Highland Betrayal

by Alyson McLayne

  So many things could hint at their presence, and Alpin could come searching.

  Beside him, Gavin tapped the fingers of his free hand against his leg, his thoughts most likely similar to Callum’s.

  “If they come this way, Gill will draw them off,” Callum whispered, wanting to reassure Maggie. “’Twill be a difficult shot, and hopefully they’ll think ’tis you and give chase.”

  “But then how will he get away from them?” Her voice was pitched high—nerves, no doubt.

  “He’ll go to ground. They all will,” Drustan said. “Doona worry about our men, lass. They know how to hide.”

  “Aye. If they don’t want to be found, even we couldnae find them—and that’s saying a lot with a man as big as Artair,” Gavin added.

  “Alpin’s a good warrior, and he’s smart, but I doona think his heart’s in it. Were you friends with him?” Callum asked. It would do Maggie good to focus on something other than their capture.

  “Nay, I wouldnae say we were friends. He was always reserved, a private man. With everyone, not just me. I ne’er knew his daughter was sick.” Maggie sighed. No doubt feeling sorry for Alpin, despite the fact that he was hunting them.

  As if he’d been summoned by their talk, Alpin appeared in front of the cottage. He walked forward several steps and then slowly turned in a circle—taking in the lay of the land, by the look of it. Pondering all the different routes Maggie might have taken.

  When he stopped and stared at their hiding place in the caves, Maggie’s hand clenched Callum’s. He gently loosed her hold and tucked her into his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, hoping to ease the trembling of her body.

  “He willna come up here, Maggie. The caves are well hidden. We didn’t see them until you told us they were here, and we were looking at them during daylight. Trust me. He’ll choose one of the trails. South, I’d wager.”

  “Maybe both,” Gavin said.

  Drustan squeezed up beside Maggie and patted her arm. “Which will leave us with a conundrum.”

  He stood a little closer to Maggie than Callum liked. He knew what it was about—everyone wanted to protect her. Still, it rankled, and he pulled her in front of him so she rested within his arms, back to his chest.

  In the glade, Alpin returned to his horse, giving orders as he mounted. The men split, half the horses heading for the south trail, the others to the north.

  “Hell’s blood,” Callum cursed under his breath.

  “’Tis not so bad,” Maggie said. “As I see it, we have the advantage. We know where they are going, but they doona know where we are. It couldnae be better.”

  When the last man disappeared into the forest and the glade was clear once more, Maggie smiled up at him. “Do you want to know what I’d do?” she asked.

  He stared down at her, unable to see her face in the dark. It was not needed; he knew her gamine features by heart—her pert nose and small chin, thickly lashed hazel eyes, and a bowed mouth shaped for kissing. He caressed his hand down her cheek and imagined he could see every one of her freckles.

  “Aye, tell me what you’d do,” he said.

  She raised her hand and pointed her finger up.

  He looked at the ceiling of the cave—not that he could see much of it in the dark. “You’d die and go to heaven?”

  “Nay!” she said, and he loved hearing the laughter in her voice. “Although that would certainly ruin Irvin’s plans. We should take the horses and climb over the mountains rather than follow the trails around. ’Twould be a longer and more difficult journey, for sure, but we wouldnae have to face off against a host of men trying to kill us.”

  His gaze shifted to Gavin’s, and even though he couldn’t see his foster brother clearly, he knew he agreed with her. It made Callum’s jaw clench.

  “Maggie, do you have any idea how hard that journey will be for a lass? And ’tis late in the summer; we may even encounter snow. The cold, for certain. ’Tis not practical to think you could make it.”

  Maggie stiffened in his arms, and she took a step away. His heart sank, knowing he may have just made a grave mistake. But it’s what he believed, and it had to be said. Maggie’s safety was more important to him than her hurt feelings.

  There was no laughter in her voice this time when she spoke. “Then I shall have to take extra plaids. You may do what you want, Callum MacLean, but I am going o’er the mountain.”

