The Warrior Laird

by Margo Maguire

  He wasn’t willing to trust in her completely.

  In spite of that, Maura could not ignore the soft warmth that came over her when she reflected on Dugan scolding the ignorant chandler for giving his crippled servant tasks she could barely perform.

  It occurred to her that he would treat Rosie fairly, too—if he ever met her.

  He said naught as they rode through Caillich’s gates and circled ’round the walls of the castle, and Maura tried very hard to forget about the intimacies they’d shared. But that proved to be more difficult than she wished. Especially when he sat so close, his arms ’round her, his breath warm on her ear.

  She had to guard her heart, for she found herself falling a little bit in love with him, and that would never do. A highland laird would never ally himself with the daughter of a lowland lord, especially a man like Lord Aucharnie. ’Twas best to keep her head and do what she must in order to get to Loch Camerochlan and Rosie.

  “Exactly where are we headed?” he asked her as they caught up to his men, waiting just outside the gates.

  His men exchanged puzzled glances and it was obvious to Maura that Dugan had not told them of her stipulation—that she would take him to the gold without disclosing its location.

  “We need to ride toward Loch Monar,” she replied, ignoring the others.

  He turned to look sharply at her. “Maura—”

  “ ’Tis not there. But that is the direction, Dugan.”

  Maura had not known the location of Loch Aveboyne until Dugan had pointed it out on the map, and now that she knew where it was, especially in relation to Braemore, she felt she’d be able to use the situation to her advantage, even if they didn’t find the gold. While the men searched for the gold, Maura could slip away and go to Loch Camerochlan—which was somewhat farther north—without Dugan.

  Chapter 20

  Being so well and truly manipulated rankled. But Dugan could hardly fault Maura for turning the situation to her advantage. ’Twas what he’d have done were he in her place, and he felt a grudging respect for her strategy. Her plan was brilliant.

  And since she seemed completely certain that the treasure was not hidden at Loch Monar, Dugan decided to go along with her. At least for now.

  He was accustomed to being the one in charge, but he’d had to turn over his leadership to Maura—a woman whose people he did not know, and whose motivations were entirely suspect. He hoped he hadn’t allowed himself to be controlled by the cravings of his cock over the cleverness of his mind.

  But damned if he did not want her now, in spite of her manipulations.

  The only thing Dugan knew for certain was that he had to get ahead of Argyll. Lachann had discovered the man was prepared to do some serious digging. He’d brought shovels and picks and carts, and had more than twenty men to do the work.

  If Maura was not lying through her teeth, the duke’s jaunt to Loch Monar would be fruitless. Dugan did not know if Argyll had a secondary plan other than searching at Loch Nan Eun, or if he even suspected there was yet a different possible location.

  It angered him to think about the bloody bastard going after a treasure that had been meant to displace men like Argyll from power. The duke had battled against King James’s forces in the uprising two years before, and it was largely through Argyll’s efforts that the rebellion had failed. If there was a cache of French gold hidden somewhere in the highlands, the damned Duke of Argyll should be the last person on earth to claim it. And Dugan would dearly love to be the one who kept him from it.

  “Dugan, are you sure this course is wise?” Lachann asked him.

  “No. I’m not sure at all,” he snapped, and he felt Maura stiffen against him.

  “Then why do we follow a woman whose word might well be worthless?”

  Lachann might be mistrustful of beautiful women in general, but Dugan had spent the night wondering the same thing. “Do you have a better plan, Lachann?”

  “You know as well as I, Lady Maura has naught to lose. If not for her tale of finding a clue only she can see—”

  Dugan lost the last vestige of his patience, probably because Lachann voiced exactly his own worries. “Do you plan to wage a battle of words here, Lachann? Because I’m not exactly in the mood for it.”

  “No, brother,” Lachann replied. “I just hope you know what you are about.” He rode ahead to join the others.

