…
Lachlan pulled up beside them and with a deceptive calm he didn’t feel said, “Lorna, go on back. I need to speak with Maggie.”
Once they were alone, his tranquil facade imploded, although he tried to keep his tone even when he said, “What the devil were ye doing, woman? Ye could have broken yer neck.”
Or been captured or killed by my enemies. He’d been looking for her and Lorna for what felt like hours. Ice had been churning through his veins from the motherent he’d been alerted that they had left the fortified walls of the keep.
She just stared at him, which only fanned the flames of his worry. “Can I trust ye to do anything without putting yerself in danger?” He tried to hide the critical tone in his voice, but he knew it came across as more than annoyed.
“’Twas just a couple of jumps.” She sat up straight and returned his icy glare.
Although he wanted to scream at her lack of caution, he had sworn as he galloped out to meet her he wouldn’t scold her too hard, because he’d not told her of the true danger that could be lurking in the woods. The idea of bending her over his knee and swatting her came to mind, but if he touched that sweet ass, it wouldn’t be long before he was undressing her, and here did not seem like the proper place.
“Ye dinnae ken that horse. What if he has a bad temperament?” Lachlan tried to coax her out of her stubborn response. But, damn, what was he supposed to do? She drove him mad with all the reckless things she was doing and it was imperative he find a way to talk her out of her foolish behavior without causing her to turn stubborn and rebel.
It had been over a week since Conall’s man disappeared, and there had been no sighting of him or the bastard on his land, but chills ran down his back when he thought of Maggie out there without protection. Christ, he still didn’t even know how many men Conall would bring with him.
“He seems fine to me.” She patted the horse and rubbed behind his ears.
He couldn’t help but notice her reddened cheeks and still labored breathing, and images of her, naked and panting beneath him, floated through his mind. He was going mad for sure.
“Last time ye rode like that ye nearly fell off.” He chastised himself for not heeding his own advice to watch his temper, but he couldn’t help the retort.
Her back stiffened. “My head is better now. I will be fine. I am accustomed to horses,” she protested.
“Mayhap I would trust ye if ye told me where ye came from. Why ye are so accomplished with both bow and horse.” The old betrayal and distrust returned, and suddenly he was wondering if Maggie had been riding out to find Conall, and if she was the spy he’d first thought her to be.
Lachlan again pushed the subject to the back of his mind because he still had that niggling feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer. Maybe tonight he would ply her with whisky until she couldn’t hold her tongue. He was so frustrated at this point he was truly considering it. “Let’s go back to the keep.”
At the stables, Lachlan climbed down, then helped Maggie from the horse she’d chosen to ride. He was glad to have her off the beast, even more so that it was Brodie’s prized steed, and it had only been in the stables because his cousin was off somewhere with a lass. It was almost as large as his warhorse, and she had no business being on it. Now that she was off the massive creature, he had to acknowledge that she had probably picked the best stallion in the stables. Like its master, it was steady and reliable.
Lachlan had apologized to his cousin, but he still felt bad for attacking him. Despite the lecherous way Brodie chose to live these days, he was one of the best men Lachlan knew, and he could depend on his cousin with his life.
“Go on back to the keep, I will get them settled.” He had something he wanted to take care of but didn’t want her to know.
Once she left, he tracked down Wallace. The beefy man was as big as a mountain but as gentle as the rolling hills, and because he had several daughters Maggie’s age, Lachlan was confident the man would understand.
“Dinnae let Maggie take out a horse unless ye have talked to me first.”
The man gave him a blank stare, then his brows shot up, and he dipped his head.
“She is wild and careless, and I cannae have her putting herself in harm’s way.”
“She willnae like it.” Wallace pursed his lips and shook his head disapprovingly.
“I ken that, but ’tis for her own safety. Ye are aware the Covenanters are a threat right now as well.” Wallace had been instrumental in developing a plan should they all come under attack.
“Aye, I am, but ye should let her ken the truth.” He laughed. “Ye’ve never dealt with a determined lass, have ye?”
Lachlan had no response. He’d never been overly concerned with Aileen’s nor any other lass’s comings and goings. But this wench, Maggie, was different.
“I will keep her off the horses unless ye say, but ye will be the one she blames. ’Twill no’ be pretty when she finds out.” The stable master took the steed Maggie had been on and directed him into the stables.
Lachlan would rather deal with Maggie’s wrath than another injury or worse. Mayhap her head was no longer giving her trouble, but he couldn’t help the image that had played through his head as he watched her ride wild in the field or the strange need he felt to keep her safe.
Conall’s men, likely Conall himself, would be here soon, and the last thing he wanted was for them to find Maggie. Some of the other local lairds would soon arrive to review the letter, and he didn’t want her out on display for them, either.
As Maggie’s hips swayed while she strolled back toward the keep, his thoughts drifted back to Edinburgh. The night Finlay had commandeered the letter from Nathair.
With the first rays of morning light disappearing behind him, Finlay had limped into the inn and closed the door, but not before peering over his shoulder as if someone were trailing him. The rest of their group was sharing the corner table in the common room for breakfast, planning to make a hasty exit from Edinburgh before Conall could find his father and have them arrested after yesterday’s altercation. Lachlan had just started to become concerned that his man hadn’t returned.
