The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3)

by Barbara Longley

  “What is right.” He drew her closer and nuzzled her temple.

  “What might that be?” She held her breath, anticipation and—she had to admit—a smidgeon of dread obliterating her ability to think. What if he asked her to stay? Would she? Could she be happy here knowing she’d never see her family again? How had she managed to find herself straddled between the future and the past?

  “I snatched you from your time and from your kin. I have sworn to return you to your place and time.” His gaze roamed over her face, uncertainty once again clouding his features. “Have I no’ vowed to do so? And yet . . .”

  She waited for the rest of the sentence, but he said nothing more. Impatient, she poked his chest. “And yet?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I find myself loath to part with you.” He stared into her eyes, his expression one of consternation. “I have come to rely upon your counsel. You alone give me respite from the barrage of emotional jetsam I must endure each day.” He cradled her face between his large hands and ran his thumbs over her cheeks. “More than anything, I wish you to come with me to DúnConnell.”

  Her heart filled to overflowing. He wanted her with him. “As what? What am I to you, Hunter?”

  At her question, he stepped back. Tension stiffened his posture, and she felt his withdrawal keenly. His face a mask, once again he hid behind the walls of defense he’d built around himself. Sky was right. Hunter feared giving his heart. She wanted to shake him silly until the ambivalence toward her fell out of the holes in his thinking.

  “Why, I would have you train my garrison in the ways of mixed martial arts, of course. You would help me adjust to my new position and act as my topmost advisor.” He averted his gaze. “Mayhap I’ll put you in command of my garrison. What say you to that?”

  “I don’t think it would go over very well with the rest of your men.” Her hopes skipped and sank like the pebbles they’d tossed into the lake. “You should make Tieren your commander. He’s the perfect choice, and you can trust him.”

  “See how you aid me? If Tieren will accept the position, ’tis done.” He turned her toward the path to the keep. “I will do what is honorable and see that you are returned home as I have vowed. How will I get on without my most valued advisor close to hand?”

  “What about Sky?”

  “Ah, Sky . . .” He grunted again and placed his hands on her shoulders to propel her forward. “We must return to the keep. I wish to speak with the earl and my foster father, and I want you there.”

  What did “Ah, Sky” mean? Now that he held a much higher rank, did he intend to keep hounding his foster sister until she caved and married him? Probably. Suddenly her heart weighed a ton, and she had a tough time keeping her tears at bay.

  A few minutes later, she found herself once again in the earl’s solar, only this time, she was the only woman present. Tieren had joined the group, which consisted of Hunter, Malcolm, the earl and Edward. Hunter seated her on a bench nearest the wall, and if the others found anything strange about her being there, they gave no clue. He took a seat beside her.

  “I’ve a favor to ask of you, my lord,” Hunter said, facing the earl. “I need soldiers to quell the assault upon my clan. Will you loan me one hundred men?”

  “You dinna even have to ask, Hunter,” William said. “You have our aid, whatever you may need.”

  “Rest assured. The MacConnells and the MacKintosh are now closely tied.” Malcolm grinned at Edward. “In fact, my wife is a MacConnell, but that is a tale best left for another time. ’Twill take a few days to gather the men. We’ll take fifty from Loch Moigh and fifty from Meikle Geddes. I’ll send word to some of our smaller holdings to have men from each keep come to us to ensure we are no’ compromised whilst so many are away.”

  Edward shot Meghan a look so filled with gratitude, it brought a flush of heat to her cheeks.

  “My heartfelt thanks, my lords. Your aid is most appreciated and welcome.”

  “Your clan, Hunter?” Tieren’s brow furrowed, looking from Edward to Hunter. “What have I missed?”

  Hunter arched a brow at Tieren. “I am baron of DúnConnell and laird to clan MacConnell.”

  Tieren let out a raucous laugh. “How did this come about?”

  “I will tell you later. I ken you have accepted a place at Meikle Geddes, but I am hoping you might consider coming with me. Will you accept the post as commander of my garrison, Tieren? I can think of no one more qualified. I want no other guarding me and mine.”

