Temptation in a Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  Aisling sniffled. “Och, my bairn. Teàrlach, I love ye. My sweet, sweet bairn. Rosalia, feel through the bars and feel he is well. He only sleeps.”

  Her cheeks were wet with tears. “Aye, Aisling. He only sleeps. Liadain, we donna know how to thank ye for caring for Teàrlach.”

  “Will ye tell me when ye think your men will come for ye?” asked Liadain. Both Rosalia and Aisling were quiet. So far Liadain kept true to her word, but Rosalia did not know how much she was willing to share with her. Apparently, Aisling felt the same.

  “Ye still donna trust me? I have been trying to search for your men in the woods, but I havenae even seen a scout. I only ask because I can lead ye out to them when they arrive, but I cannae lead them in.”

  “I donna understand what difference that would make. If ye are willing to help us, why cannae ye lead them in? We risk capture or worse if we take our leave,” said Aisling.

  There was a heavy silence.

  “’Tisnae safe for ye with the bairn. I donna agree with the ways of the Campbell, and I will be willing to lead ye out when your men arrive. I willnae lead MacGregor men in and send the Campbell to his death. He has chosen his path, and whatever his fate, I willnae be the one to send him to it.” She paused and then spoke in hushed tones. “He is my brother.”

  Rosalia was speechless, but Aisling found her voice. “Your brother?”

  “We share the same father but have a different mother. Nay matter, he is still my blood.”

  Rosalia’s fumbling fingers found Aisling’s arm. “We understand, Liadain. Ye cannae choose your family as much as ye cannae control their actions. Our men willnae come for us now. Mayhap on the morrow or the following day, but nae now. We place our trust in ye with that.”

  “I will watch for them on the morrow then. I will take Teàrlach first to ensure his safety and then I will come back for ye. Would ye like to kiss your son before I take my leave?”

  “Verra much,” said Aisling joyfully.

  “I will hold him up. Feel for him.”

  Aisling kissed Teàrlach and he stirred. “I owe ye much, Liadain. Ye saved me and my son.”

  “Mòran taing,” Rosalia said sincerely.

  Sixteen

  The past two days had been hell for all of them. They had reviewed the plan so many times that Ciaran dreamt of every last detail in his sleep. It took all of his strength to physically hold back and not storm the Campbells’ gates. Fear and anger knotted inside him. He had never prayed so much in his life. Rosalia was safe—she had to be for he would accept nothing less. Declan, Aiden, and Calum had left early in the morn to move into position. This had to work. They would have no other chance.

  “My men are ready, MacGregor,” said Alexander with an air of calm and confidence.

  “My laird, the men, and the horses are readied,” called Seumas.

  Ciaran nodded and ran his hand through his hair. “Let us rescue our women,” he said firmly.

  Ciaran mounted Noonie. He would ride with Alexander and his men, and Seumas and Ciaran’s own men would follow behind. When everyone was in position, they would make their move.

  ***

  Declan, Aiden, and Calum secured their mounts deep in the forest and proceeded on foot. By the time the sun cast its first rays of light, they were ready and waiting. They would lurk in the brush to see if someone entered another way into the stronghold. If that did not work, they would force their way in when Ciaran and Alexander arrived.

  Declan wished to slit every last one of the Campbells’ throats, but he would be logical. He would at least wait until they were shown a way in. Each one of them was spread out strategically around the castle watching for an opportunity to present itself. The rustling of tree branches caught Declan’s attention. A woman walked through the forest unaware of the danger that awaited her underneath the brush.

  Her tresses were the black of a starless night and hung down her back. She wore a cloak, but when it parted, generous curves were displayed underneath. There was both delicacy and strength in her face. The flush on her pale cheeks was like the flush of sunset on the snow. She looked ethereal, unreal in the sun’s early rays. She was… enchanting. Who was this woman who cast such a spell? She carried herself confidently and was unaware of the appreciative glances he cast upon her. As if she sensed his presence, she stopped. When a shadow of alarm touched her face, he knew he had to make his move.

  Declan sprang from the brush as if his arse was afire and she let out a startled yelp. “Donna move,” he threatened, placing his dagger to her throat. “If ye scream, ye will die. Do ye understand?”