  * * *

  Maggie hunched down in her plaid, a cold wind blowing through the weave even though she’d wrapped an extra blanket from her bag around her shoulders. The sunrise hike up the mountain, by horse and then on foot, had been invigorating. She’d relished the climb, and it was a wonderful way to burn off her anger at Callum’s dismissive remark. But by late afternoon, she was beginning to flag.

  The first few hours weren’t that hard. The trail progressed upward at a comfortable rise, and the vistas of the valley below were breathtaking. It would have been most pleasant except that Maggie was riding with Callum, and she refused to let herself lean against him, which was hard to do when they were going uphill. She still burned with indignation at what he’d said—as if she wouldn’t be able to make the journey because she was a lass!

  Idiot man.

  So after a short break, she sat behind him instead. But then she kept sliding backward over the rump of the horse. She had to hold on tight to Callum from behind and squeeze her legs around him, causing her anger to mix with a burning desire.

  Idiot lass.

  But as the hours progressed and the trail became rockier, the horses began to labor, and she and everyone else had to continue on foot, the men pulling their horses behind them. Which was a huge relief…at first. Without Callum’s body pressed close to share his warmth and his arms squeezing tight to hold her steady, she found herself getting colder and even more exhausted. It didn’t help that the sky had clouded over and the wind had picked up the higher they went.

  Or that Callum kept throwing her concerned glances.

  None of them were as winded as she was—not even Drustan, and he had to be twice her age. He’d stayed by her side, leading his horse, and not once had she heard him puffing for air like she had. She ground her teeth and tried to catch her breath before speaking so she wouldn’t give the men any more reason to think her incapable.

  “I swear, Callum MacLean, if you look at me like that one more time, I’m going to pull out my dagger and fling it into your arse.”

  Gavin snorted behind her, and Callum threw her another look. But this one did not hold concern. “Are you sure you’d be able to, lass? Your fingers must be frozen. I doona know how you’d grip the knife.”

  “I wouldnae need that tight an aim. ’Tis a verra large target.”

  Everyone laughed this time, including Callum. “Aye, you canna seem to keep your eyes off my arse today, starting with my crawl through the cottage wall.”

  Heat flushed Maggie’s cheeks as an image of Callum’s naked arse—firm and well-shaped—filled her mind’s eye. Her only saving grace was that she was probably already red from the wind and the climb, so no one would notice.

  “I had no choice then, did I?” she said tartly. “You were waving it at me like a wee bairn on his birth day.”

  “That I was. And I wouldnae have minded if you’d spanked it.”

  Her brows shot up, shocked that he’d said that, but also warmed. Her blood rushed to all those sensitive spots she wanted him to touch, and they started to tingle. She sputtered, trying to think of something to say, but her mind had turned to mush.

  Gavin laughed. “Didn’t I tell you Callum was the best of us, lass? I doona think anyone can best him in this game of words. Well, maybe when we all have a go at him at once—but even then, he ends up slaying us with his wit.”

  “Believe me, Maggie will have no trouble slaying me.”

  “
Aye,” Gavin said. “You have the advantage of being a woman, lass.”

  “Nay, she has the advantage of being Maggie. My Maggie.”

  Maggie didn’t want to melt at his words—especially as she was still mad at him—but the way he said it, my Maggie, made her want to lift her arms and beckon him over.

  Instead, she kept her eyes forward and looked up at the mountain—and almost groaned out loud at the steeply inclined, rocky path. Not that it was an actual path, just the best route to take compared to all the others. Nay, their trail had dwindled away with the trees, the same time the wind had picked up.

  “Do we even know where we’re going?” she asked, coming to a complete halt. The men slowed down around her.

  Callum pointed southwest to a high, rocky pass rising in the distance. “We’ll cross over there. We should be able to ride the horses for a while tomorrow, but at this elevation, they’re flagging too.”

  “We need to preserve their strength in case we have to sprint for any reason,” Drustan said.

  “Surely no one else would be mad enough to follow us through there?”

