She tried to get up, but her ankle would not support her. She could barely walk.
Dugan left her to her fate—and her pain. ’Twas nothing less than she deserved. He took out all three quarters of the map and crouched down, spreading out the documents on the ground. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
She ignored him and limped awkwardly to a large, flat rock, where she took a seat. Reaching down to her boot, she unlaced it, then rubbed her ankle again.
Dugan averted his eyes from the surprisingly sensuous movement. He was angry and intended to stay that way, and lust had no part of it now.
He pieced the three portions of the map together and found that they fit. But Maura’s piece added no clearer clues than the ones she’d stolen from Dugan. Similar markings were all over it, but—
The only thing that helped was having more territory to compare with what he knew. He’d traveled through a good many parts of the highlands, so he knew it well. But he couldn’t identify every forest, glen, or loch.
At least he had one more section of the whole now, even though there was nothing that marked any particular spot.
“Where did you get this map, Maura?” he demanded.
“From a desk drawer in a house in Glasgow,” she replied grudgingly.
“Whose drawer?”
She shrugged and he swore under his breath. ’Twas difficult to believe this was the woman who’d given herself so completely—and so honestly—the night before. Dugan had never experienced the kind of kiss they’d shared. Had never found it so difficult to part from a woman.
Even now, as she sat rightfully accused, with the hood of her cloak down and her hair askew, she was more compelling than Artis MacLean or any other woman of his acquaintance could ever hope to be.
He took his eyes from those lips that had so bewitched him, and returned his attention to the maps. Lachann and the others would soon arrive, and Dugan wanted to have some answers for them.
Not the least of which was what to do with Lady Maura.
“ ’Twas in a desk belonging to my father’s cousin. I thought it would help me make my way—”
“Aye. Through the highlands. Right.” Dugan took a deep, disparaging breath. “How long have you had it?” he asked her.
She looked up at him then, frowning. “I don’t know what right you have to question me so, Laird MacMillan. We are not on your lands, and you have no authority here.”
“I have the authority of a man whose property was stolen. By you.”
She sagged slightly. “I took it just before I left Glasgow. I had no idea how little use it would be.”
Damn all. “So, you stole this one, too.”
She did not refute his statement, but pulled on her boot once more and began lacing it.
“So you know naught about the map . . . who made it or where the—” He stopped himself before speaking of the gold.
Maura seemed not to know the true purpose of the map. If she’d taken it thinking it would guide her through the highlands . . . Could she be unaware of the treasure?
Mayhap she was intentionally keeping her knowledge of it from him. As he was most certainly doing to her.
“I assume you had a destination in mind. Where did you intend to go?”
She weighed her words before answering, and then she gave him little to go on. “Into the northwest highlands.”
“That’s a great deal of territory, Lady Maura. Exactly where in the northwest highlands were you going?”
She rose to her feet and faced him with her hands upon her bonny hips. “To Loch Camerochlan, if you must know, Laird MacMillan.”
Her answer was baffling. “Loch Camerochlan? ’Tis well beyond any civilization you would enjoy.” Not to mention only a few leagues from Braemore Glenn and his own loch.
“That may be, MacMillan, but that is where I intend to go,” she snapped. “And I might ask you what you are doing with the other parts of my map!”
Maura knew her statement was bold. In truth, it was ridiculous. But the laird had pierced her with a look so fierce she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded in intimidating her. At least he was not quite so threatening now that his sword was away.
“Your map! By God, woman, you’re unbelievable.”
She supposed she was. She’d shared impossible intimacies with him, then stolen from him only a few hours later. She wondered at her own audacity.
“Tell me of your bridegroom.”
“No. Why should I?”
“Because I am curious.” He did not appear curious at all, except for his interest in the maps, which he studied even as he conversed with her. “What kind of man has Lady Maura fleeing into the highlands? Mayhap he has the temerity to dislike thieves.”
Maura bristled. “He is not to my liking, if you must know.”
“Who is the man?”
“What difference does it make, Laird MacMillan?” she said. “I will not travel to Cromarty or anywhere else for any reason that is unacceptable to me.”
He had the impudence to laugh at her. “Do you truly believe Lieutenant Baird will not find you?”
“He won’t if I get right back on the path and put several more miles between me and Fort William.”
MacMillan shook his head with obvious disdain for her plan. “On that ankle? How far do you think you’ll get before it swells to twice its size and strands you in the middle of nowhere?”
It was a question that had worried her ever since she’d tried to take a few steps on it. But she was spared having to reply when a horseman—one of MacMillan’s men—raced into the site, dismounting before his horse had even stopped.
“Dugan?” he asked, taking in the carnage all ’round him. “What the . . . ?”
MacMillan barely took his eyes from the map. “Thieves, Lachann. ’Twas necessary.”
Truly, the brigands had intended them harm. But Maura had never seen so much death. She shuddered, hoping to figure some way to flee these brutal highlanders. If she just gave them her map . . .
She nearly laughed aloud. Gave them? Dugan MacMillan was quite capable of taking anything he wanted. She could protest all she liked, but he had the upper hand in this.
