My Rebel Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  Calla froze and dared not even breathe too heavily. If she made a small sound, they might hear her.

  "Slàinte." Glasses clinked. "A toast to your bonny new daughter," Rebbie said. "When she reaches eighteen summers, may all the rogues in Scotland be chasing after her skirts."

  "Och! What kind of hellish curse is that?" Lachlan demanded.

  Rebbie laughed. "Dirk told me to tell you he hopes you have ten daughters and one son. You ken why, being a former rogue and all."

  "Devil take you both," Lachlan muttered. Though Calla could tell by his tone he was not serious or angry about his friend's teasing.

  "Nay," Rebbie said. "In truth, I hope you have many more healthy daughters and sons."

  "I thank you. And I hope you do, too, with your young wife-to-be."

  "I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Rebbie said dryly and downed the dram of whisky.

  "So, tell me of your travels since you left here with Dirk last November."

  As Rebbie began his tale, Calla placed the candleholder upon the stone floor of the passage and seated herself on a low step of the narrow stairwell. The men talked for what had to be an hour or longer about Rebbie's adventures, traveling to Durness and other places. He had tangled with highwaymen, a band of outlaws, and various clans while fighting to protect his friends. Another time, he was knocked out when a clan chief tried to force him to marry his daughter.

  Thinking at first that she would be bored with this recounting, Calla shook her head. She would never tire of listening to Rebbie talk. His deep voice held a hint of a rolling Highland burr that lured her and trapped her, spellbound to his story. His dry sense of humor often showed through, causing Lachlan to laugh. She smiled, both in amusement at his story and because she was enjoying learning more about him. She could not believe how often and how boldly he'd charged into danger.

  Closing her eyes, she remembered his voice, murmuring into her ear that night. Words of affection and praise. He'd called her lass, since he didn't know her name. He'd even used a few Gaelic endearments—at least, she'd assumed they were endearments—and refused to tell her what they meant.

  "How about a game of cards? Then, I'm turning in for the night," Lachlan said.

  "Aye, what's your wager?" Rebbie asked.

  Calla frowned. She did not care to listen to this. She hated gambling with a passion, for her late husband had lost everything to gambling just before he was killed, leaving her and her son penniless. Besides, she needed to leave the passage before Lachlan joined Angelique in the bedchamber, else Calla would be trapped here all night.

  She stood and bent to pick up the candleholder but her hand encountered something furry instead. In her panic to draw her hand away, she gasped and leapt back. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  "What was that?" Rebbie asked.

  "Someone is in the secret passage!" Lachlan growled. "Come. We'll catch them." They bolted from the library.

  Blast! Calla kicked in the general area where the rat had been and picked up the candleholder, then she scurried as quickly as she could to the steps that led up to the laird's bedchamber. Oh dear God, at all costs, they could not catch her. How mortifying that would be. She scuttled up the steps. At the top, she shoved the tapestry aside and emerged in the empty bedchamber. Not taking the time to close the door—she knew not how anyway—she ran from the room and into Angelique's sitting room where she sat holding her wee daughter. Calla feared if she fled into the corridor, she would run right into the men.

  "What is wrong?" Angelique rose to her feet.

  "They were in the library—Lachlan and Rebbinglen—and heard me," she whispered loudly, gasping for breath. She pressed a hand to her thundering heart. "They're on their way up here."

  "Oh!" Angelique glanced about wide-eyed. "Go into the nursery and close the door," she whispered. "I doubt they'll look in there."

  ***

  Rebbie followed Lachlan quickly up the narrow spiral stairs and toward his bedchamber. Who on earth could've been spying on them from the hidden passage? It wasn't as if they were discussing secrets of the monarchy or anything of vital importance. Lachlan burst into his sitting room, then rushed into the connecting chamber. He charged to the tapestry and drew it back.

  "The door is open!" He turned around, a furious frown upon his face. He stormed from the room into Angelique's sitting room. Rebbie followed but stood at the open door.

  "Was anyone in here?" Lachlan asked Angelique.

  Sitting on a floral, padded settle near the fireplace, she frowned up at him. "What do you mean?"

