How to Forgive a Highlander (MacGregor Lairds)

by Michelle McLean

  What kind of man, rather than simply introduce himself, felt the best course of action was to kidnap a total stranger? He was daft, that was the only explanation. She would never forgive him for this. Never. He’d ruined everything.

  She tightened her grip on the dagger now safely back in her skirt pocket—after he’d stolen it! Thief!—while daydreams of what she would like to do to him flitted through her head. She ignored the fact that his chiseled features and broad shoulders would have led to much different daydreams in other circumstances. He must be very strong to have carried her all the way from the woods. She had gone quite a ways in.

  She snorted, mentally berating herself. What sort of fool was she, mooning over how strong he must have been when he carried her unconscious body to his wagon so he could abduct her? He deserved a good lashing. Or worse.

  Except, she couldn’t kill him yet. She needed him to get her out of the situation he’d gotten her in. Not that she would actually be able to kill him. But it was a fun idea.

  When she finally grew tired of pacing, she sat on the stool he had vacated and glanced around the room again. Exactly what womanly tasks there were to do escaped her. There didn’t seem to be much in the room. It was pretty bare, consisting only of two stools and a makeshift bed in the corner, made of a pile of straw and some blankets. And a rickety table by the door. There was a basket on the table that, upon closer inspection, had some knitting that was in the process of being done. A new pair of socks. For William?

  The notion of helping him out in any way did not sit well with her but neither did sitting there doing absolutely nothing. She would go mad if she had to stay in there without anything to occupy her except her own thoughts.

  With a long-suffering sigh, she took the basket back to the stool and pulled out the darning needles. She began to work, the clicking of the needles a comforting sound in the silence of the room. More time than she realized had passed before she heard footsteps in the hallway. The darkening sky that showed through the hole in the ceiling told her evening had arrived.

  The pit of anxiety in her stomach grew larger. Surely her absence, and most likely her mistress’s, had been discovered by now. The household would be in an uproar. She could only hope her mistress had had enough of a head start to get cleanly away and that no one had noticed her getting on the ship who could tell her parents where she had gone.

  If only William hadn’t taken her!

  She gripped the knitting needle in her hand tightly, and when he entered the room she stood ready to give him another earful of her anger.

  Only it wasn’t William.

  One of the other men who had been in the group earlier leaned against the doorframe, leering at her suggestively. He licked his lips, looking her up and down. She tried to repress the shiver that ran down her spine but obviously wasn’t successful. His low, sinister chuckle reverberated through her, leaving fear in its wake.

  “Now, there, girlie, you don’t need that,” he said, glancing at the needle in her hand. “There’s no need to be afraid of me,” he said. “I think we’ll get along fine.”

  “Do you now?” she asked, forcing the words out, proud she could do so without her voice shaking.

  “I don’t see why not. If you’re friendly to me, I’ll have no reason not to be friendly in return.”

  She gripped the needles tighter and was somewhat comforted by the weight of the dagger in her pocket. He stepped farther into the room, and she looked over his shoulder hoping that William was behind him. But there was no one there.

  “Come on now,” he said. “It’s been a good long while since I’ve had the company of a pretty maid such as yourself.”

  “Really?” she said. “I can’t imagine why.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Not much time or opportunity to meet such a fine woman.”

  She would have thought that he was trying to sweet-talk her except the predatory look in his eyes said he didn’t really care about her opinion of him or his suggestion.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be…friendlier. But I’m William’s woman. I save my friendliness for him.”

  “Is that so?” he said, stepping closer.

  She managed a nod.

  “Well, then he should be here to guard you, don’t you think?”

  “He’ll be back soon. I don’t think he’ll be pleased to find you in here.”

  “Unfortunately, young William is rather busy. It will probably be hours before he returns.”

  She tried backing up more but the cold stone of the wall pressed against her back. He grinned again, an expression that sent a shard of ice-cold terror into her gut. She started easing sideways, hoping she could break away at some point and rush across the room. But he followed her movements slowly, like he was trying to keep from spooking a deer.

  “I’d hate for you to be lonely here all on your own. Why don’t we get to know each other a little better? I’d be happy to keep you company until William returns.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” she said, not bothering to keep her tone friendly anymore, no matter what she said. “But no thank you. I am quite content to wait for him.”

  “No matter,” he said. He half turned like he was going to leave but Rose didn’t drop her vigilance. A lucky thing for her because in the next second, he twisted and lunged toward her. She jabbed out with the knitting needle, gouging him in the hand that reached for her. He howled in pain and swung with his other arm, catching her on the cheek. She dropped to her knees with a cry, her head ringing while black spots danced in her vision. She brought her hand up to her throbbing face, keeping the man in her sights despite the overwhelming desire to crumple to the ground. She couldn’t withstand many more blows like that.

  She fumbled in her pocket for the dagger and drew it, holding it in a trembling hand in front of her. The man laughed cruelly.

  “And what are you going to do with that, little girl?” he asked.

  “She’s going to run ye through with it,” William said. “And if she doesna, I will.”

