Must Love Kilts

by Angela Quarles

  At the top, shielded by a boulder, they observed the party below.

  “Who is it?” Traci whispered.

  Iain could only stare in disbelief. “Well, that’s just it. It’s a party of our own men.”

  “What are they doing here?”

  He rubbed his chin. “I know not. This isn’t our land. We risk enough already being here.” He took in as much as the moon’s glow and the firelight allowed. “We must join them.” He released Traci’s arm, which surprisingly he’d been gripping the entire time.

  “Should we be joining them? They might not be on board with our plans.”

  His mouth set in a grim line. “That remains to be seen. But we must know their purpose. Besides, it’s too late, for I see Duncan.”

  She nodded. The simple trust she exhibited, this fierce woman from the future, did something funny to his insides, and he vowed that whatever happened, he’d not prove that trust misplaced. He’d not fail her at least.

  He stroked his knuckles against her cheek, unable to resist that small touch. The sooner they figured out what to do next, the better. The emotions she stirred made him restless. Eager to act. Eager to express. Eager to do something.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There’s right in the cause, and might in the will,

  To the bonny bonny lad that is valiant still.

  “Be Valiant Still,” Jacobite Reliques

  Now that Traci had finally taken the first step in rescuing Fiona, the events of the day washed over her as they trotted down the ravine into this hidden cut through the vast Highland plain. Iain had called it the Great Glen.

  Far from taking the edge off by sleeping with him, she felt more raw, more exposed than ever. Her ability to read him was gone. Was he the flirt? Or something more?

  Now, she had no clue what to make of him. At times, she’d caught glimpses of a different man behind his flirtatious behavior. Had she imagined that he didn’t like the role? But if so, then why did he keep it up?

  None of these speculations mattered. She was not here to get involved with a guy. But now… Now all her assumptions were overturned. Now she seemed to skate across slippery moss and couldn’t find purchase. Couldn’t find the horizon she needed to focus. It made her feel ill, this uncertainty. And she hated it. She wanted to get back to their easy banter, when she knew what was happening and what was expected between them.

  She hated… Yeah. Fuck.

  She hated that she wondered if he wanted more.

  This was not good.

  A new thought trickled into this mess: Katy suspected the case brought the wielder to their love match. Could…could that be what—

  No. Her wish had been in service of winning that bet, and then to find her sister. It had not been to find “twoo wuv.”

  She snorted, drew her plaid tighter, and followed Iain into the camp of his clansmen. But as she gripped the fabric, she felt as if she were using it to protect herself from the outside world. Protect herself from herself. As if the blanket could re-erect the shield she’d held so successfully around her heart up until now.

  She had no shield now.

  Yeah, she was raw.

  And over a damn man who was nothing but a flirt. A flirt just like the guy she’d fallen for in college. And the joke had been on her that time too. She’d wanted a harmless hookup after Brad crushed her heart and her dreams. Who better than one of her gaming pals who was drop-dead gorgeous and a dedicated flirt? But the hookup had turned into another and another, and soon she’d discovered to her humiliation that she’d fallen for Johnny. Her rebound guy. He’d set her straight and gave her a bit of advice: Never let them see you pine.

  She sure as fuck didn’t let Johnny see her pine.

  At first, they’d stayed friends—platonic—and he’d even been the one to introduce her to her first employer designing computer games. He’d also helped to make sure she kept her relationships purely physical. But it wasn’t long before he’d excused himself from her life.

  Iain’s voice startled her from her thoughts. He greeted his men in Gaelic and swung from his horse with ease. She remained on hers, unsure how to proceed, and she hated that too. Where was her fucking shield?

  God, she’d been faking it all the other times she’d interacted with guys, pretending for so long that she was a hopeless flirt like them. And now she couldn’t keep doing it?

  Get a grip, girl.

  Soon enough, Iain strode toward her. Frantic, she scrambled in her mind to piece herself back together. She threw him a strained, but saucy grin. “Hey there, big guy. So what’s the fuss here?”

