“I’ll do exactly as ye say,” Mairi said. “Without question.”
Conall eyed her with no small amount of suspicion, and ’twas all she could do to keep from smiling. She’d complied with his request to speak somewhere more private, and though she loathed her father’s house, she sat there now with Conall and Rob.
“Why would you do that,” Conall said, “after you’ve been so much…”
“Trouble?”
“Aye.”
She shrugged. “Ye said it yourself. I know naught of engineering and construction. Evidently, ye know much.”
“So he says.” Rob took another swig of ale, and Conall glared at him.
“Fine,” she said. “Tell my people what to do, and we’ll do it.”
“Exactly as I say?”
“Exactly as ye say.” She mustered her most compliant smile.
Conall snorted, then stood to leave.
“By the way,” she said. “For each day past the feast of Saint Catherine’s the construction is no’ finished, the Chattan shall allow the Dunbars double their share of as many shipments as days.”
“What?”
She fought the grin of satisfaction about to bloom on her lips.
Rob cackled.
“That willna do,” Conall said. “We’ve already lost time with you in charge.”
“Perhaps, but ye shall make it up because ye are so skilled.” She arched a brow at him. “Are ye no’?”
“So he says,” Rob repeated.
“What’s good for the goose, Dora always says…” She rose from the table and started for the door.
“Smart woman, that Dora,” Rob called after her.
As soon as Mairi was outside, she put her hands to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Raised voices drifted from the house. She stood still as stone and tried to make out Conall’s words.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kip round the corner from the garden, skipping and waving a stick. Jupiter nipped at it as he jogged along beside him. Mairi caught the boy’s attention and pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh.” She nodded toward the open door of the house.
Kip stopped in mid-skip, and Jupiter crashed into him from behind.
“Quiet,” she whispered.
Kip tiptoed closer. “What’s goin’ on?” His eyes widened at the litany of curses echoing from the hall.
Mairi smiled. “Conall Mackintosh is in charge of the construction now.”
“Oh?” Kip said. “Good. Men should be in charge o’ things, not women.”
“Who told ye that?”
“He did.” Kip glanced at the doorway, which was suddenly filled with Conall’s imposing frame.
Green eyes burned into her.
“Ye told him that?” Of all the nerve.
“Aye.” Conall brushed past her.
“I would appreciate it if, in the future, ye didna—”
“Have your clan assembled on the beach within the hour,” Conall said as he strode down the hill.
“But I’m no’ fini—”
“An hour!”
Hmph. Mairi crossed her arms over her chest and watched him until he disappeared into the village.
Jupiter looked up at her expectantly.
“Ye’d best do as he says,” Kip said.
“Oh, I intend to.” She smiled. “Exactly as he says.”
Nothing had gone as he’d expected.
Conall swore under his breath as the timber pier swayed and teetered on the water. They’d worked for days and had made damned little progress.
“She was right, ye know,” Rob said. “About the third piling anchor. Ye should have listened to her.”
“It sways something wicked, don’t it?” Harry jumped up and down on the newly constructed pier.
“Christ!” Conall grabbed Rob’s shoulder to steady himself as water lapped over the timbers onto his boots.
“Oh, sorry,” Harry said, and stopped. “I forgot.”
Rob grinned. “Aye, his swimmin’ lessons have no’ been as fruitful as he’d hoped.”
“All right, that’s enough. What do you mean I should have listened to her?”
“I heard her plainly say the first pier should be anchored at three points, no’ two.”
“Three points? What the—? Did you know about this?” He turned to Harry, and the scout nodded.
The bloody wench!
He’d helped her set the second anchor and got naught for it save sharp-tongued gibes and nasty looks. She’d said nothing to him of a third.
He inched his way back along the unstable pier to the shore where Mairi stood waiting.
“We did exactly as ye told us.” She pursed her lips and tipped her chin at him.
So help him, if she did that one more time, he was going to throttle her.
“Are ye pleased?”
“Nay, I am not.” His blood boiled just looking at her.
