Kilty Pleasures (Clash of the Tartans Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  “If Lochwood harms a hair on her head,” Maxwell hissed after taking a breath. “He intends to make her his leman.”

  “Yer sister?”

  “Nay. Kyla. He means to wed Lily now he thinks I’m dead so he can get his hands on Caerlochnaven.”

  It struck Darroch that Maxwell seemed as furious with Lochwood’s nefarious plans for Kyla as he was. He ordered his crew back to the galley and took the Lowlander by the arm. “Time’s a-wasting,” he snarled. “Get what ye need in yon castle, then come to the Banamhara. He’s heading for Annan still, ye think?”

  As he watched Broderick Maxwell mount the carthorse and ride back to his castle, he briefly wondered what Kyla thought of the young laird. She probably hated him for sinking the Lanmara. Too bad. It was obvious the man was smitten with her. But it would never work—he was a Lowlander.

  More of a Man

  Navigating the busy Solway took all of Kyla’s and Nicolson’s attention. Delft had his hands full supervising the two Maxwell rowers who seemed to have no experience manning the sails.

  Corbin forced Lily to kneel at his feet, then, to Kyla’s horror, took off the soiled shirt and tossed it into the waves. Apart from their coloring, he and Broderick might have been brothers. They were roughly the same height, probably about the same age, as broad in the chest and shoulders. Yet the sight of Corbin’s blotchy torso made her nauseous.

  “Keep an eye on them, Adrian,” he said sternly, jolting her from desperate thoughts of Broderick’s drowning.

  The valet nodded, but Kyla thought he looked conflicted. In any case, she doubted he could lift the sword he held with its point digging into the wooden deck. She could rely on the other men aboard, but it was impossible to say what Adrian might do.

  Corbin made a big show of donning Broderick’s shirt. “Very fine,” he crooned, tying the laces at the throat while he ogled Kyla. “Soon all of Maxwell’s fine things will be mine.”

  By the time he’d put on the shirt and doublet, she feared she might be sick. Surely he wasn’t going to change his trews in front of them.

  She averted her eyes when he dropped the voluminous pantaloons and hopped about getting first one leg and then the other into the stolen trews. The contrast with the dignified way Broderick had removed his clothing was almost comical—and what on earth had caused the red chafing all over Corbin’s skin?

  She resisted the urge to snigger when he strutted about in his new finery. She’d been wrong. Broderick was taller. And more of a man.

  *

  Corbin was well pleased with his new outfit. He’d get the tailors at Caerlochnaven to create something similar once he took possession. No point expecting auld Mick at Glenkill Tower to fashion anything of the sort.

  He was disappointed Kyla had looked away while he was donning the trews. A glimpse of his masculine endowments might have rendered her more receptive to the notion of becoming his mistress. It was unfortunate the irritating scratches from the monk’s robe had obliged him to resist the urge to display himself to his full advantage, but they would soon heal. The prospect of Kyla soothing his hurts with a cool salve was enough to make a man drool with anticipation.

  He strapped on Maxwell’s sword belt, then beckoned Adrian. “Fetch me the weapon,” he commanded.

  He resolved to keep a wary eye on the youth. His membership in a Lochwood Clan sept was no guarantee of his loyalty. He seemed far too concerned about Lily Maxwell.

  Corbin hefted the sword when his valet obeyed, understanding immediately why the lad had so much trouble carrying it. He carefully sheathed the blade in the scabbard, wondering if it was a good idea to burden himself with a weapon that was too long. Personally, he’d always preferred a dagger. Lighter and easier to conceal. However, an impressive sword would make him more intimidating. After all, if he intended to masquerade as the captain of a gunboat once they arrived in Annan…

  “That’s my brother’s sword,” Lily hissed.

  He looked down to where she still knelt at his feet. It was a temptation to wipe the glower off her pale face with a good smack, but he was having difficulty keeping his balance, what with the sword and the choppy seas. There’d be time enough for discipline once they were wed.

  Speaking of which, he had to come up with a plan for the ceremony. It wasn’t likely any cleric in Annan would agree to marry them. He’d have to wait until they arrived at Glenkill Tower where his word was law.

