How to Forgive a Highlander (MacGregor Lairds) Read online

  “If ye dinna stop acting like ye’re afraid I’ll eat ye up the moment ye close yer eyes, we’ll never convince anyone ye belong to me.”

  “That’s because I don’t belong to you,” she said, though she did make a concerted effort to stop cringing from him.

  “Aye, but we need them to think ye do, remember? At least stop acting like ye hate me.”

  She tried to relax in his arms. “I don’t hate you.”

  “Do ye no’?” he asked, his voice genuinely surprised.

  She snorted. “You might not be my favorite person. You did kidnap me, after all.”

  “Aye,” he sighed. “So ye keep reminding me.”

  “But no, I don’t hate you. And I do appreciate you going through so much trouble to keep me safe.”

  He chuckled and pulled her closer. “Ah, lass. It’s no’ so much trouble to lie with a beautiful woman.”

  Her stomach skittered and flipped, and a fine tremble ran through her limbs. She’d never had a man say such things to her before.

  “Are ye cold?” he asked, snuggling even closer so he could wrap his blanket about them both.

  She wasn’t. But she didn’t say anything to dissuade him. If she was stuck sleeping in the dirt with this marauding band of mercenaries, she would rather do so wrapped in the arms of the handsome Highlander than take her chances with the other men whose eyes followed her. With William at her back and the fire guarding their front, she felt as safe as she could be in the circumstances.

  Each night he came to her. And each night she grew more and more comfortable sleeping wrapped in his arms. That didn’t mean she forgave him. But there were definite advantages to having him as a bedfellow. Not the least of which his presence in her bed made his presence in her waking hours less jarring. A necessity when the success of their subterfuge depended upon their familiarity with each other. She no longer cringed when he reached out to touch her in some small way; to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear or gently caress her cheek.

  She even managed to laugh along with the others when he’d swat at her bottom when she’d walk by or made some crude joke at her expense. The only thing that still rattled her was when he’d pull her close for a quick kiss when he’d pass her in the camp. But it wasn’t because she was uncomfortable with his touch. No. It was much more sinister than that.

  She’d begun to crave it.

  She didn’t have to pretend that she enjoyed it when he wrapped his arms about her. When his lips pressed against hers, hungering, demanding…she didn’t have to pretend for the camp anymore. More and more, it was herself she had to lie to. She liked it far too much. Wanted it. Had even found herself seeking him out throughout the day just so she could pass by and create an opportunity for a little playacting.

  Even worse, she was fairly sure William was doing the same thing. He seemed to find inane excuses to seek her out during the day. And without fail, those visits would end with a kiss that stole her breath. And her sanity. They couldn’t keep on this way. And yet they must.

  But she resolved to strengthen her internal defenses against him. He was the enemy. The epitome of every terrifying story she’d been told of the savage Scots who lived and died by their swords. The man had kidnapped her, for goodness sake! He was, by his own admission, a thief, a highwayman, and now a mercenary for the devil himself. It was that which she must keep foremost in her mind. Not the way his fingers felt brushing against her skin. Or the way his full lips seemed to burn from within, their heat branding her anew with every kiss they shared.

  She blew out a pent-up breath and leaned over the fire she’d been tending to give the stew simmering over it a stir. When she looked up, she caught William’s gaze on her. She froze, locked in place by the intensity of his stare. A slow smile stretched over his lips that sent her stomach into a free fall. She choked on the small gasp that caught in her throat. She must fight this!

  She stood straighter and glared at him, then turned her back, the sound of his laughter following her. The man was aggravating, but they had bigger problems.

  Men were disappearing from the camp.

  Over the course of their journey, more and more men went missing.

  Well, not missing exactly. Ramsay didn’t seem at all displeased or troubled as small groups of men—two or three here, four or five there—peeled off from the main group and disappeared. Rose mentioned it to William when she saw three men wander off after a rest stop, but he didn’t seem concerned.

  “It’s actually quite clever,” he said, though he looked like he didn’t want to admit it.

  “Clever?” she asked.

  “Aye.” He nodded absently and took a bite of the hard trail rations she’d brought him. They’d stayed at this camp for several days now, and many of the men were growing antsy. So was Rose. She knew they must be near Glenlyon, and the need to protect her mistress from impending danger burned through her.

  William took another bite, glancing around before continuing. “Traveling with such a large group is suspicious, which is why we’ve been keeping off the main roads and trails. Sending small groups of men ahead not only reduces the main body of our group, but it allows Ramsay to scout ahead and position men in different areas.”

  Rose put her hands on her hips, both frightened at the implications and grudgingly admiring of the tactic. “So they can move ahead, faster than the main group, and be in position to attack before we ever get near Glenlyon.”

  “Aye. And there lies our main problem.”

  Rose frowned at him. “What?”

  “One large group is difficult to hide. I’d be able to divulge their position without too much trouble, even if we were to leave before they reached their final destination. But several small groups? Dozens perhaps?” He shook his head. “There’s no way to ken where all these men will be stationed.”

