The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  “I do know that,” she admitted. “He thinks you are an outlaw.”

  He drew an audible breath, then said abruptly, “What was your need?”

  “Need?”

  “Ye said ’twas your own need moved ye to find me.”

  “Aye.” Suddenly, she felt more vulnerable than she had when he’d had his arms around her, when she had known she could not trust her own good sense to protect her from him. She had no idea how he would react when she told him, and she had a horrid feeling that if he did not react the way she hoped—

  “Well?”

  Men were so impatient.

  “They want me to marry him.”

  “Marry whom?”

  “Sir Alex.”

  “Who wants it?”

  “My mother primarily. She made her mind up to it before we left Ardintoul, when Kintail told her he was taking us to Dundreggan.”

  “Did you know of this the evening I visited you at Ardintoul?”

  “No, not then, although I might not have told you even if I had known,” she added honestly. “When my mother first said there was to be a wedding, I thought I could fix things, but it begins to look as if I cannot.”

  “One always has a choice, lass. Just tell them you won’t do it.”

  “It is just like a man to say that doing such a thing must be easy.”

  She felt him shrug. “Scottish women have a legal right to refuse any unwanted marriage. Just tell them you won’t.”

  “I cannot. Even you cannot believe I can simply defy Chisholm or stand up before the priest and all the guests and declare that I won’t go through with it. His lordship will not support me because he wants to honor my father’s wish and because it will upset my mother if the wedding does not go forward. She… she is different now, happier, planning it,” she added with a renewed surge of guilt.

  “In truth, lass, I think marriage will be good for ye.”

  “What?” Her guilt evaporated. “You want me to marry him?”

  “I can think o’ worse fates. Marriage to Sir Alex will keep ye safe, and it will greatly increase your status. The wife o’ the heir to Dundreggan will be a person o’ consequence even at Jamie’s court. Such a marriage would provide well for your future and that o’ your children. Surely ye must think o’ that.”

  “I don’t care about any of that! Faith, do you think money and position are so important to me?”

  “I think that only a young woman o’ consequence could ask that question,” he retorted. “If ye had none, ye’d appreciate it more, but I ha’ often heard ye say ‘we MacRaes,’ lass. Would ye marry a man wi’ no estate? I think not.”

  “But I don’t care about such things, truly,” she insisted. “And Sir Alex Chisholm is not the man I want to marry, no matter how much money or position he might have or how safe he might be. Safe!” She snapped out the word, scorn dripping from it. “I want a man of action, sir, one who cares more about righting injustices in the world than he cares about the cut of his coat.”

  To her shock he laughed.

  “That is not funny!”

  “Aye, sure, but it is. Am I to take it that ye’d rather marry me?”

  If she had thought such a thing—which, she told herself firmly, she had not—she would swiftly have changed her mind. “I have no interest in marrying you. Why, I don’t even know who you are!”

  “Aye, well, just supposing that the notion had crossed your mind,” he went on, his knuckles stroking her cheek again, “ye must see that I canna marry anyone.”

  “Never?” Her voice quavered on the word.

  “Just think how it would be,” he said. “What would happen if some villain captured my wife or my child?”

  The thought sent a frisson of fear up her spine. “That would be dreadful.”

  “Aye, it would. Indeed, their very existence would destroy my ability to concentrate on my work. Even now, lass, you divert me. Only see where I am at this moment and what I am doing.”

  His fingertips touched her lips, and she had to exert herself not to kiss them.

  “You tempt me to take chances when I should be exerting every caution. That Dalcross’s men have twice seen you in my company means you must guard yourself well.” Touching the tip of her nose with a finger, he added, “In future, you must think what you risk for us both before you go careering over the countryside.”

  “That is why you were angry with me.”

  “Aye, that and because you risked your life. My method of evading capture might have ended badly, you know. You could have broken your pretty neck.”

  “You, too, but we didn’t.”

  “No, but you must take better care of yourself, lass. I was angry this time, but I knew you had not thought about the consequences. Now that you have been warned, you would be ill-advised to ignore my counsel.”

  His tone had changed again, sending another shiver up her spine.

  “I’ll take care,” she promised.

  “Good,” he said, kissing her lightly on the lips.

  “Have you got cat’s eyes that you can see so well in here?” she demanded. “You seem to know exactly where everything is.”

  “I know where to find any part of you, sweetheart.”

  His voice was low in his throat now, and she did not ask any more questions.

  “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll fetch Dancer and take you back to the ridge.”

  “Don’t forget your mask and cloak,” she said dryly.

  He chuckled.

  Half an hour later, by a roundabout way, he led her to another place on the ridge from which she could see Dundreggan and a track that led down into the glen. But this time, after he kissed her, he gave the gelding a hard smack on the rump, startling it into a trot.

  She recovered quickly and looked back to see him watching her. Waving, she urged the gelding on, knowing that the man watching her would make certain she could not follow him again. She did not intend to do so, but at the first opportunity, she did mean to search for the cave again.