  "Someone was in the secret passage, spying on us in the library. They exited into our bedchamber. The passage door was open."

  "Oh." Angelique wore a surprised expression. "Who could it have been?"

  Lachlan narrowed his eyes. "There better damn well not be more clan traitors wriggling from the stones like wee worms."

  "I doubt that, mon coeur," Angelique said. "The traitors were weeded out last November."

  "Aye, but who else would want to use the passages?" Lachlan said as if to himself. "I'm going down in there and see if they left anything."

  "I'll go with you," Rebbie offered.

  Lachlan nodded. "We'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another! In the meantime, bar the doors," he told her.

  ***

  Edward Claybourne opened the small pouch and poured a few silver coins into his palm, then glared at Hobbs, the messenger who'd brought them. "This is all she sent?" he demanded.

  Hobbs shifted his worn out boots upon the cobblestones outside the front door of Claybourne's new mansion. "Aye, sir."

  "Or are you skimming most of it?"

  "Nay, I swear I didn't open the pouch since she placed it into my hand."

  "Well… this just won't do," Claybourne muttered. The lady owed him over fifty thousand pounds. At this rate, he'd be an old decrepit man before he received the final payment. Besides, there was something he wanted far more than silver—he grinned—the lady, herself.

  Aye, if she would agree to spend a few nights in his bed, he would consider the entire debt paid in full. Aside from that, her husband had wagered her. Claybourne chuckled. He deserved what he'd won, fair and square.

  Hobbs' eyes grew wide and he took a few steps back.

  Claybourne glared. "What are you afraid of, old man?"

  He shook his head and gave a hint of a shrug.

  "Where is she?" Claybourne demanded.

  "Pray pardon?"

  "Don't act daft with me. Where is Lady Stanbury?"

  "Travelin'. I know not where she will be next."

  "That is a lie. How else would you know where to pick up her next payment?"

  "Eh." The man's gaze darted about.

  "Exactly. When are you to meet her next?"

  "Eh… um… in a week's time, m'laird."

  "Excellent. Now, I'm going to make you a deal you cannot refuse." For if he did, he would find himself at the bottom of the river. "I will give you hospitality in my dungeon and then next week, I'll give you your freedom, after you lead me to Lady Stanbury."

  Hobbs blanched. "But… sir… she's doin' her best on paying back Laird Stanbury's debt. 'Tweren't none of her fault what her husband done."

  "You misunderstand me. I don't blame her."

  Hobbs frowned.

  "But I do hold her accountable." Claybourne smiled, growing excited at the prospect of receiving his payment from the voluptuous, fair-haired beauty next week.

  Chapter Three

  A knock sounded at the door and Calla startled awake. Blast! She had only just fallen asleep after dawn. Having almost been caught by Rebbie and Lachlan the night before had frayed her nerves terribly, and she had gotten little sleep. How daft of her. She should've never spied on them.

  Thankfully, when the two men had gone into the secret passages to investigate, she had been able to leave the nursery and return to the chamber she shared with Elena. She was greatly relieved the men had not caught her. She
could only imagine what they would think. Rebbie, no doubt, would discern the truth, because he would surely recognize her.

  She wished the mattress would open up and swallow her. No such luck.

  At the door, a louder knock pounded this time.

  "Who is it?" Calla called.

  "'Tis only me, m'lady." Constance, one of Elena's maids, entered. "I'm here to help you both dress for breaking your fast."

  Ugh. Calla's stomach revolted at the very idea of eating. She knew it couldn't be morning sickness, for she hadn't been with a man in years. 'Twas simply the anxiety from having almost been caught in the secret passages the night before, and the realization, once again, that she couldn't avoid meeting the earl.

  "Rise and shine, both of you." Constance turned to Calla. "Laird Barclay says you need to accompany Lady Elena this morn, for her mother is going to rest a bit longer in her chamber."

  Well, Calla had gotten out of supper; she supposed she couldn't escape breakfast as well. She was going to have to grind her teeth and do what had to be done, as she had been doing since her sixteenth year.