“Well, I must say I told ye—”
Conall grabbed her arm. For a second he read panic in those deep-blue eyes, then her expression cooled to stone. She was fearless, he’d grant her that. He released her.
“Ye knew this would happen,” he said, and pointed to the unsteady pier.
Mairi shrugged.
“Why the devil did ye no’ speak up, woman?”
“I thought ye said to do exa—”
“Ye spiteful little vixen! Have ye no concern for anyone save your—”
“Ye talk more like us when ye’re mad. Did ye know that?”
“What? What are ye blabbering about?”
“See. Ye did it again.” She grinned, and he was tempted to slap her. “Your accent. ’Tis fair strange. No’ like the rest of us, or even your own kinsmen.”
One. Two. He breathed deep and resisted the urge to…to…Christ, the woman was maddening! At the moment, all he could think about was throwing her down on the beach and shagging her senseless.
“Did ye no’ grow up here?”
“What?” What the devil was she talking about?
“The Highlands. Are ye no’ from here?”
“Aye, I am.” His anger cooled. “Born at Findhorn and raised nearby at Braedûn Lodge.”
“I’ve heard tell of those places. So why d’ye talk so strange?”
His gaze drifted to her mouth, the sun in her hair, the breeze playing at the neckline of her gown. “I…I was fostered abroad, in France, with my brother’s wife’s family. I was ten and five when I left home, twenty when I returned.”
“Ah, well, that explains it.”
He licked his lips and felt suddenly overwarm. “I didna rest long anywhere after that.”
“Why not?”
“I…we traveled a lot, Rob and I.”
She studied him for a moment, then said, “And your wife? She abides this…travel?”
He held her gaze and marveled again at how her eyes reminded him of Loch Drurie’s still waters. “I have no wife,” he said, and walked past her toward his mount.
Mairi didn’t follow.
A moment later, Rob’s light footfalls sounded behind him. “Where are ye off to?”
Conall untethered the black and pulled himself into the saddle. “To the place we scouted four days ago.”
“Where ye thought ye saw some of Symon’s men?”
“Aye.” He patted the stallion’s supple neck and reined him toward the wood.
Jupiter’s enormous head poked from the thicket that served as his favorite sleeping spot. He crashed out of the bushes and lumbered after him.
“I’ll go wi’ ye, too,” Rob said, and started toward his mount.
“Nay. Stay here and see to it that third anchor is set.”
“But—”
“And keep the dog with you.” He snared Jupiter’s attention. “Stay, boy. Stay with Rob.”
Jupiter ignored him and kept coming.
“Tie him up. I dinna want him following.”
Rob grabbed the mastiff’s collar. “Come on, laddie. Stay here with me, and I’l
l ask Dora to spare ye a bone.”
“And send Harry along after me. I’ll need a scout’s good eye to find what I seek.”
“Ye suspect Symon’s up to something.”
“I do, and he is.” Conall kicked the stallion lightly and they shot forward into the wood. “Send Harry,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll wait up on the ridge.”
But he did not wait.
All along the ridge line he saw signs that someone had been there—muddled hoofprints, a dozen broken tree limbs, piles of fallen leaves. “To hide behind,” he said to himself.
Someone had been watching them.
And that someone was Geoffrey Symon.
Conall spurred the black down the far side of the ridge and skirted the northeast edge of the loch. Harry would pick up his trail easily. He needed some time alone, time to think.
Certain things began to make sense.
Each night the men had left stacks of newly cut timbers for the piers just inside the cover of the trees. Most of the Chattan slept at the house, but a few still made their beds in the camp. Two mornings in a row they’d awoken to find some of the timbers missing. Conall had thought they’d simply miscounted.
Other things had happened that no one could explain. A length of anchor chain went missing, along with a whole day’s work’s worth of rope. And then there was the felled tree. He couldn’t blame that on Symon. “That blasted woman!”
He chastised himself for having left Mairi alone with his men, without clear instructions for them to follow. ’Twould never happen again.
