Her Enemy Highlander

by Nicole Locke

  ‘This isn’t about you! I think my ankle is broken.’ She lifted the hem of her gown.

  Caird’s gaze fell on her ankle. ‘Bend it.’

  She braced herself against a tree, and everything in her body protested against her moving the ankle. It was already swelling, but she could move it.

  ‘It’s not broken.’ Caird turned to his horse.

  Could he not see the swelling? He had chased her, now he acted like he regretted catching her.

  She had to imagine his arms pulling her closer to him and the comfort of his hand holding hers. Caird’s ignoring her could not be plainer. To him, her ankle wasn’t broken; therefore, she wouldn’t receive help.

  She was expected to make it to and onto the horse, but the horse hadn’t come any closer. Even if she made it that far, she needed to find some sort of leverage and hoist herself up.

  Dragging her foot, she limped over sticks and ferns towards the horse. It was a small victory to reach it, but an even greater one as she guided it towards a small boulder she could step upon.

  Caird was watching her, but she wouldn’t beg him for help. As she pulled herself up, she adjusted herself until seated.

  Gratefully, the animal stood still but without a saddle or reins, she didn’t know how to make it move.

  Irritatingly, the increasing breeze lifted and tangled stray strands of her hair, which stung her eyes. She impatiently pushed them back and gave Caird a scathing look, but his eyes only watched her errant hair.

  Exasperated, she retorted, ‘Why not just leave me here?’

  ‘Tempting,’ he said, his narrow gaze returning to hers. He seemed angrier than before. ‘But while Malcolm knows what we carry, I’ll not have my cousins involved.’

  His cousins. All her ire left her. She had enough trouble with just the Colquhoun brothers, she didn’t want the Graham clan’s attention as well.

  ‘You’re not fooling them,’ she said purposefully.

  ‘It’s enough.’ It was for him. He couldn’t give more effort to pretending to be her lover or his body might forget about the pretending.

  ‘It needs to be more,’ she argued.

  Frustrating female.

  He was still slack jawed from the sight of her body as she pulled herself on the horse, and she wanted more? He wanted to give her more.

  He took a step before searing pain forced him to slow. His ribs needed to be bound and quickly. Even now he risked his life and all he could think about was the press of Mairead’s breasts in the too-tight gown, the curve of her upturned bottom and her beckoning hair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mairead said.

  Not expecting an apology, he glanced at her again.

  ‘I shouldn’t have done it,’ she continued. ‘He’s a good creature.’

  The horse. She was speaking of the horse. It was the best he’d ever had and he had raised it from a foal. Still, when she had fled, it hadn’t been the horse he’d been desperate to save from injury.

  ‘You are lucky he lives,’ he replied.

  Flinching at his words, she said, ‘I thought Colquhouns were overbearing in courtesy and propriety. Doona accept my apology, but I meant it all the same.’

  She sounded sincere. Of course she did. She was Buchanan and she wanted the dagger. Therefore, her apology was for some purpose, probably to soften him towards her. Laughable.

  His ribs ached and he stood in pain, but he was unable to hide his reaction to the sight of her hauling herself up on the horse. A small favour her eyes didn’t flicker across his body as his eyes felt compelled to do with hers.

  She was an innocent despite the way she’d moulded to his body, how every strand of her hair beckoned to be touched. She didn’t even know what she looked like to him, sitting proudly and bristling with indignation.

  If she wasn’t an innocent, instead of an apology to soften him towards her, she could use his desire against him. His craving for her was a weakness. If she touched him again, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions. His ribs could pierce his lungs and he wouldn’t care.

  What would his brothers think of their reasonable, silent brother then?

  He hoped it was the responsibility of the jewel making him this conflicted and forgetful of her clan. It couldn’t be a Buchanan. Never a Buchanan.