  Chapter 14

  Watching her go, he felt an odd mixture of amusement, exasperation, and admiration. She was as unlike any other young woman he knew as one woman could be, and she fascinated him, but beyond any doubt, she was riding for a fall if he could not swiftly rein her in. Francis Dalcross and his men would eat her alive.

  He waited only until he was certain she would not follow him again. Then, urging the stallion to a much faster pace than he had before, and taking a route much shorter and more direct than he generally used, he returned to the cave.

  She was a danger to him, he reminded himself as he dismounted. He had even forgotten his common accent with her, and although he could hope she had not noticed, he could not be sure. Yet here he was, out in broad daylight again because he had suspected she would ride out alone and had been daft enough to want to meet her if she did. Now he had to hurry lest someone seek him at home.

  It would take her nearly half an hour to reach Dundreggan from where he’d left her, but that might not be enough time.

  Leading the stallion into the cave, he found Hugo awaiting him, the grim expression on the man’s face making his disapproval plain.

  “I know exactly what you are bursting to say,” he said. “I’ve already heard it, and I do not want to hear it again.”

  “I be right, sir, and so ye ken verra well.”

  “Aye, doubtless you are, you rascal, but life needs spice just as good food does, and Mistress Bab provides barrels of the stuff. I am enjoying myself too, more now than I did before she came to Glen Affric.”

  “Aye, sure, and ye be bound for perdition, most likely.”

  “Perhaps, but first I have something to do and a wee task for you to perform as well. When you have finished, look after Merry Dancer.” He stroked the side of the stallion’s neck.

  “O’ course I will,” Hugo grumbled. “What will ye ha’ me do first, then?”

  “Listen carefully,” Alex said, “and I’ll tell you
.”

  Ten minutes later, Alex emerged cautiously into the chapel through a small door behind the elaborately carved-oak rood screen. Through small apertures in the carvings he saw that the chamber was empty, so he quickly made his way to the private spiral stair that led to the family apartments and thus to his bedchamber.

  Finding clothing that Hugo had laid out earlier, he quickly changed, for he was looking forward to his next scene with Mistress Bab. Peering critically at himself in the glass, he saw that his excitement showed. The deception he had elected to foist onto his family and friends troubled him frequently, but it had its amusing aspects too. He fully expected the forthcoming scene to be one of them.

  Picking up a scented handkerchief from his dressing table, he inhaled deeply and felt his body relax into the customary, slouching posture that his languid alter ego affected. He dared not dash about now lest someone see him, but even his most unhurried strides covered distance. When he found his father in the hall, frowning, and the noon meal still not served, he felt only relief that she had not returned yet.

  “Alex, there you are,” Chisholm said curtly. “Mistress Barbara seems to have ridden out alone. I thought we had explained to her that she must not do that.”

  Alex shrugged. “My dear sir, I fear she pays me little heed. Try as I will, I lack the knack for issuing commands with sufficient authority to impress her.”

  Chisholm’s eyes narrowed. “You would do better to acquire that knack then, or she will lead you a dance when you marry her.”

  “She is spoiled, sir, that is all. She has grown accustomed to crooking a finger and seeing her slightest wish obeyed.”

  “Fustian. No lass reared by Gilchrist MacRae can be spoiled.”

  “With respect, my dear sir, did you intend to ride out to look for her?”

  Recalled to his purpose, Chisholm said brusquely, “Aye, I did, and you had better come with me, I suppose.”

  “I am happy to oblige you,” Alex said. “Indeed, you may remain here to rest if you prefer. I shall doubtless find her soon.”

  “Very well, but see that you do,” Chisholm said. “I have told them to put dinner back an hour, so I shall expect to see you both at table by then.”

  “I look forward to obliging you,” Alex said, turning away to hide his grin.

  A short distance from the castle, Bab saw a half dozen men riding toward her with Sir Alex in the lead. She had not hurried, for the sun being directly overhead, she was sure that the household must already have sat down to the main meal of the day. When she reached the river, the temptation to ride in the opposite direction had been strong. Only the thought of the Fox’s most likely reaction to defiance of his command that she go straight to Dundreggan kept her from acting on it.

  Nevertheless, she was not looking forward to the inquisition she would face on her return, for someone—Chisholm, most likely, or his lady—was bound to ask where she had been. And while she could truthfully say she had ridden onto the north ridge and into the woods beyond, even that would scarcely account for the hours she had been away and would doubtless lead to exactly the sort of recriminations she particularly wanted to avoid.

  She saw Sir Alex draw rein and raise a hand to halt his companions.

  Bab realized that he meant to wait for her to reach him instead of exerting himself to ride even the short extra distance to greet her properly. Although his dislike of exertion was well known, his manners were generally exquisite. Had Patrick chosen to wait like that, she would have known he was exceptionally displeased with her, even punishing her, but she could never be sure what Alex was thinking. Patrick would look stern. Alex looked as he always did, precise to a pin and vaguely happy to see her.

  Holding her head high, she rode toward him, although with all the men staring at her, the distance seemed longer and the time to reach them endless. Her temper stirred. How dare he make a game of her!

  When she was within thirty feet of them, Sir Alex gestured toward a point behind her and said something to his men that she could not hear.

