by Paula Quinn
“I can leave men here if ye want to stay with Ruadh.”
To his surprise, she grimaced and said, “Put me down.”
He obeyed, expecting a tongue-lashing, but instead she stood on tiptoe and cupped his face in her hands. “Ewan Mackinloch, ye are a true hero for coming after me when I treated ye so badly.”
Staring into tear-filled eyes, Ewan knew he’d lost his heart to this strong woman. “’Twas my fault, forcing Fynn into pretending to be yer intended. Forgive me.”
“He’s at risk too,” she replied. “Mungo the Fool still thinks Fynn is my betrothed.”
The need to question Shona about Morley burned in Ewan’s heart, but he lacked the courage, fearing what she might have to confess.
Walter saved him. Gilbertson got to his feet and headed for the door, Ruadh cradled like a bairn in his beefy arms, the dead man’s torn shirt tied around the wound. “We can stand about all night while the two o’ ye blather on, or we can ride for Creag and save our laird. I’ll carry this brave warrior.”
Ewan smiled at Shona, then bent to brush a kiss on her lips. “Shall we, my lady?” he whispered.
“Aye, my lord,” she breathed in response as he lifted her again and carried her out to his faithful Liath, vowing silently to make the Morleys pay dearly for every bruise and scratch she’d suffered.
Playing the Buffoon
Shona’s ride to Creag was nothing like riding with Mungo.
Wrapped in the cocoon of Ewan’s strong embrace, she found solace in his presence, strength in his firm thighs. She was covered in cuts and bruises, her clothing ruined. People she loved were in serious jeopardy. Ruadh was clinging to life in Walter Gilbertson’s arms. Doubts about her father’s untimely death churned in her belly. It was difficult to understand how she could place such implicit trust in a man she barely knew. He belonged to an enemy clan; she should resent him but instead was content to lean against his solid body and rely on his strength. His heat chased away the chill of fear.
It was hard to believe she was the same lass who never relied on any man, a woman who thought men were good for nothing but warfare, hunting and bravado.
Ewan barely spoke as they rode, unlike Mungo, but she savored every reassuring word he uttered, her inner turmoil soothed by his husky voice.
She sensed turmoil within him, too, but he seemed able to channel his nervous energy to the horse. The magnificent steed responded to commands Shona couldn’t even discern. “What’s his name?” she asked.
“Liath,” Ewan replied.
She resisted the urge to retort that it was typical a man would name his horse after its coloring. “He is very grey,” she conceded.
“Nay,” Ewan replied. “He’s The Grey.”
She had to agree when the surefooted gelding carried them through the darkness to within sight of Creag’s lights, but she bristled that Ewan called a halt short of the open gates and stood in the stirrups. “Why have we stopped? We must enter,” she insisted.
“If Mungo has taken over command, it might be a trap,” Walter explained, shifting Ruadh on his lap.
Shona leaned over to stroke the dog’s head, encouraged when he opened his eyes and whimpered. “Brave soul,” she said.
“He’s made it this far,” Walter replied. “Perhaps the worst is over.”
Regretting her outburst, she turned to look at Ewan as he sat back in the saddle. It was important to remember he was the son of a Mackinloch laird. That clan hadn’t risen to dominance through impetuous acts. “What’s yer plan?” she asked.
He smiled wryly. “I mean to wed Lady Shona MacCarron at the earliest opportunity and make her my wife in every way.”
She appreciated his attempt to ease her apprehension, but his words nevertheless caused wanton feelings to spiral into her womb. She rose to the bait. “Would that be the Lady Shona with the lazy eye?” she teased.
“Saucy wench,” he growled, intensifying her excitement.
It was clear life with Ewan Mackinloch would never be dull. He’d even managed to turn the dire situation they faced into a game. But he sobered quickly, his stern features letting her know he’d made a decision. “I dinna see any sign there’s aught amiss in the bailey.”
While she’d been posturing like a peahen, he’d been assessing the lay of the land.
“First off, we’ll make our way slowly to the stables.”
Walter nodded. “Any lads we find there can tend to Ruadh while we deal with Mungo.”
