Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens

by Suzan Tisdale

  Fergus smacked the boy’s head again. “Ye shall show our laird the respect he’s due, boy.”

  Flinching, the boy rubbed the back of his head again as he gave Fergus a fearful glance. “M’laird,” he began once again. “I be here on Alec Bowie’s behalf.”

  “And who be Alec Bowie?” Ian asked.

  “Brother to the Bowie, m’laird. He be Rutger’s younger brother.”

  Ian and Brogan exchanged curious glances. “And what, pray tell, does Alec Bowie want?”

  The lad swallowed hard before answering. “A meetin’ with ye, m’laird.”

  Quirking a brow and cocking his head to one side, Ian studied the boy closely for a long moment. “So Rutger sends his brother instead of himself? I kent the man was a coward.”

  “Rutger does no’ ken we be here,” the boy said.

  Ian found that information curious and questionable. If he’d learned anything at all about the Bowies, ’twas that not a one of them could be trusted.

  “Alec be a good man,” the boy said. “He does no’ support his brother kidnappin’ yer wife.”

  Ian all but lunged at the boy. Grabbing him by the front of his tunic, he lifted him off the ground. “Ye are never to speak of me wife again, do ye understand? Lad or no, I’ll cut yer throat and send ye back to yer laird in pieces.”

  “I be sorry, m’laird,” the boy stammered. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Pushing the boy away, Ian saw he landed against Fergus, who tossed him toward Martin Mackintosh, his cousin. Martin righted the boy and grunted with a fair amount of disgust.

  “M’laird, Alec awaits no’ far from here. He asks to meet with ye in person, but he wants yer promise ye’ll no’ gut him. He will come here, alone and unarmed, to meet with ye.”

  Fergus chuckled. “That be either verra brave or verra stupid, considerin’ he be the brother of the man who killed our laird’s wife and bairn.”

  Unfortunately, some of Ian’s men still held the belief that not only was Rose dead, but her babe as well.

  The boy’s face twisted in confusion. “Dead?” the boy replied. “She be no’ dead. At least she was no’ two days ago when we left.”

  “I received a letter from yer laird three days ago, sayin’ me wife died in childbirth and he now holds me son hostage.” Ian told him. Although he hadn’t believed Rose was dead, his heart skipped a few beats learning he was right.

  Fenner’s eyes grew wide with fear. He gulped once, then again. “I swear, m’laird, she was alive and well two days ago when we left. I swear it!”

  Ian took note of the surprised expressions on his men’s faces as they worked through this bit of news. He had been right. Mayhap in the future they’d be more inclined to believe him, even if it didn’t seem reasonable.

  “It takes two days to travel between our keeps,” Brogan said. “Rutger would have sent that letter out a sennight ago. If what the boy says is true, then ye were right. Rutger Bowie lied to ye.”

  “Boy, ye return to this Alec fellow, and ye tell him I will meet with him. He is to come unarmed and alone. And if I learn this is but a trick, I shall kill him and anyone else who might be with him. Do ye understand?”

  The lad nodded his head violently. “Aye m’laird, I do!”

  * * *

  In less than an hour, Ian and Brogan met Alec Bowie for the first time. The man was not at all what he expected. To begin with, he was exceedingly clean. As tall as Ian and as well muscled, he did not at first glance appear to be a ruthless killer. Dark brown, nearly black hair, the top half pulled away from his face and tied back with a leather thong. The rest fell down his back, well past his shoulders. He had a strong jaw covered with a neatly trimmed beard and dark brown eyes that did not look like they belonged to a madman.

  The dark green tunic he wore over brown leather trews was clean. A belt at his narrow waist, sans sword, proved he was not a glutton like his brother. He looked as though he could well hold his own in any battle.

  Once the introductions were made, they sat at a table in the armory. Next to Ian sat his brother. Behind them, forming a wall of muscle and contempt, were fifteen of Ian’s best men.

  Alec read the last missive sent from his brother. With a disgusted shake of his head, he lay the parchment down. With a heavy sigh, he looked across the table at Ian. “I can assure ye that this is all lies. Rose is verra much alive and still carryin’ yer child.”

