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

by Suzan Tisdale

  “I shall hold ye to that,” Brogan and Ian said in unison.

  A thought suddenly occurred to Brogan. “What if Ingerame does no’ allow Leona to go?”

  Ian had not given that a moment’s thought either. “Do no’ worry it,” he said. “We all ken how he feels about his daughter. And after his shameful behavior the night of the raid, he will want to do everythin’ he can to get himself back in me high regard.”

  “How old is the lass?” Alec asked.

  “Three and twenty,” Ian told him.

  “Unmarried?”

  “Aye,” he said. “As far as I ken she has never married. Her father be me lead carpenter. While he is one hell of a man with a hammer, his parenting skills leave much to be desired.”

  Alec left the subject alone then. “Let us hope he will allow her to go.”

  “He will,” Ian said. “He will.”

  26

  Ian had been right in his assumption that he would get no argument from Ingerame Macdowall as it pertained to his daughter. He even went so far as to see them all off, though he had not one kind word for his daughter, nor did he offer her any words of encouragement. The more Ian got to know the man, the less he liked him. Carpentry skills be-damned. As soon as he could, he would write to Frederick and suggest seeking a replacement for the ill-mannered man.

  Leona met them in front of the armory, somewhat excited about what lay ahead. Over a serviceable dark green gown, she wore a wide apron draped just so — in order to help hide her ample bosom — warm boots and a brown hooded cloak. Her ever-present pouch hung from a belt at her waist and on her back she carried a bundle filled with what Ian assumed were clean clothes and supplies.

  She was given her own mount, a brown speckled, good-natured mare. ’Twas her first time ever riding. “I fear I be used to walkin’ or ridin’ in a cart or wagon,” she said as Ian and Brogan gave her a quick lesson. “But I shall do me best to keep up and no’ fall off.”

  Not long afterward, the Mackintoshes and McLarens headed out of the keep, where they picked up the rest of Alec’s men: Gylys Bowie, the young lad named Fenner, and a man named Davy MacReynolds.

  “This be all yer men?” Ian asked disappointedly.

  “Aye,” Alec said with a proud smile. “’They be all that I need at the moment.

  Ian flinched inwardly. Hopefully the man’s arrogance would not get them all killed.

  They would ride until well after nightfall, using the moon to help guide their way. The contingency of men and one woman rode in relative silence, each one of them lost in their own thoughts and concerns.

  For Leona, this was a chance to prove to herself and to those who thought they knew her, that she was neither tetched nor possessed by the devil. She wanted to prove to one and all that she was an intelligent young woman, completely worthy of anyone’s respect. Mayhap, just mayhap, if this mission was successful, they would stop calling her Leona Two-Eyes or Leona the Witch.

  Ian’s thoughts went between the plan they had developed and worry over the possibility of its working. For once, he would not allow his mind to wander to all the conceivable horrible outcomes. Instead, he chose to do what Rose would do: concentrate on nothing but the positive outcome.

  Feeling a good deal more hopeful than he had in weeks, he thought instead about his reunion with his wife. As soon as she was safely in his arms, she would be surrounded by no less than six men at all times. He would write to his father and brother, asking for more volunteers to help rebuild the clan. Never again would he take another chance on his wife being kidnapped or hurt. And never again would he be besieged with worry and dread over her well-being or that of their child. Nay, he would do whatever he could to ensure their safety, no matter the cost.

  * * *

  By the time they made camp, just a few hours before dawn, Leona was exhausted. Her back and legs hurt, as did her bottom. But she’d not utter one word of complaint. Rose’s safe return was the only significantly important thing that mattered.

  A fire was made and a pallet placed near the fire for her. She could not help but wonder if the men were silent because of her presence, or if they were always this quiet. Oftentimes she had helped serve the Mackintosh and McLaren men. Always boisterous and talkative, save for now. Mayhap the seriousness of this mission was what had them holding their normally wagging tongues. She was asleep before she pulled the covers over her shoulders.

