Highland Rake (4 page)

She noted her brother rode along beside them as if he could protect her if she needed him to.

"Do ye speak with the fae?" the lad asked.

"Nay," she said, startled that he'd ask her that. Most were too afraid to do so. She hadn't lied. She spoke with the dead, not the fae.

"They say ye speak with the faery folk. If it isna them, who do ye speak to, my lady?"

"Do you never talk to yourself?" Alana asked.

Connell chuckled.

The lad said, "Oh, aye, my lady. When my brothers pick on me, then leave me quite alone, I talk a lot to myself, telling myself just what I will do to them when I am bigger. Is that what ye do?"

"Aye," she said.

"Have you no shame, lass?" Connell asked, raising a brow, yet she knew the way one corner of his lip twitched upward, he was again playing with her. "The lad asked you for your honesty. And you tell him lies."

She was about to respond that she did not lie. She did talk to herself, but she caught herself before she said a word.

"They say yer da brought ye home two days after he died. At least they say ye told them he had. 'Twas way before I was born. But they are still telling the stories. Do ye…see ghosts, my lady?"

She couldn't tell the lad yay or nay. If she did say she saw ghosts, he would return to his farm and tell his family, and the word would get back to the keep. If she said she didn't, then had she been lying about her father all along? She would not deny her father's help in getting her home safely.

"Do
you
see ghosts?" she asked instead.

"Nay," the lad said. "'Tis bad enough I see the living—my brothers, I am meaning, my lady."

"Ah." She expected the boy to ask again if she saw ghosts, but he grew quiet.

"You didna tell him you dinna see ghosts," her brother said, sounding surprised.

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped herself and scowled at him. He was too easy to talk to, too real to her. She let out her breath in exasperation and rode the rest of the way in silence, though Connell seemed of a mind to vent about the man who had killed him and about the woman who'd been all too willing to sleep in Connell's bed.

She had been grief-stricken to learn of Connell's death. But how could she sufficiently deal with his death if he would not leave her in peace? She recalled how her uncle had received the news. He hadn't reacted outraged or angered. He had calmly looked at her as she stared back at him, shocked to the core of her being at hearing of her brother's murder. She thought her uncle was seeing her as his last sole heir to their legacy, his own wife having died barren three years earlier.

Had he been so disappointed in her brother that he hadn't cared one whit if he had become their clan chief or not? Or mayhap he suspected her brother would come to no good end, and he wasn't surprised when the inevitable had occurred.

Rumors had circulated ever since her father had been murdered that her uncle had hired men to kill him, so that he could become clan chief. He had raised her and her brother as his own with a heavy hand, but she'd always felt he cared for them as he would have if they had been his own children. She suspected the rumors were just that and that there was no good truth to them.

"You are no' listening to me," her brother said in mock disapproval.

You are a ghost, she wanted desperately to say.

"You cut me to the quick," he said as if he knew just what she had been thinking. Sometimes she felt her thoughts totally transparent.

She frowned at him. "I…" She caught herself, then shook her head.

He smiled at her and looked back at the boy. "He is asleep. Your secret is safe with me."

But she didn't speak to her brother as she saw the stone croft with its peat-covered roof in the distance, dark and quiet, the sheep in the enclosure, restless, hungry, bleating.

The lad stirred behind her, and Alana rode to the shieling, and when they reached it, she said to him, "We are here. 'Tis time you see to the sheep."

"Aye, my lady." Kerwin slipped off the horse, bowed his head awkwardly, and went off to do his task.

She slid off her mount and tied her to a tree branch where her horse could drink from the stream and feed on grass near the sheepfold.

The sheep all crowded around the gate of the dry stone wall enclosure, knowing Kerwin would allow them to graze in the hills now, and they were eager to be freed.

Alana opened the door to the shieling and saw at once that Odara was flushed and breathing hard as she rested on her straw bed, the air cool, no fire in the hearth. She feared the woman had taken a fever.

She stalked across the stone floor and reached down to feel Odara's forehead. No fever. She felt a little relief. Why was Odara so winded? So flushed? So sweaty?

She was dressed, not wearing just a shift to sleep in. Why, if she was so ill, had she left the bed to put on her
léine
?

Alana set her bag of herbs on a small wooden table near the fireplace where the fire had been banked for the day. "What ails you, Odara?"

"Oh, my lady, you shouldna be here." The woman wouldn't look directly at Alana.

With no one to see them together, why was she acting so… nervous?

Alana supposed someone, mayhap her da, or someone else, had told Odara years ago that Alana was the laird's niece and above her in rank and that she should not act so familiar with her. As children, no one had said a word, probably nobody noticing as the girls went down to the stream and played in the water, or picked berries in the woods. Now they were alone with no one to say anything and Odara was ill. It was Alana's duty to see to her. Why was Odara behaving so…oddly?

"But I am here to see you as it is only right that I do so," Alana said gently. "So what is wrong?"

"My stomach pains me," Odara said, her blue eyes closing, her hand on her belly. "I have no' been able to keep down the oatcakes I made to break my fast this morn. It has been the same on and off for three days."

"I am sorry that I didna arrive any sooner. I didna receive word until early this morn." Alana thought the woman might have eaten something that disagreed with her. Something that had spoiled, mayhap. She gave Odara a mug of herbs mixed with mead that would help settle her stomach as she rested, a thin wool blanket covering her.

"'Tis a brave thing you do, mistress. But your uncle will have me flogged if he learns you are here." Odara's voice was stronger, and she sounded more herself this time, but her eyes were shadowed with worry.

