Highland Temptation

by Lori Ann Bailey

  “Is there no way I can help? Tell me the plan.” Her hands fisted on her hips. Was he not taking her seriously?

  “Ye have to stay safe for me. Go with Dougal because I willnae be able to think if I am worried ye are in danger.” His full lips thinned, and his voice deepened.

  “I feel the same way.”

  “We will all come to the meeting spot, but this has to be done.” He sat and threw the covers off. His long, lean legs swung down from the bed, and he twisted to stretch his shoulders from side to side.

  “I can help. Just tell me what to do. Ye learned something last night did ye no’?” She inched over to the wardrobe and snatched down the dress she had planned to wear today. It was red; she’d chosen it on purpose, because out of all the gowns she owned, this was the one that made her feel confident and powerful. She needed that feeling today.

  She purposely kept her gaze glued to his. She wasn’t going to let him get the upper hand on this conversation.

  “Nae, ye willnae,” he insisted. “Ye dinnae understand. I heard men saying the Covenanters have plans for ye, too. If ye dinnae go with Dougal, I will have to stay and I cannae help yer brothers.”

  His declaration sent spikes of dread snaking down her spine.

  He stood and stalked over to her. His shoulders were stiff, and he squared them back; if she’d been a smaller woman, it might have been intimidating. He was tall and imposing and an air of authority clung to his naked body. For a moment, she felt weak in the knees, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the sight of his hard, lean form or the command in his voice.

  “Ye will be leaving for Kentillie this morning.” His finger touched her lips before she could protest further. “Ye willnae be safe here, and if we are worried about ye, yer brothers and I willnae be safe either.” He retrieved his shirt.

  She remained silent as he skirted around behind her and brushed her hair aside to help her fasten the dress. When his nimble fingers were done, he wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into the warmth. They stood there lost in the embrace until a knock sounded at the door.

  “Just a moment,” he called out over his shoulder. “Promise me ye will go with them.”

  She nodded, turned, and burrowed into his shoulder, her eyes stinging as her arms squeezed around him to fight the trembling which started from her chest and weaved its way to fingers she couldn’t still. She held tight, because if she didn’t, she might lose him.

  This whole time she’d been focused on the danger to her brothers. Now she acknowledged a truth assailing her with a thousand stabs to a place inside her which protested and threatened to steal her breath.

  Alan was going to meet the enemy and face danger from every side.

  Her clan and that of the other Royalist lairds were gathering to discuss the outcome of yesterday’s meeting and how they would proceed going forward and what options they had to keep their free will while Parliament and the Covenanters continued to push for one religion in Scotland. This was where the plot against her family would be set in motion. She had faith that although Alan would be with the enemy, the Camerons knew he was still on their side.

  What if the other Royalists didn’t know he was working with them, and what if the Covenanters discovered his duplicity?

  And she realized in that moment, he had sacrificed everything for her family. She’d thought herself in love with him before, but that had been based on childhood longings and friendship. Now, she knew him to be the most honorable of men, willing to sacrifice himself for his beliefs and her clan.

  She couldn’t bring herself to peel her arms from his waist. What if she never saw him again? A tear streamed down her cheek, and she nestled farther into his embrace, his shirt soaking up the stray moisture.

  The knock was louder this time. She flinched. His hold on her loosened, and she wanted to protest.

  “I have to go, kitten.” The warmth of his body left hers, and large hands clasped onto her arms, angling her to face him. “Now, pack up so ye are ready. I’ll see ye soon.”

  His head dipped and he gave her a kiss on the forehead. It was brief and left her needing more. Alan cut away from her; not looking back, he opened the door and disappeared before she could utter another word.

  Blair entered and shut the door. Alan was gone, and she had this gaping hole in her heart. Did he not feel the same? She’d told him she loved him, but he’d not returned the words. Why was doubt creeping in? She knew he cared; it was just when he left, it was as if he were pushing her away. Ignoring the apprehension, she moved toward her bags to pack for the trip home, all the while praying that her brothers and Alan made it back safely.

  Chapter Twelve

  Leaving Kirstie in her room had been the hardest thing Alan had ever done. Once he’d broken free from their embrace, he’d avoided her gaze, because the crack in her voice had almost done him in, and if ever he needed to keep his wits and strength, it was now. He couldn’t afford to let emotion guide his decisions. Not until they were all safe.

  She was terrified, and he was leaving her. It had been hard enough to fight back the guilt without meeting her gaze, because there was a real possibility he wouldn’t survive the day, and he couldn’t face her to assure her that he would be back. He’d apologize later if he had the chance, but for now, he had to ensure the plan was in motion, so he made his way to the house where he’d be joining the Covenanters.

  Cameron men hid in plain sight, surrounding the inn named The Red Grouse, the nearby buildings, and deep within the forest. Great pains had been taken to look like locals, with weapons hidden in baskets, barrels, and wagons. There were Grahams, MacLeans, and MacDonalds here as well, along with other clans Alan wasn’t as familiar with.

