Highland Temptation (Highland Pride)

by Lori Ann Bailey

  The lump in his throat made it hard to reply, so he took a big gulp of the vile ale to wash down whatever was preventing his reply. “We had no choice. My father was exiled.”

  “Which made it difficult to believe you would still feel any loyalties to the Mackenzies.”

  Alan cursed inside. His tongue had become a little too loose.

  Hamish was dangerous, more so than the other Covenanters had been. The man also still had several men with him, two of whom sat just a table away with intent gazes. It was obvious they had been trained to watch everything that went on around them, although they didn’t know how to hide what they were doing. He was uncertain how many were still above stairs guarding Kirstie.

  “My uncle and grandfather hold me no ill will,” he lied smoothly.

  “I am glad to hear that. It will be good to have allies to the north and the Campbells to the south.”

  “Ye will go to Kentillie, then?”

  “Yes, I will accompany my bride, and when news comes of her brother’s misfortunes, I will soothe the clan.”

  Alan nodded and popped another piece of meat in his mouth. The innkeeper rushed around the table clearing plates, but he paid the man no heed.

  “Will you join me? You would be a great asset since you know the people.”

  “Aye, I shall return to Kentillie.”

  Stretching, Hamish said, “You will have to forgive me. I must retire for the evening. I wish to be well rested for the wedding and the journey to the Cameron lands.” The conniving bastard spoke with the confidence of a man believing to already own those lands.

  “Aye.”

  “Meet me down here at dawn, and you can accompany us to the kirk.” Hamish stood. The minions rose and followed the Covenanter.

  Alan stared at the doorway that led to the only staircase and listened intently as the stairs groaned beneath their steps, but they said nothing as they made their way up.

  When he finally stood, the room swayed, and he had to throw his arms out to catch himself. The whole place was fuzzy and his emotions had dulled. He blinked. What was wrong with him?

  The ale. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t. Thoughts of Kirstie with that bastard had been spinning in his head for the last hour as he had sat and drank with the enemy.

  He looked down at his calloused hands. He was going to kill the bastard right now. Hamish wouldn’t have a chance to put those soft, manicured hands on her curves. She was his. He stalked toward the stairs with murderous intent and stopped suddenly.

  Was this what his father felt?

  He wanted to beat Hamish until there was nothing left of him. Gulping, he walked back to the table and eased into the chair he’d vacated.

  He had been able to stop the rage and sit to clearly think things out. He’d had no desire to take his anger out on Kirstie, only to get her to safety. It was a relief, because doubts had lingered even after their discussion. Now he knew for sure he could handle himself when he’d had too much to drink.

  The innkeeper’s wife scurried in and started to clear the remainder of the table.

  “Do ye have any fresh water?” he asked her.

  “Aye.” She scooped up the dishes, and for the first time, he noticed the rounding of her belly. He’d been so focused on Hamish and the other men that he’d missed it.

  “I need lots of water and a room. Do ye still have one?”

  “Nae. Yer friend and his men have all three. We have a clean stall with fresh blankets in the stable if ye want.” She waddled through the door to the kitchens.

  Upon first arriving, he’d gone up the stairs and found doors signed with the numbers one, two, and three, and one labeled private. He’d only known to rap on door number two because he’d heard Hamish’s voice coming from within.

  The woman returned and set a cup on the table in front of him.

  “Can ye tell me, lass, how many of my friends are here?”

  “Five more came in with the man ye supped with.”

  Och, so the odds weren’t good unless he could separate them. “And was there a woman?”

  “Nae. No’ that I saw.”

  “Did my friend have food sent up tonight?”

  “Nae, they all came down at different times. Not a friendly lot except for ye.”

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Was Kirstie even here?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kirstie determined the sparsely furnished room was similar to the one she’d just been in. Rain battered the windows, and it was dark out, the only light in the room coming from two flickering candles placed on tables at opposite sides of the bed.

  She sat in a chair next to a desk that was directly opposite the door to the other room. It was the door she’d been ushered through when Alan had arrived, what she guessed must have been an hour ago. One other door was to her left; it must lead to the hall.

  She’d cried until her eyes were dry and she’d almost hyperventilated and lost consciousness with the cloth stuffed in her mouth when she decided it was enough wallowing. She could do that when others weren’t depending on her.

  Even with her arms tied just below her elbows, if she could get a few minutes unobserved, she would be able to pull up her skirts to get to the dirk, but two of Hamish’s men had stayed with her.

  Scanning the room for something she could use as a weapon if she couldn’t get to her knife, her gaze caught on the dry, itchy sack she’d been wrapped in on their journey draped over the only other chair in the room. Candlelight flickered from the nearby table as the height of the chair cast shadows dancing ominously on the wall. Determining there was nothing that could help, she turned toward the adjoining door and bided her time, hoping her guards would leave.

  As she sat waiting to make a move, her thoughts returned to Alan’s words. Pain so fierce it threatened to collapse her chest assailed her with its force.

  Her brothers were dead. Had Alan truly had something to do with it? She couldn’t fathom it, but he was here and her brothers weren’t. If they’d survived, they would have come for her together.