  Dugan turned to Maura. “Are you taking us to Loch Nan Eun?” he demanded in frustration. “Because the Duke of Argyll will be right behind us after he searches at Loch Monar.”

  “No,” Maura said simply.

  She was quiet and pensive after Lachann rode off, which suited Dugan well enough. If she wasn’t going to tell him outright where they were going, he didn’t mind the silence in which to think about the territory that lay ahead. It quickly became clear that their path could lead them nearly anywhere in the highlands.

  “Do you think we’ve lost Lieutenant Baird?” Maura asked.

  Gesu. Yet another damned Sassenach to worry about. “Likely not.”

  Dugan felt her shiver.

  “He has no liking for me,” she said. “There were times when . . . I thought he wanted to do me harm.”

  “The man was your escort,” Dugan said, refusing to allow himself to feel any concern whatsoever. For all he knew, this was yet another manipulation, though where she intended it to lead, Dugan did not know. “Baird would have found disfavor had you arrived at Cromarty in any way but perfectly undamaged.”

  Though it occurred to Dugan that her undamaged state would not continue once she was Kildary’s bride. The idea of Maura in the auld wolf’s bed made him cringe. The baron would want to get her with child right away, and Dugan doubted the man would have a care for her innocent state.

  He felt ill. “Most paths from Fort William lead to Caillich Castle,” Dugan said.

  “So he will be able to track us to Caillich?” she asked.

  “Aye, ’tis likely.”

  “Then can we not do something clever to conceal our tracks and keep him from finding us?”

  Dugan could do naught but appreciate Maura’s canniness. Though he would not have minded facing the Sassenach soldier in open battle, such a clash did not serve his purpose. “Aye. I have an idea.”

  They rode on until they reached a shallow, rocky-bottomed burn. Instead of crossing, Dugan led his horse into the water. “We can follow the water for several miles. Which way is best, lass? Still toward Loch Monar?”

  She nodded.

  Dugan gestured for his men to ride ahead through the water. “ ’Twill be better for us all to throw Lieutenant Baird off our trail. We can afford to go a few miles out of our way if it keeps the lieutenant at bay.”

  Maura fought a sense of panic. She wasn’t sure she actually could lead them to Loch Aveboyne, and knew that if she didn’t manage to get them there fairly soon, she would have to tell Dugan about the clue on the back of the map. Then he’d have no reason to keep her with him. He could send her to Braemore with one of his men to wait for Baron Kildary while he and the others rode directly to Aveboyne without her.

  It was impossible to tell distances just from looking at the map. As Maura had already seen, there were no straight lines of travel in the mountains. There were glens and high passes, and she’d noticed that they’d needed to ride far out of their way to find passages they could use in getting to Caillich. And the heavy mists . . .

  But these were features that made travel just as difficult—if not more so—for Lieutenant Baird. Maura did not believe he was well traveled in the highlands. He could not possibly know the territory better than Dugan MacMillan.

  At least they could get to Loch Monar without much difficulty, for Dugan knew the way. Once they arrived there, it did not appear to be a long ride north to Loch Aveboyne.

  When they made camp that night, Maura needed to get her hands on the map and figure out the rest of the clue without letting Dugan or any of the men see what she was doing. She fe
lt certain there must be at least a few more words written on the back of that map, and hoped she could bring out the rest of the wax etchings by using a light coating of dirt or ash. The only problem with her plan was that Dugan was not likely to leave her alone with the map. Ever.

  She was just going to have to come up with some kind of distraction.

  Ye are as empty in soul as the mon ye seek to please.

  Lieutenant Baird batted at his ear to try and make the voice go away. “You are dead, hag,” he muttered under his breath. “Leave me be.”

  But she would not. Her wisp of a voice had followed him all along the mountain trail, taunting him. Accusing him. Making his head pound.

  It seemed the only thing that brought him any relief from the unrelenting headache was the promise of taking Maura Duncanson to some deserted promontory and shoving her off it, showing her what a wretched, inconsequential little worm of a female she was.