  She started to tremble. “Aye,” she whispered.

  “I see ye are a woman of intelligence. Move out of the view of the guards,” he ordered. He continued to hold the dagger to her throat and moved her flush against the castle wall. He spun her around to face him, replacing the blade to her throat. “Who are ye?”

  “Ye donna need the dagger,” she choked out.

  He tilted his brow, looking at her with uncertainty. “Nay? Why donna ye let me decide what is needed. I willnae ask ye again. Who are ye?” he repeated.

  “Are ye Aiden?” she asked him searchingly.

  His annoyance increased when he felt her hands trembling between them. He glared at her, frowning. “Howbeit I ask the questions since I am the one holding the weapon. Ye will show me the way into the castle.” Removing the dagger from her neck, he pulled her away from the wall and gently pushed her to walk in front of him.

  She stopped but did not turn around. “Please listen to me. I will bring your son and your wife out to ye now, but I cannae lead ye in,” she said, slowly turning around to face him. She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his gaze.

  Their eyes met and a shock ran through him. This woman stood before him visibly shaking, but boldly challenging him. He gave her a roguish grin. “My apologies. Did ye feel ye had a voice in which to bargain?” He simply raised his brow and waited.

  She was obviously irked by his cool, aloof manner because she mocked his stance and also raised her brow, folding her arms over her chest. They simply stared at each other across a sudden silence and she showed no signs of relenting. He must find a way to breach the castle walls and did not have time for the foolish games of a woman. Forcefully, he grabbed her arm and led her in the same direction from which she had hailed.

  Her feet stumbled to keep up with him. “Ye are hurting me,” she said breathlessly.

  He eased his grip but did not release her. “If ye donna show me how to get into the castle, ye will be dead.”

  “So ye have said,” she said dryly, stopping again. “Aiden, please. I have spoken to Aisling and Rosalia. They know I will bring your son to ye. Ye must release me so I am able to get him out unharmed.”

  Declan tilted his brow, looking at her doubtfully. “Now isnae that convenient? I am to believe those words so ye can… set another trap for us?” He gave her a mocking smile. “I have had enough of ye bloody Campbells and your lies to last my life,” he bit out. “Show me the way into the castle. Now…”

  The raven beauty stood in front of him still boldly defying his demands. “Please let me bring ye your son, Aiden. When ye see he is unharmed and nay warning is called, ye will see I speak the truth. I will help ye, but I cannae lead ye in. I can only bring them out.”

  His face clouded with uneasiness. “Why should I trust ye?” he asked. “Who are ye?”

  She bit her lip and looked away from him. “I am Liadain,” she relented, pushing her black tresses out of her eyes. “I am the healer.”

  “If ye want to help and are willing to bring them out, why willnae ye lead me in?” he asked her searchingly.

  She set her chin in a stubborn line. “The Campbell is many things, but I willnae be the one to lead him to his death. He willnae die by
my hand.” She extended her hand and touched him on the arm. “Please, Aiden. Ye waste much time. Let me bring ye your son.” She reached out and clutched his hand. “Please.”

  Declan prayed he was not going to regret this decision. “Bring them out safely. I will be here.”

  A thankful smile curved her mouth. “Thank ye. I will return as quickly as I can. Watch above for the guard.” As she walked away with long, purposeful strides, he thought she had better be true to her word or he would—well, he was not sure what he would do to her. On that notion, he had better find Aiden.

  He jumped at the sound of Aiden’s voice. “God’s teeth! I didnae even see ye,” he said, grabbing his chest. “I found a woman who will help us. She is going to bring Teàrlach out. We need to wait for her here.”

  Aiden’s expression stilled and grew serious. “How do ye know ’tisnae a trap?”

  He gave an impatient shrug. “I donna, but she didnae raise a warning and took her leave to bring out your son.”

  “Then let us get my son.”

  Declan and Aiden waited impatiently for Liadain, deciding to leave Calum on the other side of the castle in case it was a trap. A branch snapped and they both drew their swords. Aiden let out a long, audible breath. “My son.” When Liadain’s steps slowed, he approached her quickly, sheathing his sword. He reached for Teàrlach, but Liadain continued to hold him in a protective embrace.