As for the breach of security, that had been his fault alone. “Damn it,” he breathed, and scanned the leaf-littered ground for Symon’s trail.
’Twas foolish, perhaps, to pursue him without a full escort. But he couldn’t spare the men. The weather had turned noticeably colder, and the construction was just beginning.
He studied the scattering of clouds and the wind in the trees. Brittle leaves danced and blustered overhead, raining down on him in showers of russet and gold.
The first trade boat would arrive from the south a fortnight before Christmas. They must be ready. The Chattan’s livelihood depended on it, and the Dunbars’. ’Twould be an early winter, and a hard one, if he was any judge of the signs.
The Dunbars. What in God’s name was he to do with them? Nothing, if he was thinking straight. Their share of the goods would feed them through the winter. Christ, ’twould feed them all year. What else mattered?
Alwin Dunbar’s debt.
Rob had filled him in on the details, which he’d heard in full from Dora. The amusing part was, should Mairi agree to wed Symon, the debt would no longer matter. Their lands and their clans would be joined.
But she’d refused him.
“Ha!” He’d ne’er seen such audacity in a woman before—except in his brothers’ wives. He laughed, recalling how Iain and Gilchrist both had lost their hearts.
And risked losing so much more.
He guided the black onto the small but well-worn path skirting the north end of the loch. They’d come this way from Findhorn, and while the landscape was familiar to him, he wished now he’d waited for Harry.
For a warrior’s bonnet rested on the standing stone marking the small hunter’s camp off the loch. A sprig of yew leaves was twisted into the wool.
“What d’ye mean he’s gone?” Mairi snapped. “Gone where?” She patted Jupiter on the head and scowled at Rob.
“Och, just out for a wee ride.”
He was lying. She could see it in his eyes.
“Why’s the dog tied? That fool practically sleeps with the beast. He’d never tie him.”
Rob shrugged. “Uh…he…Well, to be honest…”
“He doesna want him to follow. Why not? Where’s he gone?” She scanned the camp to see which of the other mounts were missing. “God’s blood, they all look the same to me.”
“What?”
“Where is it ye went before? The two of ye, nigh on four days ago?” She stepped toward him, and Rob’s eyes widened. “Come on, little man, spill it.”
“I…uh, we was just ridin’ and—”
“Ho!” Harry came up behind her. “Where’s he gone, then? To find Symon?”
“What?” Mairi whirled on him. “What business has he with Geoffrey?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “How dare he interfere?”
She started toward one of the tethered horses, but Rob cut her off. “Whoa, lass. Just where d’ye think ye’re going?”
“After him. I canna allow his meddling. These are local affairs, of no concern to him.”
“Ah, but they do concern him,” Rob said.
Harry stepped to his side. “Aye, they do.”
She frowned at them and waited for some explanation. Both remained silent.
“Besides,” Rob said. “I canna allow ye to ride our steeds.”
“Why not?”
“They’re far too spirited,” Harry said. “For women, I mean.”
“Bah!” What a load of pig slop. She marched toward the smallest of the horses and studied it. Hmm, ’twas big, at that. She’d not done much riding. What few mounts the Dunbars had owned had left with the men or were gambled away by her father.
“I said nay, lass.” Rob fisted his hands on his hips. His eyes were deadly serious.
“Fine. I’ll stay. But ye bring him back this instant,” she said to Harry. “I’ll no’ have the lout stirring the pot more than he already has, d’ye hear?” Geoffrey was mad enough already. There was no telling what he might do if pushed.
“Aye, I’ll find him,” Harry said, and vaulted onto his horse. He galloped into the wood before she could say anything more.
“Conall’s asked me to set a third piling anchor, to steady the pier,” Rob said, and smiled. “Just as ye recommended. Would ye care to advise me on the placement?”
Mairi appreciated his gesture. ’Twas rare that any of them had asked for her advice. But she had other plans. “Methinks ye know right well where to place it. Besides, I must meet Judith in the village.” She started toward the girl’s cottage. “But I thank ye all the same, Rob.”
