself slayed.”
The unknown woman let out a distressed sound. “Thom cannae die.”
“Nothing will happen tae him if we reach him in time,” Makolm assured her. “It appears that Lester MacLeaburn didnae murder his wife after all,” he explained to Mairead. The expression on his face turned sober. “However we have evidence that the man’s a traitor tae the crown.”
Mairead glanced over at the lass. She had dark hair and light brown eyes. Despite the anxious look on her visage, and the slight shadow underneath her eyes, she was undeniably beautiful. Mairead’s heart thumped dully in her chest, and she swallowed the painful lump in her throat. When Thom discovered that his love was still alive, he would be elated.
“Are ye Cristiona?” she asked quietly.
“Aye,” she said, surprised. “How do ye guess?”
“Thom spoke about ye.” She gave her a tight smile. “He loves ye verra much.”
“I should hope sae.” Her pretty face lit up at the remark. “I love him equally.”
The other woman’s confession sliced through Mairead’s heart. Of course Cristiona loved him. Thom wasn’t just a braw man to admire. Beneath his rough exterior he was kind and honorable. But she could also perceive why he loved this lass. There was an ethereal beauty that surrounded her. And even though the night was closing in, she appeared as fresh as if she was about to start her day. Next to her Mairead felt dirty and unattractive. She sent the other woman another false smile, and tried her best to hide her feelings.
Forcing herself to redirect her line of thought, she turned to Makolm, and asked, “Tell me, how do ye ken that Lester MacLeaburn is a traitor?”
He paused slightly before answering. “I work for the queen, and have been investigating him for a while,” he admitted.
“Ye work for the queen?” she repeated. It now made sense. For a simple scholar of flora, he seemed to possess a keen interest and knowledge about warfare.
“I was traveling with the queen’s troop, but as ye ken, I was accidentally left behind. I intended tae meet up with the men, but decided tae continue the investigation of Lester MacLeaburn on my own. He was already under suspicion, ye see, although I needed tae find proof of his treachery.”
“’Twas fortunate Makolm sent a man tae find me,” Cristiona added. “My husband feared that I knew too much, and he had me locked up in one of the towers. Except for a handful of servants nay one was aware that I was there.”
“I sent the Greenbrae swordsmith tae inquire about the lady,” Makolm confirmed. “He discovered that she was alive, although sorely neglected. Since the lady is a pivotal witness against her husband, my man brought her here tae Bracken Ridge.”
Mairead clenched her hands as a sense of helplessness washed over her. If Lester MacLeaburn was involved with treason, then he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate whoever stood in his way. Unfortunately Thom was heading straight to him.
This was a much bigger problem than she ever imagined. While she didn’t like the idea, she had to appeal to her brothers for help. She knew that she would get into trouble for showing up at the encampment, but Thom’s life was more important than getting reprimanded by her brothers. And once Thom knew that Cristiona lived, he was unlikely to spare a glance at Mairead. However she wasn’t going to think about that. Right now she had to save the man she loved.
Chapter 19
After making inquiries, Thom finally located Lester’s campsite. As he was about to approach the place, he made out a number of men walking around the tents. He assumed that the largest structure belonged to Lester. Thom’s hand tightened on the dagger at his belt as a feeling of grim satisfaction covered him. Soon Cristiona would be avenged.
He took a purposeful step forward when a blur of color caught his eye. Within a flash he recognized one of his clansmen. Without a moment to spare, he dove behind one of the large boulders that scattered across the land. If he had been in the open, his kin would have immediately recognized him, and reported him to the MacCullvin. At this juncture, he wasn’t ready to face his sire. The laird loathed the animosity of other clans. He tried to be on good terms with other chiefs, even if Clan MacCullvin paid a heavy cost for the treaties. If his sire knew of this scheme, he would no doubt try to thwart Thom. So before the deed was done, no one could know of his plan. While Thom had issues with his father, he didn’t want to bring disaster to his kin. There were too many innocent lives at stake. But even though he cared for the welfare of his people, he was already committed to finishing off Lester MacLeaburn. Thom wanted him to understand who it was that slayed him. The bastard needed to writhe in pain and horror, and feel everything that Cristiona must have experienced. In the end, the world would be rid of the disgusting excuse for a man.
As Thom hunkered down to wait for his opportunity to enter the camp, the likeness of Mairead drifted into his mind’s eye. Even though she had left him hours ago, the impression of her hit him when he least expected it.
