Highlander's Sweet Promises

by Tarah Scott

  “Is what Rylan said true? Ye are the one who stole our bounty?”

  “We needed the meat,” the lad snarled.

  Ian always had a soft spot for those less fortunate, but he respected those who asked for charity rather than taking it for themselves.

  “Ye ken stealing is a serious offense. And crimes cannae go unpunished.”

  Ian scratched his rough chin as he thought of a punishment that would best suit the crime, given the age of the lad.

  “What clan are ye from?”

  “I am no’ part of any clan. Me mum and I are alone. We ran away from Clan Ross.”

  “The Rosses, ye say? What happened to make ye leave?”

  “My mum’s new husband beats her, so we ran away where the bastard can ne’er find us.”

  “Does yer mother ken ye steal?”

  “Nay.”

  “Rylan,” Ian nodded to him to mete out the lad’s punishment.

  Keira bolted straight up, ready to defend the young lad.

  “Surely, ye have enough food to spare this child a meager meal!” she spat.

  “Ye stay out of this,” Rylan growled. “Punishment must be given fer such disrespect.”

  “Then give him my share!”

  “Dinna worry lass. A sound lashing can no’ cause permanent damage,” Ian said, trying to console her.

  “He’s just a child who is scared and hungry! Where is yer sense of honor?”

  Ian looked at Rylan before turning his attention to the lass. Arguing with Rylan, nicknamed the Wolf, for his fierce growling voice, never ended well. Though it was honorable of the lass to offer to sacrifice her meal, the provisions were not hers to give away, nor would it save the lad from a good thrashing or two. Regardless of the situation, the lad would not learn his lesson without honest discipline behind it. He must not only hear and understand the lesson but feel it as well, therefore the next time the lad mustered the courage to go thieving, he would think twice about from whom he stole.

  After Ian heard the first two strikes of the leather belt making contact with the lad’s rump, he stopped Rylan from going any further. The tears in the lass’s eyes were as unnerving as if she held a knife to his heart. Had she never witnessed a thrashing before? For a moment, he found himself wanting to hold her and comfort her. Given what the lass had already been through, he couldn’t stand to be the cause of anymore pain.

  “That’ll be enough lad,” he said, looking to Rylan, devoid of emotion. “As fer ye, wee Robbie. Ye may take the meat ye have stolen and nay more. Best ye think twice the next time ye decide to steal a mon’s bounty,” Ian said, hoping the lad would heed his warning.

  Rylan released the lad from his hold and Robbie dropped to the ground, obviously nervous and in some pain. Scurrying away from Rylan and Ian, he picked up his satchel and hobbled off into the woods.

  “Ye are getting soft,” Rylan accused Ian.

  “The lad got what he deserved,” Leland muttered.

  “Aye, but the lass is right. We have plenty of provisions to last us until tomorrow,” Ian said.

  “The lass? What say does she have? Is that the way of it, then? She’s the one givin’ the orders?”

  Rylan stood nearly toe to toe with Ian and boldly held his gaze.

  “Back down Rylan,” Leland warned, stepping in between the two angry men.

  “I told ye the lass would be nothing but trouble!” Rylan said, kicking up dust as he walked away.

  Fury burned in Ian’s veins. Never had Rylan questioned him before and disrespect was not going to be tolerated. Had they not been such good friends, Ian would have sliced him through. Rylan was as reckless and defiant as his nickname, Wolf, implied.

  “Dinna mind him,” Leland said to Ian as he and Ian watched Rylan saunter off.

  It wasn’t just Rylan that angered him but the lass as well. Ian was a man of logic and reason. He did not make decisions based on emotions. Allowing his heart to choose for him was not only dangerous but foolish. But this lass made him feel as if the walls he’d erected to protect his emotions were beginning to soften. He felt pity rather than resolve, and that did not sit well with him.

  He hated the way she questioned and argued with him. Not only was she becoming a sore on his arse, but she was beginning to make him question himself. If he made decisions based on the lass’s tender heart, he would accomplish nothing. Every time he was around her, he felt as if he walked on glass, stepping carefully to prevent injury. He needed to draw a line separating his duties from his feelings toward the lass.