  Ian studied him closely, looking for any tell-tell signs of deceit or treachery. Thus far, he hadn’t found any. But ’twas still too early to make a judgment.

  “I left behind one of me most trusted men, Dougal Bowie, to watch over yer wife. He will protect her as if he were protectin’ one of his own. This I swear to ye.”

  “Ye can swear and vouch fer yer man all ye want,” Ian said through clenched teeth. “I ken no’ him nor ye. All I ken is that ’tis yer brother who has kidnapped me wife, killed over a dozen innocent people, and laid siege to our keep. Why the bloody hell should I trust ye?”

  Alec rested his hands on top of the table. “A wise man would no’,” he replied. “I ken I would no’ trust ye were our roles reversed.”

  Ian raised a brow but remained quiet. He would listen to what this man had to say, but that didn’t mean he’d believe a word of it.

  “More than a year ago, Aggie McLaren killed our former laird, me cousin, Eduard Bowie.”

  The men standing behind Ian chuckled with amusement.

  “I ken. I was there and saw it happen. ’Twas a grapplin’ hook to his neck, I believe,” Ian said with a bemused smile.

  “Aye, ’twas. And if ever I get the chance to meet her in person, I shall thank her.”

  All eyes were on him then.

  “Eduard was beyond ruthless,” Alec began. “He was beyond savage, beyond nightmares. No one mourned his loss.”

  “No one?” Ian asked doubtfully.

  “Nay, his people celebrated his death.” He let the words sink in for a moment before continuing. “I was no’ there. I had no’ been home in a good number of years, but I had heard of Eduard’s disgustin’ ways through letters from me father and brother. I was in France when I received word of Eduard’s death and me brother’s claim to the title of chief. I came home at once.”

  “And ye say none grieve the loss of Eduard Bowie?” Ian asked again, only for clarification.

  “Not one.”

  “Pray tell me, Alec. Will any mourn the loss of yer brother when I kill him?” Ian asked in a low, firm tone.

  If he thought to garner any kind of reaction from Alec, he was wrong. “The only one who will mourn me brother’s death is me. And ’tis only fer the fact that he is me brother.”

  They eyed each other suspiciously for a long moment. Ian knew were anything to happen to any of his brothers, he would not only mourn their loss he would seek justice if required. But then again, the Mackintoshes were as opposite the Bowies as dust was to water.

  “My brother was no’ always such a greedy bastard,” Alec said. “There was a time when he was a good man. In his short time as laird, he’s become a greedy fool. I pray daily that he comes to his senses and sees reason.”

  “Be that why ye’re here?” Brogan asked. “To pray fer mercy fer yer brother?”

  Alec gave a slight shrug before answering. “I doubt ‘twould do any good.”

  Leona had entered the armory with a tray of bread, cheese, and meat. Quietly, she placed the tray on the table and stepped away. Alec’s eyes grew wide when he noticed her. An action that did not go unnoticed by either Ian or Brogan.

  “Do ye ken her?” Ian asked when she was out of earshot.

  “Nay,” Alec said. “Be she Rose’s sister?”

  Ian and Brogan chuckled slightly. “Nay,” Ian answered.

  When Leona appeared again, this time with a tray of mugs filled with ale, Alec could not help but stare at her. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

  Feeling all the eyes in the room were upon her, she looked up from the
tray and into Alec Bowie’s eyes. “Be there somethin’ else ye want, m’laird?” she asked.

  “I be sorry fer starin’, lass,” Alec said. He watched as her face turned a deep shade of red. “But yer resemblance to yer mistress is quite remarkable.”

  She started to say something, but apparently thought better of it. Quietly, she left the table and the men to their discussion.

  “So why are ye here?” Brogan asked as he cut a hunk of cheese and popped it into his mouth.

  “I want peace amongst our clans. I want the warrin’ to stop.”

  Both Ian and Brogan found his claim surprising. “I have never kent a Bowie to want anythin’ save those things that belong to someone else. Whether it be their cattle, sheep, coin or women.” Brogan said.

  “Aye, we do have a reputation fer thievin’ and reivin’,” Alec agreed.

  “But ye want to change that?” Ian asked.

