Mad for the Plaid

by Karen Hawkins

  Her gaze narrowed on him. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine.” Although he felt older. Much older.

  She shrugged. “It’s nae age, but the way you carry your responsibilities that proves your character. So my father has always said.”

  Spoken like a man who’s left a good portion of his responsibilities resting on the shoulders of his youngest daughter. “Age is what you make it,” he said in a mild tone. “It’s obvious you understand the severity of the issue facing us; I can see that. But your method—to appease an abductor by paying blood money—is flawed and will only lead to further heartbreak. I know this. It is not the way to win this battle.”

  “Then what is the way?”

  “We find the abductors and we make them tell us where the captives are.”

  Stewart and Rurik returned with the wood, piling it beside the fire. The Scot dusted himself off and then sat down near the pot while Rurik removed a whetstone from his saddlebag and sat to one side of the fire, sharpening his knife.

  Ailsa ignored them, her attention locked on Nik as she scoffed, “You think we’ll be able to make the abductors tell us what we wish to know? How?”

  “There are ways to get people to talk.”

  “I see. You think the better strategy is to storm in and beat the information from them?”

  He heard the sarcasm in her voice. “It is not surprise we seek, but firmness of an answer.”

  “And what if your grandmother and Lord Hamilton are close by? Couldn’t they be injured in such an attack? Could nae the abductors hide behind our loved ones and use them as shields?”

  “Bozhy moj, you go right to the worst possible outcome. You do not know how this will end.”

  “I know your strategy is ridiculously dangerous, and could cause the outcome we most wish to avoid—injury to Her Grace and Lord Hamilton.”

  “You do not know what will happen,” he bit out.

  “Neither do you.”

  “But if we plan carefully, and execute the rescue in an organized fashion, then—”

  “That will only work if all these abductors want is the money.”

  He frowned. “What else could they want?”

  “We dinnae know, do we? Nae until we meet them and find oot for ourselves. In the meantime, we cannae just storm in and fire off shots, hoping nae one we love gets injured. You play with the lives of others.”

  “And you offer to placate thieves and abductors, and expect them to act as if they were men of principle and honesty. That’s foolish!” Nik struggled to control his temper. This tiny woman dared challenge his every word, treating him as if he had no thoughts of anyone but himself.

  “This is why I dinnae wish you to come with us,” she snapped. “You’re brazen, bold, and ridiculously impractical.” She almost spat the last word.

  Stewart sent Nik a sympathetic look, while Rurik seemed to be fighting back a grin.

  Nik swallowed his temper and bit out, “We see this situation through very different lenses.”

  “Aye. I see it with common sense and reason, and am willing to do what I must to keep two innocent people safe, nae matter the cost to myself. You, meanwhile, only wish to ride to the rescue as if this were a play of some sort.”

  “I do what needs to be done.”

  “You are forgoing safety for a mere moment of glory. I would nae call that ‘doing what needs to be done.’ There’s nae harm in paying the ransom. At the best, it will win the freedom of the prisoners, and at the least it will allow us to take a measure of the abductors and discern their true purpose. If you weren’t so used to being deferred to because of your birth, you would listen to what I’m saying and agree.”

  Deferred to because of his birth? The words struck him with the force of a hammer and he stood, glowering. “I’m not here because of my birth. I’m here to save my grandmother, and that’s all.”

  She rose to her feet, too, plopped her fists on her hips, and glared back at him. “If you’d leave us alone, ’tis entirely possible that I’d fetch your grandmother and you would nae have to lift a finger.”

  Nik had never thought of himself as reliant on his birth for anything. Indeed, the trappings that came with being a member of royalty were stiff with pomp and boredom, unnecessary formalities, and never-ending politeness. He’d been able to free himself by pretending to be an empty-headed fool interested only in personal pleasures and bored with politics. It was an effective dupe and had made him extremely useful to his kingdom.

