Highland Rake

by Terry Spear

  "What if that wasna the strategy?" Angus asked. "What if the plan was to kill the lass's father? No' the lass?"

  "You mean because they wanted him out of the way?" Dougald asked. "So that her uncle could take over?"

  "Aye. But here is another thought, Dougald. Was Lady Alana betrothed already? Often a clan chief's daughter will be promised to another clan in marriage even at a youthful age. So was she? And if so, is that the same clan that her uncle has gone to see concerning a marriage agreement or no'? Did killing the lady's father change the marriage agreement?" Angus asked.

  "Or what if the lass was no' betrothed, but her father had been approached concerning such an arrangement, and he had said no? What if the uncle was more agreeable?" Dougald offered.

  "Suppose someone suspects as much. Someone who believes the new arrangement would benefit someone who had her father murdered. And that someone sends the lass away from the castle, from the safety of her people, only to keep her from falling into the wrong hands? The same ones who murdered her father?" Gunnolf said.

  Angus slapped his hand on the table. "Then Dougald will have to marry the lass and that will be the end of that."

  Dougald could just imagine attempting to bed the lass, and there her brother would be, watching over them, speaking to the lass and being more than a nightmare than he would know how to handle.

  Chapter 10

  When Laird Alroy Cameron rode into the inner bailey surrounding his keep, he found utter chaos. He had successfully negotiated a betrothal arrangement with Laird McDonald's middle son, Hoel, and Alana, believing the match suitable for his niece. The man drank a little too much for Cameron's liking, but that was inevitable as he was celebrating the agreement. He didn't care for Hoel's slipping off with a serving wench later that eve, either. Though Cameron had to remind himself the man could avail himself of the wenches, until he was married to his niece.

  If Hoel upset his niece, he would have words with the knave. That was one reason he planned to arrange a marriage where Alana's husband would live under the Cameron's roof and Cameron's watchful eye.

  He stroked his beard as he surveyed his staff rushing out to greet him and his men. No one met his eyes in greeting, the whole lot of them cowering as if they were not pleased he had returned home so quickly. Business done, he had wished to give the word as to his niece's coming nuptials as soon as possible.

  He noted his niece was disturbingly absent. She was always there first, lady of the keep, all smiles for him, greeting him upon his return no matter if he'd been gone only a mere few hours or days. Was she upset with him for making the marriage arrangement without speaking with her about it first? He wouldn't have. It was his decision to make, not the lass's. She wouldn't have a head for deciding such a matter. She would go along with his decision no matter what because she knew how important such an arrangement was for their clan.

  His advisor, Turi, stalked toward him, his continence grim, and Cameron knew before he even spoke that something untoward had happened to his niece.

  "Where is Lady Alana? Is she ill?" Cameron snapped, dismounting, and not waiting for an answer as he stormed toward the keep.

  "Gone, my laird."

  Cameron whipped around and glared at his advisor. "Gone? Where? Spill it, mon. Where is my niece?" He didn't like the concern etched in his advisor's face. All at once Cameron felt the blood rush from his face. "Dead? She has died?"

  Blue eyes widening, Turi quickly said, "Nay, my laird. She…she left the castle and hasna been found."

  Cameron studied him, not believing that the man could have let this happen. Turi knew never to allow her beyond the curtain walls when he was gone for any length of time. A few hours, he would allow when he was in residence, but not when he was gone for days.

  "How? How did she get beyond the curtain wall without my permission?" he snapped, heading again for the keep. He needed a meal and a good night's sleep. He didn't need this news. Not now. Not after having made arrangements for her marriage to Hoel. He motioned to one of his men. "Ready new mounts for us. Have food prepared that we will take with us on our journey. We will eat and leave again at once."

  "Aye, my laird." The man quickly spoke to a servant and began issuing orders.

  "The last we could discover was she crossed the border into the MacNeill's lands, but we have no clue as to why she would have done such a thing," Turi said.

