The Highlander’s Defiant Captive: The Lairds Most Likely Book 4

by Anna Campbell

  The Mackinnon was true to his word and left them alone. That was confirmation enough that there was no escape from this garden.

  "Och, Mistress Mhairi, what has that beast done to ye? I felt sick last night when I watched him carry ye off to be ravished." Flossie rushed up and flung her arms around her. "Ye puir wee lassie. What you've gone through, and nobody near to offer ye a kind word."

  Actually that wasn't quite true, Mhairi realized with a shock. If one set aside snatching her in the first place, the Mackinnon had often been kind to her, and in the face of strong provocation not to be, too. Jean had also been kind – and she had no reason to love anyone called Drummond.

  Flossie drew back and stared at her with concerned brown eyes. "Are ye all right? I've been fair fashed about ye."

  Mhairi took the maid's hands and studied the familiar, narrow features under the coronet of brown plaits. "I'm fine, Flossie."

  The girl looked puzzled, her brows drawing together in her freckled face. "But…"

  "The Mackinnon didnae lay a finger on me. It was all a show."

  Flossie didn't look convinced. "But everyone saw him carry ye off, and he looked ready to do murder, although he put a good face on it. Ye shouldnae have thrown that wine at him."

  "He shouldnae tell everyone I'm marrying him."

  Flossie's eyes went as round as pennies. "Och, you're so brave. He fair makes me shiver in my shoes, even if he is such a handsome devil. Are ye sure he didnae tumble you last night?"

  To her surprise, Mhairi laughed. She hadn’t laughed properly since the Mackinnon had stolen her away from Bruard. "I'm sure I'd know if he had. Jean stayed with us all night." Some inexplicable impulse made her reluctant to tell Flossie that Jean had locked the laird out in the cold.

  "He hasnae hurt ye otherwise?"

  "No, I’ve been treated well."

  "Och, that’s such a relief."

  "What about ye? It's all my fault that you're here. What happened when they took you?"

  "I made a bit of noise at first, but Duff and I soon found a way to go on."

  "Did he…"

  Flossie shook her head. "He showed me the greatest respect. They’ve put me to work in the kitchens, and I sleep under Jean’s eye in a room with two of the other girls. She willnae let the laddies into the maids' quarters to do mischief. This is a gey well-run household – and a rich one. The servants eat as well as a man-at-arms in your father's keep."

  "Flossie, they're Mackinnons," Mhairi protested.

  A stubborn expression settled on Flossie's face. "Aye, they are, and I'm a Drummond. But I never bought into the feud. Why should I? Nae Mackinnon did me wrong, and I have nae plans for doing wrong by a Mackinnon."

  "Ye never said."

  "It never came up. It seems to me that too many have died on both sides without a halfpenny's worth of gain. It's grown men acting like bairns. High time everybody grew up."

  Mhairi could hardly believe she heard her dearest friend repeating the Mackinnon's arguments for peace.

  "Are ye saying I should marry Black Callum?" Sarcasm weighted the question.

  Flossie shrugged and answered sincerely. "All his people love him, and it's clear living here that he’s a good laird. He’s young and vigorous, and a fine-looking laddie. Unless I'm mistaken, he's got an eye for ye. If he hasnae raised a hand to ye yet, I'd say he's a kind man as well."

  "Ye called him a beast a few minutes ago."

  Flossie’s lips pursed. “That’s only because I thought he’d had his way with ye."

  Disturbed to her soul, Mhairi dropped Flossie's hands and stepped away. "I cannae believe you're saying this. They stole us both away from our home."

  "Och, Mhairi, ye need to look to your future. You're not the first Highland bride who found a good husband after a rough wooing. Is ending the feud no’ enough to make ye look on the laddie with favor?"

  Bewildered, Mhairi surveyed her maid. It was as if all their years together had left them strangers. "My father would never forgive me."

  Flossie looked sulky. "Your father isnae perfect, Mhairi. He's indulged ye and given you your own way, but things havenae been so good for the rest of us at Bruard."

  "Flossie…" She was torn between anger at the girl's disloyalty and hurt that Flossie had hidden so much from her. Flossie had served her for the last ten years, and Mhairi had imagined they had no secrets from each other.