  But now, while he was engaged in doing what he enjoyed the most, dealing face-to-face with an incident that needed a quick and strong response, this woman dared accuse him of being thoughtless, as if the persona he presented to the world was really who he was. “You are wrong if you believe I have no concern for my own beloved grandmother, or even Lord Hamilton, whom I’ve never met. I do care. But you are naïve if you think paying the ransom will do anything other than empower those fools to demand yet more gold. Meanwhile, my grandmother and Lord Hamilton will suffer.”

  Lady Ailsa met him glare for glare. “Which is why we must use caution. This is nae a throne room. This is my camp. My camp, and my rescue. If you wish to perform your own rescue”—she gestured to the night-black forest—“then go.”

  Nik struggled to contain his temper even as he wondered how in hell their pleasant conversation had ended up so furiously wrong. He’d thought to converse with her, one equal to another, and yet somehow she’d made him feel as if he’d been arbitrary and foolish. He was unused to both. Unable to find a way to express himself, he turned to Rurik. “Come. We will make our own camp.” He turned, only to find Ailsa’s cousin between him and his bedroll.

  The slender young man threw up his hands. “Wait. I’ve been listening—” At Nik’s enraged glare, Mackenzie added, “I couldn’t help it; neither of you have been very quiet.”

  Nik supposed that was true. He took a deep breath, more to calm his temper than anything else. “There’s nothing more to say. Please move. I must get my things.”

  Mackenzie turned to where his cousin stood, her arms crossed, her jaw set in mulish defiance. “Ailsa?”

  She glared at her cousin. “You heard him. He will nae discuss—”

  “I heard him. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone in the entire forest heard every word of your conversation. You keep telling me there are brigands about. Do you want them to find us?”

  Ailsa jerked her head toward Nik. “Talk to him, nae me.”

  “You were talking loudly, too,” Nik snapped back. Bozhy moj, what this woman does to me and my temper.

  Mackenzie spread his hands. “Look, there is no reason we cannot help one another. We have common enemies. There must be some way we can work this out. We have at least a week of travel ahead of us, and we’d be safer in a larger party. I’m sure that somehow, during the time it takes us to reach Greer, the two of you can arrive at an agreement of some sort on how to proceed from there.”

  “And if we don’t?” Ailsa asked.

  Rurik stood, shrugging as he did so. “Then it will be a race to see who reaches the abductors first. But Mackenzie is right; we should travel together. It is safer.”

  Ailsa scowled, and then flicked a glance at Stewart.

  Nik instantly knew her struggle: she refused to appear weak in front of her own man. But she must have agreed with at least some of what her cousin said, for she slowly nodded. “I suppose it will nae hurt to discuss this more.”

  Nik almost sighed in relief. He wasn’t sure why, for he didn’t need Lady Ailsa’s assistance in any way. Yet he had no wish to strike out on his own. Mackenzie and Rurik were right; it would be safer to stay together. Besides, Nik was more and more curious about the prickly woman that was Lady Ailsa Mackenzie. He offered in a cautious tone, “Perhaps there is a way to combine the two plans. We should at least try.”

  Ailsa flashed him a hard look. “One thing first. You said you were going to Greer’s camp. He would nae tell you anything,
nae unless you forced him in some way. Did you plan to harm him?”

  “Of course not. If we could not find your trail, we were going to wait for you there.”

  “And when we reached our destination?” she asked. “How would you have stopped us from delivering the ransom, if that’s what we chose to do?”

  “I’d hoped to have made you see reason by then. But if you had not, then we would have left you and struck out on our own.”

  “And handled the situation as you saw fit.”

  He shrugged. “I would have.”

  Mackenzie said in a soothing tone, “Come, Ailsa. We’ve days of travel ahead of us. It cannot hurt to share our journey. And perhaps you will be able to change the prince’s mind. As you’ve told me many times, you have thought this through. Now you just need to convince him your way is the best. When you wish, you can be very persuasive. I have seen the miracles you have performed on my uncle, and he is stubborn beyond any mere prince.”