  Cameron stopped just inside the keep and glowered at his advisor. "What? When did she leave?"

  Had she learned of her marriage arrangement to Hoel and thought to run away? Seeking James MacNeill's clan as refuge? Cameron would not put up with her disobedience.

  "Two days ago, my laird."

  "Two…" Cameron felt himself shaking with rage. "No man accompanied her?" He did not wait for an answer because he knew the truth of the matter already. "You sent men after her?"

  "We scoured our own lands and the castle several times first, my laird. We didna learn until later that she had crossed the border. She left with several men and women headed to the fields early the morning before last."

  Cameron sighed with a bit of relief. "So she wasna alone."

  "When she headed to the forest, aye, my laird."

  "How come you know she crossed the border between our lands then?"

  "Odara, the shepherdess who lives near our border with the MacNeill, said she saw Lady Alana heading that way."

  "Did she no' attempt to stop her?"

  "She said Lady Alana was too far across the border for her to get her attention. She was riding fast."

  "So Alana is on the MacNeill lands." Cameron had learned about her acting as a midwife to a MacNeill woman and her babe across the border and though he had not approved of her doing so, the deed had been done, and he let on he never knew about it. Had he been too lenient with her? Aye. Until she was Hoel's responsibility, he would not let her out of his sight again.

  She was like the daughter he'd never had. Like his sweet wife who had died three winters past. Connell, Alana's brother, had been a hellion. He was a likeable lad, but because of his transgressions with the lasses, Cameron had suspected he would come to no good end. Alana was everything sweet and innocent, and God's wounds, how could he have let this happen?

  "Has James MacNeill sent us a missive—" Cameron shook his head, trying to clear the fog from it. "Of course no' or you would know she was with them." He narrowed his eyes at his advisor. "Why did she leave? Did she know I intended to offer her hand in marriage to MacDonald's middle son?"

  "No one has told her of any such news as I believe no one knew it might come to pass. Is the arrangement agreed upon then?"

  "Aye, but it counts for naught if my niece canna be found." But he didn't care about that right now. All that mattered was he found his niece unharmed. "I must eat and we will be off." He paused again at the entryway to the great hall where servants were hastily setting out a meal for him and his men. "Did you already send men to speak with James?"

  "Nay, my laird. We have searched everywhere for her and since you were arriving this eve and you have always said we are no' to cross the border and instigate a battle between our clans in your absence…we didna go there. I thought she would return before this."

  "You should have sent men at all possible haste to learn if she is with James. If the MacNeill has my niece, no telling what he will do with her."

  "He will keep her safe," Turi said.

  Cameron glowered at him. He might not like the laird as the two clans had skirmishes over the borders for centuries, but he knew James was honorable enough that he would not harm his niece. But what if she was lost on his lands, or worse? What if men not under James's control had taken her hostage? "If James has her at Craigly and she hasna become the victim of some unscrupulous knave." And beyond that, what if James decided to marry her to one of his brothers? The man still had two of them who were unmarried and a cousin besides.

  "Aye, my laird."

  Cameron stalked into the great
hall and took his seat at the head table where Turi joined him. "I have been way too lenient with her," Cameron said, then drank a goodly sum of a tankard of ale as servants rushed to feed him and his men. "I am afraid Hoel MacDonald will have to do a good job at keeping the lass in hand." If Cameron could find his niece before harm came to her. He looked at the haggard lines of his advisor's face, realizing Turi had to be just as concerned about his daughter, Brighid, who served as a maid to Alana. "You must be worried about your own daughter's safety."

  "Brighid wasna with her."

  Cameron threw down the bread he had managed a bite of and rose from his chair so abruptly, the great hall turned silent. "Your daughter is here?"