  Rose sagged in relief, though she kept her dagger pointed at the man. He spun toward William, who radiated anger in the doorway.

  “William. Good of you to join us. You know, you should take better care of your toys, or they’re liable to get stolen. Or broken.”

  William shook his head, circling the man until he was able to put his body between him and Rose.

  “Ye were told she was mine,” William said. “That is the only warning ye should have required. But ye seem to have need of another.”

  The man shrugged. “If you cared for the woman you shouldn’t have brought her here.”

  Before William could say anything else, the other man launched himself at him. William was ready for it and neatly dodged the blow, spinning so quickly he was able to land a fist right across the man’s jaw.

  More men filtered into the room, drawn by the scuffle. The man lunged again and Rose screamed a warning. William spun easily and grabbed the man from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and pinning one arm behind his back. The man struggled, his legs kicking out as William slowly choked him.

  Before anything else could happen, another man strode in. The furor died down and all the men backed against the wall, waiting. Rose’s stomach coiled and twisted, her nerves fraying on a wave of apprehension as she took in the man all the others seemed to fear. This must be the notorious Mr. Ramsay. He looked around the group with cold, piercing eyes. His features were actually handsome and, if one didn’t look too closely, he would be attractive. But the expression in his cold, dead eyes counteracted any beauty that could be found in his face.

  “What is going on here?” he asked.

  The man clutching at William’s arm tried to respond but nothing came out, save for a strangled squawk. Ramsay looked at William. “Release him, Butler.”

  William dropped the man, pushing him so he landed on his knees in front of Ramsay. Rose frowned, glancing at him. Butler must be his alias for the group
. Or was MacGregor the lie?

  The man on the floor turned as if he would launch himself at William again, but a barked command from Ramsay held him still.

  “What is going on here?” Ramsay asked again, looking at William.

  “He attacked my woman,” William said.

  “The little bitch stabbed me,” the man said, holding out his bleeding hand.

  Ramsay snorted. “If you were foolish enough to tangle with a wildcat you’re liable to get wounded.” He glanced behind William, as if noticing Rose for the first time. He took her in, still crouched with a dagger and probably looking like a wildling, waiting to stab anyone who came near. His eyes held a hint of admiration, but she still shrank back under his scrutiny. He was the last man whose attention she wanted to draw.

  “She is mine,” William said. “And I defend what is mine.”

  Ramsay glowered at him and glanced at Rose.

  He regarded her for a second and then his lips turned up in a smile that sent ice cascading through her veins.

  “Let’s see, shall we?”

  “My lord?” William said. His face creased in a worried frown before he stepped in front of her again.

  Ramsay glanced at them. “You say she is yours. Roger here wants her,” he said, jerking his head at the other man. “We haven’t had any entertainment in a few days. So.” He drew a dagger and tossed it on the floor between the two men. “Let’s see which one of you truly desires her. Winner claims her.”

  Rose’s jaw dropped and William held his arm out to keep her behind him, only to shove her back toward the wall when Roger lunged for the dagger.

  William drew his own blade and Rose slapped her dagger into his hand. She hated to give it up, but he couldn’t lose, and a blade in each hand could mean the difference. She might not totally trust him, but she trusted him much more than the odious Roger. If her dagger would help William win, he was welcome to it.

  The men circled each other. Roger slashed out a couple times, but William easily dodged him. Rose was beginning to think nothing more would happen when Roger lunged out and tackled William, knocking him to his back. They grappled on the floor, and Rose pressed her hands to her mouth to keep from shouting. She didn’t want to distract William. Or draw attention to herself. The other men in the room were busy cheering on the fight. The last thing she wanted to do was remind anyone that no one was currently protecting her.

  She wouldn’t have to remind one man. A shiver ran down her spine, and she glanced up to find Ramsay’s eyes fixed on her, his lips twisted in a cruel smile. He pinned her with that evil gaze for a few more moments before turning his attention back to the fight. She didn’t have to wonder who he wanted to win, even before he shouted encouragement to Roger. She and William had stated they belonged to each other, and so Ramsay wanted to tear them apart. For no other reason than to cause pain, it seemed.

  She sent up a silent prayer to bolster William and kept her back to the wall.

  William had managed to flip Roger off him and reverse their positions so he was on top. It gave him enough leverage to get a few good punches in before Roger could fend them off. William had lost one of his daggers at some point. The remaining one was clutched in one hand while the other hand held back Roger’s dagger from skewering him.

  They each strained to reach the other. And then William reared back his head and slammed it forward, cracking it off Roger’s head with a sickening crunch. The force of the blow smashed Roger’s head against the floor.

  He didn’t lose consciousness, but it was enough for him to go limp.

  William stood and shook his head, his chest heaving. Rose hurried to his side, propping herself under his arm to give him support. He held her close though he didn’t lean on her. Whether he needed her support or not, she was grateful to have him by her side again, so she wrapped her arm about his waist and held tight.

  Ramsay grimaced but nodded at William. “I guess you get to keep her after all.”

  William’s jaw visibly clenched, but he merely nodded.

  Ramsay jerked his head toward Roger. “Finish him.”

