Claiming the Highlander (13 page)

“And I learned a lot of things about you as well, Braden MacAllister, most of which left me in tears. But of all the heartbreaking lessons I learned, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d just go off to murder someone.”

Her words stung his conscience. Braden had no intention of murdering the MacDouglas. It would be a fair fight. But when he left MacDouglas lands, the feud would be over.

One way or another.

“If you’re too squeamish to do what must be done, woman, then I suggest you hie yourself home where ‘tis safe.”

Frustrated, she turned to Sin. “Could you please talk sense into him?”

“Why?” Sin asked. “For once, I completely
agree with him. I would think the life of the MacDouglas would be paltry when compared to those of your family.”

Maggie was aghast. “You would honestly walk up to him and just cut his throat?”

Sin’s dark gaze became empty, dull. “I’ve done worse things in my life.”

Braden flinched at the tone, for he knew only too well just what sort of things his brother had done. He patted Sin on the back.

“Maggie,” Braden said quietly, “I am willing to do what I know is foolish. I’ll give you time to talk to Robby MacDouglas. If you succeed, then there will be no more bloodshed. But if you fail…”

Anger darkened her eyes. “Thank you for adding that.” Her sarcasm made a mockery of Sin’s usual tone. “Let’s see if I have all this correctly. Right now I have hanging on my shoulders the lives of our laird, your brother Ewan, and my four surviving brothers, as well as the hopes of all the women of both our clan and the MacDouglas’s, and now the very life of Robby MacDouglas rests with me too. Have I forgotten anything?”

“There are a few things more,” Sin added dryly. “If you fail, you’ll probably get yourself killed, along with Braden and myself. If the MacDouglas kills Braden, I’m rather sure Lochlan will spend the rest of his life trying to eradicate all the MacDouglases from this earth. Should I
die, King Henry would be rather put out himself, and since he’s not overly fond of the Scottish and completely fond of me, there’s no telling what he might do to retaliate. Knowing the king as I do, I’m sure it won’t be pleasant.”

Braden cleared his throat. “This would probably be the place where I might mention that Sin is one of the king’s chief advisors and a close personal friend.”

Maggie rolled her eyes toward heaven. “Sweet Mother Mary,” she breathed. “Now you’ve got me responsible for two countries going to war?”

“Aye, but that’s only
if
you fail.”

Maggie squared her shoulders as she started trudging through the forest. “Very well, then. I shall not fail.”

And then under her breath she added, “I hope.”

  Chapter 8

B
y the time they finally stopped for the night, the full moon hung high above their heads. A thick, eerie mist clung to the forest floor as the cool white light dappled all around them, streaming through the trees and shrubs at strange angles. Braden took a deep breath and savored the smell of clean air that held a hint of heather and pine.

It was the kind of night for fairies and other fey creatures to frolic, and for more earthly creatures to take advantage of in quiet, undisturbed embraces.

It was also the kind of night Braden had once used to frighten a young Maggie into a screaming fit years ago.

Braden smiled at the memory.

No older than ten, Maggie had trotted along after
Anghus and him one night when the two boys had snuck out of her small cottage in search of dragon’s treasure. What they found was a red-haired imp who wanted to tattle on them unless they let her join them.

Being the clever ones, they had told her she could come along only if she could keep up.

Anghus had led her forward slowly while Braden had run ahead under the pretense of scouting for trolls and pixies. Once he was out of sight, he had doubled back to come up behind an unsuspecting Maggie.

Just as they were reaching the cave that was their destination, Braden had goosed her and shouted.

Terrified, she had screeched like a banshee, cocked him with one swift kick to the groin, then ran home shrieking the whole way with her arms flapping above her head.

To this day, he swore he could still feel the pain of that kick. But how funny she’d looked running through the forest, screaming that a dragon was after her.

He wondered if she recalled the event. If she did, she showed no signs of it tonight as they stopped. She just looked weary-eyed and exhausted.

Silently, they took shelter beside a narrow stream, in a small clearing of grass and heather. Braden handed Maggie her pack as Sin headed off to gather wood for a fire.

Maggie unpacked the dried meat, cheese and skins of ale and made them each a small meal.

Once Sin found enough wood, Braden started the fire while Sin used a stick to clean mud and wet leaves off the soles of his black leather boots.

“How far do you think we’ve come?” Maggie asked before placing a piece of cheese in her mouth.

Sin snorted. “Since we’re on foot, my wager is less than half a league.”

Braden tossed a handful of dried leaves at his brother. “Could you be any more pessimistic?”

“Aye, but for the lady’s sake, I’m trying to behave.”

The worst part was, Braden knew Sin’s words for honesty. And God save them if Sin gave full rein to his biting sarcasm. The man could make Job leap from a cliff.

Choosing to ignore his brother, Braden answered Maggie’s question. “I’m sure we’ve covered a few leagues. How long did it take you to reach the Lady MacDouglas last time?”

She hesitated as if she were silently debating something. “Four days,” she said at last.

“Four days?” Sin cursed. “Why didn’t one of you say that to me before we left? Haven’t any of you people ever heard of horses?”

Braden shook his head at Sin’s typical anger. He placed another piece of wood onto the fire before rising to his feet and moving to sit by Maggie. “He’s teasing you.”

“The devil I am. If God had meant man to walk about, he’d have made smaller horses.”

Befuddled by the logic, Braden frowned at Sin. “That doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

“Well, if I weren’t so tired from
walking
, I’d be able to think up something more intelligent to say,” Sin retorted.

“Excuse me,” Maggie interrupted them. “Do the two of you always carry on in this manner?”