  Late in the evening before, after the meeting in the tavern with Niall and his men, Alan had met with Alexander Gordon, the leader of the Royalist Resistance, and they’d devised the plan he saw in place now. It had been too risky for him to be seen with the Camerons, so he’d reached out to one of the most dangerous men in all of Scotland to organize the counterattack. Alex made sure the lairds had advance notice of the threat against them and relayed the layout of the strategy the two had devised to combat the Covenanters’ plans of murder. He’d made certain the man would confirm with Dougal that the women be on their way to Kentillie in the morning and out of danger.

  When he’d finally broken free from Gordon, he’d run to make sure Kirstie was safe. Relieved the Covenanters had finally trusted him with the plans, and he’d been able to pull together what he thought to be an ingenious campaign, he was bone weary and exhausted. Falling asleep listening to her melodic voice, he dared to relax his guard and dream of a life with her.

  Now, he lay in wait as more men arrived at the house from which the Covenanters planned to begin their assault. The Royalists had their prescheduled meeting at the location across the street, and this home had a nice view of the inn where the attack would happen. It had become the Covenanter’s base of operations. Last night, they’d told him everything, and now he was here to pretend for the last time he wasn’t a Cameron.

  …

  As Dougal came in and knelt in the corner to collect their bags, Kirstie made her escape. Fighting back the tears, she struggled to breathe as she ran through the halls of the castle toward Lachlan’s and Malcolm’s chamber. She had to tell them one last time to be safe and to make certain Alan came back to her.

  As she turned the corner to start up the steps, she stopped suddenly. Hamish descended the steps in front of her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He weaved his arm through hers as he pivoted and started to lead her up.

  “I was expecting to hear an answer from you last night.”

  Damn, she’d forgotten he’d ask her to marry him. She swallowed. “I am so sorry. After the meeting, my brother sent me back to my room and posted a guard. I couldnae go anywhere.” She was stalling, avoid
ing telling him the truth and breaking his heart, but it was never a good time to impart such news. “Ye are such a sweet man, Hamish, but I think with our religious difference, we just willnae suit.”

  His grip on her arm tightened just a little. She wasn’t sure if he was angry with her or if he was shocked by her response and trying to keep himself upright. “I did make it clear to you that religion wouldn’t be a problem between us.”

  “Ye say that now, but when we have children, I am certain ’twill become a problem. I think ye are a wonderful man, but I think ye need to find someone who shares yer beliefs and will be able to worship at yer side.”

  “I want you.”

  They were at the landing now. He continued down the hall toward Lachlan’s room. She didn’t stop him, because that was her final destination anyway.

  “Have ye considered Niall’s sister? She would make a good wife. She’s verra bonny, and she shares yer beliefs.”

  “No. That isn’t in the plan. I will marry you.” She stopped, but he pulled and she stumbled alongside him.

  “I am sorry, but I will choose my own husband.” She tried to yank free, but his hold remained strong.

  Dragging her down the hall and past Lachlan’s door, he didn’t respond.

  “Let go of me, Hamish.” His grip tightened to a painful vise as she struggled to yank free.

  He still didn’t answer as he opened a door with his free hand and pushed her through. Her foot caught on her skirts, and she fell to the floor. The door clicked shut, and she looked up to see him standing above her with a twisted grimace on his lips.

  She scrambled to her feet and skirted around the nearest chair to put a barrier between them. “What are ye doing?”

  “You have made the wrong decision. I had hoped you would cooperate, but this may be better. I’ll have to break you in, but you will learn to obey me.”

  “Stop this.” Fear was replacing the anger she’d felt moments earlier as she realized she didn’t know this man at all. Had his kind, cool demeanor been a facade all this time?

  “When you are my wife, you will have no choice but to obey.” Walking slowly up to the chair, his face turned placid as he again seemed to reverse into the man she’d gotten to know these last few months.

  “I willnae marry ye. Did ye no’ hear me?” Her grip on the back of the chair tightened as her body tensed.

  “You will.” His eyes darkened but didn’t give away any hint of emotion.

  “Ye are starting to scare me.”

  “Good. You should be afraid.”

  Chills ran down her spine, and she froze as he yanked the chair from her grasp and tossed it across the room. As she watched it fly through the air, something struck her side where she was still bruised from the attack in the stables.

  Pain erupted, and her knees buckled as she crumpled back down to the ground. He stood over her as she shook.

  “You will not move if you know what is good for you.” He removed strips of cloth from his pocket, and her eyes widened.

  Scrambling backward, she jumped to her feet and ran for the door. She tried to call out for help, but he was too quick, pinning her instantly to the stone wall just beside the door. With his body weight pushed into hers, she couldn’t scream, couldn’t even breathe. He was much stronger than he appeared.

  His hand was suddenly on her cheek, and he pushed something into her mouth then grabbed both of her hands and yanked them behind her. He pulled and she had no option but to obey as he guided her down to the floor. She struggled, but it was futile.

  When she was flat on the ground, he put a knee into the base of her back and wrenched her hands together. Material dug into her wrists as he wound it around the sensitive flesh several times in different directions. His yanking roughly at the material caused pain to shoot up through her arms as he tied the ends together. He did it so smoothly that it crossed her mind that he’d done it before, like she’d seen men wrestling pigs for sport.

