Highland Rake (7 page)

He thought men might have been waiting to ambush them, and she was the siren's lure, the temptation that was supposed to lead Dougald and his men into the fray. Which was why he was bound and determined to get hold of her first and use her as a hostage, if her men valued her life enough. They might not have, which had been a genuine risk he'd been willing to take.

Part of him had been like the wolf on a hunt, and he couldn't let her get away. The chase was half of the fun. Catching her, holding her close, smelling her sweet fragrance of basil and thyme and lavender was enough to make him glad he'd caught her.

The lad who had first spied her as he had tried to avoid bathing, stating he had to be on guard duty, had been so flushed and excited when he had run down the hill that Dougald had left the water at that point to see what the matter was. The lad clearly was eager to tell him some tidings in a happy way and not that he was about to warn them of danger. Dougald could still envision the woman sitting on her horse, the blue sky covered in a haze of white clouds, the woman dressed in pale blue, the veils she wore, the same color, all matching the sky. Seeing the regal lass with the sunlight dancing off her features had given Dougald pause. But only for the briefest period of time.

Once he had shaken loose of the notion she was of the fae, he had believed she might have stolen one of his clansmen's horses from the castle. Then he reconsidered and thought mayhap she was one of his clanswomen in trouble. Though only the ladies of Craigly Castle had their own mounts. He feared one of them had left the castle alone. But for what purpose? Still, he knew all of them and this woman was unknown to him.

Mayhap, she was not of his clan at all and was clearly lost. Or worse, in trouble.

No matter what scenarios chased across his mind, he had only one plan, take her in hand, learn who she was, whose horse she had, and what she was doing here.

He'd left his men behind as they were hurrying to dress and join him, unwilling to wait for them. What if the woman just…vanished…before he had a chance to catch her? Like she'd vanished before and his men hadn't caught sight of her. This time he had every intention of proving she was real. Tavis, the lad who had brought him the news of the lady, was so excited, telling him in a whisper so his voice did not carry over the hillside how bonny the lass was while Dougald hurried to dress.

He had carefully picked his way down the hillside, not wanting to injure his horse, though he had been dying to reach her before she tore off. He had watched her, truly expecting her to dash away, so he was surprised when she observed him as if she was the commander of a contingent of invisible troops and did not flinch. Not until he galloped toward her, and she knew then his intent. Or mayhap she had been more concerned when his men tried to follow him. She couldn't believe he would approach her alone. Not when she could be part of a bigger threat to him and his men.

Then, she did what he'd thought she would have done first, ran for her life. He couldn't decide if this bothered him more, or if the fact she did not move at first did. He had expected her to run away, but when she didn't and waited until he grew closer, he considered this truly might have been a trap.

She should have known no woman could outride a man who was battle trained and as determined as he was to keep their lands safe for his clansmen. She'd stirred his impulse to hunt. When she had ridden off, instead of sitting still and facing him lassie to warrior, he'd felt his heart pounding with excitement. The chase gave him much more pleasure.

When no one appeared to attack him and his men, he wasn't sure what to think.

What he hadn't expected was the way his body had reacted so quickly to the settling of her arse against his cock already straining against his plaid. The way he'd wanted to hold her closer—though he told himself it was to keep her from squirming so much and causing him more pain, or to keep her from jumping from his horse and injuring herself. He luxuriated in the feel of her soft curves held tightly against him, the way her body heated his to the level of a blazing fire on a summer's day, the smell of her as if she'd been dipped in a bed of lavender with a hint of the spices of other herbs, sweet and feminine and sensuous.

She wasn't his type of woman though. She was too…stiff in his arms, not melting against him like he enjoyed his women, malleable and willing. He imagined she hated him and his men for being MacNeill clansmen, when the wenches he took to bed loved him for who he was.

He grunted. No, the woman wasn't his kind of lass in the least.

He didn't believe for an instant that she was the niece of Laird Cameron. She would not have crossed their border, offering herself up to the MacNeills like a prize mare to bargain with. She would not have been alone without a maid and an armed escort.

Did she think Dougald and his men would show her more respect if they thought her words the truth? They would have, not wishing a war between their clans. But they would not harm the lass, no matter who she was.

"Your name, lass?" he finally asked, his tone hard, willing her to give him her true name.

"Alana, daughter of Bhaltair, deceased older brother of Alroy, my uncle, the Cameron."

His men were watching Dougald's expression now, and he would not let them see what he thought of her claim. He was beginning to wonder if she was who she said, and what that would mean for their clan. She had entered their lands unescorted and without invitation, so what was he to do with her? He couldn't allow her to roam their lands and potentially get herself into real trouble with some who would not be so noble as he.

For one, he probably should set her back on her own horse. No matter that she was not the kind of woman he normally enjoyed spending time with, he could not give the order to have her horse brought around so he could deposit her on it as much as he told himself he should.

He had to admit he liked very much where she was seated right now. Cameron lass or no'.

"Your uncle," he said, humoring her if she truly was not the Cameron's niece, "has not seen fit to have you wed? You appear to be an eligible maid."

More than eligible. The lass was bonny indeed, her golden hair so light it was like seeing the sun misted in clouds. Her hair was veiled by a shimmering blue cloth, her eyes as bright as the grasses covering the glen, her skin as white and soft as a swan's wing. And her supple curves nestled against him in his hard embrace spoke of a lass who was
all
woman.

"He is in negotiations as we speak," she snapped, not sounding happy in the least.

