Ashlyn (The Highland Clan Book 5) (5 page)

“I often heard him say he was training us,” Effie whispered. “My skin crawls to think of laying with a different man every night.”

“Then why the wee lassies?” Ashlyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure the bairns were not listening to them.

Aline lowered her voice, her gaze fixed on her sister, Maisie. “He kept them to help control us. One of his men advised him that some men would buy young lasses, but Hew said he wouldn’t do that to a bairn—they had to be over ten and four. He said he’d keep them until then, always have new ones growing. He had visions of an entire castle dedicated to men’s pleasures. Wine, whisky, whores, whatever they wanted.”

“Ashlyn,” Effie said, “I…I haven’t felt strong enough to ask before now, but why are you going after this MacNiven? He and Hew argued all the time. They were not friends. Hew was the one guilty of stealing women, not MacNiven. He was only interested in battle and land. He wanted the power of the Highlands and all the Grant guards.”

“Ranulf MacNiven was a chieftain of his own castle, but he attacked my cousins, the Ramsays, when King Alexander had told him not to do so. During the attack, one of Buchan’s sons was killed, so the king declared the attack an act of treason. He sentenced MacNiven to death by hanging, but it would seem he switched places with another. He ran to the Highlands in the hopes he’d never be caught. That’s why everyone at Castle Dubh knew him by a different name.”

“Until Jake recognized him.” Aline stared at her needlework, a faraway look in her gaze.

“Aye, that helps me understands why the Grant warriors must pursue him, but why must
you
go, Ashlyn? Why risk everything to chase him?” Effie drummed her fingers on the table.

“Because I did not like the things I heard when I was spying in Castle Dubh. I heard discussions that Hew had sent some girls to a friend because he was afraid the Grants would attack and he would not be able to save all the lasses. He had promised one that she would be in charge of the others. And since Hew is now dead, where are Lorna and Cedrica? I think MacNiven knows where they are. Though he did not like Gordon, I believe he paid close attention to everything he did. While I didn’t like them, they have a right to choose their life, not be forced against their will.”

Aline said, “It sounds as if each man wished to use Lorna and Cedrica for his own purposes. But MacNiven must have won. He must know where they are.”

Ashlyn grabbed Effie’s hand. “Don’t you see, Effie? I need to do this. MacNiven and his men are bad men, and we have no idea what he is up to now. He may not have been directly involved with Hew Gordon and the women, but he may have taken over some of Hew’s plans. Aunt Gwyneth was almost sold by men like MacNiven many years ago. Mayhap he is doing the same with Lorna and Cedrica. We do not know for sure, but he is running from the king, so my guess is he will do aught to survive. We must stop him, and we must do it now.”

Aline and Effie hung their heads as they all stared at the three wee lassies playing in the corner. A moment later, Aline whispered, “Thank the Lord above for Jake Grant. I could not imagine a worse fate.”

“I know you were not fond of Lorna and Cedrica,” Ashlyn whispered, “but I will not rest until I find them. Once I find MacNiven, I’ll put an arrow in his black heart for all the trouble he’s caused my clan.”

Chapter Five

Magnus rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he made his way to the stables. Usually a sound sleeper, he’d had many thoughts in the middle of the night of a lass with rich brown eyes. She’d actually shared some of her past with him, which pleased him greatly. It was the first step in getting her to trust him. He would continue his attempt to break through her barriers. Ashlyn stood next to her horse, arranging her belongings on the saddle for their journey. He decided it best to speak with her right away.

“Good morn to you, Ashlyn.” He stopped to rub the neck of her horse.

“Good morn. I do not need your help, I am fine.” Her gaze caught his for a moment before it returned to her horse.

It didn’t take long to recognize that her barriers were back in place. “I am well aware that you can take care of yourself. You need not remind me, but mayhap ‘tis best for you to get it out of your system before we leave.”

“Get what out of my system?” She turned to give him her full attention, her hands on her full hips, hips he’d loved to grab onto.

“Your dislike of lads, or mayhap ‘tis just me. Either way, I must stay close to you on this journey, so get all your distaste out now. It will make our journey easier.”

He noticed the fury in her eyes, and he did his best to hide his smile, though that was difficult to do since he was so accustomed to putting on a smile. And he certainly did not release the laughter that formed in his gut when he saw the look of indignation in her eyes.

When he was young, he’d overheard his father tell his mother how much he loved her smile, so he’d practiced his own smile ever since until it had become part of his nature. His mother had told him smiling would make his day better, and he kept that thought close to his heart.

“I do not dislike lads. I just do not want them to touch me. Why is that so hard for you and the others to understand? Just keep your hands to yourself, and we’ll get along fine.”

“Because someday you’ll understand that we are not all out to hurt you, lass. I understand that some lads, or mayhap many lads, caused you pain in your past, but ‘twas not me. I would never hurt you. Hopefully, someday you’ll realize that.” Magnus spun on his heel and headed into the stable to saddle his horse.