  Taking a mug from the tray, Alec gave a curt nod. “Aye, I do.”

  “I take it yer brother does no’ hold the same line of thinkin’?” Ian asked.

  “Ye take it rightly, m’laird,” Alec said with a slight chuckle.

  Ian took a cup of ale and sipped it slowly. “And how, pray tell, do ye plan on gainin’ peace fer yer clan?”

  Looking him straight in the eye, Alec said, “By helpin’ ye get yer wife back without ye havin’ to pay the ransom.”

  * * *

  His outward calm appearance belied the fact Ian was stunned. Could he really believe Alec Bowie? Did the man sincerely wish for peace? Did he honestly want to help him get Rose back?

  “How do ye propose to do that?” Ian asked.

  “With as little bloodshed as possible,” Alec replied.

  Ian was not sure what to make of this man. “Whilst I can applaud yer wish fer peace and wantin’ to resolve our current conflict with as little blood as possible, I do no’ see how it can be done.”

  “In truth?” Alec said as he set his mug down. “I do no’ rightly ken how myself. That be why I am here. I want ye to ken that no’ all of Rutger’s people support what he has done.”

  “His people?” Brogan asked suspiciously. “Be they no’ yer people too?”

  Alec gave another slight shrug. “I suppose they are. But I have been away fer many years, ye ken. I fear I do no’ recognize the clan I left. I barely recognize me brother, fer that matter.”

  “So ye want us to help ye get me wife back so that ye can take over as chief of Clan Bowie?” Ian asked.

  Alec raised his hands. “Nay! I have no desire to be chief of Clan Bowie. Or any other clan. I only want to help ye get yer wife back. It is me hope that if we can do that, me brother will see the reason in it and accept a peace accord between our clans.”

  “Pardon me,” Ian began, “but I find it verra difficult to believe a man would go against his own brother to help his sworn enemy, in order that his clan have peace.”

  Alec leaned back in his chair. “Most of the Bowies have never travelled more than a day’s walk from their homes. Only the warriors have gone farther than that, and only to raid and steal. I have seen more of this world than me people could ever dream of seein’. I have seen war. Real war. I want no part of that.”

  Ian’s brow furrowed into a hard line as he listened to Alec Bowie’s talk of peace.

  “I fostered with the MacGregors fer seven years. They are a good people. They are prosperous by their own hard work, no’ by stealin. They are a happy, peaceful people. I want that kind of life fer the Bowies. If it means goin’ against me brother to have it, then I shall.”

  Ian cast a questionable glance toward his brother, as if to ask, do ye believe this man?

  “So ye want peace and are willin’ to go against yer brother to have it, even though ye say ye have no desire to be chief,” Ian recounted to be certain.

  “Aye, I will and, nay, I do no’ want to be chief.”

  Brogan was just as leery as his brother, but the most important question still went unanswered. “How do ye propose to get me sister-by-law out of the Bowie keep? The same way Aggie, Rose and Ian made their way in when Aggie killed Eduard?”

  “Were those tunnels still open, I would have brought yer sister-by-law with me this day,” Alec replied in frustration. “But me brother had all those passages and tunnels sealed off or destroyed when he learned how entry was made that night.”

  There went Brogan’s plans for entering unseen into the Bowie keep.

  “Then how?” Ian asked.

  Another shrug from Alec, this time born of irritation. “I do no’ ken. Rutger has men watchin’ her day and night. He has an old woman to bring her food and check on her several times throughout the day. He has doubled the guard on our walls, has increased the men on patrol. He might be a greedy bastard, but he’s no’ foolish enough to let his guard down.”

  Ian and Brogan were as lost as Alec when it came to any viable plan to remove Rose unharmed.

  From the back of the room, came Leona Macdowall’s soft voice. “Can ye steal someone inside the keep?”

  * * *

  * * *

  Everyone in the entire room turned to look at Leona. She stood in the far corner, half in the shadows, half out. With her head held high and shoulders pulled back, she waited for Alec to answer her question. When the silence stretched on far too long, she nervously asked the question again. “Can ye get someone inside the keep?”

  Ian stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. On Brogan’s face was the same expression.

  “What did ye have in mind, lass?” Alec was the only one brave enough to ask.