  Malcolm had lost his childhood love to the Buchanan clan. Malcolm and Shannon, still children, had strayed too near the Buchanan borders. Malcolm returned for help, but far too late. Malcolm insisted one of the attackers was a Buchanan, but the Buchanan laird at the time denied involvement and Shannon’s family demanded no debt repaid. They never wanted to burden Malcolm with the pain of responsibility.

  It would deeply wound Malcolm if he discovered his conflicting feelings for Mairead.

  He had to remember only to hate her, but that would be difficult if she wanted more pretending.

  ‘Silence Colquhoun?’ she said as her horse shook its head. ‘Ach, be pig-headed ’til your cousins nae longer believe us. Why not just gouge out the rubies so we can split the treasure and be done?’

  He almost laughed. The dagger protecting the Jewel of Kings gouged? She couldn’t know what they carried. No one could be that good at lying.

  ‘Nae more talk,’ he replied. He was hurt, angry and lustful, and there was too much at stake. Pretending to be her lover was the least of his worries.

  He turned and began walking.

  Automatically, Mairead’s horse followed and she was forced to crouch low to keep her balance.

  Caird had known what the horse would do, had probably enjoyed her sudden loss of balance as the animal jerked forward. He was lucky she kept her seat. If she had to pull herself up on the horse again, she would not do it without some violence to him.

  ‘I’m not at fault here,’ she called out. ‘If you doona pretend, then the results are on your own head!’

  After his sudden start, Caird walked slowly, his gait shorter than usual.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. What did she care if he walked slowly? His ankle wasn’t injured.

  Chapter Ten

  The campfire outlined Malcolm poking hares hanging and crackling over the open flame. Near him, one of the twins sat skinning more.

  The cousin stood when he saw them enter, the hare and knife dripping blood to his feet. ‘What has happened?’

  Caird guided his horse around the beddings and saddles placed in a heap. Mairead had no choice but to follow until Malcolm stopped their progress.

  ‘The horse spooked,’ Caird answered, handing the reins to Malcolm. ‘I borrowed Hamilton’s to give chase.’

  Without glancing at her, Caird walked towards the largest boulder by the fire and slowly sat.

  Looking perplexed, Camron dropped the knife and hare and walked to her.

  Swinging her good leg over, she explained, ‘I’ve hurt my ankle.’ She hoped her explanation distracted Camron from Caird’s odd behaviour. Running after her only to ignore her; every muscle displaying his anger, but him not voicing it.

  ‘How bad is it?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s unharmed, Camron,’ Caird called out.

  Glancing at Caird, his lips thinning, Camron reached for her and she put her hands on his shoulders and slid down.

  Pain spiked up her leg, but she refused to cry out.

  ‘It’s not fine, is it?’ Camron said softly so Caird couldn’t hear.

  Concern and questions filled Camron’s brown eyes and his kindness tempted her to talk.

  But what could she say? Her brother was dead, her family would soon be publicly shamed and Caird had abducted her. She couldn’t possibly explain, nor would it do any good.

  ‘It’ll be better once I rest a bit.’ She purposefully avoided his true meaning.

  He offered his
arm. ‘Lean your weight on me and I’ll help you to a soft bit of grass.’

  He sat her by the fire and far from Caird. Taking a small broken log, he laid it behind her for support and draped it with a blanket for padding.

  When Camron didn’t leave she gave him an apologetic smile, before lifting the hem of her gown to assess her injury.

  ‘Her ankle’s swelling,’ Camron said, loudly enough for Caird to hear. ‘I’ll need to take care of it.’

  ‘I can do it,’ she said.

  Caird looked over. ‘I’ll do it.’ He looked paler than she’d seen him before.

  Camron sighed. ‘All’s well and good she’s yours, but you cannot do it and now her boot may have to be cut.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she repeated, loosening the laces and pulling the boot off. She gave a small sigh of relief before the throbbing in her ankle increased.

  She would have given in to the increased pain except Camron was still crouched next to her and watching her too closely.