Shona didn’t like the idea of leaving her dog but acknowledged it had to be done. “Aye,” she agreed. “They’ll be able to tell us where the Morleys might be before we enter the keep.”
Ewan shook his head. “Ye’ll remain in the stables with Ruadh, my lady. I’ll not…”
“This is my home,” she retorted, swiveling to face him, “it’s my family Mungo threatens. It was me Mungo dragged to hell and back, me he forced into a sham marriage. I refuse to sit fretting in the stables.”
*
Ewan was painfully sure Shona had no notion the effect her indignant squirming was having on his manhood. Despite the uncertainty of what they might face in Creag Castle, he’d been unsuccessful in bringing his rampant cock under control during the short ride from Inverlochy.
He’d wanted a feisty lass, and that’s exactly what he had in Shona MacCarron. Arguing with her would be a waste of precious time. The Morleys might at this very moment be threatening Kendric’s life. “Very weel,” he replied, easing her forward on his lap in a futile effort to end the pleasurable torture.
Apparently mollified, she sank back against him as they rode slowly through the gates, but he felt the rigid tension in her body. It increased his resolve to thwart Ailig Morley’s scheme.
He dismounted in the bailey and lifted her down from Liath. “Ye’re light as a feather,” he rasped, holding her tempting body against his, then wishing he hadn’t when desire once more heated his groin.
She rested her forehead on his chest. “Ewan,” she whispered, “I thank ye for what ye’re doing, in spite of all that’s happened.”
He clenched his jaw. The details of her ordeal would have to be dealt with, but not now. “Dinna fash,” he replied. “All shall be weel.”
The MacCarron men formed a protective circle around their lady, but no one challenged them in the bailey. Walter handed Ruadh down to Ewan. Shona held the hound’s jaw as they made their way into the stables.
Suddenly, a boy bolted out and threw himself at Walter. “Da,” he cried.
Walter scooped him into his arms. “Robbie! What are ye doing here this late at night? Why aren’t ye home with yer Mamie?”
“She didna return yet from Auntie Margaret’s and I was afraid for ye when I saw Mungo Morley come back.”
Two yawning stable lads with lanterns emerged from the shadows, rubbing their eyes.
Ewan put Ruadh down on a pile of straw, relieved to see the bleeding had slowed when he eased away the makeshift dressing.
Shona knelt beside her hound. “Fetch something to cleanse the cut,” she told the boys. “And find the ostler. He’ll ken what to do.”
“Aye, my lady,” one replied as they hurried away to do her bidding, “though he might be three sheets to the wind.”
She grimaced. “He’ll sober quickly if I have aught to say about it.”
Robbie wriggled out of his father’s embrace and knelt by Shona, hands clasped in his lap as if afraid to touch the stricken animal. “Ruadh,” he said hoarsely, “ye canna die.”
Walter put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “He’s strong. He willna die, but we need to know where Mungo is.”
Robbie swiped a sleeve across his eyes. “He came back with some of his cronies and went straight to the hall, bragging about marrying Lady Shona, but folk mocked him when he couldna explain where she was.”
“He’s a fool,” Shona muttered.
“That’s what they all said,” Robbie replied. “There was a big argument when folk mentioned Moira
had accused him of kidnapping her mistress—he swore up and down Lady Shona had gone with him willingly. He got angry and drank all the more.”
“Did ye see Ailig Morley?” Ewan asked.
“Robbie might not remember Ailig,” Walter cautioned. “He was just a wee bairn when the wretch was banished.”
“Aye,” his son confirmed, “but I’ve heard tell often enough of a mon with a terrible scar, and I didna see anybody like that.”
“And ye’re sure Mungo never went to my uncle’s chamber?” Shona asked.
“Not that I saw.”
“Where is he now?”
“He passed out in the hall. Right after he came back from the kitchens.”
*
Ice trickled through Shona’s veins as she scrambled to stand. Her trembling legs caught in tangled skirts and she would have fallen had Ewan not caught her. “The laudanum,” she gasped, dread robbing her of breath.
Ewan held her tightly. “But he didna go to the laird’s chamber.”
She tried to pull away, desperate to make him recognize the danger. “He’s clever in his idiocy. Ailig hid in the kitchens while his brother was playing the buffoon in the hall.”
