Highlander Betrayed (Guardians of the Targe) (3 page)

“We’ve seen enough,” Archie whispered. “We know the guard schedule. We know where the gates are and how many men are set on a watch. It’s time to get going.”

Nicholas looked at his partner and shook his head, even though he agreed. He was the leader of this mission. He was the one who had found the final piece of information that had woven all the rest together to form a tapestry of myth, tale, and superstition that pointed here, to this place, this castle. And he was enjoying holding that over his partner’s head simply because it irritated the man so much.

“You still lack patience, Archie. I’d have thought you’d learn some by now.”

“You’ve plenty for both of us.”

The words were light but there was annoyance in Archie’s eyes that had been present in the man since Nicholas first arrived in Oban.

“ ’Tis a good thing, that.”

Archie ran his stubby fingers through his unruly red curls. It did not matter how closely he kept his hair cropped, it still curled wildly. The man often looked unkempt and rough, but Nicholas knew Archie was more than he appeared. He could be ruthless when required, charming when called for, and he was focused on the mission at hand at all times, most especially when it appeared he wasn’t. He was smart and as driven to succeed as Nicholas, and that was what made them effective, if not completely trusting, partners.

“Are you sure about your part in our plan?” Nicholas asked under his breath, stalling to goad the man.

“You doubt me?”

Nicholas shook his head, making note of a guard passing along the wall walk above them. “Just taking advantage of the time to make sure we both understand what to do.”

“We met a sennight back, a sevenday, and have struck up a traveling friendship. I am a laborer in search of work, which should give me some access about the castle. I am known as Archie of Keltie, a MacGregor if anyone pushes for my clan. It should not be questioned since I’m as ginger as any of that rough lot.”

“And as troublesome.”

“Aye, I can be.” He slanted an odd look at Nicholas that felt like a challenge. “And you are…” Archie crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow as if he did not expect Nicholas to remember his part in this plot.

“Nicholas of Achnamara, traveling home for the first time since I was a wean.”

Sticking close to the truth was a trick he had learned during his tenure in the kitchen of his father’s manor. He’d told too many different tales about who he was and where he’d come from, and when he could not keep the lies straight any longer he was nearly revealed to his sire, which could have caused a confrontation he knew would end in pain, if not worse. He’d had no choice but to leave Stanwix and start anew in London. He had never told Archie how much truth any of his guises held, and he never would.

“We met upon the road west of Loch Katrine,” Nicholas said, “and have been traveling together for a sennight
or more
.” He stressed the “or more” as it would be odd for a pair such as them to be so specific, something he had said to Archie before.

Archie scowled. “Or more,” he said, then went perfectly still as the sound of someone hurrying toward them, scattering pebbles and stones down the steeply inclined path, had both men crouching perfectly still.

A young woman rushed past their hiding spot so quickly, all Nicholas could make out was hair so black it glowed even in the weak sunshine. When she was clear of their hidey-hole they stood, still hidden by the thorny gorse, and Nicholas leaned out enough to
see the girl throw herself into the arms of a tall, skinny, fair-haired lad and kiss him as if they had been long parted.

“A tryst,” he said, crouching back beside Archie. “If they do not move somewhere for more private play we may be here a while.”

Archie peeked out at the couple, then sank back on his haunches next to Nicholas. “A lusty wench, that one. Perhaps I’ll take her for a tumble once we are in the castle.”

Irritation gripped Nicholas. “ ’Tis one thing to bed the whores in Oban, Archie, but not these Highland lasses. The clans do not take well to outsiders as it is, less so outsiders who dally with their daughters or wives.”

“Then what of that young whelp?” Archie growled, peering out at the couple again. “He looks to be getting what he wants from the wanton.”

“Aye, but even they meet in secret, well hidden from others. No doubt her father would object should he find out.”

“Fine.” Archie sighed and took up his place next to Nicholas again. “They are not going anywhere soon, from the looks of it. I suppose we’ll have time to watch the castle a mite longer after all.”

“S
AINTS AND ANGELS
!” Rowan muttered as she rapidly made her way down the tower stair, stopping on the landing to peer out the narrow window facing into the bailey. The hallhouse, serving as the great hall, had been the home of the chieftains of clan MacAlpin for too many generations to count. It stood across the bailey from the tower. Both had been fully enclosed by a curtain wall forming a modest bailey between the two main buildings. Several wooden service buildings had been built along the north and south walls, crowding the open area into an even smaller space.

And Scotia was nowhere to be seen.

Rowan made her way through the bailey, asking everyone she passed if they had seen her wayward cousin, but no one had. When
she arrived at the gate, she asked the guard the same thing and finally got an answer.

“She passed through the gate a while back,” said Denis, the gate guard, giving her a nearly toothless smile. She often wondered how the man chewed his food, but the generous girth of his stomach told her he had figured it out. “Not too long ago,” he continued. “She went around the loch side of the castle. Is she in trouble again?”

Rowan smiled at his concern for Scotia. In spite of her hellion ways, everyone seemed to have a soft spot for her, including Rowan. “Not yet,” she said. “But if she does not rabbit up to visit her mum, she will be.”

The smile faded on Denis’s weathered face. “How fares Lady Elspet this day?”

“She is neither better, nor worse. Even Jeanette does not know if that’s good or bad.” A headache started to pulse between her brows. It would be so much better if she could break down and cry as Jeanette sometimes did, or act out as Scotia did, to release the worry, but it was not in Rowan’s nature to do either of those things. She held things in, close, until they beat a rhythm in her head that made her want to retch.

But she never did.

“We are all praying for her return to health,” Denis said.

Rowan touched his forearm. “I know.”

He nodded, then smiled again. “You’d best get after Scotia. She’s got a bit of a head start on you, and you ken well how hard it is to find that one when she does not wish it.”