  "Och, my lady, dinnae mind me." Flossie made an apologetic gesture. "I'm spoiling our meeting. I’m so happy to know naught bad has happened to ye here."

  Apart from being kidnapped and locked up, and losing her good name. No, naught bad at all.

  But her relationship with Flossie had changed in the last minutes, and Mhairi didn't voice the sardonic rejoinder.

  Anyway, she had something important to say to her maid while they were alone. The Mackinnon had said half an hour. She wasn't sure how much time they had left.

  Mhairi drew Flossie further away from the door, although she couldn't imagine the proud Laird of Achnasheen pressing his ear to the wood to eavesdrop.

  "Flossie, listen to me, we havenae got long. Do ye know Sheena?"

  Flossie eyed her warily. "Aye."

  "She's going to help me to escape. Ye can come, too."

  "She’s sly and spiteful, that Sheena. I wouldnae trust her an inch."

  Mhairi frowned, although given their discussion, this lack of enthusiasm shouldn't come as a surprise. "She's the only person who has offered to help me. It might be our one chance to go home. Surely you cannae want to stay here with these barbarians who snatched ye away from your kin."

  Flossie shrugged. "From what I've seen so far, life is better here than in Bruard. Duff says…"

  Mhairi recalled a previous mention of Duff. "He's the man who took ye."

  Flossie flushed and avoided her eyes. "Aye."

  "The man who wears the eyepatch."

  "Aye, a Drummond knife cost him half his sight, but he doesnae hold that against me."

  "I've got a feeling that you might be holding him against ye, despite Jean's best efforts at watching over your virtue."

  The girl shifted uncomfortably. "What if we've shared a kiss or two? I like him and he likes me."

  This was a disaster. "Flossie, you've only been here a few days. How can ye change so dramatically?"

  "This is a good place. I knew it was, the moment I set foot here. If ye look around, you'll see that, too."

  "All I see is that you've lost your mind," Mhairi said sharply. "You've betrayed your kin for nothing much that I can tell."

  Flossie looked annoyed and finally met her concerned gaze. "I havenae betrayed anyone, Lady Mhairi. Nor would ye betray your kin if you consent to this marriage – and men alive tomorrow will thank you for the decision ye make today."

  Was it true? Was she mad to hold out against wedding the Mackinnon?

  No, she refused to yield to a man who gave her no choice about her future. It was one of the reasons she'd rejected every offer of marriage she'd ever received. Flossie was right. She liked going her own way.

  So was it sheer obstinacy alone that stopped her accepting the inevitable? It must be more than that. Her soul rebelled at becoming the Mackinnon’s little pet, following him around and sitting up or rolling over at his say-so. How could she marry a man who had stolen her like a hungry man stole a loaf of bread?

  A horrible thought struck her. "I trusted ye when I told you about Sheena."

  Flossie looked troubled. "I willnae tell anyone, my lady." The reluctance in her voice wasn’t reassuring. "But listen to me when I say you're taking an awfu’ big risk."

  Mhairi sucked in a relieved breath. "It's my only chance."

  "If you're so determined, I wish ye luck."

  Mhairi found it in her to smile. "But ye think I'm wrong."

  "Aye. Aye, I do. But you're your father's daughter. You'll follow your will, whatever the world or common sense say to ye."

  Her anger might have subsided, bu
t her feelings still smarted. "Flossie, I thought we were friends."

  The girl reached forward and gave her a fervent hug. "Aye, of course we are."

  Mhairi remained stiff in her embrace. "Ye dinnae sound as if you like me verra much."

  Flossie looked stricken as she pulled away. "Och, Lady Mhairi, of course I like ye. We've been together for years. I love ye like a sister."

  "But?"

  Flossie went on, as carefully as if she picked her way barefoot across a stony plain. "Ye think your father is always right, and he's no’. He wasnae right to spoil ye as he has. He's made ye think you're as free as a man, yet at some time in her life, every woman has to bow her head and swear to obey the man she marries. The Drummond has given ye wrongheaded ideas about the part you play in the world, lassie. Nor has being the Rose of Bruard helped to bring ye down a few pegs."

  Mhairi felt attacked from a quarter she'd never expected. "I'm sorry if I was unkind to ye, Flossie."