  She’d failed them, but she wouldn’t fail her nephew or her people. Vowing to do whatever necessary to keep the Covenanters from taking the Cameron clan, she struggled to come up with a plan.

  Somehow, she’d have to get a message back to Kentillie in case she didn’t make it. They had to know what had happened and to keep little William safe.

  Voices came from the adjoining room. “When he returns in the morning, kill him. He was asking too many questions. Make certain the innkeepers don’t see it. There can be no evidence that I had anything to do with it.”

  Flinching at the sudden creak, the door swung in, and her blood turned to ice as Hamish strode toward her. Trying to back away, she’d forgotten she was still in the chair, but he was on her before she could move. His cold, clammy hands clasped her upper arms and dragged her to her feet. Surprising her, he drew her in for a hug then pulled back.

  “Your brothers were murdered today.”

  She wanted to scream, to hit him, to stab him with the knife she couldn’t yet get to. Tears flowed anew, and she couldn’t stop them. Och, she didn’t want him to see her vulnerable. His fingers fumbled behind her head, and the gag loosened.

  As he pulled the fabric away, he released her from his arms.

  Trying to swallow now that the cloth was removed, she discovered it difficult. “May I have a drink, please?” she managed between sobs. Just uttering the words hurt, because her mouth and tongue were dry and thick, and she didn’t want to ask this man for anything.

  Hamish nodded to the burly man with thinning hair who had stood by the door and eyed her as if she were vermin to be trampled on. The redhead guarding the other door had at least looked at her with some sympathy. Overhearing a conversation between the two earlier, she’d discovered his name was Balloch, and she felt sure if she were left alone with him, she could talk her way free.

  The mistrustful guard came back with a small goblet but di
dn’t hand it to her. He passed it to Hamish as if she could only have it once he’d given permission. The arse pinned her with his emotionless eyes before holding it out to her.

  She held up her arms. “Can ye no’ release me?”

  “I believe you are capable of quenching your thirst with the ropes as they are tied. I am afraid you have not yet been brought to heel and may do something irresponsible. I don’t want to have to be in a position to punish you again.” A shiver ran down her spine at the reminder of his earlier blow.

  At her nodding acquiescence, his lips curved up, and he handed her the cup. She wrapped both hands around it and brought it to her parched lips to drink greedily. She’d not had a drink all day, and now she was afraid at any moment, he might take this one away, but he looked pleased at her desperation.

  “Your friend Alan is the one who drove his sword through Lachlan’s gut.” Her belly contracted at the pain of realizing Alan had been the one to kill her brother. She wouldn’t believe it, except Hamish was too arrogant to lie to her and she’d heard it from Alan’s own lips. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’ll be dead in the morning. I can’t trust a man who would turn on his people as easily as he did. Besides, he knows the truth of my involvement, and if he ever spoke a word to the rest of the Camerons, it would ruin everything.”

  Shaking her head, she fought back the bile rising in her throat and avoided his gaze.

  “I will save the Camerons.” He closed the distance between them and put his hand gently on her cheek. She flinched away, and his hazel eyes darkened to a sinister brown. “I will save you.”

  “I told ye before. I am Catholic and willnae convert. There is nothing ye can do to change my mind.”

  His hand left her face, and relief had barely registered before his fist collided with her ribs. She doubled over and inhaled sharply as the cup she’d been holding slipped from her grasp and clattered onto the wooden floor. Her eyes watered and her vision blurred, but she inhaled and fought the pain to straighten and meet his gaze. She would never let this man control her.

  “Ye bastard.” She wanted to retaliate, but her only option was with words, and she was done shrinking into the corner. She had to let him know he would never control her.

  “That is no way to talk to your betrothed. You will need to learn humility. I expected better from you.”

  His cold gaze locked with hers, and she fought back the panic that now assailed her at the emptiness she saw there. What she had once taken for calm peacefulness she now recognized as the sign of an emotionless animal that got pleasure from toying with its prey.

  Taking in a couple of deep breaths, she forced her legs to move. She straightened her spine, tilting her chin in the air.

  “Ye will never…”

  She doubled over as the solid fist connected with her rib this time. Her eyes watered, and she fought to keep her balance. She wasn’t going to give, and the look in his soulless eyes told her he could do this all night. She might be dead by morning, but at least her clan would be safe.

  …

  After getting as much information from the pregnant lass as he could about the upstairs layouts and the men who occupied the rooms, Alan sat at the table drinking sweet cider and studying the main floor and noticed an unlocked window that would give him easy re-entry when he made his move. It had probably only been a few moments, but it felt as if an hour had passed since Hamish had ascended the stairs, a lifetime as each second ticked by, and his concern grew.

  Knowing he should analyze the threat carefully, he went outside to circle the tavern in the almost pitch darkness. He ignored the slushy, muddy mess left from horses and the frequent visitors to the inn as he focused on the rooms above stairs. Lightning flashed, and the momentary fear he’d be spotted vanished as quickly as the light. An ominous boom followed that caused a shiver to run down his spine. The pouring rain and time had dulled the unwanted effects of the ale, and all his senses were sharp and on alert.