  As soon as the sun rose the following morning, Brogan gently woke her. “We need to be on our way, lass,” he said with a sleepy smile.

  Quickly — or as quickly as her sore muscles allowed — she tended to her morning ablutions and they were soon on their way. They ate while they rode, bread and dried meat, and again, silence fell in all around them.

  It took two days to reach the border between Bowie and McLaren lands. With the increased patrols, the Mackintoshes and McLarens could not risk going farther onto Bowie lands. They would have to wait behind in the forest and avoid being seen by anyone. ’Twas not a position Ian relished.

  ’Twas early morning and a fine mist hung in the air, while gray skies overhead threatened more rain. “This is as far as we can go with ye, Leona,” Ian said as they stood next to their mounts. His tone and countenance were both quite serious. “Ye can change yer mind if ye wish. No one will hold it against ye.”

  Leona offered him a wan smile. “Nay, m’laird, I will no’ stop now. No’ when we be so close to gettin’ Rose back.”

  He admired her tenacity and was grateful for her devotion to his wife. “Rose has a good friend in ye, Leona Macdowall.”

  “As I have in her, m’laird.”

  Brogan appeared, looking just as serious as his brother. He too offered her the chance to back out and once again she refused.

  “Do ye have a sgian dubh, lass?” Ian asked.

  With wide eyes, she answered, “Nay, I was in such a hurry to pack, I did no’ think to grab one of da’s.”

  Almost in unison, Ian and Brogan each reached into their boots to retrieve hidden daggers. With hands extended and hopeful expressions, they presented the sgian dubhs to her.

  “Keep one in yer pouch,” Ian said. “The other in yer boot.”

  “Thank ye,” she said breathlessly as she took both daggers. “I shall return these to ye in a matter of days.”

  “Nay,” Ian said. “Keep them.”

  She looked at them in awe, as if they had just presented her with the crown of Scotland. ’Twas the first gift she had received since childhood, when her grandminny presented her with her first journal.

  * * *

  They’d left the Mackintoshes and McLarens behind hours ago. Leona now travelled with four relatively complete strangers, heading toward heaven-only-knew what. Though she tried to keep a reserved facade, her insides were a jumbled knot of nerves and trepidation.

  Riding on either side of her were Alec Bowie and Kyth, while Fenner and Davey took up the rear. They had just poured out of a small forest and onto a hilly, rock-covered area of land. The morning mist had abated and now the sun shone down brightly. ’Twas an altogether beautiful day, which would be made more beautiful if they were successful in their mission.

  “Lass,” Alec asked as they made their way around a large boulder. The sound of his voice startled her, for they had all been riding in silence for hours. “Why do ye do this?”

  Leona cast him a sideways glance as she focused on guiding her horse through the rocky terrain. She thought it a rather odd question. “To help me friend.”

  Alec thought it a rather odd answer. “Do ye always risk yer neck fer friends?”

  ’Twas not an easy question to answer without looking like a downtrodden fool. Carefully, she chose her words. “Rose is me dearest friend,” she told him. And me only one.

  He was quiet for a long moment. “Do ye truly understand how dangerous this is?”

  “I do,” she replied.

  “And yet ye take the risk in hopes of helpin’ yer friend,” he said wi
th a hint of disbelief.

  Deciding ’twas a statement and not a question, she fell silent. Her reasons were her own. Some of them were purely selfish. But her primary reason for risking life and limb was most sincere. She had to help Rose get back to her family and clan.

  Slowly, they made their way up a small incline, winding their way around large rocks and small boulders. When they crested the top of the hill, he began his questioning again.

  “Have ye thought of what will happen to ye, should we be found out?”

  In truth, she had given that some thought. “It matters no’,” she told him. “I must do everythin’ I can to get Rose back to her family, to Ian. To the clan.”

  “And if me brother learns of our plans?”

  Leona smiled wanly. “Me own neck is no’ near as important as Rose’s.”