  Her eyes were sharp and assessing. “I assure ye he is well. Mayhap ye should let his father hold him,” she chided him.

  Aiden gave her a look of utter nonbelief. “Give me my son,” he demanded, pulling Teàrlach from her arms.

  “Your son?” Disconcerted, she crossed her arms and glared at Declan.

  He shrugged dismissively. “I didnae tell ye I was Aiden,” he countered.

  She whipped her head away from him, clearly dismissing him and giving Aiden her undivided attention. “Aisling is well. I will bring her out next. I am thinking to bring them out one at a time lest I draw suspicion if guards are making rounds.”

  He offered her a forgiving smile. “That is wise. Ye have my thanks… er?

  “Liadain,” she simply stated. She turned on her heel, walking away in the direction from which she came.

  “Declan, find Calum. We need to get Teàrlach and the women far from here.”

  “Aye.” It did not take him long to return with Calum. Aisling was out and Liadain had already gone back for Rosalia.

  His brother exhaled a long sigh of contentment and kissed Aisling and Teàrlach on the head. “There will be plenty of time for us later, Wife. Take your leave now with Calum back to Glenorchy, and I will have Declan follow with Rosalia.” He placed his hand to her face and brushed a soft kiss to her lips. “I love ye, Aisling.”

  “And I love ye, Aiden.” She opened her eyes, and suddenly her smile faded. “Aiden, I want ye to kill the Campbell,” she spoke with bitterness.

  Declan cleared his throat. “Aiden, they must take their leave. ’Tis too dangerous for them here.”

  Aiden gazed at her intently. “Ye have my word. His fate is sealed. Ye must take your leave.” He placed Teàrlach into her arms and watched them walk into the trees with Calum.

  Declan placed his hand on Aiden’s shoulder in a brotherly gesture. “They are safe, Brother.”

  He closed his eyes. “Aye,” he said in a choked voice.

  Liadain approached them with a pensive look upon her face. “The Campbell has Rosalia.”

  ***

  When Liadain came to their darkened door and said that Aiden was waiting, Rosalia and Aisling were overjoyed. Teàrlach had already been delivered safely into his father’s arms, and relief flooded Aisling. Liadain said, “Aisling, ye first and I will come back for Rosalia. If the guards come, she may be able to distract them long enough for ye to escape. If both of ye arenae here, they may raise a warning.”

  Aisling grabbed Rosalia’s arm. “I willnae take my leave without ye.”

  “Ye can and ye will. Ye have Teàrlach to think upon. Take your leave quickly, and then Liadain can come back for me and we can escape this madness,” Rosalia said reassuringly, squeezing her hand.

  Aisling embraced her. “I love ye, Sister. Ye make haste.”

  “Donna ye worry,” Rosalia said, pushing her gently out the door. She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, waiting impatiently by the door for Liadain’s return. Half in anticipation and half in dread, she prayed their attempts would not be discovered. Then torchlight approached from the opposite direction.

  The guards swung open the door. One of them pushed the torch through the doorway and looked around. “Where is the other MacGregor wench?” he bit out.

  Rosalia shrugged dismissively, and the man walked forward with purposeful strides. “The Campbell wants to see ye, MacGregor whore.” She had no choice but to follow the guards up the stone staircase. When she reached the top, her steps slowed and she raised her hand over her brow. The light was painful.

  Upon her entrance to the great hall, the guard informed the Campbell that Aisling was missing. He stood there, tall and angry. He bellowed instructions to a handful of guards, and they hurried away to do his bidding.

  The Campbell whirled to stare at her, anger rising further in his eyes. “I donna know how that red-haired siren escaped my walls, but how fortunate for me that ye are still within my grasp,” he said, his voice belligerent. “The MacGregor wishes to speak with me for your release. Verra clever of ye to attempt to deceive me that he doesnae care for ye.”

  She regarded him impassively.

  “I told ye he would come for her, Archie,” Beathag said smugly, clapping her hands together in front of her.