  When the galley changed course to enter the estuary of the River Annan, he set his mind to formulating a plan to procure horses to get him and his hostages to Glenkill. Tapping his chin, he realized that might be a problem. He had connections in the port, many of them his clansmen. However, he owed money to some wealthy men who’d invested in his scheme to trade with the MacKeegans.

  If he hadn’t lost the opium…

  That was another thing Kyla would atone for.

  He took hold of Lily’s hands and pulled her up. She squirmed to be free as he stood at the prow, holding her firmly with her back against his chest. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience, but he felt it appropriate to pinch her arm. “Stop that.”

  As the galley bumped the wooden dock, he turned to Adrian, momentarily suspicious of the youth’s scowl. “Make yourself useful. Procure horses for us.”

  The servant shrugged, spreading his arms wide. “But I have no coin.”

  Reluctantly, Corbin handed over Maxwell’s dagger. “Here, trade this.”

  Adrian scurried over the side and disappeared along the dock as the crew secured the vessel.

  “What now?” Kyla asked belligerently.

  The chit had no manners, but it was a good question. He no longer required the galley, nor the crew. Except, he’d need the gunboat after the king appointed him Warden. It was a quandary.

  “Secure the boat,” he bellowed.

  “’Tis already secure,” Kyla retorted.

  Nicolson and Delft were edging too close. Corbin clamped an arm around Lily’s neck. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Let the men go,” Kyla said. “’Tis me ye want.”

  He’d have been happier to hear an edge of fear in her voice, but there’d be time for that. “I’ll have need of them later.”

  “For what?”

  Did the woman have to question everything he did?

  There seemed to be no way out of the impasse. If he carried out his threat to kill Lily, the others would fall on him like…

  “My laird,” Adrian shouted breathlessly from further along the dock.

  Corbin gritted his teeth. Obviously, the wretch had not brought horses.

  Adrian slid down the rope ladder and landed on the deck. “I thought ye should ken the news.”

  “What news?”

  “The king,” the valet replied breathlessly.

  More interested in horses than the monarch, Corbin was losing what little patience he had left. Not to mention the sword was deuced heavy, and why was Adrian speaking like a peasant? “What about the king?”

  “He’s in Carlisle.”

  Corbin could have laughed out loud. He’d racked his brain searching for a way to get to the Royal Court in London. King James had come to him! It would be a simple matter to travel to Carlisle and petition for the Wardenship now Maxwell was dead. There was no need to disembark from the galley at all. The plan was coming together.

  He narrowed his eyes at Nicolson, a man more familiar with Solway tides than he was. “Should we head across to Bowness, or up the Firth to Gretna?”

  He tightened his grip around Lily’s neck when the navigator failed to reply, smiling with satisfaction when the Highlander finally spat out, “Gretna.”

  *

  Contempt for Corbin Lochwood was beginning to override Kyla’s fear, but that could prove to be a mistake. He obviously didn’t think things through, and such men were unpredictable, which made them more dangerous.

  She conferred with Nicolson as the galley got underway once more. “Our first priority is to
safeguard Lily,” she told him.

  “And to prevent the wretch marrying her,” he agreed.

  “What do you think he’ll do once we reach Gretna?”

  Nicolson scratched his head. “He wants ye, and the bairn. He needs the galley. Adrian is dispensable. Me and the rest o’ the crew—we’re excess cargo.”

  It was probably the most she’d heard the dour navigator say at one time, but he’d gone straight to the heart of the matter. “How far to Carlisle from Gretna?” she asked.

  “Ten miles, give or take,” he replied.

  She looked ahead, hoping the stiff breeze would blow the cobwebs from her brain. “It might be a good idea for Corbin to meet the king.”

  Nicolson nodded. “I’ve heard naught good about the mon, but surely he’s astute enough to recognize Lochwood’s evil intent. And how will the monster keep Lily silent?”

  Kyla chewed her bottom lip. “But with Broderick gone, the Crown will need another Warden.”

  Nicolson scraped stunted fingernails through the stubble under his chin. “Lochwood’s nay qualified, but ye are.”