  She took note of his furrowed brow and puzzled expression. “Ye see, m’laird,” she continued to explain, “Rose is verra important to her people. If anythin’ were to happen to her or her babe, the ramifications are most severe. ‘Twould be a loss felt for many years by many people.”

  “And if they were to lose ye?”

  Growing frustrated with the conversation, she answered as honestly as she could. “None would mourn me passin’, m’laird.”

  * * *

  The plan was to wait for night to fall before entering the keep. Darkness would be their precious ally this night.

  An hour before reaching the keep, they stopped at a small thicket of trees and bramble. Alec helped Leona from her mount, setting her on the ground with great care. She thanked him politely, before stepping away with her bag. “I shall change me clothes now, m’laird.”

  He thought her a most comely lass and was beginning to doubt the success of their plan. Far too pretty and quiet to pretend she was a bar wench, he began to worry no one would believe it.

  Surprise did not begin to describe how he felt when she stepped out of the thicket.

  Gone was the sweet, innocent looking lass. Before him stood a beautiful young woman. She had pulled her chemise to rest seductively low on her shoulders. Over that, she wore a bright green dress, the laces of which were stretched taught over her large, round breasts. Breasts he hadn’t noticed until then. The skirt was pulled up at different points, and tucked into a dark belt, exposing more of the chemise as well as her slender ankles than was right or proper.

  And no longer was her hair tied into a simple braid. Nay, it was unbound, tossed loosely over her shoulders, where it cascaded down her back. Golden blonde, wavy locks that looked as soft as silk when the setting sun glinted off it.

  Apparently his men were just as surprised as he, for he heard Kyth utter under his breath, “God’s bones,” while Gylys all but gasped.

  “Well?” she asked as she rested one palm on a dainty hip. “Will I pass fer a bar wench?”

  Before his men could answer, Alec removed his own cloak, stepped forward, and draped it around her shoulders. “Aye, lass, that will do.”

  ’Twas then she smiled. A smile that very nearly stole his breath away. Proud as well as relieved, she allowed her lips to curve upward, exposing nearly perfect white teeth. Even her eyes sparkled with glee.

  “I have a patch too,” she said happily as she reached into her pouch. Carefully, she tied the patch around her head, taking great care to settle it just so. “To cover me blue eye.”

  Inexplicably, he found he did not care for the patch, but understood its importance. While he found her oddly colored eyes intriguing, they would surely bring unwanted attention. Then he chanced another glance at her beautiful bosom and realized she could have three eyes, all of a different color, and not a man on earth would notice.

  * * *

  Sharing a mount, much to his unruly body’s consternation, Leona and Alec rode up to the Bowie keep. Were the situation and circumstances different, he would have taken great pleasure in having her perched on his lap, watching her breasts bob up and down in time with the horse. Feeling a lecher and cad, he pushed those thoughts aside to focus on the mission at hand.

  Before he could stop at the end of the path at the edge of the moat, a voice called out from above. “Who goes there?”

  “’Tis me, Alec Bowie. Let me in Seamus!” Alec boomed his reply.

  “Who be that with ye?” Seamus called back down.

  Alec laughed raucously. “Me company fer the night!”

  Laughter broke out along the upper wall. Moments later, they began to lower the drawbridge. Loud and aged, it creaked and groaned.

  “Just follow me lead, lass, and all will be well,” he whispered into her ear.

  She could only offer a rapid nod for she was too afraid to speak.

  Soon, they were traversing over the drawbridge and into the Bowie keep.

  Someone came to take hold of his horse. Alec dismounted first then helped Leona down.

  “Would ye like me to let Rutger ken ye’re here?” the young man holding the reins asked.

  Alec laughed loudly. “Nay, I’d prefer ye did no’. me new friend and I would much prefer no company this night.”

  The young man laughed before leading the horse away.

  They made their way in through the gate in the second wall with relative ease. Once inside the keep, they realized the gathering room was still alive with men and women enjoying one another’s company and the ale that poured freely. Too into their cups to notice much of anything.