  He had to get to Kirstie tonight while they weren’t expecting an attack and before serious harm could come to her. Hell, she could already be hurt. Holding out hope Lachlan and Malcolm might yet reach them, he’d continued to debate what his next step should be, but as his panic over Kirstie’s whereabouts grew, he could no longer give them more time.

  The owners of the inn had retired. Shortly after they’d gone up, the light from the candle in their room extinguished. Only two other rooms showed signs that anyone stirred—the one he’d been in previously and the one connected to it. Shadows caught his attention in the room adjoining Hamish’s. The candle was far enough back in the room that it afforded a glimpse of the people.

  Kirstie. He sighed with relief as her silhouette came into view, which took the weight from his chest.

  Skirting back around the front of the inn, he tried the door, but it was locked, so he made his way to the large window, easing it open soundlessly. The fit was tight, but he was able to squeeze head first through the open pane. His arm swung wide and bumped into an unlit lamp, which crashed to the floor as he swung his legs in. He jumped to his feet and hurried to the shadows behind the door leading to the stairs.

  The groans of the wood planks and stomp of boots descending the steps sounded as one man said, “There shouldnae be anyone down here. The innkeeper and his wife are in bed.”

  “Mayhap they have a dog,” came the second voice.

  “There was no mutt in here. I would’ve seen it. Keep yer dirk ready in case someone found us. I dinnae trust that Mackenzie.”

  “I’m relieved Hamish said we could end him in the morn’.”

  So he’d not been able to keep his emotions hidden from Hamish, and they all now knew or at least suspected they couldn’t trust him.

  With his life and Kirstie’s depending on him taking down all six men and getting her out of here, Alan waited until both men had cleared the staircase before he lunged for the one nearest and sunk his dirk into the man’s lower back. It slid in and up easily. The man froze then slumped as he pulled the knife out.

  The body landed near the bottom steps, making a softer than expected thud, but it was still loud enough to have the other man turning to see what had happened. The hulking shadow growled and then leaped for him, but Alan ducked down and out to the side as the form whizzed by and collided with the closed front door.

  He swung around to drive his knife toward the second man’s gut just as the brute recovered and turned toward him, but the man caught his hand and fought to keep it away.

  An arm wrapped around his neck as yet another man yanked him back toward the stairs. Alan kicked out with both feet to knock the second man to the ground as he grabbed at the vise cutting off his air. When he had a good grip on the third man, he bent and used the momentum to throw the newcomer over his back and into the man he’d just kicked.

  Something snapped and a voice he’d not heard before called out, “My arm.”

  The man who’d come down first said, “Move.” He pushed the injured man away, and the sound of scraping metal indicated he’d drawn a sword from its sheath.

  Alan had to go in low because he was still cramped in the frame of the door at the base of the steps and didn’t have room to draw his own weapon. Driving for the man’s leg, he was rewarded when they both fell back and the halberd clanged to the ground.

  Wasting no time, Alan drove his knife into the man’s side, but the man continued to struggle until Alan was able to twist the blade several times, keeping it buried to the hilt. When the life had drained and the body became still, he looked around for the man with the injured arm to attack, but the coward had disappeared. The front door to the inn was left wide open in the man’s retreat, but he didn’t have time to give chase. The ruckus they had made surely warned Hamish they were under attack, so he let the man go and continued up toward the three men who still stood between Kirstie and him.

  He paused to see if any more men would come his way, but he heard nothing except the rain and wind that whist
led and floated in through the open door behind him. He took each step one at a time, firmly planting his feet on the corners of the platforms to quiet the groans on the old wood.

  Reaching the hall, he noticed the glows coming from the slits under the doors labeled one and two. When he crested the top and moved toward the doors, his heart stopped beating at the sound of Kirstie yelling words that trailed off too suddenly through the door of the room he’d seen her in. He wanted to rush in, but there were three men left.

  At door three, he put his hand on the knob and gently eased it open. He scanned the small room. No candle lit the room, but lightning flashed, revealing an empty bed. The room was clear, so he turned back into the hall and to the room he’d been in earlier tonight. Thunder boomed and he flinched, thinking he’d missed someone in the room.

  Drawing his sword quietly from its sheath, he made his way to door number one and gently eased open the thick wood. Light flooded the hall, and he searched from corner to corner. Hell, Hamish and the other two men were in the room with Kirstie. The door had been left ajar and he saw movement but couldn’t tell for certain who it was.

  Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath and let his eyes adjust to the light as he slid farther into the room to where he couldn’t be seen. Luckily, it appeared, the pounding of the rain and the howling wind had drowned the sounds of the confrontation he’d had below.

  He was debating if he should wait here for one to come through the door or to take his chances and burst in swinging when he heard Hamish’s calm voice. “Let’s try this again, Kirstie. You will marry me in the morning.”

  Tensing at the sneer he heard in the bastard’s voice, his grip on his claymore tightened.

  “My answer willnae change. Ye arennae fit to lead a herd of cows, and I will never give ye the Camerons.” She sounded breathless but determined.

  Her words were followed by a whoosh of sound, and she cried out in pain. All rational thought left as he yanked the door open and charged.