  “Nay, we’re the only ones addlepated enough to climb o’er the mountain,” Callum said.

  Gavin grunted and pushed past her. “’Twas our best choice at the time.”

  Maggie was tempted to grab on to Gavin’s plaid and let him pull her up the incline. She snuck a glance at Callum and saw he had that same concerned look on his face as he watched her.

  God’s blood, she was tired. It no longer seemed to matter what the men thought of her. “Are we planning to reach the summit tonight then?” It irked her that she sounded whiny, even to her own ears.

  “That will take several days,” Callum said.

  “Maybe even more at this pace,” Finn chipped in, and Callum shot him a stern look.

  “What do you mean, at this pace?” she asked. “Are you saying we’re going slowly, Finnian MacKinnon?”

  Finn’s smile faded, and he looked uncertainly from Maggie to Callum, then back to Maggie. “Oh, well, I wouldnae say that exact—”

  “Yes!” Gavin shouted from ahead of them. “You are the weakest of us in this, lass, and we’re walking to your pace. And you canna get mad at me for saying that, because it’s the truth.”

  “I doona think that will stop her,” Gill said with a smile, which surprised her, because up until now, he’d barely spoken two words to her. “Our Maggie doesn’t have a problem telling us how she feels.”

  Our Maggie? A minute ago, she was my Maggie. Had she been claimed by all these rough warriors?

  “Aye,” Artair said with a laugh. Then he handed his horse’s reins to Drustan and grabbed one of Maggie’s hands. Gill did the same and grabbed the other. Finnian pushed from behind, and her feet couldn’t help but follow, even though she tried to tug free of their grasp at first. They started up the mountain with her in tow. “’Tis just the way it is, lass,” Artair continued without even a hitch to his breath. “I am the biggest man here, and when we have to hide, I’m always afraid I’ll give us away.”

  She scrunched up her face as she looked him over. Aye, he was huge, with a big, bushy beard. “The lairds said earlier that even they couldnae find you if you had to hide.” She huffed heavily as she said it. She had no choice—they wouldn’t let her stop or even slow down. Of course, it was a much easier hike when she shared her weight with someone else.

  “Did they, now?” Artair’s voice rang with pleasure, and Maggie was glad she’d told him. “Well…there are other times I’m a hindrance.”

  “A hindrance? Is that what you think I am?” she exclaimed, feeling mad and hurt all over again.

  “You are not a hindrance, Maggie,” Callum said from behind them. “And for the love of God, Finnian, get your hands off her arse or you willna live long enough to push her all the way up to the top of the mountain.”

  The hands that pushed on her backside, over several layers of thick blankets, quickly moved up to grasp her waist. They were not as helpful there, and Maggie felt the extra burn in her legs. She looked up, hoping they were near the top, but they were barely halfway. She would have cursed, but she couldn’t afford to lose any more air.

  She’d noticed before that Artair liked to talk, and he continued with his chatter. “I misspoke, lass. You are ne’er a hindrance. Nay, you are the reason we are here. Like I heard Laird MacLean say at the glade where we found you, you are the precious jewel. We are just the metal that surrounds the gem. Sometimes we’re gold or silver, or wrought into intricate designs like Lairds MacKinnon and MacLean, I suppose, but our job is to keep you safe.”

  She glanced up at the huge warrior, trying to decide if he was trifling with her or not. “Such pretty words. Are you a poet, then, Artair?”

  He looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion, and she decided he was completely in earnest.

  “Nay, I’m a warrior. Before that, I was a blacksmith. But I had to follow my heart and leave the smithy, aye? To do otherwise would make me dissatisfied with my life.”

  Now that she understood and could fully support. “I agree. Like a bird must fly, a woman—or man—must follow their heart’s desire. Or they’ll stay in the nest, unhappy, wishing for something else…until they fall out and break their bloody necks.”

  “’Tis you who are the poet, lass,” Gavin said, turning around and dabbing at his eyes with his plaid, his mouth downturned and bottom lip quivering. “Your words almost brought a tear to me eye.” Then he sniffed loudly for good measure, and Gill snorted in amusement.