  Alec took her hand in his and quietly, they made their way up the dark stairs. Down the torchlit hallway, she clung to his hand with a deathlike grip.

  As soon as he closed the door to his bedchamber, he leaned against it and let out a sigh of relief.

  “That was easier than I thought,” Leona remarked. She was standing with her back pressed against the wall that stood opposite his bed.

  Running a hand across his jaw, he said, “Aye, but the night is far from over.”

  * * *

  Leona had never been alone with a man before, at least not in his bedchamber. Still pressed against the wall, she watched him as he checked the bar on the door. Watched still as he crossed the room and lifted the fur to peer out the window.

  “Ye should rest,” he said without turning around.

  Rest? Nay, she doubted she’d be able to sleep this night. She was in the proverbial lion’s den, amongst hundreds of Bowies. They were sworn enemies of the Mackintoshes and McLarens. Though she didn’t truly belong to either clan, she still felt a tremendous sense of duty and fealty to them.

  Uncertain as to where exactly she should rest — the bed was completely out of the question — she took a seat at the small table that sat in the corner of the room.

  “Lass, ye can have the bed,” he told her as if he could read her thoughts.

  Furtively, she glanced at the bed then at Alec.

  Finally, he turned to face her. “I promised yer laird yer life as well as yer innocence, would be safely guarded.”

  Why that bothered her, irritated her no end, she couldn’t rightly say. Deep down, she wished he would at least make the attempt at defiling her. Even something as simple as a kiss. But nay, he just stood there at the window, being a gentleman. Three and twenty years old and she’d never been kissed. Not even a drunken lout had tried.

  Mayhap she was exhausted from all the travel. Mayhap she was simply tired. Tired of men running in the opposite direction. Tired of being called names by complete strangers and those people who should have known better.

  Pushing her ire aside, she threw off her cloak, hung it on a hook by the door, and climbed into the bed. Either way, it simply didn’t matter. There were more important things to worry about at the moment. Such as what would transpire on the following morning, just before dawn broke over the horizon.

  Thus far, it appeared as though God were in favor of this devious plan. Hopefully, He would continue to bless them and Rose would soon be back in the loving arms of her husband.

  “Are ye warm enough?” Alec asked
in a low, hushed tone.

  His voice felt as warm as sunlight. She heard his soft footfalls as he walked across the floor, drawing nearer to the bed. Panic slowly crept in as a hundred different scenarios bombarded her mind.

  “Aye, I am,” she whispered.

  Just when she thought he meant to climb into the bed with her, she felt him drape a fur over her and pull it up over her shoulders. She tensed, holding her breath, wondering what on earth she should say or do.

  Quietly, he stepped away. She could hear him building a fire in the hearth, all the while she lay unmoving in the bed. What would her father think, should he ever find out she was alone in a man’s bedchamber? What did it really matter? The only time he cared one whit about her safety or well-being was when it came to men. In truth, she really didn’t think he cared one way or another.

  Once Alec was finished with the fire, she heard his light footfalls as he walked back toward the bed. The chair scraped quietly across the floor when he pulled it away from the table. It creaked ever so slightly when he sat down.

  “Go to sleep, lass. We’ve a very big day on the morrow.”

  She remained mute and as still as a rabbit hiding from a fox. Aye, whatever happened on the morrow would determine her future destiny. ’Twas a rather unsettling feeling.

  27

  Dawn had yet to caress the sky when Leona felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Startled, she shot up in bed, forgetting for a moment just where she was.

  Alec was sitting on the bed next to her, a warm smile on his lips. “Wheest, lass. ’Tis only me. ’Tis time.”

  Wiping the sleep from her eyes with her fingertips, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her heart pounded against her breast. ’Tis time.

  Unease settled in like a waterlogged fur. Suppressing the urge to cry, she took slow, steady breaths. Alec placed her slippers on the floor at her feet and helped her to stand.

  “’Twill all be over soon, lass. I promise.”

  That was what terrified her most. That her whole life would be over soon if they were discovered.