“Aye, all too well.” She waved as she left the shadowy gate passage and turned right toward the nearest corner of the castle. When she reached the top of the path that led at an angle from where she stood, crossing in front of the looming curtain wall, and continuing all the way down the slope to the loch shore, she stopped. The path was steep and rocky with dense gorse bushes, now robed in glorious golden flowers, reclaiming all but the slimmest of trails in places, making for a treacherous track to the lochside. With other easier routes to the loch, this one was seldom used. Rowan couldn’t imagine why Scotia would go this way.

Rowan looked around, hoping to espy her cousin somewhere other than along this path. She judged the rock-strewn trail with a careful eye.

“Scotia?” she shouted. “Are you down there?”

She waited, listening, knowing it was unlikely the girl would respond even if she was on the path and had heard her, but it was worth a try. With a sigh, she started down at a hurried pace. She did not have to go far before she spied Scotia partly hidden by the gorse. The lass’s raven hair, so different from Jeanette’s pale blond tresses or Rowan’s own coppery brown, glinted in the sun and shifted in the wind, drawing the eye to where she stood kissing a tall gangly lad with honey-colored hair that fell almost to his broad shoulders.

Conall.

Rowan allowed herself a few more of her uncle’s favorite words.

Was the bairnie totally daft? It was bad enough that Scotia was trysting with a lad but this one had been specifically banished from Dunlairig Castle to his mum’s cottage down the glen. Kenneth had found the two doing a bit more than kissing in the loft of the stable a few months back and swore he’d make her marry the lad, but Scotia would have none of it, vowing she was yet a maid and would not be forced to marry anyone. Kenneth gave in, as he often did with his youngest, but declared Conall’s life would be forfeit if he caught them together again without wedding vows taken first.

Apparently the lad either didn’t value his life overmuch, or he had bollocks like a bull.

Of course, it was just as likely that Scotia was the instigator of this misdeed. For a girl who swore she was not ready to marry, Rowan feared, one way or another, her cousin would find herself in exactly that state before summer’s end and they’d all have to listen to her temper when that happened.

Rowan closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed the place between her brows where the pulsing was pounding. She did not have the luxury of taking to her bed as some did with such a headache, so she took a deep breath and braced herself for the coming confrontation. She closed the distance quickly, yanking her cousin out of Conall’s embrace without warning.

Scotia shrieked as she swung around, landing a sharp slap on Rowan’s face and knocking Rowan back a few steps. Shocked, Rowan ignored the stinging on her cheek and the rapid staccato beat in her head and advanced on her disobedient cousin, fury and pain quickly burning away the more rational irritation of a moment ago.

Conall pulled Scotia backward out of Rowan’s reach, pinning the girl to him, her back to his chest, her arms caught in his embrace. A sound like an angry cat escaped Scotia’s throat.

“Scotia, wheesht,” he said close to her ear. “You’ll only make this worse.”

She struggled for a moment, then the fight seemed to drain out of her. Rowan knew better than to believe Scotia had given up, but she hoped it was the case. The girl had to grow up sooner or later. Rowan feared it would be later, though.

“Let her go, Conall.” Rowan tried to ignore her throbbing cheek. She knew her words were clipped and harsh, but it was the only way to keep her crackling temper in check. Nothing drove Scotia to a shouting match like someone else’s temper, and that would surely draw the attention of someone in the castle. “She’ll not do that again.” She held Scotia’s angry gaze, making sure the troublemaker understood this was not a choice.

The lad wisely hesitated, then slowly loosened his grip. Scotia glared at Rowan but did not try to attack her again.

Rowan glared right back at her. “Are you not ashamed of yourself, cousin? It’s been a full pair of days since you visited your mum and when I am sent to find you, here you are putting young Conall’s life in danger because you cannot control yourself enough to do what is right.”

“ ’Tis my fault, Rowan,” Conall said. “I missed her.”

“You are a true dafty, Conall, if you do not think Kenneth’s threat is real. Do you know what kind of grief you will bring upon your widowed mother if you force Kenneth to act?” Rowan knew full well that Kenneth wouldn’t take the lad’s life—they needed every able-bodied man they had after the last few years of skirmishes and raids against their neighbors had taken so many warriors, but she doubted not that he’d take the hide off Conall’s back if it came to it.
She looked from Scotia to Conall where they stood shoulder to shoulder, their hands linked. “ ’Tis lucky for you both that I was the one to find you, else you”—she looked at Conall—“would be dead already, and you”—she looked at Scotia—“would be locked in your chamber until Uncle Kenneth chose a suitably stern and elderly husband for you.”

“He would never!” Scotia’s anger snapped in her eyes like sparks off flint.

“Do not test him, my cousin. Say farewell, Conall, and this time mean it.”

“You’ll not tell her da I was here?”

The lad’s words were more plea than question, making him sound every bit like the wean he was and not the man he thought himself to be. Scotia was clearly preying on the lad’s lust, keeping his mind too muddled to think clearly about what they did. Keeping her own muddled, too, no doubt, for Rowan was sure Scotia would rather face the wrath of her father than the death of her mother.

“I will not say anything this time,” Rowan said, watching as Conall let out the breath he’d been holding. “But if I ever find you two together again, I will go directly to him and you’ll both suffer the consequences.” She should do so anyway, but Kenneth had enough grief with Elspet’s illness and she was loath to add to that burden. “Say goodbye, Conall. You, too, Scotia.”

Scotia stuck her tongue out at Rowan, then turned and kissed Conall like it was indeed a final parting. The childish rebellion so quickly followed by a woman’s farewell to a lover exasperated Rowan. Scotia was stuck between childhood and adulthood and did not seem able or willing to climb over that wall even though ’twas well past time to do so.