Highlander's Guardian (4 page)

“Goodnight, Arthur.” She walked inside and shut her door. Well, two proposals in one night, except neither from the man she truly wished had asked.

“There you are, my lady.” Maggie dusted her hands against her aproned sides as she rose from before the crackling fire. “Would you like help readying yourself for bed?”

“Aye, I would. ’Tis been a long day.”

Maggie loosened the back ties of her gown and after she stepped out of it, hung it in the navy curtained ambry.

“There’s a tunic on top of my trunk that needs laundering. A keepsake. One of my father’s.” ’Twas the only way to explain why she had Colin’s shirt, a man’s shirt, in her chamber. She removed her sark and tugged her nightrail over her head. “Take care with it and return it once it’s laundered.”

She collected the shirt. “Will that be all?”

“Aye, rest well. I’ll see you in the morn.”

The girl bobbed her head and left.

The night would grow colder, but for now, the fire spread its delicious warmth throughout the stone chamber. She crawled under the covers and snuggled as thoughts of Colin flittered through her mind. Outside under the tree, he’d touched her so intimately. What did it all mean when he’d insisted he thought of her as a cousin and no more? Had he lied?

It might pay to speak to Elizabeth about things. Her aunt was as understanding as her mother had always been, and she and Elizabeth had become so close of late. Aye, she missed her mother, the woman who’d shown her how wonderful love could be. She and her father had married to bring their two clans closer together, MacLeod and MacLean, but in doing so they’d fallen in love and known such happiness in their years together. That’s what she wanted, to do the best by her clan but also to strike the right match.

If only there wasn’t such unrest in the Highlands. When the clans denied the king what he wished, they soon found disfavor and bounties on their heads and so many warriors had lost their lands once cast out. Those warriors then took what they wanted, where they wanted, and it had been just such a band of highly trained men who’d attacked her parents’ party as they’d traveled on a short trip north from Dunvegan to the tip of Skye. That day, her father had died protecting her and Mother.

Her gaze misted and she shoved back the unwanted tears. Mother had fought her captor and hit her head on a low tree branch as the brigands had marched them through the forest, and during the week they’d been held for ransom in the leader’s camp awaiting Rory’s payment, the woman she’d loved with all her heart had never fully woken from the blow.

Rory though had not waited for the exchange of coin. He and Colin had broken the messenger, discovered their location and stormed into camp. That day would be forever etched in her mind. Colin had slashed his way through the outlaws to reach her while Rory had gone berserk and killed every single warrior in his path. Not one of the men in camp had been granted leniency for slaying her father, and ’twas a strong message Rory had sent that day, that none would ever attack his clan so again.

If only Rory and Colin had come in time for Mother. She’d held Mother’s hand as she lay unresponsive on her dusty plaid, and when she’d kissed her mother’s cheek and told her Colin had come, her mother’s fingers had fluttered over hers and she’d breathed her last. Losing both her parents within days of each other had near torn her heart in two. She’d only survived the ordeal because of Colin.

In the weeks that had followed, he’d held her each night and mourned with her as she’d cried herself to sleep. How was ever supposed to live without him when she wed? Certainly if she gave James’s proposal the due consideration it required, any marriage with him would take her away from Colin and Rory.

She closed her eyes and a tear escaped.

As much as she adored Arthur for his proposal, it had been made for one reason only, to force Colin’s hand. That she couldn’t do.

* * * *

Colin strode into the tower after waiting until midnight for the guards to finally allow him clear passage through. With his weapons removed and stored in the guards’ antechamber, an edgy frustration sizzled through him.

The guardsman led the way up the winding stairwell. The walls were tight and Colin’s shoulders brushed the blackened stone either side of him. So too he had to duck his head or else knock it on the low rafters above. The tactical design would certainly ensure a man couldn’t swing his sword in this area during an attack.

On each darkened landing he passed, a little more room allowed him added movement, although with the narrow windows boarded shut, barely a trace of light passed through. Odorous, musty air clogged his throat. Lachlan had been living in these conditions for weeks and that sent his anger soaring. The king treated Lachlan like the worst scourge instead of the great chief he was.

“This way.” The warrior, his hand firm on his belted side sword, strode down the darkened corridor then halted at a heavily barred door. He turned the lock and pushed the rusty door open with a teeth-grinding screech. “I’ll return soon.”

“My thanks, but take your time.” He entered the stone cell lit by a single candle burning in an iron wall sconce.