  “The fuss is to be determined, mo dhuslach rionnaige. Now let’s get you down from there, shall we?”

  He clasped his strong hands at her waist and pulled her effortlessly from Fiddich as if she weren’t some five-foot-eleven chick carrying about ten pounds too much on her big-boned frame.

  Of course, he made sure to drag her down his body, keeping his laughing, teasing eyes latched onto hers the whole time. And with that, she found her old self and grasped it like a friggin’ life preserver.

  “If you’re not careful,” she said, giving her hip a little roll as she passed his already hard erection, “we’ll end up making a fuss of a different kind. Not sure I’m up for any kind of public display. Are you?”

  His eyes flared with heat, and he squeezed her butt as her feet touched ground. “Nay. I find I have no wish to have others witness the kind of display you like to exhibit. That is all for me.”

  “All for you, is it? Hmm…” She pinched his chin. “We’ll see about that.” She winked and was relieved to see he understood she was only teasing him. Their easy banter went a long way to settling her attack of nerves, but doubt still swirled within.

  What was it about this man that stirred up all of her emotions? He was supposed to be a safe flirtation, and despite their stepping back onto familiar ground with their banter, part of her still wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  And what did that say about herself? And what lay ahead?

  Still unsure of where he stood with Traci, but also unwilling to have her far from him, Iain settled her down by the fire. She claimed to be exhausted and, staring at her face, he saw the circles under her eyes and the worry for her sister in her gaze.

  The men knew they were married, so it only felt natural to arrange her to lay with her head in his lap, but it was only when she complied without protest that he was struck by its ease and singularity. Perhaps he had a chance… He stroked her nose and her hair to urge her to sleep, while he discussed matters in low tones with his men.

  Soon, her steady breaths signaled she’d succeeded in falling asleep. So far, he’d learned only one thing from the other party: they were keeping something from him, and he liked it not.

  Ross sat across from him beside the fire, and Iain turned the full force of his attention to the man. He’d get to the bottom of this, by God.

  Duncan passed him a flask of whisky, and Iain took a sip and passed it to Ross. “What is your true purpose here?”

  “It’s as I told you. We heard reports about a nest of cattle thieves who were planning to raid against our clan. Nothing for you to care about, I assure you.” Ross laughed and tossed back a large gulp of whisky.

  Unbidden, a surge of anger, so unlike him, rushed through him.

  The man lied.

  And he was treating Iain as everyone in his clan did—justified though it might be—as if he were a frivolous appendage. Before, he’d been content enough to play that role. Now, it chafed. Yes, he’d toyed with the idea of changing to win Traci, but this was a potent reminder. He was a cock-up. ’Twas safer for the clan for him to continue playing his role, was it not?

  Nay, a part of him protested.

  And that part was connected to his feelings for Traci. For he sensed that what lay ahead, what was being kept from him, affected her too.

  He leaned back, putting his weight on his hands behind him. “Ah. You know me. I
don’t care. ’Tis true. But you can tell me the truth precisely for that reason. You know I’d never hurt the clan. But my bumbling could. ’Twould be better for me to know what’s truly happening, so I might steer clear.”

  Ross eyed him sharply, but the suspicion quickly disappeared and the usual dismissal replaced the shrewdness. He laughed. “Aye. Perhaps you have the right of it.” He stretched his legs in front of him. “We are to keep an eye on you, if you must know.”

  Another burst of anger flashed through him, but he forced a careless laugh. “Me? Afraid I’ll get in trouble? Not that I blame the chieftain.”

  Ross shook his head and softly chuckled. “In a way. The chieftain wishes to ensure you get to the bottom of this business with the sisters.”

  “Yeah. I haven’t had much luck in that direction. She avers she’s an innocent, but…”

  “Exactly. I suppose it does no harm to let you know that I’ve been tasked with making sure you retrieve the other sister, or do it myself. Have you discovered where she went after she left Urquhart?”