  She arose from the bed and splashed cold water on her face and puffy eyes. How grand; she would likely look atrocious when she again met Laird Rebbinglen. If her eyes were too swollen, mayhap he wouldn't recognize her at all.

  If only she could be so fortunate. But, nay, he was a highly intelligent man and would likely recognize her immediately.

  Would he embarrass her outright?

  She tried to put it from her mind, but her stomach ached as she followed Elena down the steps to the great hall a half hour later. Once in the large room, she searched but did not see Laird Rebbinglen as of yet. She released a sigh of relief, though she knew it would be short-lived. If only she could wear a cowl or veil, but everyone would think her mad.

  Glad to see Angelique would be joining them for breakfast, Calla spoke to her briefly before her friend rushed off to speak to the housekeeper. If Rebbie were to cause a scene, Calla would at least have someone on her side.

  Moments later, Rebbie entered the room with Lachlan. The two were conversing and chuckling over something, and though she tried not to stare, she could not help but notice Rebbie's heart-stopping grin. How many times had she seen the same grin on her wee son's face?

  She and Elena were directly in his path. Oh, dear Lord help me! She averted her gaze and stared at the floor.

  Please do not let him remember me.

  "A good morn to you, Lady Elena." He gave an abbreviated bow and did not kiss her hand, Calla noted.

  "Laird Rebbinglen, good morn," Elena responded with a curtsy. "This is my cousin and companion, Lady Stanbury."

  "My laird," Calla mumbled and curtseyed, still not looking up at him.

  "Lady Stanbury?" The tone he used was more than a courteous greeting. It held a question and much curiosity.

  Bracing herself, she lifted her gaze to his. His eyes widened for an instant, then he quirked his brows. Blast! He had recognized her. She wished she could vanish like mist touched by the sun.

  Trapped by the intensity of his midnight gaze, she found herself unable to look away.

  He searched her face, then bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, m'lady."

  Holding her breath, she prayed he would not reveal their past association.

  To Calla, all was a fog as they were seated at the high table. She found herself sitting between Elena and Angelique, which Calla was glad for. She did not wish to be near Laird Rebbinglen at all. Well, not because he wasn't attractive, because he certainly was. But who knew what he would say to her?

  ***

  What the devil had just happened? Rebbie glanced over Lady Elena's head at Lady Stanbury. Her curled, honey-blond hair, pulled back in a stylish knot, gleamed in the morning light streaming in the narrow window. He remembered her from several years ago. Though he'd had many trysts with ladies over the years, she was one he remembered well. How long had it been? Four years? Five years? All he knew for certain was he'd spent one unforgettable night with her in Stirling at an inn.

  He darted another glance her way. Damnation, but she was lovely, her skin like cream and her cheeks rosy.

  "What's wrong?" Lachlan asked beside him, taking a bite out of a bannock.

  "Naught. Why do you ask?"

  "You're not eating. You're silent for the first time in your life, and you look like you've seen a ghost."

  Humph. Well, 'twas almost like seeing a ghost from his past. A woman he thought he'd never see again—but how he'd wanted to. One night of passionate bedsport and he'd been addicted to her. In fact, he'd searched for her.

  Rebbie shook his head. "Just a bit tired." What a lie. He'd never felt more wound-up in his life. Or was he tense? Whatever it was, he was not accustomed to it and he sure as hell didn't like it.

  "You won't feel like going out for a ride with us later, then?" Lachlan asked.

  "Aye, I will." He was ready to ride across the moor like a madman, as fast as Devil's long legs would carry him.

  "We're going to have a grand céilidh tonight."

  Rebbie glared at him. It better not be because of his sham of a betrothal to Elena. For it did not truly exist. "Why?"

  Lachlan shrugged. "'Tis Angelique's idea. She's had the servants working at it all week. And we do have several esteemed guests at the moment. 'Twill be our pleasure to entertain all of you."

  Rebbie hoped that's all it was. He would have to make certain neither his father nor Barclay made any announcements about nonexistent nuptials.