He was buying it. She could tell from his relaxed expression. Her pulse quickened.
“All right, then,” he said. “I’d best get to it.”
As soon as he disappeared onto the beach, Mairi skirted back through the trees to the camp. Jupiter lay, snoring, tethered to a stout laurel. She prodded him with her foot.
“Wake up, ye lazy beast. We’ve no’ much time.”
Jupiter shot to his feet.
“Come on, let’s find your master.” She untied the rope securing him to the tree and cast it into the wood. “Where’s Conall? Where’s your laird?”
Jupiter barked, and she clamped her hand over his snout. “Shh, or ye’ll alert the whole bluidy village. Come on.”
A half hour later the mastiff stopped at the edge of the loch where the forest path first met the water.
“Good boy,” Mairi said. ’Twas as she’d suspected. Conall was making for Geoffrey’s stronghold on the other side. ’Twould take him hours on horseback. She knew a shortcut, which is why she didn’t bother stealing one of the Chattan horses. “Far too spirited, indeed.”
Mairi jogged up the path until it crossed a small inlet. “Ah, here’s the spot.” She cut up a steep hill into the wood and scanned the bushes until she found what she sought.
A boat.
She’d kept one hidden here for years, for just such a purpose. One tug and it slid easily down the hill on a raft of autumn leaves.
In minutes they were on the water rowing toward the northwest shore. Both she and Jupiter were soaked to the skin.
“Ye mangy mutt. ’Tis a wee boat. ’Tis a wonder ye didna sink it climbing in.”
Jupiter pasted his ears back and let out a whimper.
“Be still, now. We’ll be across in no time. Ye can walk back with Conall.”
The dog panted happily at the mention of his
master’s name.
“Dinna look so pleased.”
She’d have more than a word with Conall Mackintosh over this. The nerve of the man. Shivering, she rowed faster, as a strong head wind chilled her to the bone. Only a few more minutes. She put her back into it and fixed her eyes on the water.
“There, we’re here.” Mairi beached the boat where she always did, next to the standing stone marking a footpath into the wood. Jupiter leaped to shore and his nose began to twitch.
“That’s right. Ye’ll pick up Conall’s scent here, if he had sense enough to keep to the path.”
She stepped from the boat and shook out her wet gown. “But the man’s got no sense at all, has—”
A hand clamped over her mouth. Another shot ‘round her waist. Jesu! She was lifted off her feet and dragged backward into the wood.
Jupiter plodded stupidly along after her. Useless mongrel! Why didn’t he do something?
“Who’s the one with no sense, eh?” her captor hissed in her ear. “Are you bloody mad?”
She knew that voice, that ridiculous accent. Of all the—
He shook her, then set her on her feet but didn’t let go. “Quiet, do you hear? We’re not alone.”
She nodded, and slowly he removed his hand from her mouth. A hand that smelled of horse. “Unh. ’Tis horrible.”
“Shh!” He turned her in his arms, and she was not surprised to find herself staring up into those green eyes.
“What are ye doin’ here?” she whispered.
“Me? What are you doing here? Shh! Dinna answer.” Conall pulled her farther into the cover of the trees.
“Let go of me!”
He gripped her waist tighter. “Nay.”
“Of all the stupid—”
“Hush! Look!” He pointed to the standing stone.
Her eyes traveled upward along its mossy surface, and lit on—“That’s Geoffrey’s bonnet! What have ye done with him?”
“Nothing—yet.”
“So help me, Conall Mackintosh, if ye so much as—” He pulled her closer, and she was suddenly aware of his body pressed to hers.
“If I so much as what?” He grabbed her chin and wrenched it upward.
“If ye…if…”
His eyes devoured her, and his breath was hot on her face, his lips dangerously close to hers. Mairi’s pulse raced.
“You despise him,” Conall whispered.
“Nay.”
A Rogue's Heart Page 7