  Ah, so their story at Invergarry had worked. “Our information was wrong. She never left it.”

  “Well then, we must retrieve her.”

  Iain rubbed the back of his neck. “Why is he keen on that? Whatever secrets she gleaned from us—if she is a spy—have already been spilled. She poses no threat.”

  “The chieftain does not like being made into a fool. Especially by some Campbell nighean. He wants her back at Dungarbh. Therefore, keep doing what you’re doing—keep this one distracted—and leave the rest in our competent hands.”

  Resentment, clear and strong, surged through him, and he realized with a shock that the resentment had always been present, ever since his uncle had become chieftain. He’d just been so determined to fit in, he’d not even recognized the feeling for what it was.

  He caught Duncan’s gaze across the fire. “That is no longer acceptable, it pains me to say.”

  After what Iain had learned from Duncan at Invergarry, he could very well believe that there was a deeper play here than simple mistrust. His uncle had sent these men precisely so he could take the opportunity to undermine Iain in Ross’s eyes—pretend he needed looking after.

  On the heels of this thought, he began replaying past situations with his uncle and saw that at every turn, he was purposely cast in this role.

  And as he looked around the gathered men and witnessed the postures of Duncan, Gavin, Lochloinn, and the others, he realized something else he’d never noticed—it was only his uncle and his lackey Ross who treated him this way.

  He’d been such a fool. Now knowing that all of his uncle’s motives were no longer pure, Iain began to question some of his deepest assumptions—like had his mother really become unstable? Could she be in the nunnery against her will? Sure, she’d been high-spirited and suffered from depressed spirits from time to time, but wouldn’t that be natural after losing a husband and a son?

  Iain caught Ross’s gaze and held it. “You will include me in your plans, or I will impede them.”

  Shock registered on the other man’s face, and the low hum of conversation around the fire lessened.

  Duncan leaned forward. “Aye. We are to be part of this, make no mistake.”

  “But the chieftain said—”

  Iain cut him off with the wave of a hand. “What does the chieftain know about the situation here? Duncan and I have been questioning the locals and gathering the information we need to successfully retrieve the sister.”

  “Her name is Fiona, by the way,” added Duncan, glaring at Ross.

  Ross looked back and forth between the two of them and at some of the other men. His lips thinned. “Very well. What have you learned?”

  Iain related what he and Traci had seen of the castle’s defenses, and Duncan related what he’d learned. They left out their suspicions of Fiona impersonating a gruagach.

  “By my reckoning, we have two avenues, one more risky than the other,” Duncan finished. “We can take a boat to the castle’s postern gate at first light when they’re expecting deliveries of that morning’s fishing haul. My informant tells me we can join a man named Callum. He regularly makes deliveries and is confident we can bribe the guard at that gate to gain entrance—he’s got a weakness for the whisky.”

  Duncan stretched his legs out and crossed his arms. “Or the safer bet is head to a local farmer I know of, who has Jacobite sympathies. They make deliveries to the castle semi-regularly, and we can devise a strategy to gain entrance that way. Or send Traci in with the wife.”

  Ross clapped his hands together, startling Traci awake. “We will do the first. I do not like relying on the wench. But no need to bribe the man at the gate. We have enough men to overpower him and the fisherman if need be.”

  Iain sat up straighter. “Are you mad? Why take such a path when there are other, more practical ones?”

  “We have not the time. And I have no whisky to spare. Do you? We’d have to procure that, which could delay us for days. We have six days at most before we must leave to rendezvous with Dundee. I want to be done with this business.”

  “I like this not,” Iain stated.

  “I’m in charge of this party. You’re either a part of it, or you can stay here as I first advised.”

  Iain narrowed his eyes and glanced at Duncan, who did not appear pleased either by this turn of events. “We will take my wife.” Including her might temper the violence intended by Ross. Besides, he had no intention leaving her behind with whomever Ross chose.