  "Aye, my laird. She had been feeling ill. Lady Alana had given her something to settle what ails her. She was sleeping when Lady Alana left the keep to cut herbs in the garden. She had gone to the moorland earlier than that. When Lady Alana went out again, no one believed she was doing anything more than gathering healing plants from the forest. She is gone for hours sometimes. No one thought she would fail to return. I told you she was alone when she went to the forest."

  "Aye, but I believed you meant she was without men to guard her. She is always to have her maid or two of them with her at all times when she leaves the castle!"

  Turi cleared his throat. "I am sorry, my laird."

  "Aye, you are." Cameron stalked out of the great hall, his men scurrying to grab what foodstuffs they could before departing again. He knew they were weary. He was tired and could have slept a fortnight in his bed. Then again, with worrying about Alana's safety, he didna believe he could sleep one wee bit.

  He'd never forget her appearance when she'd come home ten years ago, her brat gone, her léine torn and filthy, leaves and twigs sticking out of her pale blond hair. She looked half starved, as though she was an orphaned waif. She couldn't speak at all, just stared at him and his men, as he tried to learn where her da and his men were, why she was all alone and there at the gate, her horse nowhere in sight, like she had fought untold battles of her own.

  She had peered over her shoulder as if looking for someone else to tell him what had happened to the rest of their men. Cameron had crouched before her, held her tiny shoulders, looked into those haunted green eyes and asked again and again what had happened to the hunting party, what had happened to her da, the laird, his brother.

  Connell had broken through the circle of men crowding around her when he received word she had returned home alone and asked his sister where their da was, trying to look like the warrior he so longed to be. His sandy hair blowing across his still whiskerless jaw, he stood as tall as some of the men, though he was still lanky because he was only five and ten. Tears clouded his blue eyes, belying the truth that he was afraid of what he would learn—that the lass was there in such a bedraggled state because their father and the rest of his men had fought a battle and lost their lives.

  Cameron remembered yelling at the boy, furious that he would be so angry with Alana for not telling them what had happened. Cameron had known in his heart, Connell was as frustrated as he had been that they knew not where the men were. What Alana's brother hadn't recognized was the lass was so shocked by what had occurred, she could not tell them what she had seen.

  Days later when she began to eat and speak again and long after they had recovered her father's body and those of his men, she had told of how her father had brought her home. Fearing she would be ostracized for what she believed, Cameron had quickly made her promise she would speak no more of seeing her father when he knew his brother had been dead at the site of the battle in the woods and had never returned her home.

  Rumors had abounded since she was little that she had imaginary friends, that she could speak with the dead, but he and her father had always warned her never to speak of such a thing for fear they'd believe her to be a witch. Now, had he lost the young woman he thought of as his daughter? The one he believed would carry the Cameron clan forth with her own bairn someday?

  Chapter 11

  The rain was coming down as heavy as earlier when Alana and her MacNeill escort first arrived at the tavern. The wind was howling and blowing the rain against the small shuttered window near the bed. She was glad she was not out in this weather, though she felt keenly aware that she should not be here without a maid. Not that she should have been sleeping in a camp with her enemy without a maid either. Still, she was relieved as ill as Brighid had been yesterday morn, that she was not with her this trip, considering all that had befallen Alana.

  Her clothes dry, she was famished and ready to eat as she sat before the fire in the tavern's upstairs room when footfalls headed toward her door. She was thinking it was the maid bringing up a tray for her. She never expected to see Dougald carrying a tray into the room, his mouth curved up a little, probably because of the shocked expression he saw on her face.

  "'Tis still pouring out, as you can well see." Dougald's tunic and plaid were dry, and it looked as though he was well rested. He motioned to the small wooden table where he set the tray down, then to her surprise, once she had taken a seat, he sat down beside her.

  His knees brushed hers, and she thought to put some distance between them, but the table was too tiny and…she realized…she really didn't want to put any distance between them.

  He was so huge, dwarfing the table with his height, sitting so close to her, it reminded her of when she sat in front of him on his horse. His arms wrapped around her, Dougald had felt as big and powerful as his steed. His body had made hers feel as though she was on fire.

