When had things gotten so complicated?
Well, it didn’t change anything. It just gave her less time to work a miracle. And by God’s will, she would have her miracle. Or die in that effort.
At least four days gave her time to reach the MacDouglas.
She hoped.
“Here, take this.” She pulled from her little finger the ring that her father had given her on her tenth birthday. It was a thin gold band that had the impression of tiny wildflowers on it. All the women of the clan knew it to be hers, and in her absence, they would know it spoke for her.
“At week’s end, give my ring to Pegeen and tell her to take the women home.”
Braden held the gold band in his hand. Her warmth still clung to the metal. It was such a tiny piece of jewelry, so frail and delicate, and yet at the same time strong and unbending. It reminded him much of its owner.
He remembered a time, long ago, when he and Maggie had been friends. When she had actually saved him from being ambushed by a group of the clanswomen who had been lying in wait to mob him on his way to her house.
He couldn’t honestly remember a time in his life when he hadn’t known her and her stubbornness.
He’d never before thought about just how much of his past she was. Not until he thought of her marching off to the MacDouglas and getting herself killed.
For some reason, the thought of her death stung him far more deeply than it should.
Braden handed the ring back to her. “Do you honestly think I’m going to stay behind and let you brave the MacDouglas on your own?”
“Of course. They would be suspicious of a man they didn’t know, but a woman—”
“Would stand out mightily, since all of their women are in hiding. Is that not right?”
Maggie opened her mouth to speak, then snapped her jaw shut. She’d forgotten all about that. Her journey to MacDouglas lands wouldn’t be so easy this time. They would be suspicious of any stranger, and as a lone woman in their midst while their own women were shunning them…
It didn’t bear thinking on.
“And might I point out,” Braden continued, “that if they ever figure out who you are, your life will be worthless. No doubt they all know your name by now and curse it with every breath they take.”
“Very good points,” she said, her mind whirling as she sought to think of an alternative.
There wasn’t one.
She would merely have to alter her original plan of reaching the MacDouglas. “I shall have to dress as a lad, then.”
“A lad would never be traveling alone,” he said. “You’ll need someone to go with you.”
How she wished she could have an escort, but if anyone found out Braden’s identity…Well, she didn’t want to think what the MacDouglas clan would do to the brother of their enemy.
She had started this alone and she would finish it that way. “Braden—”
“Nay,” he said firmly. “I doubt the MacDouglas will listen, and when he demands your head for it, you’ll be needing someone to get you out of there.”
“You can’t fight all of them.”
“You’d be amazed what I can do when my life is at stake.”
Actually, she wouldn’t. She had seen him train enough to know quite a bit about his abilities to protect himself and others.
Still, the fact that he was willing to risk his life for hers meant quite a bit to her. Braden might be an arrogant man, but he usually wasn’t a foolish one.
“Why would you risk your life for me?” she asked.
“I have no idea. But come, we need to find you some clothing and give Ewan your ring and instructions.”
“Are you mad?” Ewan asked after they had found him outside the kirk, putting the ladder away in a small shed.
“Is who mad?” Sin asked as he joined them.
Ewan turned to Sin with a disgusted look. “Braden is going to take Maggie to see the MacDouglas so that she can talk the MacDouglas into stopping the feud.”
Sin whirled to face Braden. “Are you mad?” he asked in disbelief. “He’ll have you impaled before you get halfway to his castle.”
“Nay, he won’t,” Maggie said, then she laid out the plan for them.
When she had finished, Sin shook his head. “It’ll never work.”
“Forgive me,” Maggie said softly. “I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but I don’t even know who you are, and I have no idea how this matter concerns you.”
“He’s my brother Sin,” Braden said softly in her ear.
Maggie’s eyes widened and she formed a small O with her mouth. Everyone in the clan knew the terrible tale of how Sin had been taken forcibly from the castle.
And even worse, the story of how, as the king’s men were struggling to force the youth on a horse, his father had turned his back to them, then coldly closed the door and left his son to his enemies.
The instant the door had shut, Sin had stopped struggling, stiffened his spine, and ridden off with the promise that he would never return.
Anghus had been there when it had happened, and the tale had always haunted her. How could any father just turn his back on his blood and let him go?
Now she regretted her harsh words to him. No doubt, Sin had heard worse, but she didn’t want to add any more to a man who had suffered so much.
“Forgive me,” she said to Sin, “but it’s been quite some time since last we met.”
Sin gave an almost imperceptible nod, but said nothing.
And now that she knew who he was, she asked, “How do you know my plan won’t work?”
A wicked, almost evil smile curved Sin’s lips. “Because when it comes to planning attacks, I have no equal. If I say it won’t work, you can wager your life on the fact that it won’t. I’ve never been wrong.”
A chill went down her spine. There was something hidden in those words. Something that scared her.
“Speaking of plans,” Braden interjected, “how did the reconnaissance go with Lochlan?”
Sin shook his head. “It’s hopeless. They have him and four others tied in the center of the hall where they can all keep an eye on them. Even if we came in through the gallery, they’d see us in plenty of time to kill the five of them, or us.”