  Volcano

  MacKeegan nodded his approval when Broderick reappeared on the shore clad in his own clothes. “Ye might be the laird after all,” he quipped as Broderick climbed aboard. “But I hope ye’re nay planning on bringing yon bird on my galley.”

  “She’s a huntress,” Broderick replied. “We might need her.”

  MacKeegan eyed him curiously, then shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve nay time to argue. She’s yer responsibility.”

  Kyla’s father soon had the Banamhara gliding across the water.

  Broderick gained a new appreciation of the vessel’s maneuverability, and a deeper understanding of why it was the preferred craft of sailors who plied the Hebridean seas.

  It was also plain to see that Darroch MacKeegan was one with his boat. Small wonder Kyla was at home on the deck of a ship. Obviously, she’d inherited his flame-red hair as well.

  He was glad of the opportunity to fill his mind with these observations. If he thought overlong on what might be happening to Lily and Kyla, he would go mad. MacKeegan’s skill allowed him to stay calm. Desperate men made mistakes and he wanted to be in full possession of his wits.

  He missed his sword. The one procured in haste from the armory didn’t have the same weight to it.

  Aiglon’s grip on his arm helped steady his nerves. Conversing with his pet might give the wrong impression, so he contented himself with stroking her wind-ruffled feathers from time to time.

  Gooseflesh marched across his nape as they entered the estuary of the Annan and MacKeegan ordered his men to lower the sail. The tide was high so they were able to reach the dock. Annan wasn’t a busy port and Broderick’s hopes plummeted as he scanned the environs while the crew secured the boat. “My galley’s nay here,” he shouted to MacKeegan.

  “Where else would he go?” Darroch asked through gritted teeth.

  “Doesna make sense. This is the closest to the safety of his castle.”

  “Perhaps he’s been and gone.”

  The notion sounded unlikely, but Broderick hailed an elderly sailor mending sails on the boat docked next to theirs. “Have ye perchance seen a gunboat?”

  The auld man shifted his pipe to the corner of his mouth. “Is that an eagle ye’ve got there?”

  Broderick inhaled slowly. “Aye. The boat?”

  “Ne’er seen an eagle on a boat afore. Carved ones, aye, but…”

  “I dare say. The gunboat? Was it here?”

  “A boat with a gun?”

  “Aye. A cannon.”

  “Why would a boat need a cannon?”

  Behind him, Broderick sensed Darroch’s agitation. “’Tis a patrol boat belonging to the Warden of the Solway. The cannon serves as a warning to smugglers and the like.”

  The sailor sucked on his pipe. “I heard tell of a birlinn being sunk by cannon fire just a few days ago.”

  Broderick clenched his fists at his sides. “Aye.”

  The sailor finally took the pipe out of his mouth. “Why is this yer concern?” he asked, pale smoke puffing from his nostrils.

  “I’m Laird Broderick Maxwell, Warden of the Solway.”

  The resulting scowl made him realize immediately he ought not to have mentioned his name. Annan wasn’t friendly territory.

  “Maxwell?” the sailor spat. “And ye’ve lost yer boat, have ye?”

  Darroch growled. “This is getting us nowhere.” He strode forward and reeled off something in Gaelic to the sailor.

  At least, Broderick thought it was Gaelic, though it was a dialect he didn’t recognize.

  The scowl left the old man’s face. “Why did ye nay say so in the first place? Aye, yon boat was here, but then they left when they heard the news.”

  Broderick had never seen a volcano, though he’d heard accounts of the eruptions of Vesuvius. He feared he was standing next to one as MacKeegan seethed.

  The auld man must have also sensed the fury the Hebridean was about to unleash. “The king’s in Carlisle. They’ve sailed to Gretna, if ye ask me.”

  MacKeegan whirled and shouted to his crew. “Prepare to cast off. The tide’s about to turn.”

  The rowers pulled hard once the galley was free of the dock and the Banamhara rode the tide out of the estuary. When they were safely away from the mudflats, Broderick couldn’t contain his curiosity. “What did ye say that finally loosened his cantankerous tongue?” he asked MacKeegan.

