Highland Lover (8 page)

People clung to a lot of superstitions concerning twins. Sometimes people still set the second born

out to die or killed the child themselves. Learning just how close a bond there could be between

those who had shared a womb only added to those unreasonable fears. Although Alana could not

sense such foolishness in Gregor, she reluctantly admitted that she was too great a coward to test it.

Gregor built up the fire and set the pot of stew over it to warm. “And ye lost your brothers’ trail?”

“Aye, although I believe I could have found them if the Gowans hadnae arrived.”

“Considering the danger they may be riding into, are ye truly surprised that they didnae wish ye to

ride with them?”

He had turned to face her again and was giving her one of those manly looks, the one that said she

had behaved like a witless female driven by emotion and not wisdom. It made her teeth clench.

Alana took a few deep breaths to calm her rising temper. Considering the trouble she had stumbled

into, he probably thought his opinion justified. It was tempting to point out the fact that he, a big strong man, had stumbled into the same trouble, but she bit back the words. She recognized what

the hard set of his jaw meant. Arguing with him would gain her nothing more than a throbbing

headache.

“Keira is in trouble. ’Tis my duty to be with her.”

Although he could understand her need to help find her sister, Gregor still thought she had acted

recklessly. He had the feeling she did, too, but he would probably be ten years dead before she

admitted as much. There was nothing to gain in arguing the matter, anyway. He was more interested

in who she was and what she planned to do once they had shaken free of the Gowans.

“Do ye have the strength to dress yourself?” he asked, deciding to wait until after they broke their

fast to question her some more.

“Aye,” she replied, certain she could at least get herself more modestly covered before she might be

forced to ask him for some help.

Gregor handed her her clothes and then left the cottage to tend to his personal needs. Now that she

was no longer insensible, he knew he would have to be more considerate of her modesty. He would

also have to find the strength to keep his lust tightly leashed if he did have to help her. He could

only hope that she regained her strength quickly so that she could tend to herself without any help

from him.

By the time Alana had donned her shift, braies, and hose, she was so weak she was shaking. She

sprawled on her back and struggled to steady herself. The fever had obviously badly sapped her

strength. It would probably be several days before she and Gregor could leave this cottage, and that

worried her. Alana was sure the Gowans were hunting for them. This sanctuary could all too easily

become a trap. Thick-witted though the Gowans were, she doubted the men would allow her and

Gregor another chance to escape if they captured them. The dark, damp pit would be made even

more secure.

Alana shivered at the thought of returning to that lightless prison. It shamed her a little, but her first concern when considering the possibility of being imprisoned again was not for her sister. It was for her own sanity. Alana hoped she proved as robust as she usually did and regained her strength

quickly. She was eager to put herself far out of the reach of the Gowans.

Gregor returned just as she was reaching for the rest of her clothes. Alana blushed, but did not

refuse his aid when he moved to help her. Despite a few moments of rest, she was still feeling

unsteady, and pride would not get her dressed.

Embarrassment kept her silent as Gregor wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to a small stone

privy behind the house. Considering what intimate quarters they had been sharing until just a few

days ago, and all he must have done for her as he tended her fever, Alana did not know why she

was embarrassed. She supposed it could be because now she was not sick and it was not dark.

When Gregor carried her back into the house, he set her on her feet but kept a firm grip upon her

shoulders. “Can ye stand here for a wee while, lass? I am going to put the bed back together.”

“Aye.” She leaned against the wall. “At worst, if my legs prove too weak, I will just slide down the

wall and sit upon the floor.”

He laughed softly but hurried to get the mattress back on the bed, making it up with the blankets as

he had when it had been on the floor. There was now much more wood at hand and the weather had

improved, so he felt he no longer needed to have her sleep right in front of the fire. By the time he walked back to Alana, she actually was in danger of sliding down the wall to sit upon the floor. He

picked her up and carried her to the bed.

“The fever has badly weakened me,” Alana murmured as she sat on the bed, her back against the

wall and the blanket spread over her legs.

“It had set in hard, true enough,” Gregor said and moved to get her some of the broth from the

rabbit stew. “Try a wee bit of this. If it sets weel in your belly, then later ye can try some of the heartier fare that was cooked in it.”

Alana sipped at the broth and welcomed how it warmed her insides. It was not the best tasting she

had ever sampled, but it was good enough for now. Most men knew how to make camp food, and

Alana had to admit that Gregor had obviously tried to make something to tempt her appetite. She

counted herself fortunate that he had not simply roasted the rabbit on a spit and handed her a slab of meat to gnaw on. Alana hoped that it would not be long, however, before she could savor the

heartier fare that Gregor was enjoying.

Gregor took her empty bowl, set it aside with his, and sat down beside her on the bed. “Now, lass,

mayhap ye will answer a few questions for me.”

“Mayhap,” she said, “if ye will do the same.”

“Aye, fair enough, but I think ye can go first. Exactly who are ye?”

Since there was really no sense in continuing to keep her name a secret, she replied, “Alana Murray

of Donncoill. And ye are?”

“Gregor MacFingal Cameron.”

“Three names?”

“MacFingal is of my father’s creation because he had a falling-out with his Cameron kinsmen. I

think ye may have heard of a few of my kinsmen. My brother Ewan is married to Fiona MacEnroy,

sister to Connor MacEnroy, the laird of Deilcladach, who is wed to—”

“My cousin Gillyanne!” Alana stared at him, nearly gaping in surprise, and then she frowned. “Ye

dinnae look verra surprised by such a strange twist of fate.”

“Ah, weel, ye spoke of some of your kinswomen whilst ye were feverish. Gillyanne was one of the

names ye mentioned, and that is why my surprise isnae as great as yours.”