The quiet, unassuming one, Finlay had a knack for moving around people without being noticed, which was the reason Lachlan had sent him to Edinburgh Castle to keep an eye on Conall.
“Och, what happened to ye?” Dougal said as he approached the table.
Finlay sank onto the bench by Alan. He said nothing, but opened his sporran and pulled out a folded piece of paper then tossed it onto the table in front of Lachlan. Then he leaned in and said quietly enough for only their band to hear, “I amnae certain what is in that letter, but ’tis sealed with the mark of the governor of Edinburgh and is directed to Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argyll. I overheard Conall telling his man that the deal was almost done before he handed it to him. I kenned anything going to Argyll wouldnae be good.”
Lachlan picked up the intricately folded paper and studied the red wax seal, then broke it and read the contents. “We need to leave now. He plots his father’s murder and pledges the Erskine men to Argyll. They will come looking for it.” Conall had used his father’s seal to ally himself with the monster who was prosecuting men and women for standing behind their kin and beliefs.
The crafty bastard was a dangerous man, and what he’d read in that letter, combined with testimony from Robbie, would either put the blackguard in jail for the rest of his life or send him to the gallows.
Aye, Conall would be out for blood.
“I’ll take ’em now.” Wallace returned and interrupted his thoughts. He nodded as he passed the second horse to the man and turned toward the keep just in time to see Maggie disappear inside.
She would stay in the gates until this business was over. If Conall found out how much she meant to him, the bastard would take her. He didn’t want the man to know she existed, and that meant keeping her within the castle walls and out of sight.
…<
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That next afternoon, Finlay and Gillies returned. Loaded with food from the kitchen, they met with Lachlan in the library. News of their arrival had him hurrying into the room to see his typically exuberant men sour faced and quiet. They lounged in chairs and threw each other furtive glances as he entered. Dread assailed him, and he briefly considered walking back out.
Finlay spoke up. “We have news.” He averted his gaze. “We were asking about the wrong lass. At least we were using the wrong name.”
“Her name isnae Maggie?” Lachlan pinched the bridge of his nose then rubbed his hand up to his temple and back down again.
“She does go by Maggie to her family, but most everyone knows her as Margaret.” Finlay gulped. “Margaret Murray, the Duke of Kirk’s only daughter.”
It was like a physical blow, as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and for a motherent he couldn’t breathe. The Duke of Kirk was a powerful laird, a Royalist and an ally.
“This cannae be true. Dougal tracked her horse. She is the daughter of a priest’s sister.” Lachlan shook his head, but the denial he’d refused to analyze before rose up, and he knew they had uncovered the truth.
“The day she went missing, there was a priest visiting her family. His horse disappeared as well,” Gillies said.
Lachlan gulped. He had bedded her. A duke’s daughter. Silence filled the air while he let the news sink in.
“She’s a Murray, then. That isnae so bad.” He sighed as he let go of the tension. He would just have to wed her. Sure, the man was of higher status, but Lachlan was laird of one of the most powerful clans in all of Scotland. Many titled lairds had tried to get him to form an alliance.
It surprised him how easily he gave in to the idea of making Maggie his wife.
His shoulders relaxed, and he gave Finlay a smile. It was not until then he noticed neither man was smiling back, and in fact, they looked downcast, as if the worst was yet to come.
Finlay looked to Gillies, likely for some kind of reassurance, but he avoided Finlay’s gaze as well. “That isnae the disturbing part.” Finlay swallowed, and he shifted in his seat. “She is betrothed. Well, was. The wedding was to be yesterday. ’Tis why the priest was at her home.”
Lachlan’s breath became shallow. His insides twisted, and his gut hurt as if it had been repeatedly punched. He had to sit because his legs had turned to mush, and he was afraid they would not hold his weight, so he skirted the corner of his desk to collapse into his chair.
He wasn’t ready to lose her—he’d just gotten started with her. He could feel the color drain from his face as he contemplated handing her over to another man, then his disbelief turned to anger. How could she have kept something like that from him? She belonged to another, and she had led him to believe there could be more between them.
“Who?” Lachlan growled, slamming his fist down on the desk.
Finlay gulped. Lachlan did not recall ever seeing the man frightened before. How could this get worse?
“Who?” he barked and stood to stare daggers at the messenger.
“Ye arenae gonna like it.” Finlay’s voice dropped to a whisper. He shook his head as if he did not believe the words coming from his own lips. “Conall Erskine.”
Lachlan’s heart stopped beating.
Conall. His worst enemy. The man who had betrayed their country and was forcing his religion on others. The man who had murdered a priest and had tried to kill Robbie and him was Maggie’s betrothed. It would have been better had she been betrothed to a Sassenach.
“Ye didnae just say Conall Erskine?” he asked with barely disguised fury. A scalding rage clawed at him and threatened to destroy whatever was in his path. Finlay nodded, and Lachlan’s hands shook. He was going to kill someone.
Was she a spy? She had not asked him any questions of a political nature, had even said at one point she didn’t care for the politics of men. Had she been lying to gain his confidence? He was a fool.