  He tugged at the bindings. “That will do.” Was that pleasure she heard in his voice? She shivered.

  Taking her arm, he wrenched her to her knees and knelt beside her. She tried to spit the cloth out of her mouth, but just as her tongue loosened it, she heard a rip and felt a slight tug as he tore the bottom of her dress.

  “Nice,” he said, then his arms came around and placed the new strip of fabric over the one she’d not yet dislodged. He pulled it across her mouth and tied it tightly behind her head. Her eyes watered at the ache in her wrists as she struggled.

  “You and I are going to have a lot of fun, Kirstie,” he sneered in her ear.

  There was nothing enjoyable about this, she would have said if she could, so she attempted to hit his head with hers, but he grabbed her hair and jerked her head to the side.

  “You will marry me, and when your brothers are gone, I will run your clan and you will convert. I will save my wife. It may appear harsh to you at the moment, but you will thank me for it.” His blue eyes were hard and filled with a zealot’s religious conviction. He honestly thought he would be helping her, and that was what scared her the most; he couldn’t see the wrong in what he was doing through the haze of his Covenanter principles.

  Her brothers.

  Hamish was in on the plot. Would he murder for his beliefs?

  She shook her head in denial. Hamish was too kind and God fearing to be behind that. Oh God, had he been planning this all the times he’d come to visit her at the Macnabs?

  No, she didn’t know him; he had her tied up on the floor of his room.

  He must have taken her looking away for some form of disobedience, because she doubled over as his fist hit the small of her back just below her ribs.

  Balling up, she struggled to breathe in through her nose. Her body’s natural reaction was to gulp in through her mouth, but no air was getting in that way.

  Head spinning, she was pulled to her feet and dragged to the chair still sitting by the hearth. Hamish pushed her down into it and kept one hand clasped around her arm. She felt him stretch for something nearby and then cringed as ropes came around her to bind her to the seat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Furniture was pushed to the edges of the common room. Alan fidgeted in the cramped quarters of the house where the Covenanters had chosen to stage their attack. It wasn’t a small house, but it was hot and stuffy and almost filled to overflowing with men ready to shed blood for a religious idea. They were no better than the king they railed against.

  “What are we waiting on?” a man whose face Alan couldn’t see yelled out. “They have been in there long enough.”

  “Patience.” Niall held his hand up, palm out and answered. “We’re waiting on”—he was interrupted by a knock at the back door—“that.” He strode over to the door and asked, “Who’s there?”

  A muted reply penetrated through the thick wooden door. “’Tis Neville.”

  Niall lifted the latch and eased the door in. “Give us the news.”

  “He sent me to tell ye he’s got the lass, and ye can attack as soon as they get started.”

  Alan’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to Niall, who he had mistakenly thought was in charge of this operation. A prickle of unease assailed him as a drop of sweat trailed down the small of his back. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Hamish. ’Tis the other part of the plan. We didnae tell ye last night because we thought ye still might have some kind of brotherly feelings toward her.”

  Ice spread through his veins while he fought to remain impassive. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and chills raced down his spine.

  Niall looked back to the boy. “Did she agree to marry him?”

  “Nae. He wasnae pleased.” Neville, a boy of about fifteen years, shook his head with a despondent air. “’Tis no’ a good idea to displease him.”

  Alan looked bac
k to Niall, who watched him, gauging his reaction as if this was some sort of test. “Tell me about this other plan.” He was surprised at how coolly the words rolled from his lips, because he felt anything but calm.

  “He’s going to wed the Cameron lass and take over the clan.” Niall shrugged as if to say, I tried to talk sense into him, but he wouldnae hear it.

  “But what will he do when she doesnae agree? She willnae convert.” Alan could feel his voice rise as the words escaped from his constricted throat.

  “Aye, she will.” Niall gave a resigned grimace. “Neville, show him what Hamish does when ye question him?”

  The boy’s eyes drifted down, and his face turned a darker shade of red than his hair. He slowly lifted his shirt, and Alan’s heart stopped beating. The lad’s pale torso was covered with bruises and burn marks at varying shades of healing.

  “’Tis a shame, too. I liked the lass myself.”

  “Where are they?” Alan was able to manage only after he gulped. He remembered the light bruise on Kirstie’s side this morning and how the ones on this boy were magnified tenfold.

  “He had it planned all along. Hamish and Argyll, they were both going to leave last night, but Hamish couldn’t get to the Cameron lass. She had a guard.”

  Alan’s eyes shifted between Niall and Neville. “Yer certain he has her?” Neville nodded, and Alan’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

  “He’s on his way to marry the lass then up to the Cameron lands. He cannae be here and risk looking as if he had a part in the death of the Cameron laird.” Niall continued as if uninterested. “Hamish thinks to comfort the people at their loss. Bring them to God his way and take the clan.”

  Hamish had seemed so normal, boring even. All along, he’d been the one behind the plot. He and Argyll had both fled to deflect any blame if the events of the day didn’t turn out as they hoped. Hell, this must have been what he’d almost overheard that night in the kitchen.