The Laird's Daughter, Moriag Series, Book 4

by Hildie McQueen

  "So ‘tis best not to guess then?" Ian was relieved.

  "Nay sir. If you care, you keep guessing. ‘Tis what we have to do. Sometimes we guess correctly." The man chuckled and returned to his chore.

  He'd not guessed, nor had any idea, whatever it was that bothered Elsbeth. If she didn't wish to leave Moriag, there was precious little he could do about it. Marrying the lass would not be permitted.

  Ian raked his fingers through his hair. What was he thinking? Of course marriage was not the option he would consider. His true identity would have to be revealed. Something he never wished to do.

  Chapter Two

  Elsbeth pulled the needle through the fabric, her fingers working nimbly on a tapestry for her new home. For the second day in a row, she'd remained indoors all day, choosing to stitch and read rather than her usual activities. The longer she considered her current situation, the darker her mood and rather than spending time with others, she chose to brood in private.

  Her mother stood at the doorway to the sitting room, her brow furrowed. "Twice you have not attended the evening meal. Are you unwell dear?"

  Unable to smile, Elsbeth patted the settee. "Come sit with me mother. I am fine, just have not been in the mood for all the noise of the great room."

  "You've been unusually somber. I assume it has to do with your upcoming betrothal."

  "I don't know," she replied with honesty. "I am not against it. As a matter of fact, I look forward to marriage and children. The idea of family makes me happy."

  "Yet?"

  How to describe something she didn't quite understand. A heaviness had formed in her chest since the day she'd spoken the words out loud to Ian. As if by sharing with him, a part of her became burdened.

  "I'm sure it is nothing mother, perhaps nerves. I shared with Ian about it. It was strange to speak of it out loud. It was as if when I spoke it, the situation became real. Leaving Moriag is not something I ever wish to do."

  Her mother studied her face. "Are you in love with the warrior? I find your friendship to be odd. It is quite unusual for a maiden and a single man to be such close friends as the two of you have become."

  Love? No it was not possible. "I am sure what I feel for him is more caring and the affection, like what one feels for a good friend or a brother; nothing more."

  Her mother studied her for a moment and became wistful. "It will reassure your father and me to know you are well provided for and protected. The Setons are a large powerful clan. Kiernan Seton is an attractive man is he not?"

  A picture of the rugged brawny young man formulated. He was powerfully built and handsome. From what she'd heard, he spent more time wenching than learning to use his sword. "I hope he doesn't leave me a widow too long after we marry. From what I hear he is not adept with a sword. If so he could be killed in the first battle."

  "I hear the same," her mother added and Elsbeth wondered if her mother had also heard of his promiscuity. "Quite large isn't he?"

  Elsbeth smiled and shook her head. "Looks like a brute."

  "I'm sure he's not. He is first born to the Seton of Reardon." Her mother bit her lip. "Although I have to admit, the Setons are not known for proper behavior."

  The northern Setons claimed large chunks of land by pillaging and overthrowing lairds. Although known for their ruthlessness, the smaller two clans her father had befriended were not as much.

  "They remind me of the Norse in a way," Elsbeth mused. "I hope not to be expected to sail upon a vessel in search of villages to pillage."

  Her mother chuckled. "You do have the golden hair, a very Norse trait."

  It was refreshing to see mirth in her mother's gaze. For too many days now, there were shadows of despair and when she thought Elsbeth didn't notice, she drew heavy sighs. No matter how often she'd asked, her mother denied that anything was wrong. It could be her impending departure that saddened her mother. They were very close after all.

  Elsbeth lifted her hand and pretended to hold a sword. "I will become a feared fighter; a Scottish Lass known as the great castrator."

  "Oh my!" Her mother exclaimed as both fell into fits of laughter. "The things you say Elsbeth."

  A maid came to the sitting room. "Ladies, there are visitors in the great hall. The laird requests your presence."