  “Ian, I got her tent ready as ye asked,” Daven announced.

  Ian glanced back over at her. She was looking between the horses and around the sides of the tent.

  “What are ye lookin’ fer?” Ian asked.

  “My bags! They were in the cart when we left but I cannae find them,” Keira answered, her voice loud and shrill.

  “We dinna take any bags wit’ us.”

  “But all of my clothes, my belongings, they were in my bags. How do ye suppose I am to change or stay warm wit’ out any of my clothing?”

  “I have a plaid ye can use. We took what we needed and left the rest.”

  “Does nothing I own have value to ye?”

  “Ye can get new dresses once we reach our destination.”

  “I dinna want new dresses. Ye could have told me. I would have carried my bags myself.”

  “That would have only slowed us down. Now I suggest, my lady, ye get some rest. T’will be a long day tomorrow.”

  “I dinna need yer blanket, yer tent, nor yer food. I will stay right here and sleep near the fire if I get cold.”

  Ian stomped over to his horse and pulled out a plaid from one of the saddle bags, gathering it into his arms. Walking back to the lass, he threw it at her.

  “Now get to sleep,” he ordered, before turning his back to her and heading over across the camp to lean against the trunk of a wide ash tree.

  “Bastard!” Keira mumbled, just loudly enough that Ian could hear when he walked away.

  ~*~

  As the sun sank beneath the horizon, the air began to cool. Picking up the plaid she had intentionally dropped on the ground, Keira wrapped it around her shoulders. The men were quiet. The only sounds she heard were the occasional hoot of an owl in a nearby tree, and leaves rustling in the light breeze.

  Keira’s mind was consumed with what Ian had told her. Did her father know Laird Chisholm was a traitor? He couldn’t have! Keira refused to believe that her father had a part of any plan or scheme against the king. To do so would be treason; punishable by death, and why would her father risk such a thing?

  She decided she would sneak away once the men were asleep. Keira looked down at the red apple Ian had left for her, which now lay next to her foot. Her stomach growled. She glanced up at the others before snatching it off the ground and took a small bite. The juice of the apple ran down her chin as she took another. It tasted sweet, and helped curb her hunger. She should have thanked him, but her stubborn nature would not have allowed her to do so.

  Keira looked up at the tent Daven and Alec had erected for her. It looked warm and inviting. She figured she needed to at least get a few hours’ sleep before attempting her escape. Hiking through the Highlands on foot with little sleep, she would not get far. Plus, if they thought she was in the tent all night, it would allow her a chance to cover a fair distance before they discovered she was gone.

  Keira stood and headed over to the tent. She felt the men’s eyes following her. Pulling back the flap, she slid inside. Within the tent, was a pallet layered with several warm plaids. She slipped underneath one of the layers and closed her eyes.

  Keira slept fitfully inside the tent, wrapped in the oversized, wool blanket Ian had offered. Tossing and turning, worries of what tomorrow would bring kept her awake and restless for most of the night. At what she assumed was just a few hours before dawn, she poked her head outside the tent. Four of the men lay asleep near the low-burning fi
re. Looking around, she could not find Ian. He was not leaning against the tree where she had last seen him, nor was he one of the men lying near the fire. Keira slipped through the opening into the cool air.

  With Ian nowhere in sight, and the men fast sleep, she picked up her skirt and tiptoed toward the trees, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. She made her way just beyond the tree line. Satisfied she had successfully crept enough distance from the camp without being heard, she started to run.

  With only the light of the moon guiding her, Keira had no idea in which direction she ran but any direction was better than back toward their campsite.

  “Oh the nerve of them!” she muttered to herself.

  She tried to put together the pieces of information she had learned from their conversations, but still nothing made sense. As if she were having a conversation with another, she cursed and ranted out loud about Ian and his band of barbarians. Her frustration building, she realized she had more and more unanswered questions. She believed that only her father would have the answers, as he was apparently in on this mess along with her intended groom, Laird Chisholm.

