A Gypsy in Scotland (MacCallan Clan Book 1)

by Tanya Wilde

  “A scrap?”

  “A tiny morsel.”

  He tilted his head up to the silver sky. “I’m partial to moody weather.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Lash bit back a smile. “I also don’t like dogs.”

  Her astonished gaze swung to him. “Who doesn’t like dogs?”

  Lash merely bit down on his jaw.

  “You are teasing me, I think.” She laughed. “You had me for a moment.”

  Lash opened his mouth to reply, but like fog settling over an eerie forest, instant uneasiness settled over him. His senses—honed over years of misfortune and mishaps—sharpened, warning him to keep focused. A sudden wave of apprehension crashed over him, and his head whipped to the castle gate.

  “Is something wrong?”

  His eyes settled on her. “We should go inside, it’s not safe.”

  “Why would it not be safe?” Her eyes narrowed. “And why do you look as though you expect an army of wild boars to storm the castle?”

  A low hiss exploded from his throat and Lash yanked Honoria to the ground. Call it intuition, or divination, but something felt off—a sickening sense of foreboding coiled his gut.

  “Get down,” he barked when she started to straighten again.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded. Her eyes flashed at him.

  Lash said nothing, hunching low and peering through the branches. Then they heard it, the low beat of hooves heading in their direction.

  Beside him, he felt her stiffen. “Are those the men who hurt you?”

  “It’s too far to tell.”

  “In that case, would it not make sense that I meet them? It could be tenants.”

  “No,” he growled, his heart tightening in a vise. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “My brothers would argue that I was never born with one to begin with.”

  “They might be right,” Lash said, straining his neck to peer beyond the gates.

  “If it is indeed the men seeking you harm, it stands to reason that once I deny knowledge of you, they will leave and not return.”

  “Honoria,” Lash warned. He was not about to let her do something foolish. Dangerous. He would never survive if anything happened to her because of him. “You are not meeting those riders.”

  Chapter 11

  Honoria should not have been so thrilled by the authoritative command in Lash’s voice, but she secretly delighted. It reminded her of their kiss, how he commandeered all of her senses with his taste, his touch, his scent. It made her wonder what other commands he might serve up . . . say . . . somewhere more private. More intimate.

  “Because you will not allow it?” she asked sweetly.

  His eyes snapped with fury. “I will absolutely not allow it.”

  Honoria hid a smile, unfazed by his temper. Had he been one of her brothers, she’d have puffs of smoke flaring from her nostrils at his tone. Instead, she felt the thrill down to her toes.

  Besides, growing up in a castle full of brothers had given her a strong backbone and an insurmountable amount of patience. She managed male broodiness with aplomb. Not that they hadn’t tested the limit of her patience time and again. They still managed to draw out the harpy in her on occasion, like when they refused to acknowledge the fact that she was a grown woman and not a bairn. But for the most part, she had learned the skill of equanimity, even though most of that stemmed from sheer resignation at times.

  Inching away from Lash, who hunched with his gaze pinned on the men who were riding through the castle gate, Honoria took a deep breath. If those were indeed the men who hurt him, this was the perfect opportunity to help Lash, and perhaps learn more about him, as well.

  Her gaze flicked to the uninvited party. At this point, she could make out enough of their features to note they all sported the same dark hair, the same brutish build, and for one of them in particular, a similar sculpted face as Lash.

  A feeling of premonition passed down her spine as Honoria stepped out onto the gravel path, waving, comfortable that Lash wouldn’t follow—not if these were the men looking for him.

  She did, however, hear an extremely foul curse hissed from behind her and the rush of air as he attempted to snatch her back.

  “Gentlemen,” Honoria greeted as they drew to a halt three feet away from her. “We weren’t expecting any visitors at MacCallan Castle today.”

  The man in the lead, who also bore a striking resemblance to Lash, trotted forward, regarding her with such a cold gaze Honoria’s blood turned to ice in her veins.