  Tieren’s brow rose, and he glanced at Meghan. “What of Inverness?”

  “I see no reason to delay our journey, and I have need of my armor and gear. It appears I’ll be shall be using them oft in the foreseeable future.”

  He turned to Edward. “Once our men are gathered, you and your sons will accompany the MacKintosh soldiers to DúnConnell. Make haste, and have the men begin patrolling our borders in groups augmented with our garrison. Get word out that we are now allied with the MacKintosh and that the earl of Fife is kin to me. The MacKenzies are no’ enemies with the MacKintosh at present, and I trow they will no’ wish to become so in future.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Edward gave him a slight bow.

  Hunter turned once again to Tieren. “We shall depart for Inverness at daybreak as we planned. I dinna wish to thwart Cecil’s plans, whatever they may be. He must be dealt with before I take up my responsibilities at home.”

  He’d gone from an angry little boy to a decisive commander in a nanosecond, and Meghan reveled in the fact that she’d helped him make the transition. Maybe that’s what she’d been sent here to do. Her heart gave a painful squeeze. She was torn between longing for her family and longing to stay with Hunter, and lately, the scale was tipping more in favor of remaining by Hunter’s side. Sky had said he needed her, and that’s why she’d been brought to him. Why didn’t Hunter see it? Frustration banded her chest. Why did he fight so hard against what they felt for each other?

  No matter how she felt, in a week or so, Hunter would send her home. She’d leave this place and the people she’d come to care for so much—separated forever through time from the man she loved.

  Rubbing her gritty eyes, Meghan surveyed the village. The sun was just beginning to come up, and the air was filled with the sound of birdsong. Man, she missed coffee. She yawned as she fastened her gear to the back of her horse’s saddle. What would she give for a nice big thermos filled with medium roast with lots of sugar and cream? Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

  All around her, the men she would travel with prepared to leave for Inverness. They’d gathered outside of the stables on the mainland way too early for her liking. The air held the damp chill of early morning, and the sun had just begun to brighten the eastern horizon. She yawned again, and a slight shiver sluiced through her.

  “Meghan.” Hunter came up beside her. “Did you no’ sleep well?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Too many things on her mind had kept her up, like losing the people here, and the possibility she might not be able to go home to the family she’d lost in the future. Plus, when she had slept, she’d dreamed about the villain she’d slain on the way to Aberdeen.

  “Are you able to ride?” Hunter placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Memories of being sheltered and held on his lap while they traveled filled her mind. If she said she couldn’t manage, would he hold her in front of him again? “I’m fine. I just need to wake up.” She caught a glimpse of Cecil storming out of the inn. Judging by the way he moved and the look on his face, he wasn’t happy. “Here comes trouble.”

  “Och, I meant to speak to you about this at supper.” Hunter kept his eye on the approaching knight. “There have been a few changes in our plans. Mayhap ’tis best if you dinna ken what they are.”

  “What has become of my two guardsmen?” Cecil strode toward her, his face filled with
rage.

  Meghan looked from him to Hunter, unsure whom he was addressing with the question.

  “What mean you by your angry tone, Sir Cecil?” Hunter stepped in front of her. “How can any here ken where your men-at-arms might be? Do we command them?”

  “I wouldst address the lady you shield,” he bit out. “She kens what has become of them.”

  “Me?” Meghan scowled around Hunter’s shoulder. “I’ve never even talked to them. I had nothing to do with your stupid guards. Why would you think I did?”

  “Why indeed?” Cecil snarled. “Did Nevan and his lads no’ vanish the very day you appeared?”

  “Wait.” She blinked. “The other day you wanted to marry me, and now you’re accusing me of . . . What are you accusing me of now, anyway? Witchery or being a faerie? I can’t keep up.”

  “Such insolence!” He raised his hand as if he meant to strike her.

  She stepped out from behind Hunter. Her muscles tensed for battle, she assumed a defensive pose. “Bring it.” Hunter grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him again. “Hey,” she protested.

