How to Forgive a Highlander (MacGregor Lairds) Read online

  “Try not to get wounded again. I’m running out of petticoat.”

  He laughed and rested his head against the wall. Rose gathered up the bloody cloths. “I, um…I never thanked you,” she said.

  William looked at her in surprise. “For what?”

  “For saving my life.”

  He stared at her and then said, “Yes, well, I’ve heard the Lady Alice is quite demanding. I didna wish to be on the wrong end of her tongue should I have to inform her that her favorite maid had been killed on my watch.”

  Rose scowled, though her lips twitched with amusement.

  “Besides which, I owe ye safe passage while ye’re with me, since ye didna come with me willingly.”

  “Ah yes,” she said softly. “I’ll never forgive you for that, you know.”

  “Good. I deserve no forgiveness.”

  His voice was quiet, but harsh enough she flinched, though she knew it was not directed at her. Unsure of how to respond, she turned her attention back to his arm. She carefully cut the rest of his sleeve away. It was a shame to do, but the shirt was ruined in any case, and the fabric would be useful for further bandages. Perhaps she could add a new sleeve once they arrived at Kirkenroch if there was anything left of the shirt to salvage.

  Finally, she said, “Well, owed or not, I thank you. I appreciate not being dead.”

  He laughed at that, and her stomach chose that inopportune moment to grumble loudly. His grin grew wider.

  “Well I canna do much to make your accommodations more comfortable, but I can maybe do something about that.”

  He pushed away from the wall and went to the saddlebags. He rummaged through them before finally pulling out a few rock-hard oat cakes and handing one to her. She looked at it dubiously, and he chuckled again.

  “It’s no’ so bad,” he said. “Gnaw on it for a bit. It’ll soften up.”

  “Actually, I might be able to do a bit better.”

  She went to her satchel and pulled out half a loaf of bread and two small apples that she had managed to grab from Ramsay’s table.

  “Verra nice,” he said.

  “Bread, apples, and bricks. That should keep us going until we reach Kirkenroch.”

  He laughed again and took a bite of his bread.

  They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, and her weariness again crept over her. She didn’t want to sleep. She was afraid to close her eyes. Afraid when she opened them, enemies would be at their door. Or worse, they’d both fall asleep but William would never awake. His arm didn’t look too bad, but she wasn’t sure. She’d never dressed a knife wound before. It most likely needed to be stitched closed, but she had no sewing supplies with her. It would have to wait until they reached Kirkenroch. Which meant he needed to last until they got there.

  “Tell me more about the Campbells and MacGregors,” she said. “They don’t get on well, it seems?”

  William snorted. “That’s an understatement, lass. Campbells and MacGregors dinna get along, over anything. They have fought for centuries over land, slights—imagined and otherwise—stolen women, damaged property. Any and every excuse. But,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall again, “when the king ordered Malcolm to marry Sorcha, the daughter of the Campbell chief, that forced a truce. Ramsay, of course, chose not to honor that and paid the price for his betrayal of his father and clan.”

  “And this is why he hates the MacGregors so passionately?” she asked.

  “Aye. That and the fact that my kinsmen were responsible for the dismantling of his smuggling empire and theft of his betrothed. According to him. The Lady Elizabet insists she never would have wed the knave.”

  “Did Lady Elizabet really leave everything behind to wed a highwayman?”

  “Aye. Quite against the highwayman’s wishes, I might add.”

  Rose smiled. “It’s quite romantic, I think.”

  “Aye, ’tis. But dinna tell Laird John I said so.” William gave her a little half grin that sent her stomach flipping.

  “Come,” he said, throwing his apple core into the corner. “We can get a few hours rest before dawn. I dinna ken how ye feel, but I could use it.”

  Rose hadn’t wanted to complain. After all, they were on the run for their lives and were trying to save their friends. Comforts like sleep didn’t matter in such circumstances. But despite her fear, her body, at least, craved a few moments of rest.