  She took a tentative step forward as she fidgeted with her fingers. “Everyone is always remarkin’ on how much Rose and I look alike. I volunteer to take her place.”

  Half the men in the room laughed while the others shook their heads derisively.

  “Leave the plannin’ to the men, lass,” Fergus said as he turned his back to her.

  Ian and Brogan stared at Alec Bowie. The three men were giving some strong consideration to her idea.

  “Do ye think ‘twould work?” Ian asked.

  “It might,” Alec replied.

  “Until someone notices she is no’ heavy with child. Or her eyes.”

  Leona made her way quickly to the table. “I ken me eyes be different!” she seethed at Brogan.

  “Lass, I meant no offense. I am merely statin’ a fact. Rose has bright green eyes and she is with child.”

  Undeterred, she argued on. “Aye, but we only need them to believe I am she long enough fer Alec to get her out of the keep and on her way back home.”

  “And what then, lass?” Alec asked. “What happens when me brother discovers Rose is gone?”

  “I do no’ ken, but ye must admit it be a good idea.”

  Fergus stepped forward. “Leona, ’tis madness ye speak.” He looked to Ian for confirmation but did not find any. “Ian, ye can no’ be thinkin’ to agree with her?”

  “Aye, Fergus, I am,” he told him pointedly. “Unless ye can come up with somethin’ better?”

  Fergus clamped his jaw shut and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Ian turned to his brother then. “Well?”

  Brogan thought on it for a long moment. “Do ye think ye can get her into the keep unnoticed?”

  Alec chuckled slightly. “I am ferever bringin’ one whore or another into our keep—” he stopped abruptly to look at Leona. “I be no’ sayin’ ye are a wh-, that is I mean—”

  “I ken what ye’re meanin’ m’laird,” Leona said in a firm tone.

  For the first time in years, Alec blushed like a lad who’d just been chastised by his mum.

  * * *

  The remainder of the morning was spent developing a plan whereby they could gain Leona’s entrance into the Bowie keep without harm, and then the safe rescue of Rose.

  While Ian, Brogan, Alec and Leona went over the plans, horses were readied and supplies packed for the two-day journey. Because he
still did not know who the second traitor was, they kept the plans to themselves, save for the fifteen men who had heard the original idea to begin with. Those men, though well respected and trusted, were not allowed out of the armory.

  The entire McLaren keep was on lockdown. No one would be allowed in or out until Ian’s return. Brogan would be in charge of the keep during Ian’s absence, something he was growing more and more used to doing.

  Alec’s men had been waiting for Ian a safe distance from the keep. A messenger was sent to retrieve his man Kyth, to join his friend and partner in crime inside the McLaren keep. Ian and Brogan were taken aback by the man’s size. He stood well over six feet tall with shoulders that seemed nearly as broad as he was tall. He wore his dark hair in the same fashion as Alec, but his face was cleanly shaven. With dark brown eyes, he could very well have passed for Alec’s brother. He was introduced as the man’s cousin and most loyal ally.

  As requested, he was as unarmed as Alec. Even the sheaths on the outside of his boots were empty. Alec quickly filled Kyth in on their plans for retrieving Rose. He listened quietly and intently with his arms crossed over his chest.

  While the two men talked, Brogan leaned in to whisper to Ian, “If we had more men that looked like him, we could lay siege to the Bowie keep with great ease.”

  Ian gave a wry smile and nodded his agreement.

  After a quick summary, Kyth looked about. “Where be this lass?” he asked, directing his question to Ian and Brogan.

  Brogan cleared his throat before answering. “She is off tryin’ to see if she has any clothes that will make her look like a common bar wench.”

  “The girl be far too bonny to be a bar wench,” Alec pointed out. “But I think if we keep her face obscured, mayhap with a hooded cloak, she should do well enough.”

  “Bonny is she?” Kyth asked with a devious smile.

  Brogan stepped forward. “Aye, she is. And she be a fine young woman and an innocent. We will thank ye kindly to make certain she remains so,” he said in his most serious tone.

  Kyth offered him a nod of understanding, taking the warning to heart. “Her virtue shall be safe with us. I give ye me word.”