  One of the men exclaimed and pointed, and she looked back to see a rearing black horse against the cloudless sky at the top of the ridge. Its black-cloaked rider raised a hand and waved.

  Realizing the Fox must have watched her the whole way, she sighed in relief that she had not let temptation sway her to defy him, but she was annoyed with him too, for not trusting her, and she struggled to control that annoyance as she turned back to face Alex.

  In a doublet and hose of his favorite cerulean blue, astride his well-groomed bay, he looked very handsome and not the least bit threatening. As she drew rein before him, he said, “You lads ride on ahead of us. We’ll follow at our leisure.”

  One of the older men said diffidently, “I warrant his lordship would want us to stay wi’ ye, Master Alex, particularly if he hears that Sionnach Dubh be near.”

  “Then do not tell him,” Alex said in his foppish drawl. “Go on now, all of you. I would be private with Mistress Barbara, and you are very much in the way. His lordship intends for us to wed, you know, so go.”

  Bab’s anger increased, and she barely waited for the men to wheel their mounts and gallop toward the castle before she said tartly, “Why did you say that to them? You must know that the more you speak of a wedding, the more likely everyone is to believe it must happen. Remember, sir, you promised you would not force me into a marriage I do not want.”

  “I won’t,” he said, “and I am sorry if you do not like it that I sent the lads on ahead of us, but you were frowning so that I thought you must have something to say to me that I would liefer they not hear.”

  “You thought I was angry with you?”

  “Aye, were you not? You seem always to be in a fierce temper with me.”

  She forced a smile. “Not always, surely.”

  “Always,” he insisted. “What have I done to arouse your ire this time?”

  She remembered then that she had been irked that he made her ride to him instead of riding to meet her. But remembering, too, that he had seen the Fox, she nibbled her lower lip, wondering if it would be best to tell him or to turn the subject to something altogether different, like the splendid weather.

  “You did not seem surprised to see him,” Alex said quietly.

  Suddenly, it was easy. “I was surprised,” she said as they turned their horses toward Dundreggan, “but not as surprised as one might expect.”

  “I expected you to exclaim in delight at catching sight of your legend,” he said with a smile. “Instead you just glanced at him and then kept riding toward us.”

  “I have something to tell you,” she said, “and I do think it will be better if I explain it all before we reach Dundreggan.”

  “Then, by all means, tell me at once.”

  She did so as they rode slowly along, and she found it surprisingly easy to tell him everything. He expressed no anger, only bewilderment that she would fling herself into danger by confronting the sheriff’s men.

  “I did not fling myself,” she said. “I did not know they would behave so.”

  “It was kind of you, in any event, to concern yourself for the lad’s sake. Not many would have done such a thing.”

  Even when she described the way the Fox had snatched her from her saddle and plunged the great stallion over the cliff into the roaring river, Sir Alex said only, “By my faith, you amaze me! What happened next?”

  Bab hesitated.

  The Fox had said to tell him everything, but he had said that while they were still on the riverbank after their wild swim. Surely, he had not intended her to admit following him to his cave. If she admitted as much, would not Alex or his father insist that she lead them to that cave? And would they believe her when she said she could not remember where it was, even though that would probably prove true?

  Alex raised his eyebrows. “Well, Bab?”

  “I won’t lie to you,” she said, “but I do not want to describe everywhere I rode afterward. You will just
have to be content knowing that I returned safely.”

  “I can certainly pretend to be content if you like,” he said with a slight smile, “but I warrant my father will demand to know more.”

  “Must we tell him?” She tried to imagine that conversation. “He won’t believe we rode off the cliff like that. He may decide I’ve made up the whole tale.”

  “Perhaps, but I do not think you need fear him. He used to beat his sons soundly when they misbehaved, of course, but he is ever gentle with the fair sex.”

  “Even you said I wanted beating,” she reminded him sourly.

  His eyes widened in astonishment, and his drawl became more conspicuous than ever as he said, “My dear Bab, whatever can have put such a notion into your head? Much as one hesitates to contradict a lady, and although I do not doubt that Patrick may have said such a thing to you, that you can accuse me…”

  She had already remembered that he was not the one who had said it to her, and since she would not for anything admit to him that the Fox had, she said swiftly, “I beg your pardon! You are perfectly right. Not only does Patrick say it frequently, although thankfully, he has never done it, but Kintail also expresses the same sentiments on occasion. Since I was thinking earlier about how childish I’d been to throw that mug at you, and since I know exactly how either of them would have reacted, I suppose I must have put their words into your mouth.”

  “I can see how you might have done that,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  She grimaced. “I know you are teasing me, sir, but I do still feel guilty about flinging that mug.”

  “Well, I own I’d as lief you not do it again,” he said. “As to telling my father about your adventure—”

  “Must we tell any of them?”

  “Would you keep it all a secret, then?”

  She nodded. “Sionnach Dubh saved me from a frightful ordeal,” she said. “I would have to be a worse villain than Francis Dalcross to repay him by giving information about him to anyone. I won’t do it, not even for your father.”

  “Not even for me?”

  She shook her head. “No.”