  “Don’t be absurd, Cecil.” Tieren joined Hunter, walling her off from the angry knight. “Lady Meghan has no’ left the keep or the island for a se’nnight. Before you cast such foul accusations, mayhap ask if any of the villagers have seen your men.”

  “I have done so, sir.” Cecil kept his evil eye on her. “None has aught to say.”

  “So you surmise a mere lass is at fault?” Hunter grunted. “I trow you may have it aright, and a lass or two are keeping your lads bound to their beds, but ’twas no’ this lady.”

  The MacKintosh warriors laughed, nudging each other with knowing glances as they moved closer to create a circle of protection. Gratitude warmed her heart. “I don’t know where your men are, Cecil. I was with Hunter’s family last night, and I never saw your guards.”

  “Do you need to lay eyes upon them to work your spells?” he spat out.

  “Here, now,” Angus ground out, coming to join the two men protecting her. “I was at the inn yester eve, and I had an ale or two with your guardsmen. They were both well sotted by the time I left to seek my bed. The baron DúnConnell has it aright. Your lads are sleeping it off somewhere—most likely in the arms of a couple of the village lasses.”

  “The . . . the baron?” Cecil blustered. “What nonsense is this? I see no baron here.”

  “He stands before you, Sir Cecil,” Tieren said, grabbing Hunter’s shoulder. “Hunter has the missive from King James to prove his most recent rise in rank.”

  “I think it best that you travel from here to your home on your own.” Hunter’s tone held an edge of menace. “We’ll leave word with the stable master of your direction, and your guardsmen will join you once they are roused. You are no’ welcome to travel with us this day or any other.”

  “Och, I . . .” Cecil stammered.

  “Lady Meghan is under our protection.” Tieren widened his stance. “If you persist with your unfounded aspersions beyond the MacKintosh borders, you will answer to me. I command the soldiers who serve baron DúnConnell. He is my liege lord.”

  “So you’ve decided to accept my offer?” Hunter cast Tieren a crooked grin. “My thanks. ’Twill keep you quite occupied.”

  “Aye, I’ve decided to take the post, unless—”

  “Mayhap you have it aright, and my guards will join us upon the road to Inverness yet this morn. Indeed, I am certain they will,” Cecil capitulated. “I’ve no wish to travel the roads alone, and there is still the matter of my armor and gear. My most sincere apologies, Lady Meghan. Once again I have wronged you.”

  Her breakfast turned into an indigestible mass in her stomach. She kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t about to accept or respond to his most insincere apology.

  “Nay.” Hunter turned to Angus. “Have four of our men escort Sir Cecil as far as the MacKintosh border to our south. When his guards are found, inform them of their master’s whereabouts and see that they leave as well. I will have your armor and gear sent to you, Sir Cecil. You have my word.”

  Relieved, Meghan put her foot in the stirrup and began to hoist herself up into the saddle. Hunter’s hands encircled her waist. He lifted her off the ground and placed in the saddle as if she weighed no more than the woolen blankets fastened to the leather behind her.

  Once she was settled, he placed his hands on either side of her. “You have naught to fear, lass.”

  She nodded, her gaze connecting with his. Awareness and something deeper flowed between them, and she lost herself in his serious gray eyes. Saying good-bye to Hunter would be the single most difficult thing she’d ever faced in her short life. Blinking back the threat of tears, she fussed with the reins and adjusted her feet in the stirrups. “Let’s go.”

  “Aye.” Hunter backed away. “We have wasted enough time. Let us depart. Tieren, take the lead. Meghan, ride behind him, and I will be right behind you.” He spared Cecil a glare. “You are no longer welcome on MacKintosh land, nor are you welcome at DúnConnell.”

  “It matters no’.” Cecil took the reins of his horse from the stable lad. He mounted and swung his horse’s head around. “’Twill make no difference.”

  Angus grabbed Cecil’s reins and held them fast. Two soldiers hastened to his side. “No’ so fast, sir. There is the matter of your escort to attend to.”

  Meghan and her guards took off at a canter, and Hunter rode beside her, not behind her as he’d said. Once they were out of the village, she turned to him. “Where are Cecil’s guards?”