MacMillan’s man barely took note of the slaughter all ’round them. ’Twas as though the sight of a massacre was nothing new. While she was grateful the highlander had ridden in to rescue her, the reality of what had just happened gave her pause. She took a deep breath and casually glanced toward the woods for a means of escape. The only town she’d seen had been several miles back, as was Sorcha’s croft. Not that Sorcha could offer any protection from Laird MacMillan.
Maura clasped her hands together and calmed her nerves as she studied the two men.
Lachann was similar to Dugan in both features and build. Both were large men, and Maura decided they must be brothers. But ’twas Dugan whose kiss she could still taste. Dugan who’d saved her and protected her with his life.
’Twas a novelty to feel quite so valued, but Maura knew it wouldn’t last. Most of her life she’d been either chastised or ignored by her family, and scolded for her mistakes by Lady Ilay. And Dugan MacMillan was obviously displeased with her.
“What’s this?” Lachann asked, taking note of the three pieces of map, their torn edges abutted together.
“The lass had yet another part of the map,” Dugan replied. “It fits our two.”
Lachann tossed Maura a dour look and she recoiled, afraid to consider what they intended to do with her. The parallel between the would-be thieves and herself did not escape her.
But surely if Dugan intended to kill her, he would have done so by now. She knew it was not going to be possible to get away from these men. They had two options. They could take her back to Fort William—against her will, of course. Or take her with them.
Or a third possibility that just occurred to her. They could leave her there in the woods to make her way—wherever—on her own. Maura was afraid she would not get far on her injured ank
le.
The only acceptable choice was for her to go with the highlanders. Cromarty and Baron Kildary were out of the question.
But she could not think of any reason that MacMillan would want her along. Unless she could be of some use to them.
As the rest of the MacMillan men rode into the area, Maura knew she was going to have to think of something. Soon.
Chapter 10
“What’s your interest in the map, Laird?” Maura asked. “Surely you know your way ’round the highlands without it.”
Dugan heard a hint of sarcasm in the woman’s voice and he did not like it. “What’s your purpose at Loch Camerochlan, Lady Maura?” he asked right back. “I know the loch and the area ’round it, and there is naught there but a few crofts gathered together on the hillside.”
She licked her lips, and Dugan forced himself to keep his attention on her eyes. ’Twas much safer that way. “ ’Tis a place where I’ll not be easily found.”
“By whom? Your father?”
She gave a little nod and looked away. “And the baron my father would have me wed.”
“Baron?” He considered what he knew of the noblemen who lived in and around Cromarty, and thought of one in particular. “Would that be Kildary of Cromarty?” Dugan felt a victory of sorts when Maura’s cheeks blushed a deep scarlet.
“Kildary?” Lachann asked, frowning. “He’s a wee beast, eh, Dugan?”
Maura stiffened and Dugan narrowed his eyes as he studied her. Aye, he knew of Kildary. The man was said to be a fiend who misused his family and servants alike.
“Have you a dowry?” he asked her.
She shrugged and looked away.
“How old are you, Lady Maura?” he asked as a plan began to form in his head.
She stuck her chin up and faced him squarely. “I am twenty-four years of age, Dugan MacMillan, not that it’s any concern of yours.”
Aye, she had no dowry, else she would have been married well before now. She was old to be a maiden. Or, he decided, if she did have a dowry, it was unsubstantial. Either her father was a poor man, or she was out of favor with him.
Dugan therefore concluded ’twas the baron who would pay for the privilege of taking Maura to wife. He needed an heir, for his only son had died at Perth two years before, in battle against King James’s forces. Dugan supposed ’twas not difficult for Kildary to find a bride when he was younger, but now the man had to be at least seventy.
In spite of Maura’s thievery, Dugan felt a wave of sympathy at the thought of her being led to the old man’s bed.
He called to Kieran and Calum.
“Aye, Laird,” they responded, dismounting and coming to him, leading their horses.
“Ride to Cromarty,” Dugan ordered, carefully watching Maura’s expression. “Go to the house of Baron Kildary and tell him Laird MacMillan has his bride at Braemore. Tell him that a mere three thousand pounds will buy her back.”
Maura gave out a strangled cry, but Dugan paid her no heed. This was an opportunity he could not ignore. A fortune in French gold would be a grand find, but ransoming Lady Maura was a sure thing.
He felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Ransoming a bride was a fine tradition in the highlands, and ’twas high time the MacMillans took part in the practice.
Oh aye, he still intended to search for the gold, and if he found it, it would be a windfall in addition to what Kildary paid him.
He mounted his horse and rode to Maura, who was still sitting on the rock, and fuming with anger, by the looks of her.
“Lachann, toss the lady up to me.”
Lieutenant Baird rode to the fort and approached the commander’s office. He mopped his damp brow with his sleeve when he considered how his father would react when he learned of his son’s failure to transport one useless female from Glasgow to Cromarty. General Baird was nothing if not exacting, and he tolerated no disappointments from his subordinates.