  The Campbell ignored her as did Rosalia. Shouting to his guards, he instructed them to permit Ciaran in the gates. Beathag slithered over to Rosalia like a snake ready to devour a meal. “I warned ye to stay away from Ciaran. Now ye will watch him die,” she said with satisfaction in her eyes.

  At this point, Rosalia was beyond intimidation. Aisling and Teàrlach had escaped, and she had nothing more to lose. If this was her fate, so be it. She quickly waved aside any hesitation. “What do ye know? Ye are naught more than a whore. ’Tis ye who has sealed your fate, and I shall find great pleasure in watching ye die when Ciaran comes for me.”

  Beathag paled.

  A guardsman walked toward the Campbell, drops of moisture clinging to his forehead. “My laird, ’tisnae the MacGregor at your gates.”

  “What do ye mean ’tisnae the MacGregor at my gates? Who else would it be?” the Campbell bellowed, his dark eyes showing nonbelief. The guard’s voice drifted into a hushed whisper. The Campbell whispered a response and watched him depart. Running his hand through his hair, he began to pace.

  Everything in the hall was so quiet that Rosalia could hear the sound of her own breath. She was not sure what was occurring, but it was obvious the Campbell was unnerved. He hesitated in mid-stride as a man entered the hall flanked by several guards in full battle attire. Additional Campbell guardsmen followed them in with watchful eyes, standing strategically around them. From her count, there was roughly a score of men including the Campbell’s own guard.

  The man’s thick brown hair was tapered neatly at his neck. He was much younger than the Campbell but had an air of authority and the appearance of one who demanded instant obedience. He approached the Campbell with regal elegance and gave him a courtly bow. “Pray allow me to introduce myself. I am Alexander MacDonell. I come on behalf of my father, Laird Dòmhnall MacDonell of Glengarry, who maintains King James’s alliances in the north. I have come to understand ye hold my cousin, Lady Rosalia Armstrong. I am here to escort her safely to Glengarry to my father.”

  Cousin? She did not even know she had a cousin.

  The Campbell’s eyes grew openly amused. “Pray
allow me to introduce myself,” he said, giving him a mock bow. “I am Archibald Campbell, seventh Earl of Argyll, who maintains King James’s alliances as well. Mayhap ye have heard more of me, eh? Aye, I have your cousin.” He regarded Alexander then turned, casting Rosalia a look of disdain.

  When Alexander spoke again, his voice was cold and exact. “Ye will release my cousin to me. Now,” he demanded, his guards reaching for the hilt of their swords.

  The Campbell was casually amused and started to pace in front of Alexander. He tapped his fingers to his lips. “Verra clever, but nae clever enough to outwit a Campbell,” he smirked, taking an abrupt step toward him. Alexander did not move and simply raised his brow, a swath of wavy hair falling casually on his forehead.

  “Your error was claiming the MacDonell is the cousin of the MacGregor whore. The MacGregor sent this whelp to rescue his woman?” he said tauntingly, turning and jesting with his men. The men laughed at his remark as he turned back to Alexander and snarled, “Ye see… she comes from Liddesdale and is merely a whore.”

  Rosalia remained perfectly still and tried weighing the whole structure of events. Frankly, she was perplexed.

  “Archie,” Beathag warned.

  He silenced her with a cold stare.

  Alexander stood to his full height and placed his hands behind his back as the Campbell studied him. “Ye donna understand what I speak. The MacDonell isnae the cousin of Rosalia. He is her uncle. I am her cousin,” he said, his voice resonant and impressive.

  Hesitantly, Beathag moved to stand beside the Campbell. “Archie,” she said, raising her voice and reaching out to touch his arm. When he still paid her no heed, she awkwardly cleared her throat.

  “What do ye want, cousin? Ye see I am speaking,” he said in an irritated tone.

  ***

  Ciaran tried not to watch Rosalia, but he could not help himself. He needed to ensure she was well. She was obviously puzzled by Alexander’s sudden appearance, but she was an intelligent lass. She would know he would plan to come for her. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Although the Campbell did not recognize him due to his strategically placed head gear, he must be ready for anything.