  His father would never have approved of a match between them, anyway. The eleventh child of an inconsequential earl? He’d heard she did not even have a proper dowry. Not after Aucharnie had married off her six elder sisters, proper ladies, every one of them.

  But Alastair intended to have his satisfaction for the way she’d rejected him and snubbed him in front of his men. And when he was through with her, she would be as humiliated and debased as was humanly possible. Then he would toss her over the cliff.

  He could be the hero of this tale, really. Catching up to the poor, distraught female and valiantly attempting to save the little wench from leaping over the edge to escape marriage to Kildary . . . But alas. She’d been a few too many steps ahead of him . . .

  Baird chuckled quietly. “Do you hear that, Father?” he murmured. “I did my best to save the earl’s errant daughter.”

  Alastair heard the whisper of a reply, but he could not quite make out his father’s words.

  ’Twas nearly nightfall when they stopped at a small copse of trees, and saw the walls of a large settlement ahead. It appeared to be a castle or town.

  A good night’s sleep in a proper bed after a decent meal would relieve his headache and perhaps rid him of the old witch’s persistent taunts. Damn her to hell, he’d killed her!

  He turned his attention to his surroundings. ’Twould not do for Higgins to take note of the voices that swirled ’round them. But Alastair was accustomed to them, or at least to his father’s voice.

  “We’ll make for the town walls,” he said. With any luck, he would find his wayward prey up there, and would be able to take her into his custody.

  Do not be a fool, Alastair. If you take her before witnesses . . .

  He heard his father’s voice clearly this time and knew that the general was correct, as always, though not usually so harsh. Alastair gave a shake of his head to throw off his father’s disdainful tone. The important thing was that if there were witnesses when he seized Maura Duncanson, he might not be able to play out the tempting little tableau he had planned for her.

  They started up the craggy terrain toward the walls. “Speak to no one about Lady Maura,” he said to his men. “Discretion is the most important thing.”

  “But Lieutenant, don’t we need to alert the authorities—the magistrate or whoever is in charge—that we’re looking for a—”

  “No! No. No need to foment a scandal, Higgins. Lord Aucharnie would want this handled quietly.”

  “Aye, sir. I understand, sir,” Higgins replied, but Baird took note of the strange look the corporal cast his way.

  Baird intended to keep an eye on the man.

  “ ’Twould be much easier for you to travel to Braemore, lass,” Dugan said, “and wait for word of our search. You would be comfortable there.”

  Maura turned and glared at him, raising one pale, shapely brow.

  He was unruffled. “The lads and I can go to the site you tell us, and if the gold is there, we will hasten home and prevent your going with Kildary.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  Aye. There was the rub. If it was not there, she would have to become Baroness Kildary, as much as Dugan might despise the notion of it. Mayhap ’twas so distasteful because her delectable backside happened to be wedged between his thighs.

  “Maura . . .” Hell, she had every reason not to trust him. Not that he felt any great obligation to trust her, either. She’d stolen his map and had tried to slip away from him. And now she refused to tell him what clue she’d seen on the map to show her where the gold was hidden.

  “My answer is no. I will take you to the site, and together we can find what treasure there might be.”

  Dugan hadn’t expected anything different, and he suppressed a grin at her audacity. She knew what was best for her, and was not about to relent. It was a quality to be respected.

  Among others he’d noted. Dugan breathed deeply of her scent and remembered the taste of her, the smooth silk of her skin. He leaned slightly forward and nuzzled her neck.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling away.

  “Tasting you. I’ve thought of little else since leaving your bed last night.”

  “Your men—”

  “Are far ahead of us. They will take no note.”

  “But I will,” she said.

  “Aye, lass. I am counting on it.”

  She stiffened. “You are going to make a spectacle of us.”

  “Only if you react as you did last night.” The thought of it made him want to take her off the path, lay her down in the soft grass, and have his way with her.