  She ran until her legs burned and the bottom of her feet grew sore. After nearly an hour, Keira stopped and rested against a tree, to catch her breath. To the east, the sky was beginning to lighten. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her breath, wondering how much farther she had until she reached a nearby village or passed someone on the road. With no food, weapon or coin, she hoped to find someone with God’s blessed grace who would offer her aid.

  “Tis foolish fer a lass to be out here alone,” a male voice said.

  At first Keira thought it was her own conscience replying to her. She was beginning to agree that wandering off alone was a foolish idea. But the familiarity of his rough tone brought her back to the present.

  Keira’s eyes popped open in surprise. Leaning against a tree stood a smug-looking Ian. How had he found her? How had she not heard his approach?

  “How did ye find me?”

  “I’ve been following ye the whole way.”

  “But how?”

  “My Lady, nothing gets past me.”

  “If ye have been following me this whole time, why did ye only now reveal yerself?”

  “I wanted to see how far ye’d get on yer own. I must say, I was quite impressed and amused.”

  “I am no’ here fer yer amusement!” she spat.

  “I dinna think ye know it, but yer quite bonny when ye banter wit’ yerself.”

  Known for talking out loud to herself when deep in thought, she felt mortified by the things he could have heard, though most of it curses aimed at him and his men.

  “So, ye think I’m a beast, aye?”

  “I think ye are more than just a beast!”

  Ian smirked at her remark.

  “That may be true lass. Where is it ye think ye were going?”

  “Home.”

  “And yer plan was to walk all the way there?”

  “Aye, if I had to!”

  “Tis no’ necessary. Once we make our journey to Linlithgow, I will see ye arrive home safely and promise ye, no harm will come to ye. But ye must promise me that ye will no’ try running off again.”

  “May I have yer word?”

  “On my father’s life, ye have my word.”

  Keira bit her bottom lip, leery of just how good his word was. The mention of his father sparked her curiosity like flames to dry parchment.

  “Who are ye?” she asked.

  “I already told ye who I am.”

  “Ye did no’ such thing. Ye gave me only yer given name. Surely ye are more than just one name. Ye dinna tell me where ye are from, or what clan ye belong to. If I am to trust ye wit’ my protection, I wish to know who is protecting me.”

  “I was born into Clan MacKay, and MacKay is my name.”

  “MacKay? Yer clan hails from just west of mine. Are we allies?”

  “My father is at peace with most of the neighboring clans.”

  “Yer father is Jacob, chieftain of Clan MacKay?”

  “Aye, he is.”

  “And the others? Are ye all MacKays?”

  “Nay! Only Leland and Rylan. Daven and Alec are warriors from other clans. I’ve told ye enough. We must head back. If ye wish to return home, we must leave soon.”

  “Wait a minute! That’s it? That’s all yer going to tell me? Ye haven’t told me anything like, why are ye keeping me captive? What crime is Laird Chisholm accused of? And who are ye really?”

  Ian walked toward her until he stood nearly a foot away. So close, she could smell his scent of horse and leather.

  “Lady Sinclair, I do no’ have the authority to divulge my orders to ye nor the details of my mission. Can ye just trust that I am only looking out fer yer safety and that I will disclose to ye what I can when the time comes?”

  Keira saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Perhaps she had been a tad irrational and quick to judge. After all, he had kept his word thus far.

  “Alright! Ye leave me little choice but to trust ye.”

  “Good.”

  Keira let out a breath and followed Ian. Over a small hill, she spotted his horse grazing on the tall grass. Amazed at the sight of it, she was still perplexed at how he had followed her, on horseback of all things, without her knowledge. Perhaps her banter had kept her from noticing the obvious.

  Keira allowed Ian to help her mount the tall creature without dispute. Mounting behind her, he led the horse back the way they had come.