Alana wondered a little nervously about what else she might have said, but resisted the urge to ask

Gregor. If she had said something too embarrassing and revealing, she would just as soon not know

about it. She had dealt with enough feverish people to know the one tending to them could become

an unwilling confidant, privy to a great many secrets. One of the few secrets she still held fast to at the moment was the growing attraction she felt for Gregor, and she prayed she had not babbled

about that.

“Fate is definitely playing a game with us,” she murmured.

“Fate, luck—good and bad—and a few ill-thought-out decisions. Ye shouldnae have followed your

brothers, and I shouldnae have been traveling alone.”

“Why were ye traveling alone?”

That was not a question Gregor felt inclined to answer, at least not with the complete truth. “The

only escort I could get were men I didnae ken weel. Since there wasnae any talk of troubles in the

land I intended to ride through, I felt I could make my way home alone.”

The way Gregor did not meet her gaze as he answered her question made Alana think he was not

telling her the full truth. At first, she felt angry over his lack of trust and then scolded herself for being a hypocrite. She was not telling him the whole truth, either. He could simply be reluctant to

tell her that he had been returning home from some tryst. Since she did not want to hear about any

woman in his life, not even some fleeting entanglement based upon an equally fleeting lust, she

decided not to press him on the matter.

“Why were ye pretending to be a child?” he asked.

Pleased with the diversion from thoughts of Gregor with another woman, Alana replied, “I thought I

would be safer. I cannae say the Gowans would have treated me differently if they kenned I was a

woman, but it was probably best that I ne’er tested them.”

“I am surprised your kinsmen didnae set out in search of you.”

“Ah, weel, they did, but I eluded them. They didnae persist too long, so they must have found the

message I left behind telling them exactly what I was doing.”

“But ye also lost your brothers, aye?”

“Aye, but I am certain I would have found them again if the Gowans hadnae captured me.” She

could tell by the look upon his handsome face that he had some serious doubts about her claim.

“Where do you think your sister is?”

“I am nay sure. All I am sure of is that she isnae dead and she needs help.”

“Then we shall look for her. And for your brothers. It seems as if any who set out for Ardgleann

find trouble. Now that ye have begun your search, ’tis best if ye finish it, but nay alone. Now, there willnae be any husband or betrothed rushing about looking for ye, will there? I dinnae wish to be

caught up in that sort of trouble.” Gregor found that he loathed the idea of any other man having a

claim to her.

“Och, nay. No husband and no betrothed.”

At least not yet, she added silently. Her father had been ready to find a husband for her and she had been ready for him to do so. Alana suspected her father was not acting on that plan at the moment,

but she was not sure how much he had accomplished before she left Donncoill. She felt certain any

choice he did make would still require her approval before any firm betrothal agreement was made,

however. Since she had not given her consent to anyone, she decided that little complication did not

need to be mentioned. If nothing else, she did not want Gregor to know that her father had to find a

husband for her because no other man had asked for her hand. It might be the way of things for

others, but Murray women were allowed to choose their mates and she found it lowering that she

had never even had a choice offered to her.

“It was hard for me when Keira married and went to Ardgleann,” she said, and found she still felt

the pinch of that loss. “It was hard for her, too, but as most women do, she wanted her own home

and children. Donald MacKail seemed to be a good mon. Yet, what few letters she wrote didnae

carry any real hint of happiness. Something wasnae right. I was certain of it. I finally requested that I be allowed to come to her, for just a wee visit, to see how matters stood with mine own eyes. I am

nay sure if she e’en received that letter, for soon after we were hearing of some mon named Rauf

Mowbray taking Ardgleann, that Donald was dead, probably murdered, and that Keira had gone

missing. We assumed she had fled from Ardgleann and was returning to us. As I told ye, soon even

more rumors drifted our way, darker ones about what a beast Mowbray was and that Keira had been

badly hurt.”

“And then it was decided that your brothers would hunt for her? Did no one suggest taking an army

to Ardgleann?”

“Aye, of course they did, but it was decided that it would be best to wait until we kenned what poor

Keira’s fate was. From what little we could learn of Mowbray, challenging him could get Keira

killed if she was still within his grasp. Plans were being made for battle when I left, but naught

would be done until we kenned what had befallen Keira.”

Gregor shook his head. “Difficult, especially if she is hiding from Mowbray. And aye, I have heard

some verra dark things said of the mon. Your people are probably right to think he would just kill

her if he was confronted and threatened. If e’en half of what is said about the mon is true, he is the verra worst of outlaws. His men are as weel.” He put an arm around her shoulders when she

shivered. “A mon declared an outlaw by the crown walks with death at his shoulder. He kens any

mon can kill him with impunity and so cares little what crimes he commits. The fact that Mowbray

still lives implies that he isnae an easy mon to corner or defeat.”

“And now he has a keep to shelter in.”

“Aye. Your kinsmen are wise to wait until they ken more about your sister, about Ardgleann, and

about Mowbray.”

“I ken it, but it doesnae make it any easier to bear.”

When she struggled to hide a wide yawn behind her hand, he smiled faintly and got off the bed. It

was wise to put some distance between them anyway. When he had not been certain of her age, his

lustful feelings had been easy enough to curtail, if only because it had horrified him that he might

be feeling that way toward a child. Now that he had seen the beauty beneath her clothes, a need to

make love to her seemed to have become a permanent part of him. Even when she had been

feverish, it had been nearly impossible to ignore the allure of that lithe, soft body he bathed with

cool water. He had to sternly remind himself now that she was only newly recovered, that she was

still weak, and that the very last thing she needed was some lusty fool mauling her.

“Rest, lass,” he said as he gently urged her to lie down. “’Tis best and will help ye regain the