“Mostly,” Sin said, before Braden could respond.

“Well, then, I beg you to cease. I canna take any more of it tonight.”

And so they withheld their conversation while they ate a light repast.

Maggie was grateful for the silence, not that they were really all that annoying with their bantering.

In truth, it was funny at times.

But what she feared was that one of them might become enraged by the teasing and lash out as her brothers so often did. She couldn’t begin to count the number of suppers that had started out with just a good-natured jab or two and had ended in all-out warfare as one of her brothers lost his temper and attacked the other.

Both Sin and Braden were large and dangerous enough to inflict serious damage on the poor hapless soul who angered them. She doubted if a quick dousing of water would calm them as it did her brothers.

Most likely, if she tried, they would turn on her. And that would be truly terrifying.

After they finished their modest supper of bread and cheese, Braden banked the fire while Sin took up watch on the edge of camp. Maggie dug her large woolen green and yellow plaid out of her pack and settled down just before the fire.

To her instant chagrin, Braden laid down behind her.

Close
behind her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, rolling over to look at him.

“Combining our warmth,” he said nonchalantly as he snuggled up to her spine.

“I’m quite warm enough,” she said quickly. Indeed, with him this close, her body felt as though it were on fire.

“What?” Braden asked with a teasing note in his voice. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Nay,” she answered honestly. It was herself that scared her. As well as the strange emotions his presence evoked.

“I won’t hurt you, little blossom,” he said, smoothing back a lock of her shorn hair.

Mo chreach
, his hand felt good in her hair. His strong fingers did the most wicked things to her scalp.

He gently rolled her back to her right side, facing the fire, and positioned his body right behind hers, not quite touching, yet so close she could feel the warmth radiating from him to her.

“Just close your eyes and go to sleep,” he said, his breath stirring her hair.

As if she could really do such a thing while so much thrumming heat pounded through her body. She’d never felt so alive or alert.

Every tiny part of her body could
feel
Braden. The skin over her neck where his breath fell in a soft, rhythmic pattern. Her back where his body heat warmed her through and through.

But worst of all, she felt him in her heart. For it was there where he made her feel secure. There where she ached for a dream that could never come true.

Her throat tightened at the thought.

And it was through her pain that she wanted to enjoy this night. To pretend that for one moment he was hers and they were lying here as lovers.

With the dream foremost on her mind, she tried to relax. But that was as impossible as sleeping.

Aggravated at herself and her foolish dreams, she propped her head on her arm and forcibly closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, her arm fell asleep. The rest of her remained painfully conscious. Unwilling to let Braden know how much his presence disturbed her, she tried to wad her plaid up into a small pillow.

Her shoulder began to ache.

Over and over, Maggie shifted her head and arms trying to get comfortable.

It was useless.

Just as she resigned herself to a sleepless night, Braden reached out and touched her arm.

“Here,” he whispered, pulling her back against his front. “Lean on me.”

She wanted to argue. Nay, she needed to argue, but she couldn’t. Not when he felt so good.

Reluctantly, she allowed him to cradle her against his chest.

Now,
this
was comfortable!

She lay with her head on top of his biceps, where she could feel the strong muscle as it shielded her from the hard ground. Though his body felt as strong as steel, it made a most wondrous pillow.

Closing her eyes, Maggie savored the wicked feel of Braden wrapped around her and the rich masculine smell of him. He encased her with his presence and it seeped into her very soul.

And still she couldn’t sleep.

Worse, she knew Braden was all too aware of the fact that she was lying there, stiffly, in his embrace. In fact, she could feel his stare on her even though she kept her eyes stubbornly closed.

A braver lass would never lie so passively while the man of her dreams held her so intimately. But she didn’t know what else to do.

What would it take for her to make him see her as a woman? Or, more to the point, make him see her as the only woman for him? She didn’t want to be just another female in a long line of females, she wanted to be his only one.

Aye, she wanted to tame the wild wind. To touch his heart where no other woman had ever reached.

But that was impossible.

Even if she dared be bold with him, she was terrified he would deny her. How would she face him if he pushed her away, or worse, laughed at her feeble attempts?

Oh, what’s the use, Maggie? You know what happened the last time you tried to impress him.

Her mind drifted back to the day she had turned ten-and-four. She had taken extra care to dress for mass that morning, for it was on that day that for the very first time in her life she had felt she really was a woman.

And she knew Braden would be at the kirk.

Over and over as she struggled to dress, she had told herself it was going to be
the day
Braden noticed her. He’d take one look at her in her finery and he’d realize that she was finally grown and that she was the only woman he would ever want. The only woman he would ever love.

In her mind, she had even pictured him going down on his knee before the entire clan and vowing his eternal, undying love for her while all the girls who had been mean to her would look on in envy. Then the two of them would ride off together and live happily ever after.

Certain of her success, Maggie had meticulously coiled her hair about her head, and worn her mother’s best kirtle and plaid. True, the yellow
kirtle had been a bit large and mature on her, but to her it had been beautiful, and it had made her
feel
beautiful. She had even worn a special pair of high-heeled slippers for which she had paid the cobbler two dozen eggs.

When she had joined her brothers for the wagon ride to the kirk, they had frowned at her clothes, but none said a word about her attire.

They didn’t have to. The other boys of the clan had said plenty.

“Look,” Davis had said the moment she arrived at the kirk and descended from the wagon. “It’s a scrawny, speckled chicken with a skinny chicken neck, wearing a grain sack three sizes too big.” The others had taken up the cry of
“Bock, bock,”
and to this day their scorn resonated through her soul.