  He made her a small pallet in the corner using a blanket he pulled from one of the saddlebags. It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable bed she had ever slept on, but she was warm and dry. And if she wished that a certain Highland rogue would lie by her side and keep her company, it was only because she’d grown used to his presence while she slept. And so she’d have something softer on which to pillow her head than the stone beneath her. Nothing more.

  Liar!

  …

  William sat near the door, keeping watch while Rose slept, a gentle snore erupting from her every now and then. He tried to keep his thoughts on what they would do once they reached Kirkenroch, and away from the ever-present guilt that plagued him whenever he looked at Rose.

  He couldn’t do anything right. It was why he had jumped to volunteer when John and Philip had needed someone to spy on Ramsay. William had messed up everything he had tried to do, starting from the first job that he’d been given with his kinsmen. He’d ridden with John and his highwaymen crew. And he’d been arrogant and over-confident, despite it being his first time. He hadn’t been in the saddle with them an hour when he’d accidentally shot Lady Elizabet.

  And then, when he was supposed to be keeping guard while the men were watching Ramsay at the lady’s estate, he had left his post to relieve himself, which allowed the Lady Elizabet to sneak past him. When he’d discovered her and tried to confront her, she’d nearly knocked him cold with a well-placed fist to his right cheek.

  He was tired of feeling like a useless bumbling idiot around the highly trained warriors of the MacGregor clan. He had thought he’d finally found something he was good at. He could be the eyes and ears for the clan, watch Ramsay, become a trusted member of his gang, and warn his kinsmen when Ramsay finally decided to attack. Instead, he’d never fully gained Ramsay’s trust, and then he’d gone and kidnapped an innocent maid. Which had not only ruined the plans Lady Alice had so carefully put into place but alerted Ramsay to Philip’s whereabouts. And he’d brought Rose into danger. And through his actions, possibly led Ramsay straight to Laird John and his lady.

  The only thing he could do that would make up for his shortcomings was to get to Kirkenroch in time and warn everyone that Ramsay was on his way. Even still, he felt a failure because he hadn’t been able to gather as much information as he needed to truly prepare his clansmen. Yes, they knew Ramsay was on the way, and he had some idea about the size of his crew and their provisions. But he couldn’t truly know exact numbers or even an exact date because once again he had failed.

  Just like he had exposed Rose to more danger. He did not regret killing Lionel. He’d been a dangerous man, and the act had removed one of Ramsay’s most trusted lieutenants. More than that, the man had looked to assault Rose. William would have done much worse to him had she come to true harm.

  As he would for any lady.

  He sighed, knowing in his heart of hearts that his reaction had been spurred by the despair and terror he’d felt at seeing Lionel menacing Rose.

  He watched the sky. They’d need to leave soon. The urgency to get back on the road grew. He must warn his kinsmen. But he couldn’t bring himself to wake Rose yet. Shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and she slept fitfully, her teeth chattering against the cold.

  But at least she slept. He ached to lie beside her. To share his warmth, make her a little more comfortable. But he dared not let himself touch her. He tried to tell himself that the urge to wrap her in his arms was simply guilt from the situation in which he had put her. But even he didn’t believe that.

 
; Rose woke with a quiet gasp and sat upright, quickly glancing about the room.

  “I’m here, lass,” he said quietly and couldn’t help the warmth that flowed through him when her shoulders sagged with relief at his voice.

  She crawled over to him. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

  “I am. But I must also keep watch.”

  “Will Ramsay come this direction?”

  His heart clenched at the fear in her voice. “It’s possible. But I wouldna think so. There are other, easier routes to Glenlyon, and he doesna ken the way to Kirkenroch or even that it exists. Plus, he’ll be traveling with a large group. He willna wish to travel the main thoroughfares, but I can’t imagine he would seek out such an out-of-the-way trail as this.”

  She nodded, and William sent up a quick prayer that he was right.

  “But,” she said, her forehead creased in thought, “he might not be traveling with such a large group. Remember the men who have been separating from us throughout the trip.”