If by chance ye succeed in eliminating Lester MacLeaburn, do ye think that ye can bring Cristiona back from the grave? He heard her sweet voice of reason as if she was beside him saying the very thing. But then he shook his head, trying to get rid of her influence. He had a task to complete.
After a short while, his clansmen left the site. At this point Thom should have made his move, but he remained where he was. Gut instinct told him that it was best to wait for an opening. Fortunately he had already mapped out the layout of the camp, and determined exactly where to find Lester. While the man had many enemies, it surprised him that the security around the site seemed so lax. Thom brushed aside an insect that landed on his arm. The sun was starting to set, and he would be ready to make his move soon. He was far enough away from the camp so that he had a clear view of the site. No one could detect him from behind the rock and dying bracken.
An hour later Lester finally emerged from his shelter. At the sight of him, Thom’s heart started to pound in his chest and his breath caught in his throat. Here was his opportunity. He was aware that vengeance was a sorry business. During a feud at least one party had to relent, otherwise bloodshed occurred on both sides. But once men became engaged in battle, very few backed down. He knew that he was good at fighting, but he was also realistic. In this case, it was Thom against Lester and his entire clan; the bastard had a couple hundred men backing him. Knowing this, Thom was aware that he could be killed. And if that happened, he would never again have the opportunity to see Mairead, and tell her that he loved her. Thom paused, surprised at himself. It was true. He loved the lass. Thom shook his head as the realization sunk in. She didn’t belong with Blane; she belonged with Thom. Why the hell did it take him so long to come to this conclusion? He was a fool if he allowed her to marry another man.
“Go after her,” Cristiona would have said. While she was his junior, she was much wiser. And he knew that she would never have wanted him to sacrifice his life for her.
Driven by a new sense of urgency, he started to leave his hiding place. But just as he was about to uncoil his body, a soft whinny caught his ear. Someone was coming! He ducked back behind the large rock, and waited for the rider to pass.
When the newcomer maneuvered a few paces away from the boulder, he stopped, as if he too wanted to stay hidden. A few seconds later Thom heard the rustle of dry bracken as the man dismounted from his steed. He moved toward the sizable stone, and crouched down a short distance away. Thom’s hand tightened on his claymore as he pressed closer to the boulder. He couldn’t leave now. He held his breath, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Peeking over to the side, he could make out the man’s back. From his vantage point, he noted that the stranger wore a tunic and hose. Who was this ma
n? Was he a reiver, or an Englishman? It was difficult to tell since the men from both factions dressed in a similar fashion.
Long minutes passed. The figure remained motionless, yet appeared alert as if he expected someone to arrive.
Questions continued to rush through Thom’s mind. Unfortunately none of the answers sat well with him. It was strange that anyone would be meeting at the perimeters of the encampment. But then a second man joined the first.
“’Tis about time that ye came,” the spy on the ground said. He had the speech of a reiver from the Lowlands. However his identity didn’t even begin to explain why he was having clandestine dealings with a Highlander.
“I had business tae attend,” the other man replied.
Most likely his business involved more ways to betray Scotland. Thom’s eyes narrowed into slits. Although the new arrival spoke in low tones, he immediately recognized the slightly nasal voice of Lester MacLeaburn. Hearing the man speak caused the anger to burst to Thom’s chest once more, and his earlier resolve vanished. If only he could end Lester’s life right at this instant. But before he could consider his next action, the reiver’s question penetrated his brain, making him pause.
“Do ye have it?”
“Aye.”
“Hand it over.”
“I’ll do it, but first I want my payment.”
Lester inched along the rock, getting closer to the two men. In a short while he heard the clinking of coins being exchanged.
“Ye had better be certain that this information is better than the last,” the man growled. “My commander was nae impressed with the previous piece that ye sent.”
“I can assure ye that your commander will find this set verra useful.”
“We’ll see about that,” the man grunted, but didn’t say anything further.
Thom blinked at the conversation that he had just overheard. Lester was selling information to the enemy? He had heard every single word of the transaction, and he knew that he wasn’t dreaming. During warfare, all the clan leaders gathered together to discuss military strategies. They were privy to sensitive intelligence that would help defeat their enemies. As a clan chief, Lester was entrusted with these military secrets. Except he wasn’t using the knowledge to fight the English; he was aiding them.
Highland Messenger (Scottish Strife Series Book 4) Page 14