Arranged marriages were often not marriages made in heaven but to seal bargains between clans so he understood some of her animosity. "With which clan?" he asked, curious.

"If you wish to know my uncle's plans, you will have to speak with
him
," she retorted.

"You dinna know?" he asked, surprised. Even if her uncle, if he truly was her uncle, was making arrangements for her marriage and didn't speak with her concerning the matter, which was often the case, Dougald would have thought she'd have heard some rumors.

Then again, mayhap she already knew all the details and just did not want Dougald to know. After all, if the Cameron ended up allying with a stronger clan, the two could fight the MacNeill clan on a larger scale.

Well, there was nothing to be done concerning the matter. His only sister had died years earlier, or James could have offered her to the clan chief who was attempting an alliance with the Cameron, although she'd had her heart set on another clansman, which had been her undoing.

"Where will we stay the night?" Niall asked. "If we escort her to a tavern this eve, the journey would take us out of our way."

"The night?" she said, perking up, her voice a bit shaken.

"We will not reach the keep until tomorrow eve, at earliest," Dougald said to her, then added for his men's benefit. "Nay, we will continue on our way the quickest route to escort the lass so that she may have an audience with James and he will decide her fate."

"My fate!" Alana sounded as though she would draw a sword on him if she but had one to unsheathe.

"Aye, lass. You are a Cameron and have violated our laws when you entered our territory without permission," Dougald said.

She slumped a little against him, and he liked the way she softened against his body, even if she did not do so willingly. He wondered if her people had told her what a fierce warrior James was, and she believed he would toss her in the dungeon. He would, too, if he learned she planned for harm to come to his people. He meted out justice as harsh as any clan chief when it came to protecting his own.

"He is a fair man," Dougald said quite seriously. "If you were not trying to lead an army across our borders, you have naught to fear."

"Oh, aye," she said haughtily, but she did not stiffen against him again, nor try to ease away from him. "They were hiding in the woods, waiting to see if I would be taken first. If I didna fight you off well enough on my own, they would run home, tails tucked between their legs."

The men all chuckled, unable to hide their mirth at the images her comment must have stirred in their minds. Yet when one of his men looked back in the direction of the woods, Dougald probably had the same thought as he did. What if taking her with them had been the Cameron's plan all along? What if it was a reason to go to war, or for James to grant some other concession? What if she had been offered like a virgin sacrifice, and Dougald had taken the bait?

God's wounds, when it came to women, Dougald was always getting himself into a bind.

Gunnolf was smiling at him in his smug, knowing way. He'd been with him on enough of his adventures to know just what he was thinking.

If the Viking warrior had had
his
way, he would have slung the woman over his shoulder and claimed her for his own, damn the consequences. Not that a Highlander wouldn't do such a thing if he wanted a lass badly enough also.

But Dougald did not want
any
woman that badly, particularly a Cameron lass who would not want him in return. No, when he wed a lass, she would smile up at him and melt in his arms as he asked her to be his wife.

Dougald said to Gunnolf, "Return to where the shepherdess lives in the croft across the border. You know the one. We passed by there on our way home earlier this year and remarked how close the place was to our border."

"Ja."

"Learn what you can from the wench, then return."

Gunnolf bowed his head, and then turned his horse and headed in a more southeasterly direction.

"You dinna believe me?" Alana asked, sounding almost hurt.

Dougald hadn't meant to refute her claim. "Nay, lass. 'Tis that you didna give any description of this Rob MacNeill. Gunnolf will learn further about him from the lass, mayhap discover where he lives, and we will more easily find him."

She took a deep breath, then as if she finally remembered her earlier concern, said, "I canna stay the night with you on your lands."

"You will be safe with me and my men." Dougald couldn't help being annoyed she'd think any of them would take advantage of her.

She cast him an irritated look over her shoulder, her green eyes sparking like the sun's rays reflected off emerald daggers. "When my people learn I have not returned to the keep, they will be frantic."

"What did you think would happen? Surely, you considered such contingencies."

"I planned only to speak with Rob MacNeill and let him know the woman who loves him is carrying his babe! And I would have taken care of his niece should she have needed something for her illness. I would have returned to the keep well before it grew dark."

"You didna know where the man lived, now did you, lass? Or how far away 'twas from your border?"

"From the way Odara spoke, I thought the man lived close to the border. I didna know your people have no' enough vision to call your lads by more than one name."

Dougald laughed. He knew for a fact many of her kin named their sons after fathers or grandfathers or favorite uncles also. It was their way and had been for centuries to honor a male clansman in such a manner.

Dougald waved to one of the lads who rode with him, who learned from the older men while on the hunts, but also served as messengers in a case like this. "Tavis, ride ahead and get the word to James we are bringing a guest home with us. If we have any trouble before we reach the curtain walls, he should be made aware of why."

"Aye," the lad said, and rode off in the wrong direction. Wrong, with respect to not being on a direct heading toward the castle. The lad knew he had to make a detour to the village to get a fresh mount if he was to ride through the night and reach James before they did.

"Your laird will be sorely disappointed in you when he learns you have taken me hostage." The fight was out of her words now.

He suspected she was tired, probably unused to riding for so long on horseback. Mayhap somewhat resigned.

"Aye, and it willna be the last time," Dougald said.

His men chuckled.

"Of that I have no doubt," she said, and he smiled.

Not long after that, Alana drifted off to sleep in Dougald's arms, and he couldn't help but notice the way her body fit against his, warm and soft, nestled against his chest as if she belonged there. He was torn between feeling protective and not wanting the responsibility.