  “Nay. She will remain behind with some of my men.”

  Iain worked to keep his growing temper in check. “Nay, she will not.”

  Ross’s lip curled. “Don’t trust our own men with your wench?”

  “She is my wife,” Iain said, barely able to push the words out through his stiffened jaw. “What will you do when you get inside? You dinnae know where the sister is, but she does. And what if you do find her? Will you take her forcibly? That would be the only way you’d succeed since you are strangers to her. If she’s anything like my wife, she will kick up a fuss, and then you’ll have the entire garrison on us. If you take Traci, though, she can aid us, and her sister will come along willingly, for she’d see it as a rescue, not an abduction.”

  He spared a glance at Traci, whose eyes were questioning. He leaned down to her ear. “I will explain later,” he whispered in English.

  Ross bunched his fists, clearly not liking to be countered. He didn’t bother looking at Duncan, but he did take in the rest of the men.

  “I agree with Iain,” spoke up one of the more powerful tacksmen. “We need to do this quickly, aye, but we also do not wish to become embroiled in a clan dispute, which fighting with the garrison at Urquhart would surely engender.”

  The others grumbled agreement, and Ross succumbed to the way the mood had turned. “Then, Duncan, tell me of this Callum, and let us prepare to depart. Daybreak is not far off.”

  The air was cool and crisp as Iain, Duncan, Traci, and Ross slipped into the fishing boat steered by Callum the fisherman. Mist blanketed the hushed waters of Loch Ness, making visibility difficult. Uneasiness itched across Iain’s skin as he settled next to Traci. Earlier, he’d filled her in on their plan, and while she was eager to be retrieving her sister, she was as wary as he was of Ross and his plan.

  She wrapped her plaid around her head, shielding her features, so as to be more easily mistaken for Callum’s sister who sometimes accompanied him. The rest of the men had procured a boat and were to meet them by the postern gate at dawn.

  They shoved out into Loch Ness, its waters lapping against the hull. A touch of superstitious fear rose within him, conjured by the lake and its denizen. The morning was too quiet.

  Duncan and Callum rowed, and they made quick time down the shore. The first rays of dawn peeked over the mountains to the east and illuminated the castle fortress nestled on the shelf of land below the hill. The shelf lay above a small rise
, but steps rose at the water’s edge to the water gate cut into the back of the fortress. However, their destination was the postern gate at the bottom of Grant Tower.

  The other boat emerged, cutting through the swirling mist from the south side of the castle. Iain stole a glance at Callum. Duncan had negotiated terms with him prior to Ross’s arrival. Callum stilled his movements, and the boat stalled.

  “Keep rowing, old man,” Ross growled. “Those are our men.”

  Callum cast a nervous glance to Duncan, clearly not pleased with the turn of events.

  Traci reached across the small space between them and grasped Iain’s hand. He placed his other hand over hers and squeezed. Had he miscalculated in bringing her? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.

  Soon they reached the postern gate and slipped alongside the other fishing boat. Ross nodded to a man on board, who leaped onto the dock and took position near the iron-banded oaken door.

  Callum paused in securing the boat with a rope. “Hey now, this isna how we agreed.”

  Ross gripped the hilt of his sword. “Plans have changed. Keep quiet, and follow your normal routine.”

  Callum grumbled under his breath and secured his boat. He swung onto the wooden platform and leaned down to help Traci. Iain aided her ascent, for the tide was low and the dock’s edge was chest-high. He expected her to balk, or to shake with nerves, but she gazed back steadily and gave a curt nod. With Ross and his men dogging her steps, she and her sister couldn’t disappear once reunited, so she’d be returning. Och, he was a selfish bastard, for he was glad their parting would be delayed.

  He swallowed a thickening lump in his throat and shoved aside thoughts of her departure. That would come soon enough.

  “Do as you’re told, lassie,” Ross said in English, his voice low but harsh. “Once my man has overpowered the guard, you will wait until we join ye, and then we go inside.”