  William frowned again. “I believe he’s learned his lesson, sir.”

  Ramsay glowered at William, his lip curling with disgust. “The only lesson here is that you’re nothing but Scottish scum who can’t follow orders.”

  William gripped Rose’s shoulders to the point of pain, but she didn’t make a sound.

  “I simply dinna wish to deprive ye of one of yer men,” William said, his voice strained with barely controlled anger.

  Rose held her breath, waiting to see if Ramsay would call him out for it. But Ramsay merely sneered.

  “You assume I want a man who can’t hold his own in a fight for more than two minutes. I do not.”

  “My lord,” Roger said, pushing himself up and holding out his hand.

  He didn’t get anything else out. Ramsay drew his sword and ran him through.

  Rose slapped a hand to her mouth to keep her scream in, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the dead man lying in a pool of his own blood. William pulled her closer and slightly behind him, using his body to both shield her from the other men in the room and block Roger from her sight.

  “Clean that up,” Ramsay said to a few of the men. They hurried to do his bidding, dragging the body from the room. “Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge Butler for the woman?”

  No one took him up on the offer and Rose sagged against William.

  “Good,” Ramsay said. “Now get out. You all have your tasks to do. We leave tomorrow. My little rabbit has finally left her den.”

  The grin that broke out on his face sent another chill down Rose’s spine. William kept his attention on the other men but held his hand out behind him so she could grasp it. She didn’t hesitate. She might not trust him but if she had to choose between him or the other men, she’d throw her lot in with William. A haggard-looking woman came in with a bucket and hastily scrubbed the blood from the floor. The fact that she didn’t look horrified or surprised at her grim task filled Rose with apprehension. What sort of life must she live in this camp if cleaning up pools of blood had no effect on her?

  After the room cleared, Ramsay turned to look at William and Rose. “Keep her under control if she will be traveling with us.”

  William nodded, and Ramsay looked her over again. “I suppose having another woman along on our journey could be useful. Maybe she can cook better than the hags currently preparing my food. Put her in charge of my meals, Butler. She can remain with you but don’t let her interfere with your other duties.”

  William nodded again. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Ramsay left without another word. Some of the tension left William once the room was clear. He retrieved her dagger from where he’d dropped it and then turned back to her, looking her over.

  “Are ye all right?” he asked. He gently brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Are ye hurt?”

  She shook her head. “He hit me but I stabbed him before he was able to do anything else.”

  William smiled at her. “Ye’re a brave lass, I’ll give ye that. But I think while we’re alone together,” he wagged her dagger in the air, “I’ll hold onto this.”

  She scowled at him. “You still don’t trust me?”

  He shook his head, his smile growing larger. “Not as far as I could throw ye, lass.”

  “Well the sentiment is returned, I assure you,” she said.

  He laughed at that.

  “What was Ramsay talking about?” she asked. “Why are we leaving tomorrow? Who is the rabbit?”

  William sighed, all amusement draining from his face. “Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

  Chapter Five

  William debated how much to share with Rose but decided he might as well tell her all. She was in this with him now, like it or not.

  “I dinna ken what yer lady told ye, but he is the one who is putting us all in danger, yer lady and my kinsmen, most of all. And he’s j
ust discovered yer lady is gone. We are all in danger now.”

  The color faded from Rose’s face, and William frowned. “Are ye all right, lass?”

  “Yes. I need a moment. I think…after everything…” She gestured to the door, and William realized it may have only now hit her how close she had come to real harm.

  He reached for her slowly, gauging her reaction. She didn’t object when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, so he drew her in to his side and held her trembling form, trying to calm her.

  “Ye did well,” he said. “I’m actually quite impressed with ye. All things considered.”

  She managed to snort at that. “Because I am a woman?”

  He shrugged. “Ye wouldna be the first woman I’d seen do well in a fight. Ye should see the lady of Glenlyon, Lady Sorcha, when she’s in a dander. Or even Lady Elizabet, yer mistress’s friend. When my laird first met her, she lunged out of a carriage and held a dagger to his throat,” he said with a chuckle.

  Her lips twitched at that, but the amusement faded quickly. “Then why do you sound like you don’t approve of my actions?”

  “I didna realize I did. Perhaps I’m merely angry at myself for putting ye in a position where ye needed to defend yerself.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  He laughed. “Here, I brought ye something to eat.” He went back to the door and picked up a steaming bowl of stew and a lump of bread from the corner where he’d left them. “I’m sorry I canna offer ye more luxurious accommodations. We’ll have to share my quarters, such as they are.”

  He gestured at the pallet made up in the corner, and she glanced up at him like her stomach was twisting on the bread that she had just swallowed.

  “Dinna look at me like that, lass,” he said with a tired note in his voice. “I have no designs on your virtue.”

  “Why not?” As soon as the words left her lips her eyes widened, her mouth a little O of either confusion or amusement, or maybe both. He cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed.

  “I didn’t mean…that is, I only meant…” His lips twitched and she sighed. “I simply meant that seems to be what all the other men are thinking so…”