  Arms linked, Elsbeth and her mother entered the great room. Her father, already seated at the high board, motioned them to remain in the rear of the room. Both sat in a chair brought by a maid, Elsbeth's attention focused on the visitors.

  The visitors were large men, warriors with Campbell tartans around their muscled bodies. From what she could see, among the men who stood guard around them, they'd not bothered washing before entering.

  Her father spoke loudly. "Campbell, you and your men are welcome to stay of course. There are guard's quarters in the courtyard for you to rest and our well has clear water for you to wash and water your horses." He motioned to two empty tables, deliberately left open in the center of the room. "Please sit and enjoy a meal."

  A large bearded man, who she assumed was the leader, bowed his head. "The invitation is appreciated. And we accept. I come with a message from my laird, the Campbell."

  There were mumbles around the room. If these men were the Campbell's men, then the laird had definitely ensured to send the fiercest in his employ. "We are on assignment to find a man."

  "A Scot?" Her father asked leaning forward, obviously interested. He motioned for the others to sit. Everyone did, except for the man who spoke.

  "Nay, not just any man, but the laird's own son. Griogair Campbell."

  "What makes you think I would know where this person is?" The laird asked with a puzzled expression. “All of my men are McNeil.”

  The warrior looked around. "We were told my laird's son took shelter with a laird who lives in Moriag."

  "I cannot recall any newcomers to these parts. Of course I cannot speak for the other three lairds." Her father said with a shrug.

  The warrior stood very still, his gaze moving down the side of the room until he looked at her. His light blue eyes met hers for a moment, before taking the rest of her in.

  "I believed a person with golden hair would stand out in this region. But perhaps I am wrong."

  Her father's keen gaze met her and Elsbeth's breath caught. It couldn't be. Ian was a guard, not a laird's son. And he'd been with Declan for a very long time; at least that’s what she’d been led to believe.

  When her mother squeezed her hand, it was obvious she thought the same thing. It could only be Ian that they searched for. The Campbells of the northern region were fair, being mostly of Norse ancestry. It struck her as strange that only moments earlier she and her mother had discussed the topic. Could it be that Ian was not who everyone thought him to be? If he was a Campbell, they were the strongest most powerful clan in Scotland. If anything, he should be proud to remain with them. Why would the son of one of the most commanding lairds flee and hide working as a lowly guard?

  No it was impossible. Yet it struck her that Ian McRainey was the only golden haired man in Moriag and with an unfamiliar last name. That she knew of, there were no McRainey clans in the surrounding lands.

  Later that evening, Elsbeth went to find her father. He was alone in his chambers. Not hearing her, he leaned back in a chair, his eyes closed and hands pressing against his midsection. He let out a low groan and shifted with what looked to be discomfort.

  "Da? Are you ill?" Elsbeth entered and went directly to him. Her hands on his face, she kissed his brow. "Should I call for a healer?"

  "Nay." He smiled at her. "I fear something in the evening's meal did not sit well."

  "It could be the visitors. They are quite a harsh bunch."

  "Hired swordsmen, if I were to guess. Loyal to whoever holds the purse strings. Yes they are probably clansmen, but not part of the laird's guard by the looks of them." He straightened his shoulders. "Yet they were sent by the Campbell, so we could not turn them away."

&nb
sp; "Did the leader impart any other information?"

  "You want to know if I suspect Ian McRainey is the man they seek." His keen eyes roamed her face. "I am not sure if Ian is who they seek. I do recall Declan Gordon telling me they've known each other for many years and I've always sensed Ian McRainey has a secret, so anything is possible. Yet, if the Campbell's son is smart he's probably gone farther than the Highlands."

  T’was interesting that her Da knew so much about Ian. "Yes, that was what I planned to ask. Did you not find it of interest how he studied me? As if he thought never to find a golden haired Scot."

  "Aye. The man is a brute."

  "Why would the Campbell seek out his son after many years?"

  Her father's eyes softened when meeting hers. "Mayhap to redeem himself. The Campbell's cruelty is well known. I do not know what he did to cause his son to flee, but I am sure the young Campbell had just cause. It could be the Campbell is not well." The McNeil's lips curved and he reached for her hand, taking it between both of his.