  She sat beside him, her soup ladle in her hand. “There must be a way to find out. Surely, Ramsay doesn’t know where each of a dozen or more groups is only in his head. He must have a…map of some kind. Something to plan and mark where each group is.”

  “Aye,” William said. “And if he has such a thing, he’s keeping it close, showing it to none but his most trusted men. Perhaps not even them.”

  “So how do we get a look, then?”

  “That’s a very good question, lass.”

  Rose paced back and forth in front of their small fire, not caring if anyone saw. They could think it was a lovers’ quarrel for all she cared. “This is ridiculous. We should leave now. We have to warn our friends.”

  William looked like he wanted to pull out every hair on his head but to his credit he kept his temper. Which actually made Rose even more irritated with him. How could the man remain so calm?

  “We can’t leave yet, lass. We’re still a day’s ride from Glenlyon and, despite what we have learned, we have no way of knowing when or even if he will attack.”

  “But we have been sitting here for two days. If he was going to attack, wouldn’t he have moved us closer by now? Or sent more men out? Something? He’s made no move.”

  “Perhaps,” William said. “Or perhaps he is planning something else. Which is exactly why we need to stay where we are until we can find out more details. We are only a day’s ride away. The two of us can travel much quicker than Ramsay’s whole mob. We’ll get there in time to warn them.”

  “Yes, but that’s the problem. Don’t you see? We are only a day’s ride away. If he were to order the men to march now, we wouldn’t have any time to warn our friends. By the time we got there Ramsay would be right at our heels. Or worse, the men he has spread around might reach Glenlyon first. We need to leave now so they have time to prepare.”

  “We will leave soon, I promise ye. But without more details I wouldna even ken what to warn them about. I’ll not risk more lives by acting too soon. We have always been aware that Ramsay would attack. Our friends are ready for that. And I have been sending messengers, so they willna be caught unawares. What we di
nna ken is when and from what direction and how many men and all the other small details that will make the difference between winning this fight and losing.”

  “We’ve been traveling with them for nearly two weeks now,” Rose said. “I don’t think you’re going to discover anything new that you haven’t already discovered. Unless you can get in to see that map. Something I could probably do but you won’t even let me try.”

  William sighed and tossed another log onto the flames. “Saints preserve me from inpatient women,” he muttered.

  “And saints preserve me from stubborn men,” she said, throwing up her hands to stomp off a few feet before rounding back at him. “If we arrive too late to do any good and our friends suffer for it, I will hold you responsible, William McGregor. I’ll never forgive you for it.”

  “Add it to the list of things ye’ll never forgive me for, lass.”

  Rose opened her mouth to say something else, but Mrs. Bradshaw chose that moment to wander by and shoo her back to the main fire where they were ladling out food for the men. Rose threw a glare over her shoulder at him that he rolled his eyes at, and then she returned to her duties.

  She had an idea. One she knew William would hate. But if they couldn’t leave to warn their friends until they had more information from Ramsay, then someone was going to have to get close to him to get it.

  Fear rippled through her, but she steeled her spine. Her mistress needed her. And so did the people of Glenlyon. She and William could argue over whose fault their situation was later. For the moment, there was something she could do to help and she’d do it whether he agreed or no.

  She only hoped she wouldn’t get killed in the process.

  She grabbed a kettle of hot water from the large fire and walked straight to Ramsay’s tent, head high as if she had been summoned and had every right to be entering the master’s space. Her hands shook and she held tighter to the kettle, taking care to keep her apron wrapped about the handle. She prayed he would not be inside. If he was, she’d offer him the hot water for tea or to wash. And she’d try to get a look around.

  When she reached the tent, she scratched at the flap that served as a door and waited a few seconds. When there was no response, she took a quick look around the camp to make sure no one was paying attention to her, and then slipped inside.

  Ramsay’s accommodations were luxurious compared to his men’s. A large, comfortable-looking cot sat in one corner, piled high with furs and soft blankets. Candles burned merrily, giving the place a soft glow. But the item that interested her the most was the table set up in the middle of the tent. She glanced around again to be sure she’d missed no one lurking in the shadows, and then crept closer.

  On top of the table was a map. She didn’t recognize the area but there was a large X marked toward the center north. Scattered around that X were several smaller versions, nearly a dozen total. Excitement sent her heart skittering in her chest. Could these be the locations of Ramsay’s men?

  She looked around the tent again but didn’t see anything she could draw with. The kettle grew heavy in her hands and she stooped to nestle it in the embers of the fire. A bit of soot from the ashes remained on her fingers and she brushed her hands against her apron, trying to clean them. And then sucked in a breath as an idea hit her.

  She scooped up a bit of ash from the edges of the fire and carried it to the table. Once she’d deposited her little pile of ash near the map she twisted her apron so the backside was visible. Dipping her finger in the ash, she made a large X mark near the top center of her apron. And then she went about copying the other marks as well as she could. It wouldn’t give exact locations, of course. But hopefully it would give the MacGregors at least an idea of where Ramsay’s men might be lying in wait.

  She finished as quickly as possible and then scooped the remaining ash into her palm and carried it back to the fire. She’d barely brushed it off into the fire when she heard a voice behind her.