  “Aye, ye’re right,” Will said, frowning.

  “Oh! I never showed you!” She jumped up and went to her satchel, pulling out her apron.

  “Ye wished to show me yer apron?” he asked with a laugh.

  “Yes.” She carefully unfolded it to reveal several smudges.

  No…not smudges. He sat forward to get a closer look. X marks.

  “What are these?” he asked.

  “It’s from the map in Ramsay’s tent,” she said, excitement in her voice. “I think this is Glenlyon.” She pointed to the large X near the top. “And these could be where he’s been sending the small groups of men. See how they surround the large X?”

  “Aye. It could be.” Excitement flooded him. Finally! Real information that might actually make a difference.

  “You should get some sleep before we go,” Rose said. “I can keep watch.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be all right. Get some more rest.”

  “I’ve rested.”

  He opened his mouth to argue again, and she held up her hand. “I’ve slept as much as I’m going to. If you are going to be stubborn and refuse to sleep, then we might as well be on our way.”

  He narrowed his eyes, trying to intimidate her into obeying him, though he knew that was a lost cause. She simply crossed her arms and stared at him.

  “Fine. Have it yer way then.”

  She grinned and quickly gathered their things, once again taking care to store the apron in the satchel where it would be safe from the elements. She slung the satchel over her shoulder and put her hands in her pockets, only to jerk her head up in outraged shock.

  “Damn you, William!”

  He chuckled and ducked out of the doorway, her dagger safely in his waistband.

  Chapter Ten

  They rode up to the gates of Kirkenroch just after sunrise. A sleepy page ran to get his master and within a few minutes, they were met by John and Lady Elizabet.

  “William,” John said, clasping him in a quick hug. He took a step back, keeping his hands on William’s shoulders to look him over. John frowned. “If ye’re arriving at the break of dawn, bloodied and weary, I can guess yer news.”

  “Aye,” William said. “Ramsay is on the march. And close.”

  John nodded and then turned at the sound of more feet clattering down the stairs.

  “William?” Philip asked, hurrying toward them with Lady Alice.

  She gasped and pulled Rose into a hug while Philip frowned. “What is wrong? What are ye doing here?”

  “And why are you with him?” Alice added, looking at Rose.

  John’s grave face said more than William needed to. John was the jovial cousin, always quick to jest, always with a smile. With his dour expression, Philip knew instantly what was wrong.

  “Ramsay,” he said.

  John nodded, and William put down the cup Elizabet had pressed into his hand. “He willna be far behind us. A day at the most. We rode as fast as we could but I wasna able to get away as quickly as I’d hoped. And with the horse carrying the both of us…”

  Philip clapped his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Ye did well, lad.”

  Will knew the lad was more a term of endearment than statement of his age, but he still cringed. His older cousins would probably always see him as the young lad they needed to protect.

  “But how did the two of you come to be together?” Alice asked, frowning at Rose. “I left you on the docks at Dover. You were supposed to have returned to my parents.”

  “I’d planned to, my lady. But then—”

  “I took her prisoner,” Will said, knowing his tone suggested he’d been suffering for his actions ever since. But…he wasn’t wrong. That didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed at least some of that suffering, but he didn’t think it prudent to admit that to anyone.

  “You did what?” Alice asked, taking a threatening step closer.

  “It was a misunderstanding—” he started before Rose cut in.

  “Because you jumped to conclusions and rather than wait two minutes for me to explain, you trussed me up and hauled me off for questioning. Thinking I was a spy for Ramsay!”

  “What?” Alice gasped.

  William sighed. They’d been getting along so well. That whole kidnapping thing would be biting him in the arse until the day he died. “Oh, for the thousandth time, woman, I’m sorry. Ye have no idea how sorry. It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life. And ye’ve been making me pay for it for weeks now.”