All along, she had been right. Had he known who she was, he would have sent her home the motherent he found out, or he would have left her there in the woods. Her presence at Kentillie could cause a war. Hell, he’d slept with her.
She had put his people in danger, and he had been blinded by her looks, just like with Aileen. But this was worse. At least Aileen had cared about his people—Maggie didn’t even know them.
Although he didn’t want to believe it, the pieces started to click together. The Duke of Kirk had three sons, but he had not known of a daughter. That wasn’t uncommon, though.
Lachlan kept up with news from the other clans and recalled the man’s wife had died several years ago. Maggie had confided to him only last night she’d found her mother dead after she had taken too many of her own herbs. He had not heard the duke’s wife had taken her life, but the family would have hidden the stigma of a suicide in the laird’s home.
She was near Murray land when they found her. What a lucky coincidence to insert herself into their midst.
He didn’t believe in coincidence.
The whole affair had probably been planned, some scheme orchestrated by Conall to find out what Lachlan knew. How gullible he had been to put his faith in another woman. He wanted to scream, but despite his rage over Maggie’s betrayal, the thought of Conall putting his hands on her soft skin still made bile rise in his throat.
His men looking on, he paced the room, clenching his fists and shaking with the anger consuming him. It ate at him, a fury he had never known, not even in battle.
“What do we do, Lachlan? If she is found here, it could be war.” Gillies only told him what he already knew.
“We will have to get her back to her family, but I need time to think. I slept with her, thinking she was the orphaned niece of a priest. I willnae be returning her in the same condition she came to my bed.”
Maggie’s father had probably been scouring the countryside looking for her, and the Murrays would be out for blood, thinking they had kidnapped and compromised her. He couldn’t blame them; were she his daughter or sister, he would do the same.
Chapter Thirteen
The sick room door flung open and banged against the wall with a heavy thud. Maggie jumped at the intrusion and almost dropped the salve in her hands. Two men took up the doorway scouring the room, but with the late-day sun shining through, she couldn’t make them out.
The dark, ominous shadows seemed to swarm the room hunting for a victim. As they marched in, their faces took form, and Maggie recognized them as men she met the first night she had left her family’s lands.
The silhouette of an even more deadly form, more formidable in size and stature, took their place in the doorframe. They scanned the room until their gazes stopped on her and knives of unease stabbed her when they glared at her as if she were Satan himself.
The third shadow lingered in the door a motherent longer; she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she knew it was Lachlan as he marched in behind the other men. He was stiff, his brows pinched together and teeth bared. Looming closer, his menacing stare came into view and sent shivers racing straight to her heart.
Villagers and farmers crowded the room seeking medical attention, but as he glowered at her with rage through the narrowed slits of his eyes all movement ceased.
The balm fell from her hands to the floor, her heart sank, and her entire body went numb.
He knew who she was.
He hated her for her deception and was taking it worse than she had ever imagined. Waves of fury emanated from him like currents hammering a lonely vessel trapped on the sea in a squall.
And she was that little boat that was about to sink.
His eyes were so cold hers started to blur, but she held back the tears, because she’d brought this upon herself. A small crack formed in her heart.
He was going to send her away, was rejecting her, and would return her to Conall.
Her breath caught. No, she couldn’t breathe at all and was on the verge of collapsing and tumb
ling into an endless abyss. She teetered. It was a good thing she was sitting, because her shaky knees wouldn’t have held her up, and he was so angry he would probably not believe it if she fainted.
But defending herself would only make him angrier, so she opted to remain quiet. She had no excuse to justify putting him and his people at risk, and she should have left long before now. It had been a mistake to take time to enjoy herself, to think she could be wanted here and he would keep her safe. Now she would pay.
What hurt worse was the set of his jaw and the angry gaze that warned her he wouldn’t give her a chance to justify herself. If she’d sought out the map this morning like she had planned, she would be gone, but Coira had sent a maid to fetch her early because a man had been injured and the Cameron healer had wanted her help to set a bone. There hadn’t been another opportunity to leave the sick room, because it had been overflowing with others in need of assistance.
“Margaret Murray, ye were right. I am going to send ye home, but as far as I care, ye can go to the devil.” The icy-cold words pierced her heart, and it felt as if the world had disappeared from under her.
Too numb to do anything but breathe, she rose on trembling legs and stood tall. It took all her willpower. Anxious to be away from all the stunned faces, she walked toward the men and kept her face as emotionless as possible. She was so mortified and hurt, her only focus was to get away.
Lachlan looked to one of the men—she couldn’t remember his name. “Take her.” And he disappeared.
A wretchedness like she had never known assailed her.
She was vaguely aware of Lorna jumping in front of the men in what would have been a vain attempt to stop them. She didn’t want her friend to be punished for trying to help her, so she placed her hand on Lorna’s arm, she said, “I will go. Dinnae worry.”
She nodded to the men—Finlay and Gillies—she remembered now. They had been so nice to her that first day, but now they glared at her as if she were Satan’s spawn. A strange numbness washed over her as she placed one foot in front of the other and followed them from the room.
Highland Deception (Highland Pride) Page 16