  ‘I doona know what happened, lass, but I have a feeling you’re in trouble,’ Camron whispered quietly. ‘And from the looks of it, so is Caird.’

  Malcolm emerged from the trees and stood before Caird. Caird was loosening his belt around his waist. As Malcolm slowly raised Caird’s tunic, they talked low, but heatedly.

  She didn’t know how to reply to Camron. How could Caird be in trouble?

  ‘I’ve got linens in my sack,’ Camron said, his eyes on Malcolm.

  ‘Any salve?’ Malcolm asked.

  ‘Hamilton’s sack.’ Camron gave a shake of his head as if he couldn’t understand. She knew she didn’t. Her gaze must have given her away because Camron explained.

  ‘From the lack of movement in Caird’s arms, I’m assuming he’s broken or bruised some ribs.’

  ‘Oh,’ she murmured. Her stomach plummeted and rendered any other response impossible.

  ‘He went to a lot of bother rescuing you from his horse, lass,’ Camron continued.

  Malcolm was now carefully feeling along Caird’s back. Face tight, a sheen of sweat visible on his skin, Caird gave static responses.

  People died of broken ribs and he hadn’t said anything at all.

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she said. What could she say to Camron? She had to pretend she hadn’t purposefully risked the horse, herself and his cousin’s life in the woods.

  ‘You made it back, lass, that’s what’s important,’ Camron replied. ‘Unless there’s more?’

  He would think there was more. After all, if Caird had gone to so much trouble only to ignore her now, none of it made sense. Caird’s behaviour didn’t even make sense to her. He hadn’t hinted that he was injured and his words to her were cruel.

  Yet, she recalled how he had held her hand in the woods. It was difficult to remember when her own emotions were jumbled. At least now she knew, with his ribs hurting, Caird couldn’t have raised her on to the horse.

  Malcolm was rubbing the salve around Caird’s sides. Glistening, his skin showed the rise and shadows of muscles wrought from training. He was hurt, she had caused it, and yet she watched with a sort of helpless fascination because his pain wasn’t visible, only his strength.

  ‘Are you worried for him?’

  ‘For a Co—’ She closed her mouth, but it wasn’t quick enough and she lowered her eyes.

  ‘For a what, lass? What is Caird to you?’

  What was Caird to her? Her enemy, her nemesis, an insurmountable mountain of a man, who caused her nothing but anger and heartache. She hated him for it. Hated him.

  Yet, with every harsh outtake of breath he gave as Malcolm began tightly wrapping the linens around Caird’s chest, she felt concern?

  That little softening of feeling, that tiny bit of guilt knowing he was in pain, made her feel something other than hatred. She knew the feeling was another mistake.

  ‘He’s nothing more than what he said he was,’ she said as lightly as she could.

  By Camron’s expression, she knew she disappointed him.

  But what else could she say? If Caird wouldn’t explain his behaviour, neither would she.

  As if he knew her answer to Camron, Caird suddenly looked at her. His changeable grey eyes scrutinised her as if he searched for his precious answers. Intent on finding some answers of her own, she held his gaze. They’d never decided on how to proceed. Was she to pretend to be his whore or his enemy?

  Caird’s eyes suddenly hardened and she saw his left thumb flex. When he had watched her undress at the inn, he had done that slight movement. He hadn’t been pleased with her then and she could surmise he wasn’t pleased now.

  Was he warning her to stay quiet with his cousin? As if she was too simple to know better? An enemy, then.

  ‘Never known any horse of Caird’s spooking before.’ Camron’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  Despite their joviality and gentleness, these Graham men were no fools, and she knew she would get no reprieve by asking for Camron’s help.

  Looking at Camron, she replied, ‘I must have done something wrong, but he was able to calm it down.’

  Camron’s features softened as she finally said the correct thing.

  Which was good because she just wanted to be left alone. For as much as her ankle throbbed, she was beginning to feel the rest of her bruised body as well.

  She opened her palms and could see the blisters made from her tight grip on the leather reins. She’d ridden a horse before, but only infrequently.