  “As well you should be! Just because you were off playing spy doesn’t mean the rest of us weren’t simply trying to mind our own business. And then you had to drag me into all of this, when I had strict orders from my lady—”

  “Must we go over all this again?” William said, rubbing his face. “At this point, madam, I’d sell my soul to the devil himself if it meant I could undo what I did, but I cannae do that, so ye’re either going to have to learn to forgive me or get on with killing me, because I’d rather die a swift death by yer blade than listen to ye naggin’ me about it for the rest of my life.”

  “I’d be glad to oblige, but you took my dagger!”

  “Then I’ll gladly give ye my own!”

  “That’s not what you said a few hours ago when I tried to take it from you.”

  William opened his mouth to respond, but Philip put himself between them. “Now, I’m sure that’s a fascinating story, but as long as the lass hasna been hurt in any way…” He looked at Rose with a cocked eyebrow, and she begrudgingly shook her head, even as her eyes narrowed at Will.

  Philip nodded. “Well then, I say we let the matter drop and send these two to rest and refresh themselves. They’ve had an arduous journey in order to bring us this news. We need to use it to our advantage. All else can wait until after Ramsay has been dealt with.”

  Alice didn’t look like she wanted to let the matter drop, but even she couldn’t argue with the need to fortify themselves against the coming attack.

  She bundled up Rose and took her upstairs, though Rose looked like she was about to argue. Will knew she’d much rather be with the men discussing the coming attack. He gave her a little smile and wave as Alice dragged her up the stairs. Her expression promised retaliation for that bit of childishness, and he grinned.

  He turned back to Philip and John, who were both looking at him with confused but amused expressions. Then John chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Come, Will. Let’s away to the kitchens and get some food in ye while ye fill us in on the finer details.”

  They sat around the table near the kitchen hearth while Will ate some cold roast chicken and crusty bread.

  “I truly am that sorry about the lass, Philip, I swear it…” he said, his amusement over riling Rose fading in the face of his cousins’ certain disapproval.

  “Pay it no mind, Will. For now, anyway. There’s more important matters to discuss.”

  W
ill nodded and took another bracing drink of ale.

  John pulled up a stool and sat down. “I’d love to ken how the maid plays into all this, but for now,” he said, holding his hand up against the immediate defensiveness Will felt, “tell us the relevant information on Ramsay. How far away is he? How many men with him? Do ye ken what he is planning?”

  Will told them all he knew, from the moment he’d left Philip at the docks, to when he’d rejoined Ramsay’s men in his disguise as one of them, to the moment he and Rose had broken away.

  Philip and John listened with growing concern.

  “We havena much time then,” Philip said.

  “Nay, my laird,” Will said. “A day or two at most. Perhaps less if he’s discovered my deception.”

  John called a lad in and sent him scurrying off to Glenlyon as fast as he could go. Then he turned back to them. “Thank ye, Will,” John said, clapping both hands on his shoulders. “Ye’ve given us a chance to prepare a defense. One we didna have last time. Let’s not waste it!”

  “I do have a bit more information,” Will said. He grabbed Rose’s satchel from under his chair and pulled out her apron.

  “A lassie’s dirty apron?” Philip said with a frown.

  “Rose’s apron, to be exact. But not dirty.”

  He laid it flat on the table and pointed out the X marks. “I canna be sure the large X is Glenlyon, but it stands to reason, as Ramsay doesna ken about Kirkenroch. As far as I was able to discover.”

  “We can hope. But it’s a good assumption,” John said. “And these marks?” He pointed to the smaller ones.

  “All along the journey, small groups of men broke away from the larger group and went off alone. At first I assumed that they were deserting. But their disappearance never flustered Ramsay and it happened in regular enough intervals that it must have been intentional. Rose and I believe these smaller X marks note where each of these groups of men will be stationed.”

  John and Philip exchanged a glance at Will’s mention of Rose but didn’t say anything. Instead, Philip nodded. “It’s a good strategy, damn the man. Surrounds Glenlyon neatly, leaving only the loch side without groups of men.”