  "What about the Seton's son? They come to seek an audience, I am sure it will be to ask for your hand for the young Kiernan." His countenance became harder. "Ye will accept."

  Her mother entered, her gaze going from Elsbeth to the laird. "Is something amiss?"

  It was endearing to see her father's face soften when he took in his wife. "No dear. We are speaking of our visitors."

  The immediate relaxing of her mother's shoulders made Elsbeth wonder what she'd thought they spoke of. "I see. ‘Tis quite worrisome to have them about, I hope they don't cause any trouble."

  Glad for the interruption, not quite ready to commit to her father that she'd accept Kiernan Seton's offer, she slipped her hand out of his and stood. She kissed her father's brow and moved to the doorway. "With the strangers about, I will not go for my nightly walk, but seek my bed instead." Her parents remained silent as she left. Once again the feeling something was amiss assailed.

  As she walked through the great room, she changed her mind and went to the door leading to the courtyard. She stepped outside and remaining close to the walls walked toward the garden. Just as she was about to turn the corner, hushed voices made her stop.

  "We are close. We’ll find him in a day or two. Our presence will either make him attempt to flee or hide until we leave." One of the men said.

  "Did ye notice the lass' expression? She knows him." It was the voice of the one who'd spoken to her father. "We follow her, we find him."

  "I am needin' coin. Only bringing back Griogair Campbell's body will his brother pay."

  Elsbeth stepped back and scampered back to the doorway. As she reached it, the men emerged from the side of the building. She pretended to have just stepped out and looked to them.

  Instantly one of her father's guards came to her. "Tis not safe for ye to be about tonight milady." He looked to the visitors to make a point. "Perhaps ‘tis best ye do not walk tonight."

  "Very well," Elsbeth replied glad for a reason to go back inside. "Have a good night Murrow."

  "Good night milady," the guard replied, his face hard as he kept an eye on the messengers.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. If Ian was in fact the Campbell's son, he was in danger. Somehow she had to get word to him. If in the morning she left with guards to Declan Gordon's keep, the men would instantly be alerted and follow. Somehow, she had to sneak away tonight. But how?

  In her chamber she paced scrambling for an answer. Finally in the very late hours of the night, she came upon an idea. Not the best, but it could work.

  Dew from the night before glistened on the fresh new leaves of spring as a young lad carried logs into the keep and then returned outside and made his way to the stable. His limp was noticeable enough for a bystander to realize the reason for his small size and menial work. With a cap pulled down on his head, the lad hunched his shoulders against the cool air and shuffled to the gate with a horse and an empty cart. No doubt on errands to town to collect whatever supplies the keep's Cook listed for him to retrieve. Just as he rode off, the messengers entered the great room to seek breaking their fast before leaving to find the Campbell's son at the surrounding keeps. Anticipating a delicious hot meal, they barely paid any heed to the young man who looked over his shoulder at them before urging the horse to a faster pace.

  Heart thumping, Elsbeth hoped her mother would not be too angry upon finding her note. She'd left a message stating she'd gone for a ride to the Gordon's keep. Without guards...yes perhaps her mother would be quite cross, but she'd done it before, and it would not be something that would overly worry her parents.

  Upon reaching the village, she unhitched the wagon and continued from there on horseback.

  It was imperative she find Ian. Not just to warn him, but also to demand answers to why he kept his identity a secret. If by some chance he was not Griogair Campbell, then she'd return home with a lightened heart.

  Then again, was this the true reason for seeking out Ian? Was there a more pressing matter they had to discuss?

  Her stomach tumbled at the idea. If Ian asked her not to marry the Seton's son, would she do as he bid? He could not offer more than friendship. She knew he would not go against her father's wishes. Too proud to ask for her hand with nothing to offer, as he was but a humble guard.

  Elsbeth leaned lower to the horse as it raced towards the Gordon's lands. A smile curved her lips at a realization.