She saw the light of understanding dawn in his brown eyes. “They plan to lace Kendric’s food with too much of the drug and have it delivered to his chamber.”
She gripped his hand. “By an unsuspecting servant.”
Ewan turned to Walter. “Stay here. Shona and I will take some of the men with us. Keep a sharp eye out for Ailig.”
They hurried out and Ewan quickly organized the MacCarrons in the bailey. Once inside, they paused briefly in the hall, alarmed to find it empty, but left a handful of kinsmen there in case either Morley returned.
The men strode ahead as they entered the passageway to the laird’s chamber. Shona ran to keep up, her heart in knots, but was relieved to see two guards still defending the door.
“Nobody has tried to force their way in?” Ewan asked.
“Nay,” one yawned in reply. “A lass went in a short while ago with the laird’s broth, but…”
Ewan put his shoulder to the door and burst into the chamber.
Plot Thwarted
Fynn drew his dagger and moved quickly to the open door.
David pulled Moira away to the window.
Ewan was only vaguely aware of these movements, his attention centered squarely on Jeannie who sat on the edge of the laird’s bed, spoon in hand.
“Stop,” he shouted, lunging to swat the bowl with the back of his hand. Broth spattered over the furs covering a gaping Kendric. Fynn hurried to save Jeannie from slipping to the floor in shock. The bowl flew across the chamber and came to rest at David’s feet.
Shona strode to her uncle’s bedside. “Poisoned,” she explained. “Did ye eat any?”
Wide-eyed, he shook his head.
“Nay,” Jeannie said, clinging to Fynn. “I was just about to give him the first taste. Thank goodness I let it cool first. God forgive me if I’d poisoned my own brother.”
“But I brought the broth from the servery,” the distraught maidservant interjected. “How could it have been tainted?”
“Ailig stole the vial of laudanum. We believe he somehow got into the kitchens,” Ewan explained.
Moira gasped.
The color drained from Jeannie’s face. “Ailig is here? In Creag? I have to sit down.”
Ewan exchanged a glance with Fynn as he guided Jeannie to a chair by the hearth. The glint of steel in his kinsman’s eyes reassured him the man would fight to the death to protect Lady Lazy-Eye.
“I’m relieved to see ye safely returned, lass,” Kendric rasped to Shona. “We feared the worst when Moira and David told us of yer abduction.”
“’Tis an enormous relief to see they both survived the ordeal and I’m pleased to see ye looking better, Uncle,” she replied, pulling away the broth-spattered covering. “Yon Mackinloch rescued me, believe it or nay.”
“I had help from Walter Gilbertson, and Ruadh,” Ewan pointed out.
Kendric narrowed his eyes. “Ye’re too modest, laddie.” He grimaced, shifting his weight in an apparent attempt to get more comfortable. “On another subject, Jeannie informed me o’ the shenanigans ye young folk got up to.” He wagged an accusing finger. “Pretending to be somebody else in order to avoid the marriage.”
Shona paled, twirling a finger in the coverlet. “Aye, ’twas foolish.”
Ewan agreed the deception was foolish, but knew his own father would be furious if he got wind of the escapade. His words were for The Camron but he looked into Shona’s eyes as he spoke. “’Twas the act of a coward, my laird, and I’m nay a cowardly man. I’m ashamed of my behavior and regret it deeply.”
“So now ye want to marry my niece?” Kendric asked.
He made no mention of the fact Shona had spent days and nights as Mungo’s prisoner. Ewan decided he’d face that foe if and when it raised its ugly head. “More than anything. If she’ll have me.”
He’d never exposed so much of his heart to anyone, let alone a woman. He feared his lungs might burst as he held his breath, waiting…
Shona raked her gaze over him, from head to toe, as if considering the matter. Then she blushed beautifully, smiled broadly, and replied, “Aye. Ye’ll do.”
Ewan exhaled, took her hand firmly in his and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. When he raised his head, their gazes met. He narrowed his eyes in an effort to impart the silent message that she wouldn’t always be allowed to tease him so brazenly, though he doubted that would prove to be true.