  She held her ground.

  “My lady,” he greeted, inspecting the grounds beyond her. “We are looking for a man.”

  She raised a practiced brow. “Och, well, there are many of those around these parts.”

  His gaze raked over the gardens before scowling down at her. “This one would be injured.”

  “This is Scotland, sir, wild boars roam our rugged terrain. I imagine there are many a man injured, but none on our land.”

  He nudged his horse until Honoria felt the breath of the beast’s nostrils on her skin.

  Did he mean to intimidate her?

  She inwardly snorted.

  “Are you certain about that, little girl?”

  Och, she had been wrong. Staring into the eyes of this man, he looked nothing at all like Lash. Where Lash’s eyes were at times hard, they were never cold. Nothing but frosty chill emanated from this man.

  But little girl? Her temper sparked.

  “I’m not a little girl,” she snapped. “And since whoever you are searching for is not here, you and your friends best be on your way.”

  A horrible peel of laughter burst from his lips. It was the kind of sound that would send waves of unease through the heart of even the bravest man.

  “You are a spirited, little girl, not one capable of subterfuge, I think.”

  Subterfuge? Hah! Obviously the man had no idea of the inner workings of the female mind.

  But before another scathing retort could leave her lips, he carried on, “If you do come across a man wounded, inform him that his kin is searching for him.”

  The breath left her lungs, but praise the Lord her spine remained stiff.

  This was Lash’s family. But the way the man spoke of him was as though the mere connection was a curse on his soul. Honoria suspected a horrible fate lay in store for Lash should these men, his kin, ever find him weakened. She sent up a silent prayer that Lash remained out of sight.

  She narrowed her eyes. “If I do come across this man, I shall wa—” The words died on her lips at her name being called out.

  She whipped around, eyes locking on Hugh barreling down on her, his brisk strides betraying the casual charm on his face. To anyone else he appeared the concerned gentleman, not the bristling Highlander Honoria knew him to be.

  Was it too much to hope that her brother would not learn of this?

  His gaze firmly fixed on the man and horse looming over her, he spoke in a voice laced with deceptive friendliness, “Care to introduce me to our guests?”

  “Och, hardly,” Honoria answered, sweetness dripping from her tone like honey. “They have not seen fit to introduce themselves.”

  Hugh clenched his jaw, what little good-humor remained, gone. “I see.”

  “We are humble travelers searching for our kin,” the brute said. “We suspect he may have been injured in a fight and are anxious to find him.”

  Anxious her bottom.

  These men were responsible for hurting, nearly killing, Lash. She was sure of it. And Honoria prayed to God that Hugh did not betray Lash. She would never forgive him.

  “We don’t condone fighting for sport,” Hugh growled, purposely misunderstanding the man. He crossed his arms over his chest. “And anyone foolish enough to fight in these parts knows not to search for aid here.”

  Honoria let out of breath of relief. She had never been so grateful Hugh had judged this man’s character on the mark.

  These
men were bad news.

  They both sensed it.

  And there was no way to miss the resemblance between this man and Lash either. Though Hugh hadn’t lied. Fighting, or rather bare-knuckle boxing, was common, but not in these parts, not anymore. Not since Ewan’s death.

  The man shifted on his horse, his features hardening. Honoria felt her brother stiffen beside her.

  “If you’d like,” Hugh said with a false stretch of lips, “you are welcome to search our property. Of course, first I will introduce you to my brother, the Duke of Roxburgh. I’m sure between him and my brothers, there are nine of us, you know, we can offer you the assistance you require.”

  The two men flanking the brute shifted uncomfortably, and the man inclined his head. “No need to trouble your kin. We will take your word to heart.”

  “I bid you luck in your search.”

  The man gave Hugh a curt nod and with the cluck of his tongue circled his horse, sweeping his gaze over the gardens before trotting away, his men following suit.

  Honoria remained rooted to the spot, stunned, and a bit shaken by the unexpected discovery.