  She stood, whirling around. Her hands smoothed down her apron, and she forced herself not to look at it. The “map” was on the backside that rested against her skirts, so nothing should be visible except, perhaps, a bit of soot. And, since she’d been smearing her ash-covered hands on her apron, that shouldn’t draw notice.

  Lionel stood in the doorway, staring at her. He didn’t look angry or even surprised. His lips pulled into a slow smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  She dropped into a quick curtsy. “May I help you with something, sir?”

  His grin grew at that, and a faint tremor of alarm ran down her spine. “Oh, there are quite a few things I’m sure you can help me with,” he said. He glanced around the tent, his gaze resting on the map before returning to her. “What are you doing in Mr. Ramsay’s tent?”

  She knotted her hands in her skirts to keep them from shaking. “I brought him some hot water, sir,” she said, pointing at the kettle resting in the fire embers and thanking the saints above she’d thought to bring it.

  Lionel nodded slowly, some of the suspicion leaving his eyes. But he still didn’t move from the doorway. “Well, since the master isn’t here, perhaps you can assist me.” His gaze flicked over her again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper wash.” His hands went to the buckle of his belt and ice-cold fear flooded Rose’s veins.

  “I…I should be getting back to William,” she said through numb lips.

  “He won’t miss you for a few more minutes.”

  “Aye, I would,” William said, stepping into the tent, his sword already drawn and pointed at Lionel’s throat.

  Lionel smiled at him with that cold, calculating smile of his, but Rose nearly sobbed in relief. William nodded his head away from the door and Lionel obliged by moving farther into the tent. William moved with him, reaching out for Rose once he neared her. She released a sobbing gasp and grabbed his hand, letting him draw her in to his side.

  She could be brave when needed, but she wasn’t an idiot. She wouldn’t win a duel with Lionel. And while William was aggravating and the cause of the most miserable weeks of her life, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. So bravery be damned, she clung to him for all she was worth.

  And Lord bless him, he clung back.

  Chapter Eight

  William kept Lionel moving until he was well away from the door…their one point of escape. He didn’t know what Rose had been doing in Ramsay’s tent. He’d have to throttle her for that later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on getting them both out of the tent, and the camp, alive.

  “What are you two plotting in here, hmm?” Lionel asked.

  Rose kept herself behind William. The lass was headstrong and a pain in his arse, but she at least had some sense when it counted. He had no doubt she would fight like a hellcat, but there were some battles a woman wouldn’t win. Having to fight her on top of their enemies would guarantee someone would get hurt.

  “Plotting? My Rose was simply stopping by to make sure Mr. Ramsay didna need anything else before he retired,” William said. “I’ll admit I shouldna have followed but…well, ye canna blame a man for being jealous of his woman giving attention to another man.”

  Rose released a perfectly timed outraged gasp. Will squeezed her arm, both to comfort and praise.

  Lionel took a small side step, not retreating but moving enough that William would be forced to move also to keep his sword aimed at his neck. He wouldn’t be able to hold such a position for much longer anyway, so he dropped the sword a bit, though he still held it ready. “And why are ye here when Ramsay is not? I canna imagine he expects ye to hang about his tent.”

  “Of course not. However, since Mr. Ramsay isn’t here, I thought it best to see why your…lady lingered.”

  William frowned at that. “Have ye been following her?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. You, as well.”

  William’s hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. Apparently, they were no longer keeping up appearances. But that didn’t mean he would openly admit
to anything.

  “Why would ye be doing that?” William asked.

  “Don’t you know?” Lionel said, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Let me enlighten you. I wasn’t quite truthful with our master when I told him that I didn’t recognize the maid on the dock. And yes, I noticed you paying extra attention to that bit of the conversation,” he said, pointing to Rose.

  Then he got a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t being untruthful. At the time, I didn’t recognize your pretty little plaything,” he said with a sneer at Rose. “Until you walked into camp with her. That face isn’t one I would forget anytime soon,” he said with a leer that sent a bolt of rage crashing through William.

  Rose shrank back behind him, and he put a hand out to keep her close. He’d need it when it came down to the fight that was coming, but right then, he needed the contact with her more.

  “I dinna ken yer meaning.”

  “Oh, I’m certain you do.” Lionel shifted his gaze to where Rose peeked out behind William and pointed to her. “It was you that day that I saw watching the ship. And why would you be watching the ship unless your mistress had boarded it? What is most interesting is that it was the same ship that Philip MacGregor sailed out on. And then a few hours later, our William brought you into our camp. Now what reason could there be for that?”

  She clung to his arm, but her voice was strong when she answered. “William is my intended, sir. My mistress gave me leave to join him, as she had no more need of my services. There’s nothing more to the story than that.”

  Lionel shook his head, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “I do not believe you.”

  “What do ye want, Lionel?” William said, cutting to the chase.

  He shrugged. “I was curious, that’s all. I found it very…interesting that she, with what I know of her, is lurking about in our master’s tent. And you were right on her heels. As I knew you’d be.”