  Nik stiffened. Mere prince? He didn’t like how this conversation was going, for he seemed to be coming off as spoiled, stubborn, and intractable, all horrendous character flaws. But he could not refute the softening of Lady Ailsa’s face as her cousin spoke.

  “Gregor, you are—”

  “—right. And you know it. I’ve never known you to let pride get in the way of common sense. Now is not the time for that to change.”

  She looked past her cousin and eyed Nik in a cool, considering way that took him in from head to toe, as if she were measuring his very soul.

  He set his jaw and met her look for look, fighting the desire to storm into the night and be through with them all. He might have done so, too, but with a suddenness that was surprising to everyone, Ailsa gave a rueful shake of her head, her thick braid swinging. “You are right, Gregor. I let my temper get the best of me.”

  “It is a very emotional issue; lives are at stake. It is no wonder tempers are hot.” He turned to Nik. “Your Highness—”

  “Please, call me Nik. If we are going to be fellow travelers, we might as well do so as friends.”

  The young man looked pleased. “I’m Gregor, then. Come. The stew will be ready in a bit. In the meantime, do tell me about these horses of yours. I’ve never seen their like before.”

  Nik allowed Gregor to pull him aside, but he met Ailsa’s eyes over the man’s head. Unflinching, she stared back. After a second, her lashes dropped to shadow her gaze, her lips curling in a smug smile as if she were empowered by her newfound belief that she could change his mind. I am not so easily swayed, little one. Not by you or any other female.

  Over the years he’d met women who had tried to charm him, many who had irritated him, some who’d offered brief respite from the world, but not one had interested him. Now, he found himself intrigued by a woman. Intrigued, challenged, and interested. She was no social butterfly intent on using his rank to raise her station, nor a faithless soul to be used to gather information about her family or inattentive husband. She was a woman of strength of character and a too-strong sense of ethical righteousness. Yet still . . . that kiss. I cannot forget it.

  There was something there, something sensual and . . . bloody hell, he had no idea what else, but he was going to find out.

  Mackenzie gushed over D’yoval, asking a million questions, which Nik answered as patiently as he could, while he watched Ailsa, who was now adding wood to the fire, the light of the flames flickering over her face as she spoke with Stewart.

  And suddenly Nik was imagining all the ways he would kiss away Ailsa’s superior smile. She will not win this battle, he decided, hiding his own grin. I have weapons, and I shall use them all.

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, they arose, washed in the nearby stream, ate a cold breakfast of dried venison, and then mounted up and left camp. The morning was frigid and damp, and the trail was arduous and growing even more difficult. Though wider than the previous day’s, it was also steeper, and they had to get off their mounts and lead them up several long stretches.

  Nik found himself following directly behind Ailsa and her cousin as they rode beside one another, and he was treated to several hours of their shared memories, most of which seemed to center around hunting trips, holidays, and numerous family dinners. Nik didn’t mind one minute of it. Every tidbit he discovered about Lady Ailsa was ammunition for winning his way in their ongoing battle.

  From listening to her speak with Gregor, Nik discovered that because of her mother’s long illness, Ailsa had been left on her own from a very young age. That explained her maturity and directness. He also learned that she had no interest in society life, and was quite content buried in the countryside at Castle Leod. That surprised him, for he’d thought a woman of her obvious intelligence would need more to keep her interest.

  Her voice warmed when she spoke of her home, and it made him miss his family’s home in the mountains, where they often retreated during the winters. Called the Winter Palace, it was far smaller than their home in the capital, and the hall’s rugs and walls bore the marks of the thousand and one childhood battles when he and his brothers played with their wooden swords and peg horses.

  He shook the memories away, surprised to find himself indulging in such thoughts, for he rarely dwelled on what had been. He had too much invested in the present to waste time on the past. He turned his attention back to Lady Ailsa, and this time he noted how well she rode, and the quality of her mount. What her horse lacked in beauty, it made up for in solid footing, even on slick mountain trails.