The stable lads were busy, so he readied his own horse for travel. The place was a bustle of activity because many of the clanspeople had come to wish them well, and the youngest lads loved to chase the warriors through the meadow as a send-off. Jake, who was part of the crowd, wove his way toward Magnus.

“Getting your ears chewed off this early in the morn, my friend?” Jake’s smirk told Magnus that the other man had seen him sparring with Ashlyn.

“Och, the lass must learn to trust me.”

“If anyone can convince her to do that, ‘tis you. Just be wary. Ashlyn has been trained by Gwyneth, who’s still one of the best…”

“Not one of the best, but
the
best, even after all these years. And she’s also one hell of a trainer. You saw how her son fought at Castle Dubh.”

“Aye, but allow me to make my point. Ashlyn was trained to shoot, but she has not been trained in strategizing. It also worries me that she has made this mission too personal. How this fits in with her past, I do not know, but be wary.”

“You could be right about that. She is quite determined to take him down.”

“If I am right, I fear that she may not be able to keep her bow straight when she is faced with MacNiven. I think of Uncle Logan’s stories of when Aunt Gwyneth fought the man who killed her father and brother…”

Magnus sighed. “Aye, Gwyneth was so upset, she missed her target several times. I have heard her talk about it.”

“And I am suggesting that Ashlyn may react the same way. I love my cousin. Watch over her. When she is close to MacNiven, she may lose her ability to kill him with her arrow.”

He nodded. “I will be mindful of that happening.” His horse was ready, so he led him out of the stables. Jake followed him toward the group that had gathered in front of the stables. He squeezed Magnus’s shoulder. “Godspeed, and if anyone can help Ashlyn, ‘tis you, my friend.”

Magnus guffawed. “You can count on it, my lord.”

***

Ashlyn forced herself to smile at Magnus, who was riding beside her. After he’d left her earlier to go to the stables, she’d thought about all he’d said. Aye, Magnus was not the one who’d forced her to travel with a protector. The man had a good heart, and she needed to be mindful of it.

She did not want a protector, but at least Magnus would be respectful.

Her stepsire’s parting words had settled in her mind after their departure. “Ashlyn, be kind to those men. They are the ones who will fight alongside you. You must trust them, or you will be in danger if you ride into battle.” Robbie was correct. Her mother had said something similar to her the eve before: “You must trust Magnus. Who else can you trust? Jamie leads the group, and your cousin Braden is young. You must have someone there who will assist you at all times.”

She had wished to argue that she could take care of herself, but the farther they traveled from Grant land, the heavier the truth settled on her. It was just the eight of them. Well, ten more guards were traveling the periphery, acting as both lookouts and protection, but there were seven lads she would have to fight alongside if the situation arose.

She was a Grant guard now—the first lass in her clan to earn that honor. Her mission was to fight for her king, her clan, her laird, and her fellow warriors. The thought humbled her. She vowed to stop arguing with Magnus. Her mother was right. She needed someone to trust and depend on, especially if there were those who did not wish her to travel with the guards, and Magnus was the best choice.

Magnus quirked a brow at her. “Feeling more kindly, lass?”

“Aye.” How exactly should she explain her state of mind? “I’ve vowed to make the best of it. I also trust you will assist me once we’ve uncovered MacNiven’s whereabouts.”

“You have the right of it. I will always be here to help you, no matter what the circumstances.”

With those few words, a calm silence settled between them until they stopped midday to take care of their needs and grab some fare. Ashlyn’s mind was made up. She vowed not to slow the group because of the amount of time it would take her to attend to her needs. Her mother had given her that bit of wisdom before she’d left, and Ashlyn had understood it to be true.

After all, she’d caught her brothers, Roddy and Padraig, practicing their aim in the snow behind the cottage when they were four and six summers.

It was then she’d realized the true injustice of her station as a lass. They could relieve themselves in less than a minute. Well, she’d already stashed some of her favorite leaves in her satchel, and she’d go as fast as she could. Under no circumstance would she be the last to emerge from the trees whenever they stopped. She would not give her comrades the chance to complain about her.

She rushed into the bushes, not going far because her skirts would conceal her modesty. She finished her business, heard a few crude remarks that she ignored, then ran back to her horse, only to find out that she was still the last one there. Staring at the ground, she patted her horse, hoping naught was said to her.

And it wasn’t. Naught was said to her about her time in the bushes, but the lads had started a different conversation. She must have arrived in the middle of it, because Coll was speaking animatedly to Jamie with his hand on his hip.

“She needs to plait it, Jamie, and you know it. If you wish to bring a female along, it suits me as long as she is not easily identifiable as a female. You know the reivers will go for a woman.”