  ‘When they finish, you’ll need the salve for those,’ he said.

  She was too much of a novice to have ridden like that. She was too much of a novice in this whole situation.

  Camron stood from his crouch, but kept his voice low. ‘You let me know if you need anything else. Blood on my hands or not, I’ll help you. You ken?’

  She gave a smile, but she feared it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  He nodded and went to pick up the knife and hare again.

  She arranged her gown as she assessed Camron’s words. He would help her with her ankle or against his cousins if it came to such. She had no doubt they’d do it. Noble Grahams, their strength was without question.

  Camron made quick work of the hares, before handing them to Malcolm, and disappearing into the woods.

  He was quick, efficient and no doubt deadly.

  But the Grahams couldn’t help her. Nobody could. This was something only she could free herself from.

  Her family was in danger and didn’t even know it. Because not only had her brother gambled against his laird’s orders, he’d done it with an English garrison. By the next full moon, they would expect payment of a chest full of silver.

  It was silver she didn’t have, and, after the massacre of Berwick and loss at Dunbar, an English garrison that wouldn’t be forgiving.

  The laird had forbidden Ailbert from gambling and the fact he did it with the English made it so much worse. Her family now faced humiliation and certain banishment. Scotland was still reeling from Berwick and Dunbar. There was nowhere safe they could go. Her mother was too frail for such an ordeal, and her sisters too vacuous. They depended on her to save them.

  Her only hope was the dagger. There was simply no other way to get the money...the money!

  It wasn’t the dagger, it was the money it represented.

  And hadn’t she heard some of that in Caird’s pouch? Where was it now? She hadn’t seen it attached to Caird’s belt when Malcolm tended his ribs. The pouch contained Caird’s money and the dagger and gem. Caird must have removed it before he took Hamilton’s horse to chase after her, which meant it was loose and—

  ‘Do you need some as well?’ Malcolm dropped the linens and salve beside her. In his other hand, he held out a speared and charred hare.
She quickly took the stick and nodded towards the linens and salve. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you have food, but you’ll apply the salve yourself,’ he said. ‘I’ll not anger my brother further by staying next to you.’

  She glanced at Caird. ‘Your brother is only angry because of his pain.’

  Malcolm’s eyes held a frightening light in their green depths. ‘I have seen my brother in pain before. I have not seen him like this.’ He returned to the fire, taking down more of the cooked hares.

  Famished, Mairead took quick bites of the hare and threw the bones towards the fire.

  So Malcolm was warning her, too. He might be the younger of the brothers, but he was still a Colquhoun and not to be underestimated.

  If Caird was angry because she risked his horse, Malcolm was angry because she hurt his brother. She might have gained the Graham cousin as an ally, but she certainly had lost Malcolm.

  Knowing she needed her ankle and hands to heal, she applied the salve and linen. Keeping her eyes low, she surveyed the camp.

  The sacks and supplies were now scattered to the different rolled blankets they’d use as beds. She couldn’t readily see Caird’s pouch, and stealing from the others might prove to be impossible.

  Resignation settled within her. Even if she could steal from the others or Caird, the money they carried couldn’t be enough. Her brother had promised a chest of silver, which meant the dagger was her only hope. The same dagger that was most likely in Caird’s pouch.

  If Caird continued to hide or wear the pouch, then only at the wedding celebrations could she be certain of enough distractions to grab it. Yet, she’d be too far from home and might not return in time. And what of the gem?

  It was probably more valuable than she could ever dream of, but there were too many complications. The way Caird looked at it. The way he had looked at her, like he was studying her.

  She suspected the Colquhouns would never let her be free if she took the gem. The dagger was no chest of silver, but it should be sufficient to pay the debt. She’d just have to bide her time for now.

  Camron re-emerged from the woods with Hamilton, both of them wet from a stream nearby. She wasn’t surprised when Hamilton came to her, and so she asked him to help her to the woods.