  They rode on and on, finally coming to a halt in early evening to set up camp. Rurik, who’d ridden ahead, had selected the location on a ridge over the glen below, but protected from the winds by a thick stand of silver-barked aspens.

  Nik dismounted with the others and handed his reins to Rurik, who took the two horses to one side of the camp, where he and Gregor began to bed the horses down for the night. Ailsa stretched as she climbed down off St. George, and Nik knew she’d be sore come morning. They all would be.

  MacKean claimed first watch, while Stewart quickly started a fire. Nik watched as Ailsa collected the bedrolls from the discarded saddles and began spreading them out, making certain each area was free of small rocks and twigs before rolling out the furs and blankets.

  She was a graceful woman, this Ailsa of Castle Leod. She moved in a way that made him wish to see her on the dance floor. And in his bed.

  He found a fallen log not far from the fire and sat upon it, continuing to watch her. Though it was cold, the setting sun lit the campsite and warmed strands of her dark blond hair to deep gold, flickering over her cheeks and tracing the line of her nose.

  Her nose said so much about her character—fearless, determined, bold. Was her nose the true tell of her character, or her too-stubborn chin? He had yet to find out.

  He noticed how she placed his bedroll on the complete opposite side of the fire from hers. Amused at her caution, he held his hands to the blaze.

  In the process of rolling out her bed, she rocked back on her heels and frowned. “Pardon me, but dinnae you have something to do?”

  “Do you need help?”

  “Nae, but there are plenty of chores to be done. You should pick one and see to it.”

  Tending the fire nearby, Stewart turned a bark of laughter into a cough.

  Nik sent him a scathing look under his lashes and then turned back to Ailsa. “I am free to do whatever you suggest.” Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about helping, but as he looked about the camp where everyone scurried to complete various chores before dark, it dawned on him that perhaps he should indeed be assisting. “Should I get more firewood?”

  She nodded. “It’s going to be verrah cold tonight.”

  “Verrah,” Stewart agreed.

  Nik got back to his feet. “Then I’ll fetch some.” He had started to walk into the woods when Stewart cleared his throat.

  Nik looked back to see the huntsman holding up a small ax.


  “You might need this.”

  “So I might.” He returned for the ax, and then left to fetch the wood, a bit chagrined he hadn’t thought to help without being chided. Was Ailsa right when she’d suggested that his position had given him certain expectations? Had he become spoiled? It was an uncomfortable thought, but he was soothed by the realization that he didn’t mind assisting; he rather enjoyed it, in fact. It just hadn’t dawned on him that he should do so.

  As he chopped some fallen branches into more manageable pieces, the fresh scent of partially dried wood tickling his nose, he realized that the few times he traveled in the wild, he’d never been without a retinue of servants. They’d cared for the horses, set out the pallets, prepared food, set up watch—they did everything. He rarely thought of it—but now, ax in hand, firewood in a growing pile at his side, he couldn’t help but do so.

  Perhaps it was good in more ways than one that he’d undertaken this endeavor by himself. He finished chopping the final branch and straightened, enjoying the smell of the fresh wood chips fanned across the ground, and grinning to think what his brothers would say to see him so engaged. Nik hung the ax on his belt, collected the wood, and carried it back to camp.

  Ailsa had finished rolling out the pallets and was heating a kettle on Stewart’s hook, a small tin of tea sitting nearby.

  Nik stacked the wood beside the fire. It took him two trips, and he was rather proud of the healthy stack by the time he finished.

  He returned the ax to Stewart and then looked at Ailsa. “Is there anything more to be done?”

  She looked as if she wished she could think of something, but finally she said in a rather disappointed tone, “I dinnae believe so.”

  “Good.” Nik took a seat nearby. “I’ll have some tea, too, if you’ve enough.”

  “I’m making some for everyone.” She said the words as if she couldn’t imagine not doing just that.