Coll shot a look at them before turning to fuss with his belongings behind the saddle.

She turned her head back to Jamie to gauge his response. Plaiting her hair was a chore she hated. Her unruly brown hair fell to her waist in wild waves that were so difficult to contain. Aye, her mother was correct that she ought to comb it more often, but it took so long. She’d begged her mother to cut it all off, but she’d refused, saying she did not wish to make Ashlyn any more laddish.

That was a term she hated. She was not like a lad at all. Her breasts were large, and her hips were wide enough, though there was little flab in between because she’d always worked so hard outside. How could anyone mistake her for a lad? Still, her mother had wounded her vanity enough that she’d never cut her mane.

Jamie barked at Coll. “Your hair is flying in the wind too, Coll, so if you don’t plait yours, neither should Ashlyn. She can make up her own mind.”

“Jamie, you know how many reivers look for a female,” Osgar added. “She’ll cause us trouble. I agree with Coll. Either plait her hair or send her home.”

“I have to agree with them, Jamie,” Art said.

Magnus said, “She’s fine without her hair plaited. Stop trying to cause trouble, Coll, and let’s get on our way before the heavy snow flies.”

Magnus had defended her, and a piece of her heart melted. At least, that’s what the feeling in her chest felt like. He’d supported her and he was not her cousin or uncle. Did he know what that meant to her?

Jamie stared at the seven of them, waiting for them to listen. Her cousin had an uncanny ability to get people’s attention.

“Ashlyn does not need to plait her hair. If anyone has trouble with that, then go back now while I still have the opportunity to pull from the periphery guards before we are too far south. You have one minute to make your decision. Mount up, and if you follow us, there’ll be no more arguing about anyone’s hair.”

She heard some grumbling, but no one made any motion to head back. Magnus stepped up beside her to help her mount.

The journey was uneventful until later the next day. They’d reached the ravine that Ashlyn had always loved in the summer. The path was on the left, next to a tall wall of stone, and to the right was a small stream meandering over the rocks and through the trees. It was a beautiful sight, but she had always noticed the way the lead man in any group always tensed up before heading through the ravine. Many years had passed before she understood why.

It was the perfect place for an ambush. The path was narrow and there was no way to take off into a meadow. There were only two directions to go: forward or backward. Reivers knew it, every clan knew it, and every lad knew it, which was why silence descended on the group as soon as they entered the ravine. Jamie led, but held his arm up to indicate the others should slow their horses and fall back a bit. He moved forward at a slow pace, making as little noise as possible.

Fear crept up the back of Ashlyn’s neck, almost as if someone were running fingers lightly across her skin, moving upward. They could not ride abreast through the area. Jamie was first, Magnus behind him, then Ashlyn, Braden, Coll, Tormod, Art, and Osgar. Magnus hung back, waiting to get the all-clear sign from Jamie. They neared a spot that was hidden from the path completely—the perfect place for an attacker to lie in wait. She straightened, tipping her head to hear any sound at all, but the day was quiet except for the call of a rare bird.

Just like her Uncle Logan’s. “Trap!” she shouted.

That was when chaos erupted. Two horses shot out from behind the rocks, aiming straight at them. Jamie and Magnus unsheathed their swords and headed straight for the attackers, Jamie taking the lead and Magnus going for the second. Ashlyn moved aside and positioned her bow for any shot she could get. Jamie cut his attacker down, as did Magnus, but four more lads replaced the first two, and shouting and yelling and war whoops rent the air as the horses were pulled in different directions. She shot one of the lads riding toward Jamie, taking the lout out with an arrow in his belly, and the would-be attacker’s horse skidded to a stop, throwing him off.

Another warrior filled her view, so she nocked a second arrow. The lad shouted the one thing she’d hoped not to hear, “Get the lass!” He pointed directly at her.

She let her second arrow fly and heard it connect along with a scream of pain, but she never saw where it landed. A horse came from behind her, bringing its rider close enough to grab her around the waist and lift her onto his horse. All sorts of yelling met her ears, but she landed with enough of an oomph to distract her and take her breath away.

Too panicked to see or properly use her senses, she heard the lads around her—some friends, some foes—shouting.

“I’ve got her!”

“Take her out of here.”

“Magnus, they’ve got Ash!”

“Bring her to the chief.”

“Jamie, they’re coming from behind, too. ‘Twas an ambush.”

“Ash, fight! Don’t make it easy for him.”

This last statement came from Magnus, and she could not agree more, but she had to calm her panic and get her wits working again. As soon as she regained some control, she took stock of her situation, assessing her kidnapper and the area around her.

His horse wore no colors, and they were galloping across the front of the ravine that opened to the meadow. Soon they were flying across the meadow. She’d been tossed face down across the horse in front of her attacker, so she fought to get upright, hoping to give herself a chance to fall off the horse or at least slow him down.