  “A gentleman would not speak of it.”

  “Ah, but no one said I was a gentleman, Maura. Least of all you.”

  He moved her hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck once again. “Do you know you have a pretty freckle here?”

  “No. And do not kiss me again!”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? No more kisses?”

  “Of course that’s what I want,” she retorted. “We should never have . . . I mean, I-I . . . Oh, you make me lose track of my thoughts!”

  Dugan smiled and pulled her against his chest. He let his thumbs drift up to the undersides of her breasts and caressed her there.

  “Dugan!”

  “You enjoyed it last night,” he said. “And when I suckled your nipples.”

  She shivered as though remembering. But her words went counter to what her body desired. “Please limit your contact to only what is necessary, Laird.”

  ’Twas torture holding her so close, and only made him want her more. He knew he ought to ease away, but could not find the discipline to do so.

  They might actually find the French gold, and then everything would change. Dugan would have the power to negotiate fair terms for the MacMillan lands—hell, he would buy them out from under Argyll and never pay another groat for rent. Then he would buy even more livestock and improve the arable land . . .

  And there would be no good reason to send Maura to Kildary. He could take her to Braemore and keep her with him.

  Dugan hadn’t met a woman he’d wanted to take to wife until now. He’d always known he wanted a braw lass who was steadfast and clever, one with a fire in her blood that could singe his soul. Maura aroused him like no other, and her lusty response to him when he’d taken her to bed was only part of it.

  There were lairds who liked their women docile and obedient. Dugan could think of few things as dull. His own tenacious woman would stand with him before his clan, support and sustain him through good times as well as troubled.

  He drew Maura close to his chest and rode on in the wake of his men. Once he had the gold in his possession, there would be no one to gainsay him. Dugan would escort Maura himself to Loch Camerochlan and collect her sister. Together they would take the wee lass to Braemore.

  As the day wore on, a thick mist enveloped them and Dugan lost sight of his men. The only audible sounds were those of Glencoe’s heavy breaths and the muffled sound of his hooves on the moist turf. Maura slept
for a time, awakening when ’twas barely possible to see a foot ahead of them.

  “It feels as though we’re alone in the world,” she said drowsily.

  “Aye.” If only it were so.

  “I never saw such a thick mist at Aucharnie.”

  Aucharnie? Maura’s body stiffened suddenly, and Dugan realized she’d divulged something she had not intended. His mind raced. He’d heard of the place . . .’Twas somewhere in the lowlands. He thought near Edinburgh.

  Aye. Aucharnie Castle. Belonging to Alec Duncanson, Earl of Aucharnie, elder brother of the man who’d ordered the slaughter at Glencoe.

  Dugan’s blood ran cold.

  “How do you know Aucharnie?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.

  “Dugan . . .”

  “How, lass?”

  She did not reply right away, but when she finally spoke, Dugan felt her shrink away from him. “I am Lord Aucharnie’s daughter.”

  Chapter 21

  He stopped them in their tracks. “You are a Duncanson?”

  Maura swallowed. Archie had told her of the events at Glencoe and what was known of the officers who had ordered the slaughter. Major Duncanson was her father’s brother. And Captain Robert Campbell was her mother’s uncle.

  Her blood could not be more tainted.

  Dugan dismounted and left her there atop Glencoe. The irony of it did not escape her.

  “Dugan?”

  She could not jump down and follow him because she was too far off the ground. But waiting while a hideous wave of guilt washed over her was not acceptable, either.

  She took up Glencoe’s reins and walked the horse through the mist in the direction Dugan had gone, aware that with one misstep, she could tumble over a cliff. She would massacre Glencoe all over again.

  “Dugan?”

  Dear God, he might have fallen.

  Maura had been dreaming while they rode, of possibilities. Of finding gold and having the freedom to choose her own destiny . . . a future that included Dugan. And Rosie, of course. She knew Dugan would not deny her sister a safe refuge at his holding.