  Chapter 7

  Ian and Keira returned to the camp just as the men were beginning to awaken. She was surprised to find that she had not gotten as far as she’d hoped when Ian came upon her, as their return trip took only a matter of a few moments. Even if he hadn’t found her, based on the distance she’d managed to travel this morning, it would have taken at least a month for her to reach the border of her land. It only proved that she had little choice but to trust Ian and his word to return her to her family.

  “Where have ye been?” Rylan asked.

  “Fer a short ride,” Ian replied.

  Keira shot a glance over at Ian. He lied for her. Why? Perhaps he did not wish to anger his men with her rash decision to leave. Whatever the reason, she felt grateful. It was as clear as spring water, these men did not think highly of her and she did not want to do anything that would further provoke them.

  “Are ye and Leland packed?” Ian asked.

  “Aye, we are,” Rylan responded, looking at them both suspiciously.

  Ian turned his attention back to Keira. His look was like the calm before a storm.

  “My lady, if ye wish fer some privacy before we leave, I suggest ye do so now. I wish to cover as much land as possible today.”

  “How long will it take to get there?” she asked.

  “Tis a two day journey from here. Can I trust ye no’ to run?”

  Keira bit her bottom lip. She had every right to run, but the scowl on Ian’s face had a way of making her feel guilty about her need for freedom.

  “Aye,” she whispered, speaking the truth.

  Ian allowed Keira her privacy but stayed within hearing distance, making sure that she did not back down from her promise.

  He had never known a lass to keep her word. One or two had made an attempt to keep their word to him, but in the end, women always did what they wanted if they could get away with it.

  “She ran, dinna she? I told ye, she would be nothing but trouble,” Rylan said, more as a statement than a question, grabbing his pack from the ground and swinging it over the saddle.

  Ian grimaced at his accusation but did not respond. He’d made one excuse for the lass already; he was not about to make another. Nothing ever seemed to get past Rylan. The damn man was too clever for his own good, but that cleverness made him a good warrior.

  A few moments later, Keira reappeared. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and it appeared she had to will her body to move. It served her right
for trying to escape in the first place!

  Ian looked down at her skirt as she walked. He imagined it was hard for the lass to ride with such a large bundle of fabric underneath her bottom. Then an idea came to him. Ian pulled out a small, short-bladed dirk from his belt and tossed it to Keira. She caught the small knife in her hands and studied the blade.

  “Do yerself a favor and cut off the under layers of that skirt of yers. All that fluff is no’ necessary and removing it will prevent ye from tripping all o’er it when ye walk. Plus it will make ye much more comfortable on the horse.”

  ~*~

  Keira looked down at the sharp blade in her hands. How could he have been so trusting to think that she wouldn’t use it against him? The small knife wouldn’t amount to much in battle but it was enough to slice a man’s throat or cause a man to bleed out if she stuck it in the right spot.

  Keira had never harmed another before in her life, but that did not mean she couldn’t gather the courage to at least make an attempt, especially if her life was in danger. But was it? So far Ian had kept true to his word and not harmed her. And if he had not been concerned for her protection, he would not have followed her in the woods and returned her to camp. Any other man would not have bothered. Perhaps there was more to him than he let on.

  Ian’s idea of cutting off the extra, heavy velvet was a sound and logical suggestion. Had she thought of it before, she would have torn off and removed the bothersome train earlier.

  Finding some privacy behind a bush, she lifted the top layer of her dress and draped it over her arm. Twisting around, and holding the knife with the other hand, she made a small tear along the back waistline. Setting the knife down on a stump, she ripped the fabric from around her waist, pulling it away from the dress.

  With a heap of loose material gathered in her arms, she dropped the heavy train, now detached from the back of her dress. The skirt flopped to her sides, sleek and slender. Keira felt as if she had lost nearly twenty pounds removing the excess velvet. This was much better, she thought. It was easier for her to maneuver and undoubtedly going to be easier for her to ride as well. Of course, she never would have needed to damage the dress had Ian and his men not left her luggage back at the carriage, but that was a well-worn conversation and did not need to be brought up again.