  Mayhap he should go ahead and tell her father nay and take his leave. 'Twould be best to make a clean break. But… he darted a glance toward Lady Stanbury… what was her first name? They had not exchanged names all those years ago; she'd insisted on that. And no one here had told him. He couldn't leave until he learned that much, at least. Was she married? A widow? 'Twas bizarre to realize he knew naught about her and yet… they had shared a most intimate and scorching experience.

  ***

  After breakfast, Calla and Elena headed back to their chamber and Calla was glad. The meal had been a tense affair as she'd tried not to glance past Elena toward Rebbie. The girl had tried to start up a couple of conversations with him but they'd gone nowhere. With her stomach so queasy, Calla had hardly gotten a few bites down.

  "Calla," someone called in a loud whisper behind her. She turned to find Angelique in the corridor holding her bairn. She motioned toward her sitting room.

  Calla smiled, glad she had a new friend she'd grown close to so quickly. Elena might be her cousin, but she couldn't say they were friends exactly.

  Once Calla was inside, Angelique closed the sitting room door. "Have a seat. I just wanted to talk for a minute while Lachlan and the men are out at the stables."

  Calla nodded, lowering herself to one of the padded chairs.

  "You met Rebbie. What do you think of him?"

  A flush of heat overcame her. She averted her face and hoped her friend wouldn't notice. "Oh… well… he is a handsome man, of course."

  "Oui. I hope you were not overly upset by what happened in the secret passage. One time, Lachlan almost caught me in there, spying on him, so I know how unsettling it can be." But contrary to her words, she smiled in a whimsical way as if a fond memory had taken over her mind.

  "I was worried they'd find out 'twas me," Calla said. "How mortifying that would be."

  "Indeed. You were in there a long while. I didn't get an opportunity to ask last night—did you learn anything interesting?" Angelique inquired with a curious smile.

  Calla squirmed upon her seat. "Nay. You didn't tell the laird, did you?" Because if she had, no doubt Lachlan would tell Rebbie, and then… she hated to think of the consequences.

  "Non." Angelique sat and rocked the babe. "I refused to tell him who had been in the passage and he was quite vexed with me." She grinned like a mischievous fae.

  "Oh, I'm sorry if I caused strife between you and your husband."

  "No
n, do not apologize, mon amie." Angelique snickered. "'Twas fun. We have not had such fiery… you know… since a few months before Hannah's birth."

  Calla's eyes widened at that admission, then she smiled. "Oh, well… I'm glad I could help, then."

  Angelique giggled.

  "'Tis good he didn't punish you for not telling him the truth."

  Angelique waved a hand. "Oh, non, he would never do that. Lachlan is a most indulgent husband. I love him so much," she mused.

  Calla blinked against the sudden stinging in her eyes, for she often sensed the emotion between them, just in the way they looked at each other. "I can see that, and I think it's wonderful."

  "Do you think Rebbie will make a good husband for Elena?" Angelique asked.

  His name sent a flush of awareness over Calla. "I'm not certain," she said, remembering how Rebbie had paid the girl little attention during supper or breakfast.

  Angelique's green eyes widened. "Why not?"

  "He does not seem overly interested in her." And he'd said he would burn the contract. Her heart lightened at that revelation, though she knew not why. 'Twas none of her concern.

  "Ah. I will have to ask him if he finds her pretty."

  "In truth?" Calla thought Angelique was indeed brave if she was going to ask him that.

  "Oui, he will tell me the truth. Whoever he marries, I'm certain he will treat her well."

  Calla believed the same thing. "He seems an honorable gentleman and laird."

  "Indeed. Have you thought about marrying again?"

  "Oh. Nay." Why on earth would Angelique ask her that while they were speaking of Rebbie? As if she'd been drenched all over with hot water, she felt scorched of a sudden.

  "Pourquoi? You are a very beautiful woman. I'm certain many lairds would be interested in vying for your hand."

  Calla shook her head. "My marriage was… a chore. I don't wish a repeat of it." She hadn't told Angelique about the massive debt her late husband had left her, although Angelique knew she was strapped for money. No man would want such a problem. Most lairds married in order to bring more wealth into their estate, not the opposite.