  She'd told herself it was because the day was so warm and sitting so close to him, their shared body heat had made her feel as though she sat too close to the hearth. Even now, she felt warmer in his presence.

  "Alana?" he said.

  She realized he must have asked her something. "Aye?"

  "You wish a slice of bread?"

  She nodded.

  After he had told her some hours earlier that her secret about her ghostly visions was safe with him, she felt differently about him. Probably a mistake. Yet, she couldn't help but see him in a new light. No one had ever believed her, or if they had, they thought her bewitched, or one of the fae. Some had feared her. Others had brushed away her claims as just a bit of fanciful whimsy—something that most children were fond of. She appreciated him for not seeing her in that way.

  Dougald's gaze met hers, his dark brown eyes observing her, studying her as if attempting to read her thoughts. "Is he here?" He didn't act as though it would bother him to hear that her brother was still in the room, but maybe that's why he thought she seemed so distracted.

  She shook her head. She shouldn't have acknowledged that she could see her brother, but this was the first time anyone didn't act as though she was thoroughly possessed or that she should hide what she saw. A sense of relief washed over her that she could, well mayhap not speak with Dougald about it, but at least not worry if she had the notion to talk to someone else in the room that he couldn't see. That he wouldn't treat her as though he was in the presence of a mad woman.

  She relaxed a little.

  Dougald cut off a slice of brown bread for her, then buttered it with his knife. "Do you ever summon him, or does he just come and go as he pleases?" He handed her the piece of bread.

  She took it from him, felt the warm connection between them as his fingers brushed against hers, and she wondered if he had solicited the touch on purpose or if he was all innocence. Him, a seducer of women?

  She studied Dougald's face, saw the shadow of a beard covering his masculine jaw, making him look rough and rugged, the serious expression in his eyes, the slightly crinkled forehead.

  Mayhap she was only hoping he was attempting a subtle seduction of her. What was wrong with her anyway? She should stay far away from such notions.

  "I never talk about it…ever," she said, and speaking the truth, then took a bite of bread.

  He nodded and cut off a slice for himself, b
uttering it with care. Concentrating on what he was doing, he said, "'Tis up to you. But I would be willing to hear what 'tis like for you, and I would make no judgment against you, my lady."

  She hesitated. She couldn't believe anyone would not judge her. Was he being sincere? "I…I never summon him. Why would I? If I were in trouble, he couldna assist me. He comes and goes when he pleases, and sometimes he gives me a fright."

  Dougald had turned to watch her again, just holding his bread aloft, but not taking a bite of it yet. "I see. Some have said they have seen my sister floating around Craigly Castle. Never me, nor my brothers. But even James's wife, Eilis, had a scare when she saw my sister studying her in the solar. Mayhap if you only see those close to you, you willna witness my sister's ghostly spirit. I wish to warn you, just in case you do."

  She noted that he did not say that Eilis said she had seen the ghost, but that she had seen the ghost, which indicated to Alana that Dougald truly believed Eilis had seen his sister in spirit form. That gave Alana hope.

  "Do…do your people talk about her? About the ghost, I mean?" She was optimistic that his people were more enlightened than her own.

  "No' out loud. Whispered mutterings. A screech, and then…" Dougald smiled at Alana in a warm way. "…a claim that a maid has seen a rat."

  She smiled at him then. "'Tis possible, you know."

  "Aye. Do you ever help ghosts find peace?"

  "I…dinna know if I do or if they find their own way."

  "Aye." Dougald drew taller and asked, "Were you betrothed at an early age?"

  She was surprised at the question and hesitated to speak. "To a MacIverson, aye."

  "What happened? Why did you no' marry the man?"

  She bit her lower lip, trying to recall what had happened so long ago. She was not exactly privy to the goings on back then, though she'd heard some rumors. "My uncle hadna wished it."