  She frowned at him, the ablach. If she’d had a free hand, she would have picked up a rock and thrown it at him. That’d give him something to cry about.

  An object whizzed past her head and smacked Gavin in the middle of the forehead. He clapped his palm over the injury and swore loudly. “That hurt, you wee shite.”

  She looked over her shoulder at a smug-looking Callum, who said, “You should have ducked. Doona make fun of my betrothed, or I’ll throw a bigger rock next time.”

  Gavin spun around, still swearing, and the men burst out laughing. Maggie was sure Gavin was plotting his revenge on Callum.

  “So, back to my earlier point,” Artair continued, and Maggie sighed silently inside, done with this conversation. “Because I’m bigger, ’tis natural I’ll be the best at some things and not so good at others. When we sprint the horses, like we did after leaving your castle, my horse always tires first, and I fall behind. ’Tis not easy for the beast to carry such a heavy load. In that instance, I hindered our escape. But other times, my skills have been what saved us.”

  “’Tis true,” Finnian added, sounding sincere, but she detected a hint of something else and waited for the jest to follow. “His arse is the biggest arse I’ve e’er seen. As big as the biggest sow at Aulay MacKinnon’s farm.”

  “And I’ll sit on you with it, ya wee ferret,” Artair said as everyone laughed again, her included. “You’ll ne’er take another breath.”

  “First you’d have to catch me, and by your own admission, you’re as slow as cold honey.”

  Maggie gasped for air as she laughed—which wasn’t a smart thing to do, as she was already winded from the climb. Poor Artair, he was so earnest in his attempt to explain things.

  She supposed there was nothing she could do about slowing down the men. It wasn’t like she could go any faster—as it was, she felt like she’d already run the whole way. She had no fear of heights or speed, and she knew she was strong and quick compared to most people. Just not as strong or as quick as the men traveling with her.

  “I have ne’er seen anyone land as good a shot as you did with your crossbow the other night,” Gill said quietly, almost reverently, after everyone calmed down and refocused on the rigors of the climb.

  Heat bloomed in her chest at his regard and at the round of ayes that followed from the other
men. At the admiration and respect they were showing her.

  Well, maybe not Callum. She hadn’t heard him agree. Did he not think she was good at anything? He always seemed to be yelling at her for something.

  “Or ride such a distance across a pulley. Or fight off a pack of wolves,” Finnian added eagerly. “How many were there?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes and tried to block out the sights and sounds that had filled her mind and ears. They flooded back anyway. The wolves chasing her mount through the woods, the gentle breeze and sunshine on her skin in sharp contrast to her gut-wrenching terror. Their teeth snapping at her heels as she ran across the glade. The warm blood pouring over her hands as she made contact with powerful bodies, tearing through flesh and bones with her daggers. The smell of the animals—their musky coats, their hot breath making her gag.

  Her desperate climb up the skinny tree that had barely held her weight, the sounds of their howls and snarls sending shivers up her spine even now.

  She had to clear her throat before speaking. “Seven, I think.”

  Finnian’s hands left her waist as another set cushioned her arse and took almost all her weight. She recognized Callum’s hands immediately, his presence a steady force behind her. “One last push, lass, then we’re at the top of this ridge, and we can rest for a bit,” he said.

  She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, glad for his support and suddenly feeling all done in. If she were on her own, she would have lain down on the rocks and stayed there for God knows how long.

  Artair and Gill were breathing heavier now. The incline had increased and the land roughened. They took their time finding the right path and making sure their feet were steady on the sharp rocks.

  She assumed Drustan was still behind them leading the horses. The only mount ahead of them was Gavin’s stallion, which was just nearing the top.

  “Does Drustan have the rest of the horses?” she panted.

  “Aye,” Callum said. “Finnian’s gone back to help him lead them up this steep part.” He gave her arse a squeeze through the blankets. “We’re almost there, Maggie.”