His father held the respect of every officer and regiment under his command. Even King George paid heed to John Baird’s counsel. For his entire life, Alastair had striven to make his father proud, anticipating and obeying his every command. He had yet to prove himself in battle—but only because the opportunity had not presented itself.
Alastair had written to the general more than once, asking to be transferred to an active regiment—specifically, to the Duke of Argyll’s forces, where his father had distinguished himself many times over. But General Baird had responded by telling Alastair to be patient.
It had been a blow. And so had been his specific orders to remain at Aucharnie during the last Jacobite uprising. Alastair was to keep order at Aucharnie’s holding in case of any unrest in the nearby environs. So he’d missed the action at Edinburgh when the Duke of Argyll’s men had arrived and routed the rebels.
’Twas such a humiliation to stand in the public house beside the men who’d seen action. Next to those who’d christened their sabers with the blood of those damned rebels.
Soon, though. Soon Alastair would demand to be transferred to a regiment where he could demonstrate his worth. ’Twas past time, despite his father’s advice to avoid becoming overwrought.
As though Alastair’s anxiety was unfounded.
He sent for his own men while the commander of the fort assembled his regiment and called the roll. Every soldier was accounted for.
That, however, did not mean Maura Duncanson couldn’t have found some other likely fool to guide her south. There were farmers and shopkeepers . . . many a young man about town who might well be pleased and flattered at the request of a comely lass like Lady Maura Duncanson.
Whoever it was would soon learn what a royal pain in the arse she was.
He wasted far too much time looking for the wench in Fort William and searching for any missing soldier who might have accompanied her. When it became clear she had neither stolen a horse nor convinced some hapless soldier to go with her, Baird and his men set off on the southern road to look for her.
Not that she was going to be easy to find. He did not know if she was a proficient rider and had taken someone’s horse—someone who had not missed it yet—or if she was on foot. He wanted to assume she traveled on foot, but he knew it was not necessarily so.
Somehow, this affair was going to end in his favor.
Chapter 11
Maura let out a sharp squeal of shock as Lachann MacMillan picked her up and chucked her onto Laird MacMillan’s horse. Dugan caught her before she flopped over the other side.
’Twas horribly embarrassing to be handled so roughly and with no decorum at all. That, and the fact that her skirts were askew, showing her legs and ankles to all these rough highlanders.
At least they gave the impression of looking away as she tried to arrange herself in a more dignified position. But the laird gave her no chance to regain her pride, picking her up and placing her into the saddle in front of him.
“If you think I’ll ride on this horse with you, in this way—”
“Aye, you will ride this way, lass.”
“But ’tis so—”
He reached ’round her for the reins and in so doing, pulled her against his chest. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. “Baron Kildary will not pay any ransom for me.”
He ignored her statement and turned the horse in the direction she’d been going before the incident with the thieves. The thought of them made her shudder, and she wondered again what kind of man she’d become saddled with.
He was a brute, certainly. And as bad as any thief, for he intended to wrest a ransom from Kildary in exchange for her person. Mayhap he was the one Sorcha had warned her about.
“Baron Kildary doesn’t even know me.”
“Then I can thank the saints for that. Else he might see fit to leave you to your fate and ignore my ransom demand.”
She gave out a great huff. “I am not a thief, Laird MacMillan.”
“Ach, right, lass. I’m sure of that.” His
tone indicated his disagreement.
“You know I have good reason for going to Loch Camerochlan.” She shouldn’t allow him to make her feel defensive, but he did.
He gave out a quiet snort. “We all have good reasons for what we do.”
“You’re saying my grounds for going to the loch are not valid.” Escaping Kildary was perfectly valid, but she did not think it prudent to tell him about Rosie as well. She knew he would somehow figure a way to use that information against her.
“Nay, Lady Maura,” he remarked. “ ’Tis not what I said at all.”
“But that’s what you meant.” She turned to face him then, and felt the power of his gaze. Icy blue and full of disdain. Maura forgot what she was going to say.
“I generally mean exactly what I say. So do not put words into my mouth.”
Her eyes were drawn to his mouth then, and she remembered how it had felt when pressed against hers. Warm and firm, yet giving. It looked hard and implacable now.
She looked away. “Where is Braemore? Is it . . . what is it?”
He shrugged. “ ’Tis our home, only a few days’ ride from here.”
She jerked her head ’round to look at him. “A few days’ ride! I cannot possibly stay with you that long!”
He raised a brow at her confrontational tone. Apparently, he expected her to submit without question to his twisted demands. “Do you have an assignation at Loch Camerochlan that you cannot miss?”
“Of course not!”
“Then ’twould behoove you to be patient and see how this all plays out.”
“I know exactly how it will play out.” She wanted to slap the condescending expression from his face. “Your men will return from Cromarty empty-handed, but with a message from Kildary.”
MacMillan laughed mirthlessly.
“The baron’s message will be something along the lines of ‘Do what you will with her.’ ”
His expression grew serious then, and Maura realized there was more than one meaning to what she’d said. Her breath caught in her throat at the sensual glint in his eyes and she considered the possibilities.
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