  “I told him a pirate had stolen the boat and kidnapped my daughter.”

  “How was it he understood what ye said?”

  “He’s from the Western Isles. I’ve seen his vessel before.”

  “Did he ken who ye are?”

  Kyla’s father eyed him. “Everyone in the Isles kens who the MacKeegan is.”

  Broderick could well believe it.

  Genius

  As the Gretna docks came into view, Corbin realized he didn’t have much time to formulate a plan that would accommodate his new circumstances. He worried about how to rid himself of the four crewmen. Initially, he planned to have them jump overboard, but the tide was going out and it was unlikely they would drown. In any case, he doubted Kyla could handle docking the galley single-handedly, proficient though she was, and Adrian wouldn’t be of much use.

  The prospect of traveling ten miles to Carlisle Castle with two reluctant females in tow was bothersome. Kyla in particular would thwart him every chance she got. Imagine if he secured an audience with the king and she decided to denounce him there and then. There’d be nothing he could do.

  Then inspiration struck at the very moment Kyla declared the boat secure. He chuckled at his own genius. “Adrian, find a horse for my betrothed and me.”

  As the lad scampered off, Corbin relished the confused frown on Kyla’s face. Clever as she was, she hadn’t recognized the ingenious nature of his decision. “You’ll remain here, with the crew and the gunboat, and woe-betide Lily if you’re gone when I return as the new Warden of the Solway. A man can punish his wife however he sees fit.”

  She merely gaped at him, the brilliance of it evidently striking her dumb. Indeed, he began to feel ridiculously disappointed and uncomfortable as Kyla and the four crewmen simply stared at him. He’d have preferred an argument, or some sort of attempt to stop him, then he could have pulled Lily’s hair again and given her arm another good pinch. That would shake the sullen glower off her face and make her cry.

  He tapped his foot impatiently. Where was Adrian with the confounded horse?

  *

  Kyla was confident Nicolson and the other crewmen understood the best plan was to allow Corbin to get off the galley once the horse arrived. However, she could only hope Lily grasped the reason for their inaction.

  The bairn had courage, that was for certain. Corbin hadn’t managed to make her cry.

  The madman’s decision to allow them all to remain behind was proof of his idiocy. She’d fully expecte
d him to force the crew overboard. Of course with the tide going out, they’d have had little difficulty reaching the safety of a mudflat, especially given that Nicolson knew the estuary well. In a way, she was disappointed he wasn’t taking her to Carlisle. She’d have done everything she could to make his life miserable. However, it was a relief to be rid of his leering gaze.

  Now, she’d have traveling companions on the journey into Cumbria. Venturing into England was a daunting prospect, but it was her responsibility to reveal Corbin’s crimes to King James, for Broderick’s sake.

  A lot depended on what Adrian decided to do. If Corbin took him along, she wouldn’t have to worry about him for the moment. If he was left behind, whose side would the youth choose?

  She and Corbin stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity as the tide went out and the galley settled into the mud. He eventually sat down on one of the tholes, though the overlong sword rendered it difficult. She was tempted to laugh, until he dragged Lily to sit on his lap.

  He grinned like an imbecile, his face reddening as the lass squirmed. Kyla fumed, wishing there was some way to tell Lily to keep still.

  Gooseflesh marched across her skin when a pale-faced Adrian returned. She risked a glance along the dock to see if he’d left the horse there, but it was clear he’d been unsuccessful.

  Corbin snarled. “Well?”

  “There isna a horse to be be found,” Adrian replied. “I looked everywhere.”

  Holding on to Lily as he stood almost caused Corbin to trip over the sword. “Not even a donkey?”

  Adrian brightened. “Oh, aye. Donkeys aplenty.”

  “So why didn’t you bring a donkey?”

  Adrian shook his head. “Folks hereabouts see no value in a fancy dagger. They’d rather keep their donkey.”

  Nicolson made a soft snorting noise.

  Even Lily smirked.

  Corbin exhaled an exasperated breath. “Do you still have the blade?”

  “Aye, er…I mean yes, my laird.”