  “Lass.”

  A wealth of meaning punched into that simple word.

  She turned to her brother with a sigh. “I can explain.”

  Lash’s heart wouldn’t stop hammering for fear gripping his chest in a tight vise. What an idiotic, foolish, and unconscionable thing to do. Damn that meddlesome woman!

  He couldn’t believe that she’d gone to greet the riders before he could stop her. Not even to bring thought to the fact that it went against every grain to remain silent and not intervene.

  Lash did not care if it was unwise to confront his brother in his weakened state—he would not hide behind shrubberies like a coward. Not while Honoria’s life was in danger.

  Other than the fact that Danior was a cruel bastard, his brother was no fool. He would see straight through whatever wild tale Honoria spun. His brother was the kind of man that gave voice to the very reason gadjo distrusted Rom. Danior had no respect for life, killed without remorse, and had even attempted to kill him. His brother was one of the worst.

  But once Lash revealed his presence, his brother would finish what he had set out to do and that would leave Honoria unprotected.

  Mierda!

  He would put her in further danger by revealing his presence. There was no other option. He’d like to believe there were lines not even his brother would cross, but fairy tales were for children.

  Danior’s cackle frosted the blood in his pulse.

  That decided it for him—Honoria needed him now.

  Lash rose to his feet, stalling mid-rise at Honoria’s name being shouted. The Highlander.

  His shoulders sagged in relief.

  Nothing would happen with Hugh MacCallan present. Honoria was safe. For now. But it was only a matter of time before a servant spoke about him, mentioned him to the wrong person. Lash could not remain here any longer. His presence put Honoria and her family in danger.

  The best thing to do was depart from MacCallan Castle.

  “Och, hardly,” Honoria was saying. “They have not seen fit to introduce themselves.”

  He cursed beneath his breath.

  The damn woman possessed not an ounce of self-preservation. Did she not grasp the danger in baiting a tiger? What was wrong with these gadjos? And how the hell was he going to explain this? He hadn’t wanted to reveal anything about his life to them. He no longer had a choice. They deserved to know who they were protecting him from, the danger.

  And then he’d bid them farewell.

  Hot anger pulsed through his blood when he heard Danior refer to him as his kin. They might share the same blood, but they were not family. They will never be again. Danior was a vicious fighter. His father had raised him to be one. And Lash had been the outlet. Until the day he had punched back and knocked Danior out cold. His brother had deserved each blow.

  The disappointment and horror in Syeira’s eyes when Danior had beaten a boy she favored had nearly undone him. She had cried herself to sleep that night. Damn near broke Lash’s heart.

  Yes, Danior had deserved for someone to knock him flat after that.

  But Lash hadn’t thought it through. Their family had already been cast from their tribe. And after that night, he’d been cast from his family. He had left willingly, had thought their sister safe. Had believed she was better off with a father than no father. Better off with what little of their family was left. But he had made a dire mistake. Must have. Why else would Syeira have followed him?

  Waiting until Danior left with his crew, Lash turned and strode from the garden, leaving Honoria with her brother. He was weary. Drained. Dog-tired. It was doubtful that Danior believed Honoria and Hugh’s denial. And if that was the case, their lives and the lives of anyone in the castle were in grave danger.

  It was time to leave the MacCallans behind.

  He just had to warn them first.

  Chapter 12

  Honoria stared at her brother, who wore the wool carpet thin pacing up and down its length, a crease deepening between her brows. His hands were fisted at his sides, his shoulders tense, and his movements jerky. Edgy, restless, and downright impossible to manage. A caged animal.

  Every few seconds, he would spin towards her, narrow his eyes to a frosty glare, and spin away to continue his pacing.

  Honoria cast Isla a concerned glance. She silently returned it.

  They had never seen Hugh this wired. But she supposed as far as being the protector of the family in the absence of their brothers, he might have every right to be unsettled.