  Flossie shook her head and in other circumstances, Mhairi might have seen the smile as fond. Flossie's loyalty and affection had been mainstays of her life. Now it appeared both were illusion.

  "Och, ye rattle-pated lassie, you were never unkind. Your heart is pure gold. After all the praise and petting you've had, that’s a credit to ye. You're no’ vain, you're generous-natured, you're good through and through. You've picked up a few muddled ideas, that's all. You're smart enough to learn, shown the right path."

  Mhairi wasn't altogether mollified. "And marrying the Mackinnon's the right path?"

  Flossie spread her hands. "Duff speaks so highly of him, he sounds like a prince."

  Mhairi’s lips tightened in displeasure. "Well, if Duff says so, it must be right."

  Flossie flushed again. "He's a good man. You’d ken that if ye talked to him."

  "Well, that's no’ likely, is it?" She felt sour and ill-used. "With me locked up in the tower and kept well away from everyone."

  "If ye wed the Mackinnon, he'd leave ye free to walk around Achnasheen."

  "That's too high a price to pay," she said bitterly. "What gives him the right to say where I go?"

  Flossie's pitying stare cut her to the bone. "Why, the way of the world, my lady. You’ll fight it, but in the end you'll submit to a woman's place."

  Mhairi wanted to argue, but what was the point? Flossie wouldn't listen. This Duff must have charms indeed to turn the girl's head so swiftly. "So ye willnae come with me when I escape? You're throwing your lot in with strangers, Flossie. Life at Achnasheen may no’ be all ye hope for."

  "I'll take my chances." A mulish expression settled on the girl's face. "Anyway, I'm no’ a prisoner. The Mackinnon says I can go back to Bruard with John Drummond if I wish. I told him I was happy to stay here, if he was happy to have me."

  No wonder her jailer had allowed Flossie to see her. It hadn't been a sudden generous impulse. He'd hoped the girl would reconcile Mhairi to the idea of remaining at Achnasheen. "Did Black Callum ask ye to speak in favor of the match?"

  Flossie shook her head. "No."

  He probably knew he didn't have to ask. With Flossie such an enthusiast for the pleasures of life at Achnasheen, a smart man must guess that she’d agitate on his behalf.

  When Black Callum had let her see her maid, she'd been grateful. She wasn't grateful anymore. This privilege was just another of his endless attempts to convince her to wed him.

  Flossie frowned. "I just put your back up."

  She shook her head, although it was true. "I'm so glad you're unharmed. I've been worried sick about ye, especially when the Mackinnon wouldnae let me see you."

  "I had a few rough words for Duff on the way here."

  "I'm sure." But it was clear that she'd soon stopped hissing and spitting like an angry cat.

  Mhairi could only be grateful the girl had suffered no mistreatment at Mackinnon hands. Seeing Flossie unmolested, unhurt, and well was a relief.

  Well? Unlike the mistress, the maid was positively flourishing.

  Mhairi felt lost and alone and abandoned. Flossie's shifting allegiance left her off-balance and heartsick. She couldn’t approve of the girl's choices, but by heaven, she'd miss her maid when she went back to Bruard. This might be their last chance to see each other. She didn't want to leave her friend with bitterness lingering between them.

  Her smile felt slightly more natural, and she forced a cheerful tone. "Come, I'm sure we've got a few minutes left. Tell me more about this wonderful Duff."

  Chapter 14

  By the time the Mackinnon reappeared at the door to the garden – Mhairi noted it was well past the half hour he’d offered – she and Flossie were talking as they'd always done. But she remained conscious that the old closeness was gone forever. When she returned to Bruard, it would be a different place because her friend would no longer be there.

  She became more curious about this remarkable Duff. She’d dearly like a good look at him. So far, she hadn't paid him much attention. He was just another Mackinnon in the mass of other Mackinnons. But if she believed Flossie, he was a potent, if unlikely mixture of Hercules and Sir Galahad.

  Flossie hugged her quickly, curtsied to the Mackinnon, and went on her way, pausing at the door for a backward glance of farewell. Mhairi realized that her maid knew as well as she did that everything had changed between them. But her smile held unmistakable fondness and a silent message of courage.

  Mhairi wasn't mean enough to wish Flossie anything but well. But she couldn't help feeling the girl was rash to abandon her home and kin and turn to strangers.