Glad to hear she sounded stronger, Alana took a deep breath. "I have asked a lad to tend to your sheep until you are feeling more able to manage, Odara. Another day and I believe the sickness will have passed if you are feeling no other symptoms and you have not grown more ill with the passage of time. 'Tis good you have no fever. 'Tis no doubt something you have eaten that has made you unwell. I imagine 'tis true my uncle wouldna have allowed me to see to you had he been home. I have heard he is still angry that you willna wed Gilleasbuig, though I had no idea my uncle had said you must marry him."

Odara sighed. "The laird canna understand that Gilleasbuig is a swine. He willna do a lick of work if he can avoid it, wenching in the village whenever he can. The man willna be my husband, God willing. But the laird fears that if I am alone out here so close to the border…" She didn't say anything further.

Alana didn't know what to say. Her uncle could be ruthless when he wanted something, but she didn't think that included ensuring one of his men took a wife who did not wish to be one. Alana had not known Gilleasbuig would shirk his responsibilities. She didn't think her uncle would allow any of his men to avoid doing his work. Mayhap that's why he wanted the man to wed Odara. Mayhap he believed he would accomplish some work if it was something different than he was doing now. Or…not doing.

Alana had seen the man leering at the maids and overheard him making a crass remark or two to them, so she wasn't surprised to learn he was rutting with women that he should not have been dallying with. She had even spoken to her uncle about his comments, but he had been annoyed with her, told her that men would be men, and she shouldn't be eavesdropping on men's conversations.

She hadn't been eavesdropping!

She wondered sometimes if Gilleasbuig spoke within earshot of her the way he did just to see her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She truly had never liked the man.

Odara was a hard worker, although a bit of a mouse when it came to men. Surely one of the other clansmen would take an interest in her.

"Is there no one else who intrigues you? Someone who might consider asking for your hand in marriage instead, who my uncle would approve of?" Alana asked.

Odara's face paled a bit. She shook her head too vigorously.

Alana raised a brow, folded her arms, and pursed her lips. "There
is
someone. Prithee tell me who."

Odara let out her breath. "'Tis best I no' say, my lady."

"Someone not of our clan? Someone who my uncle would not approve of?"

Odara looked down.

Alana had an uneasy feeling about this. "Who, Odara?"

"My lady, the laird would kill me if he learned of it."

Alana's skin prickled with unease. "Who?"

"'Tis one of our enemy. A MacNeill."

***

Dougald MacNeill and his men searched for the Cameron brigands that had been spied attempting to cross their border and raid crofters' livestock, but they found no sign of them. From what the crofters had said in these parts, they had not seen any thieves. It wasn't the first time rumors had spread about a raid that did not truly exist. A flighty farmer's wife frightened by some noise that meant the Camerons were raiding again. A lad panicked when a flock of grouse scattered heavenward, sure that men had scared off the birds and were about to steal their sheep. A farmer thinking he'd seen men skulking around in the dark of night.

The farmers had faced the raiders before, so Dougald imagined they were jumpy when naught was truly amiss. Yet none of these people said they had sent word of trouble. Someone would have admitted they had sought help if they'd feared the worst even if it turned out there was naught that was wrong.

Dougald glanced across the stream that ran along the border between their lands and the Cameron's, unable to keep from looking for the lass riding the golden horse one more time before they headed back to Craigly Castle.

Gunnolf joined him. "Did you see the lass again?"

Dougald gave his friend an annoyed look. He knew what he'd seen. He couldn't help that no one else was as observant.

Gunnolf smiled. "When you begin seeing lassies that are no' there, they say 'tis time to find a wench who is."

"She was there." Dougald hadn't meant to sound so grumpy as he turned his horse away from the stream and led his men in the direction of Castle Craigly where his eldest brother James was clan chief, though they would keep an eye out in case they encountered any men who did not belong on MacNeill lands. Or a pretty lass that he knew he had witnessed despite no one else having seen her.

The trouble was, he couldn't deny he had wanted to see the lass again, not wanting to doubt himself. But now he wondered. Had he been mistaken?

His cousin Niall rode up beside him. "When you and Gunnolf leave to see your brother, Malcolm and his bride, will you take me with you this time?"

Dougald shook his head. "You know how much James needs you."

"Aye, but you and your brothers have always had all the adventures. I want to see the world, too."

"If Angus returns home, you can join us."

Niall scoffed. "Your brother is enjoying being away from James's rule too much to return anytime soon." He glanced at their Viking friend, Gunnolf. "Mayhap Gunnolf will stay behind this time."

Dougald smiled. "You would have to ask him."

Gunnolf laughed. "And leave you in charge of getting Dougald out of trouble with the lasses?"

"As if any of you are above reproach," Dougald said with a snort. He wasn't certain why he was always the one the rumor mongers accused of dallying with the lasses when his brothers, his cousin, and Gunnolf were all to blame as well.

They just smiled back at him, and he wondered if
they
hadn't helped to start the rumors to keep themselves out of trouble in the first place!

"So," Niall said, casting a look back over his shoulder at the land across the stream. "What exactly did she look like? This wee lassie that has had you looking on and off for her and not Cameron raiders for some time now?"

"A Macneill?" Alana asked Odara, so astonished, she couldn't believe it. They'd been raiding the Cameron's livestock for centuries and the Cameron likewise when it came to the MacNeill's livestock. "A sheepherder?"

"Aye. I met him selling some of his sheep to the butcher in the village. He and I talked about the raising of our herds." Odara shrugged as if it was of no consequence.

Alana saw the blush in her cheeks. The woman was smitten with the man!