“What four others?” Maggie asked.
Braden went cold at her question. Oops. In his concern for Lochlan, he had let that other little tidbit slip his mind.
He turned sheepishly to Maggie. “Did I forget to mention the small fact that Fergus has all four of your brothers tied up with Lochlan?”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “What?” she roared. “What do you mean—”
“It’s all right, Maggie,” Braden assured her. “Nothing will happen to them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it would change anything.”
“Well, it certainly does! I’m not going anywhere until they’re safe.”
Maggie faltered as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Once again, she was caught. “I have no way to get them out, do I?”
Braden shook his head. “Not unless you throw open the door to the kirk and lead the women home.”
She sighed. “Then we’d best follow my original plan.”
“Then I go with you,” Ewan said.
“Oh, aye, that’ll work well,” Sin said sarcastically. “If there’s one person the MacDouglas would rather lay hands to than Maggie, it’s you. Good plan, that.”
“Could you please refrain from sarcasm?” Ewan snapped.
“Could you please refrain from fighting?” Maggie inserted. “’Tis a wonder any of you survived childhood.” She glared first at Sin, then at Ewan.
“I knew I should have stayed in England,” Sin said under his breath. “But no, I just had to come back with Braden and had to stick my bloody nose in where it doesn’t belong. If I had any sense, I’d go back home right now and leave all of you to your idiocy.”
Braden ignored him. “Ewan, you keep Maggie�
�s ring, and at week’s end, hand it over and save Lochlan. That should keep the men from doing anything against the MacDouglas or his men until we can reach the MacDouglas. When you free Lochlan, tell him what we’re doing and make certain he doesn’t lead any kind of attack against the MacDouglas unless he’s sure we’re dead.”
His eyes full of reluctance, Ewan nodded slowly.
Braden clapped him on the back. “Maggie and I will leave just after dark.”
“What should I do if the women miss her over the next four days?” Ewan asked.
“Tell Mother what we’ve done in the morning. She’ll help you keep the women from getting suspicious.”
“Just remember,” Maggie warned, “you have to give us the whole four days to reach the MacDouglas. If you let the women out sooner, one of the men might attack the MacDouglas, and it could get us killed before we even reach the castle.”
Ewan’s face belied his fear for them, but finally he agreed.
Sin growled in his throat. “I suppose this is where I toss my gauntlet in to join this suicide escapade.”
Braden arched a puzzled brow. “Meaning?”
“I can’t very well let you go alone, little brother. In the highly likely event the MacDouglas decides to kill the two of you where you stand, you’ll need another sword.”
“Oh, here’s where I get to be sarcastic,” Ewan said. “Can I point out how much you’ll stand out wearing English clothes as you prance across MacDouglas territory?”
Braden nodded. “He’s right, Sin.”
The glower on Sin’s face would have quelled Goliath. “I’d sooner wear a kirtle than put a plaid on this body.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to stay here,” Braden said.
“I’ll be fine in my own clothes.”
“Nay,” Braden said firmly. “I’ll not chance it. I couldn’t save Kieran when he died any more than I could keep our father from sending you to the English. But this I can stop, and I will. I’ll not lose another brother. Not so long as I live.”
Sin’s glare intensified as he tapped his thumb against his thigh in agitation. “You know, there’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me to return to England. No doubt I’m going to wish I’d heeded it.”
His lips curled, Sin turned to Ewan. “Find me a damn plaid and I’ll wear it.”
Braden stifled his laughter at the look of repugnance on Sin’s face.
“Now that we have that settled,” Braden said, “the next question is, how do we find our way across enemy lands and into the very heart of the MacDouglas territory?”
Maggie smiled. “I’m so glad you asked.”
Chapter 7
Hours later, as the sun set over the lush, rolling hills of the Highlands and darkness stretched across the land, Maggie stood in the small courtyard behind the kirk. The entire area was enclosed by shrubs and roses that Father Bede spent most of his days lovingly tending. And those roses smelled wonderful in the early twilight.
A solitary bench rested against the far wall and if she listened closely, she could hear the voices of the women in the nearby dormitory. Faint laughter rode the wind and brought a smile to her lips.
It was beautiful out here, and she loved her blessed Highlands. Even though the sun had descended over the farthest hill, a dapple of pink, purple and magenta played across the dark blue clouds as the first stars of the night came out to curvy. He could just imagine running his hand down over the smooth skin, tasting the strength of those legs with his tongue as he trailed it along the curve of her calf, to the back of her thighs, and then higher, to her…
He paused at the thought.
With a curse, Braden realized no one could ever mistake those legs for a man’s.
“What is it?” she asked.
Braden gestured toward her. “Your legs.”
Her eyes narrowed in warning an instant before she matched his curse with one of her own. “I am not a chicken!” she snapped with such rancor that it took him aback.
“I beg your pardon?”
She dropped her pack to the ground, bent over to where she could look at her knees, then she started pulling the hem of her plaid lower.