  “Both of them are ensconced within the dungeon at Meikle Geddes, and there they will remain until Cecil is far from Loch Moigh.”

  Once they reached the crest of the first hill, Meghan stole a last backward glance at the village. Then she turned to catch a glimpse of the island keep. Sadness tugged at her. She’d miss these good people. Erin, True, Sky and the twins had risen early to eat breakfast with her. She’d said her good-byes to everyone else the night before. Her chest ached, and a tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away and frowned.

  ’Twill make no difference. That’s what Cecil had said before they left. What did he mean by the remark? She bit her lower lip. Worry niggled at her. Once again she rode into the unknown, with the possibility of danger around each bend. Fifteenth-century Scotland was not for the fainthearted, that’s for sure.

  She adjusted the leather belt of her scabbard where it crossed her chest. Then she checked the three sheathed daggers Robley and Malcolm had given her. The blades now hung from her belt. Two more were hidden away in each of her boots, courtesy of Erin and True. She wore her own leather tunic with the McGladrey crest, and chain mail hung heavy over her shoulders and torso.

  She lifted her chin, threw back her shoulders and faced the road ahead. Nobody could accuse her of being faint of heart. No matter what came her way, she’d face it and fight.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Hunter couldn’t tear his eyes from his wee warrior as they rode out of the village. She checked her weapons, touching each sheathed blade to assure herself she was prepared for battle. Hadn’t he oft done the same? His heart filled with such tenderness that he ached with it. He ached with wanting her.

  Meghan was such a delectable mix of vulnerability, bravery and generosity that the very sight of her elicited every protective instinct he possessed. She thought of herself as a knight, ready and able to defend those in her care. To his way of thinking, Meghan was the ideal of what every Scottish lass should be—strong, yet wholly feminine and as lovely as the gorse blooming in the glens.

  She lifted her chin a proud notch and straightened her posture. Another stone in the turret he’d built around his heart broke free. He’d give his life to see her safe. The sudden realization brought a sting to the back of his eyes. The best he could do for Meghan was to see her safely returned to her home. Blinking
against the burn, he turned his attention to other matters.

  Scanning the sides of the road and the men behind him, he sent his senses out to make certain all was well. Then he turned his mind to everything that had transpired. In a single day his fortunes and rank had changed. His greatest wish had come true. Baron DúnConnell, no less.

  Hunter spurred Doireann into a trot, joining Tieren at the front of the line. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Aye.” One side of Tieren’s mouth quirked up. “Naming me your commander is bound to create resentment amongst the MacConnell warriors. Surely the present commander will demand the right to challenge me.”

  “If there is a current commander.” Hunter arched a brow. “Does the possibility of a challenge trouble you?”

  “Nay. ’Tis best that the matter be settled sooner rather than later. Resentment only grows with time if no’ dealt with properly.” He shifted in his saddle. “There are likely those who will try to usurp you as well. Mayhap you have cousins who will argue that, since your father was banished from your clan, you have no right to ascension.” Tieren’s expression turned somber. “Once we have trounced any who wish to test us, ’twill be important for you to hold a fealty ceremony.”

  Hunter nodded. “Like you, I’d rather see matters settled straightaway. Neither of us ken what we’re walking into once we reach my holding. I trow the MacConnells have been fairly decimated by the MacKenzies.” He frowned. “Och, Tieren, for a certainty, we ride into peril on every front.”

  “Dinna fash.” Tieren grinned. “Betwixt the two of us, we will turn things ’round, especially with the loan of the earl’s men-at-arms.” Tieren glanced at him. “I am certain Giselle will not return Meghan to her time. I mean to ask her to come with me to DúnConnell.”

  “Nothing is certain where Giselle is concerned.” Hunter’s jaw clenched. “I do not want her embroiled in the danger we face when I take my place as baron. She is better off in her own time with her kin to look after her.” He couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. He’d rather live without her in his world than put her in harm’s way. “Should Giselle agree to send her home, do you still intend to ask Meghan if you can accompany her?” He held his breath. For more reasons than he cared to admit, he dreaded the answer.