  "Ye hoped that Flossie would persuade me to consent to the marriage," she said, going on the attack as soon as she and the Mackinnon were alone.

  "Aye."

  She should have known the Mackinnon wouldn't lie. So far he'd been honest – for a kidnapper.

  "I should have guessed ye were up to some scheme."

  "The girl has a place here for as long as she wants it." He leaned against the worn stone doorframe, folded his arms over his impressive chest and studied her with an unreadable light in his deep brown eyes. "Ye could, too."

  Disdain flattened her lips. "What I want doesnae count, does it?"

  He sighed and ran one powerful hand through his thick black hair, today left loose except for two thin braids at his temples. "The lass didnae succeed in talking ye round."

  Mhairi made a sweeping gesture of denial. "How could she?"

  Her jailer shot her a straight look. "Because she could tell ye that she's come to nae harm, in fact she's been treated well. Because she's someone ye know and trust ready to say that we Mackinnons are at least as human as any Drummond, and possessed of kind hearts and generosity. Because she's free to leave, yet she's decided to stay."

  "Then she's more fortunate than I am," Mhairi retorted. "The maid is granted a privilege the mistress can only dream of."

  That interrogatory brow rose. "You're free to say yes to my proposal."

  "While my name is dragged through the mud."

  He looked unexpectedly diffident. "Aye, well, it's no’ so bad as all that, lassie. Jean, plague take her, has decided your pride is more important than mine. She's telling anyone who will listen that she played chaperone all night and you're as untouched as ye were the day ye arrived."

  Shocked, Mhairi surveyed him. "So everyone knows we locked ye out?"

  He shook his head. "No. So far, she’s saving my reputation, too, and she’s holding that back. But dinnae fash yourself. Your good name is safe at Achnasheen."

  "Ye dinnae sound as if you mind." For once, curiosity was stronger than hostility.

  He shrugged and offered his arm. Only as he led her back toward the stone bench did she realize she'd touched him without hesitation. "Once I’d wiped the wine from my face and taken a deep breath, I found I wasnae at ease with my people thinking ye were my doxy."

  Relief made her knees wobble. God bless Jean. This was a better result than Mhairi could have hoped for. "So my cousin will
hear I'm no’ your lover?"

  "I suspect so. He'll be alive to any gossip he can pick up while he's here."

  "He's no’ a spy. He’s here on an honorable mission to return me to my kin."

  A wry smile twisted Black Callum's lips. "And to find out what he can about the keep’s battle readiness."

  "He’s a good man."

  "I'd do the same, lassie." The Mackinnon shook his head at her defensive tone. "It's no’ an accusation."

  They sat on the bench. Golden light softened the old red brick of the garden walls as the evening drew in, and the scent of roses was heady in the air. If Mhairi wasn't a prisoner, she might even appreciate her surroundings.

  "Is it truly so awful here?" he asked softly.

  She was painfully conscious of his height and the radiant warmth of his body. He was sitting too close to her. So why didn’t she move?

  Dear Lord, she still held his arm. With a sick feeling, she released him, but her fingers tingled from the contact. Perhaps it was the result of seeing Flossie so content and looking toward establishing a new life in a new place, but Mhairi’s implacable opposition to anything Mackinnon became more difficult to maintain by the minute.

  "Paradise can be a prison." She wanted to sound sharp and sure of herself, but the words emerged weighted with regret.

  "Aye." His tone was just as regretful.

  Several times, she’d had an uncanny feeling that compelling her to his will went against Black Callum’s nature. He might act the tyrant with her, but her few days at Achnasheen had shown her that otherwise he was a reasonable man. He hadn't punished Jean for defying him last night. In fact, when he admitted the two women bested him, his tone expressed amusement and affectionate admiration. As if he conceded a point to a skilled opponent in some sporting contest.

  Mhairi scrabbled to take back her retreating hatred, but it hovered out of reach in a way she found terrifying. She didn't want to soften toward Black Callum. That way lay disaster – and a surrender she resisted with all her might.

  After a long silence, he spoke. "Are ye nae closer to coming around to my way of thinking?"

  "I willnae marry ye, Mackinnon." To her horror, her earlier regret lingered to tinge her answer.