“You know, I had six brothers, which means I don’t need the likes of you telling me everything that is wrong with my body. And in spite of what Ian, Jamie and Duncan always said while we were growing up, I do not have the legs of a scrawny, half-dead chicken.”
Braden tried not to laugh, but for his life he couldn’t help himself. The image of her plucking at the plaid and gesturing in sharp, stiff movements reminded him quite a bit of poultry. Even the manner of her speech in short, angry bursts reminded him of a chicken clucking.
However, the heated glare she shot him when she straightened up succeeded in checking his humor.
At least until he made the fatal mistake of looking at her boots. Enos’s words rang in his ears as he tried not to notice that the frayed brown boots really were ugly.
Burn the witch and her ugly shoes too.
Braden held his breath, but still the laughter bubbled up until he had no choice but to laugh or choke. Throwing his head back, he gave rein to his humor.
Maggie balled her fists at her side as she glared at him. “You better be glad I’m a woman, Braden MacAllister, or I’d be taking a sword to you right now.”
And she probably could best him too, especially in those ugly shoes.
The thought made him laugh even harder.
“You beast!” she said, an instant before something wet slapped him upside his head.
“What the…?” Braden pulled it away from his head to see a damp cloth in his hand.
“You’d best be glad I didn’t have anything harder in my pack or else I’d have used it on you instead.”
“Just so long as it’s not your shoes,” he said, choking back another wave of laughter. “I could survive anything but that.”
“My shoes?” she asked, her anger wilting beneath her confusion.
Braden cleared his throat as he fought with himself. “I wasn’t laughing at your legs, little blossom. But rather at something Enos said earlier.”
Suspicion hovered in her eyes. “You swear it?”
“On my completely unrepentant soul, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m sure you’d find something harder to slap me with than that cloth, I’d be willing to show you just how unlike a chicken I think those legs of yours really are.”
Her cheeks pinkened at his compliment as she looked about bashfully. “Then what were you going to say about my legs?”
“That they’re by far too feminine to be exposed. We need to lower your plaid and pad your…” In spite of himself, he laughed again, “Boots.”
“Oh,” Maggie said quietly. “I’m sorry about the wet cloth, then. I hope it didn’t hurt.” She came forward to take the cloth from his hand.
“It didn’t hurt,” he said, releasing the cloth to her.
Her hand gently scraped his, and for a moment he couldn’t focus on anything except the gentle softness of her skin fairy-light on his own. Unbidden, his gaze dipped back to the exposed flesh of her legs, and his mind played through several interesting scenarios he’d love to experience with her.
Aye, as passionate as she was, he could already hear her deep throaty moans as he taught her the true meaning of pleasure.
He lifted his gaze to her flat chest and the laces that drew her saffron shirt closed. In his mind, he could see himself reaching out and unlacing them, exposing the binding on her chest and then freeing her breasts to his touch.
His body drew hot and hard as his mouth watered for a taste of her skin.
“You know, Maggie…” Braden stopped himself before he propositioned her again. Any other woman would be his in an instant, but to get this woman, he would have to play the game more slowly. Skillfully.
She wasn’t the type of woman just to fall into his arms and demand his kiss.
“What?” she asked, folding the cloth and returning it to an
animal skin bag in her pack.
Change the subject, his mind warned. Now!
“Why are you carrying that?” he asked in a deliberate effort to refocus his thoughts.
“In case it’s needed. I always pack a damp cloth for washing and such.”
Braden didn’t understand that, but then there were many things about women in general he didn’t understand. And a lot of things about Maggie in particular that defied even his best cognitive abilities.
Letting the matter go, he dared a glance at those ugly boots. “We’ll have to find something to pad your boots with. Do you have—” He broke off as he finally looked up at her head and noticed her hair.
The moonlight caught in the strands he had assumed she’d braided or twisted about her head. And it was only standing this close to her that he could finally see what the dark auburn locks really looked like.
“Good Lord, woman, what have you done?” he asked in disbelief as he fingered her sheered locks. Her soft hair curled about his fingers as Braden carefully brushed his hand over her head.
“I didn’t want my hair to betray us.”
Braden felt as though he’d been slapped in the face with something a lot harder than her rag. Her hair barely reached her thin shoulders. And it was then he noted the tears in her lashes. He cupped her cheek in his hand and ached to pull her close to comfort her. “Maggie.”
“It’s just hair,” she whispered. “It’ll grow back.”
“But it was beautiful hair. Hair a man dreams of holding in his hands and burying his face in.”
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight as she looked up at him. “Did you ever dream of that?”
Placing his hands on her cheeks, Braden answered her question with a kiss.
Maggie moaned at the fierce tenderness of his embrace. Never in her life had anyone kissed her, and the thought that it really was Braden who had finally done so thrilled her more than anything else had in her entire life.
Mo chreach, but it was wondrous. This feeling of those strong, beautiful lips on hers as his arms wrapped about her, pulling her closer to his rock-hard chest. It was better than even her sweetest dreams. And her entire body thrummed with the rush of excitement.
Claiming the Highlander Page 8