  A pang of guilt pinched in her breast. Hugh wanted only to protect them, and Honoria might have placed them in terrible danger. It pained her to see her brother, usually full of good humor, so ill at ease.

  “What the devil have you gotten us into, Honoria? Those are the men that hurt the gypsy, aren’t they? Christ, Adair is going to kill me, if those cutthroats don’t manage to do so first.” He raked a hand through his hair. “They will be back, mark my words.”

  “We saved a man, Hugh.”

  And she had gotten them into nothing, at least not intentionally. But it was clear enough they had stumbled into something.

  Of course, no adventure was without its obstacles. This was merely that. An obstacle. One slightly more alarming than she first imagined. But certainly not one she’d allow to derail her ultimate goal to travel to Edinburgh. They would overcome this hurdle.

  She hoped.

  “And it appears we must save him again, and ourselves, too,” Hugh muttered.

  “I find it all thrilling,” Isla said to their collective surprise. “It was about time something exciting happened in our lives.”

  “At what cost?” Hugh complained. “You couldn’t avoid getting into trouble this one time, Honoria?”

  “Did you expect me to leave him for dead?” Honoria demanded.

  “Nay, but we should have sent him to a proper healer. Did you see those men, lass? They were nasty-looking and dangerous. It will not take much for them to learn I lied about the rest of us being home. And if they discover I lied about that, won’t they wonder what else I could be lying about?”

  “We will find a solution,” Honoria placated. “Should that arise. If we are lucky, they’ll move on. They have no reason to suspect anything.”

  “Let us hope that’s true. When Adair learns of this, heads will roll. And by heads, I mean mine.”

  “We have done nothing wrong,” Honoria argued. “Adair will understand. Besides, how were we supposed to know danger would come knocking on our door?”

  “His injury gave us the indication.” Thick sarcasm rolled off Hugh’s tongue. “And upon my honor, Adair will no more understand than I did.”

  “You let him stay.”

  Hugh dragged a hand over his mouth. “You have no idea what it’s like to be a man—I was outnumbered by stubborn lasses.”

  Isla snorted. “We we
re, and still are, duty bound to protect him. He is our guest and in trouble.”

  “We should alert the authorities. It is what Adair would have done.”

  “We can’t do that, Hugh, and you are not Adair,” Honoria pointed out.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “They will lock him away even though he was the one who’d been hurt.”

  “Absurd.”

  “He is a Rom, I am sure.”

  Her brother came to stand before her, a looming presence with hands planted on his hips. “I am responsible for you and Isla’s welfare. If anything happens to you,” he shook his head, “I will never forgive myself.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to us, Hugh.”

  “I should have known the moment you asked me to dab his brow and I complied, I would never win an argument with you again,” Hugh muttered. His lips pulled up in disgust.

  A throat cleared, drawing their attention to Lash, who appeared, large as a post, in the archway.

  “Oh, good, you’re here, finally,” Hugh muttered. “Perhaps now you can shed some light on what the deuce is going on?”

  Lash nodded. “I wish to bid you a farewell and thank you for your hospitality,” Lash answered. “It’s for the best that I go.”

  The blood drained from Honoria’s face.

  Was he leaving? No. Out of the question. He couldn’t go! Not yet. Not before she learned his dance. Not without her.

  “Don’t be absurd,” Hugh snapped, to Honoria’s complete astonishment. She glanced at Isla, but her sister’s eyes were on Hugh, wide with shock.

  “You have not fully recovered from your wound,” Hugh carried on chastising. “And by the looks of the men after you, you will need all of your strength.”

  Even Lash had a look of astonishment on his face before his brows drew together in a scowl. “You should be tossing me out on my arse, not encouraging me to stay.”

  “Aye, usually, I would agree, but I will not be responsible for sending a man off to his death. That was your brother. He was the one who stabbed you.”

  Honoria watched as Lash clenched his jaw, his features growing somber. A cloud of dark torment spiraled in the depth of his green eyes, and she dearly wanted to kiss his grief away.