  She was in love with Ian McRainey and it was time he knew it. There was little to lose. If he did not return the sentiment, she'd marry Kiernan Seton. However, if Ian cared for her, she'd fight to remain in Moraig.

  God help them if he was indeed Griogair Campbell. There was a price on his head it seemed.

  Chapter Three

  The wind blew through the trees with an announcement of upcoming rainfall and Ian was glad to almost be to the cottage. From atop his steed through the branches, he caught sight of a slight young lad pulling a horse behind the cottage before dashing inside, looking around as if expecting someone followed.

  Ian let out a breath of annoyance. Once he got there and sent the lad on his way, he could relax and take the needed time alone. Unable to keep from thinking about Elsbeth, he'd gone hunting. Now a good tongue lashing to this lad for stealing away in his cottage would be a good distraction. He had to stop thinking of her, tear any feelings for her from his chest. They were nothing more than friends after all, so her announcing an upcoming betrothal affecting him so much made little sense.

  Unfortunately, he kept rehashing their last conversation and second-guessing what her expression meant. By the way she’d told him about the Seton's visit, he didn't sense anything more than acceptance on her part. Her only worry seemed to be in leaving Moriag. Yet, there had been something beseeching him to do something. What she'd expected from him neither clear nor spoken.

  There was only one way to finish this. Ian looked up at the sky. It was no use to attempt to ride to the McNeil keep at the moment. He'd wait until morning and go to see Elsbeth. Once they could talk, he'd ask her to be direct with him. It struck him as odd since his friend had never been the type of woman to mince words. Elsbeth was straight to the point, often too outspoken for a woman. It was one of the reasons he liked her so.

  Trotting behind the cottage, he dismounted and guided his horse to the stable behind it. Once removing the saddle and ensuring the animal had plenty of food, he looked the other horse over.

  The mare was familiar.

  Elsbeth's mount.

  He rushed into the cottage just as the lad finished placing a log into the fire. When he turned to him, he cursed under his breath. "Elsbeth, whatever are you doing here?" Dressed like a lad, she looked quite different with her hair pulled up and shoved under a cap. Though even in breeches and a serviceable tunic, she still managed to look every bit the beautiful lass.

  She directed a glare at him and lifted an eyebrow as if he'd done something unpleasant. "I am here because there are people out to cut
your fool head off your shoulders."

  Somehow he managed to keep from laughing. Her expression warned if he took her words lightly she'd possibly be the one to remove his head. She pinned him with narrowed eyes. "I believe you have lied to me about who you really are."

  Ian managed, with much effort, to keep the affect of her words under control, outwardly at least. His stomach sunk and his heart thudded erratically, banging against his breastbone. "I have no idea what you are spouting on about."

  The slap made his ears ring.

  Elsbeth could not keep from striking him. The one thing she hated more than thieves were liars. After all the time she'd spent with Ian, she knew the exact giveaways of when he was not truthful. Many a times she'd watched as he made exaggerated claims after a hunt, only to later admit to her, he'd lied. Now as the redness bloomed on the left side of his face, he was vividly aware of it.

  A veil fell and his eyes turned eerily blank. The usually light blue of his eyes turned into a chilly silver. "If you would explain upon what you are basing this presumption and perhaps also explain about my possible beheading, then perhaps we can have a proper conversation milady." The title instantly placed distance between them. She recognized the ploy and pushed past it, moving closer to him and bending at the waist until she was almost nose-to-nose with him.

  "Who are you really? And do not insult me by lying."

  Instead of a reply he cocked his head to the side and shrugged. "What brings these questions Elsbeth? Who is threatening my person?"

  She'd let the lack of reply go for now. "Messengers came seeking the whereabouts of a man. They claimed to be sent by Laird Campbell in search of his son Griogair." Nothing in his countenance changed, but he was too late. When she'd first asked who he was, Elsbeth had seen the panic in his eyes just before he'd ensured a neutral expression.