“Hurr…hurr…hurrah,” David exclaimed, causing everyone in the room to cheer as well, though Kendric’s cheer turned into a cough that became a groan.
“In that case,” Shona’s uncle declared when the pain seemed to ease, “I hereby appoint Ewan Mackinloch as interim laird while I convalesce. We’re under threat and I can do naught to protect us if I’m lying here.”
It wasn’t the clan Ewan had hoped to lead one day, but the pride in his betrothed’s green eyes confirmed it was the right one.
“I accept the honor,” he replied, shaking Kendric’s hand. “Ye can rely on me to rid MacCarron lands o’ the threat in its midst.”
*
A maelstrom of emotions swirled in Shona’s heart. The plot against her uncle’s life had been thwarted. For now he was safe, though no one in Creag Castle would be completely free from danger until Mungo and Ailig were brought to justice.
She grieved for Jeannie in particular, threatened again by Ailig’s reappearance in their lives. Her pale features betrayed a deep fear, despite Fynn’s obvious determination to protect her. He wore his feelings for her aunt on his sleeve. The notion love had smitten Jeannie was akin to a miracle. Fynn was fortunate to have found a woman with such a generous spirit.
Heartening as well was the bond forming between David and Moira. The maid clearly wasn’t bothered by the lad’s speech problems, any more than Fynn and Jeannie cared about lazy eyes and missing hands.
She only hoped Ewan would be as tolerant of what had befallen her during the abduction. She had worried he wouldn’t want her after the ruse and the kidnapping, yet he’d offered for her hand. Mayhap guilt had more to do with his reasoning, or, worse still, a desire to take over the lairdship.
She shoved aside her doubts, hoping what she’d glimpsed in Ewan’s eyes was indeed genuine regard. The time would come when she’d have to confess what had happened, and trust he would believe Mungo hadn’t raped her. Men were prideful creatures who were often quick to jump to mistaken conclusions. However, he was the chief her clan desperately needed.
And there was one more unthinkable horror that had to be addressed. She took hold of Kendric’s warm hand. “I believe Ailig had something to do with yer accident, Uncle.”
He nodded. “I’ve been trying to fathom how it came about. Jock is a good horse, steady and reliable. Something spooked him.”
His suspicions gave her the courag
e to voice her deepest concern. “The Morleys were involved in my father’s death too. I’m certain of it.”
*
Ewan had paid scant attention to the news that the laird of Clan MacCarron had died a few months ago. After the signing of the Clunes agreement to end the feud, there seemed little reason to worry about such matters.
Now he cared a great deal about Shona’s allegations. If the Morleys had indeed murdered her father he would move heaven and earth to avenge his death. “Ye must have reasons for yer suspicions,” he said softly.
“’Twasna so much the remark Ailig made about my father’s death. ’Twas the way he said it. He was taunting me, making me feel he knew something I didna.”
“He’s capable of it,” Jeannie murmured, staring into the empty hearth. “I dinna ken why I didna suspect something afore this. Beathan’s death was so sudden.”
“It took us all off guard,” Shona whispered.
Anger seethed in Ewan’s gut. He hadn’t always seen eye to eye with his own domineering father, but the notion of someone murdering him couldn’t be tolerated. His heart broke for his golden-haired beauty. If the Morleys had killed her only surviving parent, he’d make sure they suffered the consequences. “Tell me the circumstances,” he said.
Bitter Truths
Kendric patted the bed. “Sit here, lass,” he said to Shona. “I’ll tell the tale.”
It was a relief not to have to recount the mysterious circumstances of her father’s death, but she reached for Ewan’s hand as she sat, needing his support.
She took comfort in the light touch of her uncle’s finger twirled in a lock of her hair. The telling wouldn’t be easy for him.
“My brother loved this castle,” Kendric began.
Ewan grunted.
Her uncle bristled. “I ken the Mackinlochs have always claimed it belonged to them, but as far as we’re concerned…”
Jeannie huffed impatiently. “For pity’s sake, this isna the time to rekindle the feud.”
Her brother growled, carefully shifting his position in the bed. “Weel, anyway, after his wife died, Beathan took to going up into the tower every night.”