“You have ten minutes.” The door scraped shut and the lock clunked back into place behind him.

Ahead, Lachlan sat on a dusty pallet, his wrists manacled and chained to the wall. His ragged tunic and trews hung off him.

Kneeling at his chief’s feet, he grasped Lachlan’s forearms in a firm warrior’s hold. “You look terrible.”

“’Tis good to see you too, Colin.” He cleared his raspy throat. “How is my wife?”

“Margaret is furious you got caught, and Hector is determined to slay the king even though at seven, he cannae lift a sword.”

“My son is no different to me at this moment then. I too cannae lift a sword.” He rattled his chains. “Does Calum hold Duart Castle?”

“Aye, and he willnae allow it to fall.” He picked up a grimy pitcher from the floor and poured murky water into a chipped tankard and held it to Lachlan’s chapped lips.

After taking a hearty swallow, Lachlan mumbled, “Donald and Angus MacDonald are in the cells at the end of the corridor. You’ll have to keep your voice down so we’re no’ overheard.”

Nodding, he pulled the linen-wrapped meat he’d pilfered from the great hall out of his pocket. The thick slabs of beef, even though cold, still seasoned the stuffy air. Lachlan took a deep whiff and Colin tore a sliver and fed him. “Eat slowly.”

“Good man,” he mumbled as he ate. “You should visit more often.”

“I’d rather you no’ be here to visit.” At least his chief appeared undefeated.

“I wish that too.”

“How do the talks go between you and the king?”

“He’s being unreasonable, insisting the MacDonalds and I pay hefty fines, which he calls arrears in lieu of duties and crown rents. He also wishes to ascertain our future obedience with the enforcement of certain conditions. Apparently all of us must cease opposing the government and when summoned to Edinburgh, return within twenty days or he and the Privy Council will declare us outlaws and have our lands forfeited. Donald and Angus are furious. And so am I.” His gaze narrowed until the whites remained barely visible. “Now you’re here, ’tis time for me to leave. I will battle the king from my own land where I can stand strong.”

His chief’s request didn’t surprise him, and he’d come fully prepared.

“Arthur is here at the palace with me, while Ian and Murdock wait in the forest. I brought our best.”

“Good.” Lachlan ate another bite of meat and after chewing, continued, “You’ll need to keep an eye on the sentry. There are four of them guarding this tower and they change at midnight and midday. I’m afraid all are loyal to the king, so you’ll get no aid from that quarter, but I’ll be waiting, no matter the hour or day.”

“I’ll return the night of the masquerade, only a few days hence. The ball will offer the perfect diversion for your escape.”

The key clanked and he tucked the cloth that had held the meat back into his pocket. “It appears my time is up.” He grasped Lachlan’s arm. “Virtue mine honor.”

“Aye, Colin. By death or life, I will stand firm.”

The guardsman entered and motioned Colin forward. He left as mocking sniggers echoed from the MacDonalds down the corridor. They would pay for their part in this atrocity, and he’d make certain of it.

At the guards’ station, he collected his weapons then stepped outside into the fresh evening air. Time was running out. He had a chief to free, Annie to find a husband for, and two unidentified men to locate and apprehend. That last threat gnawed furiously inside him. He’d never allow anyone to hurt Annie. She was his to protect, his to care for, and always had been.

In the dark of the night, he jogged across the inner courtyard, eager to return to her even though the hour was late and she’d likely be abed. Outside her door, he stopped as Arthur slid out of the shadowed recess. “How is she?” he asked his man.

“There have been no disturbances, and she remains alone. I can stay for the night if you wish.”

“Nay. I’ll keep guard.”

“What of Lachlan?”

“His discussions with the king go nowhere and he awaits his rescue. Since I’m to meet Ian at The White Dover Inn in the morn, I’ll confirm with him the mission will take place at midnight on the night of the masquerade. I’ll need you to remain here watching over Annie while I ride into the city. She must be kept safe.”

“Aye, I willnae fail you.” Arthur clasped his shoulder. “I fear she’s considering a match with MacDonald. I offered for her.”

“You better damn well no’ have.”

“She thanked me and turned me down. Think on that. I’ll see you in the morn.” Arthur disappeared into the dark.

Arthur was too damn observant. Annie was all he’d thought about of late and his man knew it. Only he had no idea what to do about her. Without a snick of noise, he opened the solid paneled door, snuck inside and slid the bolt home.

Keeping to the shadows, he moved soundlessly toward her four-poster bed with its navy canopy and golden-tasseled ties. She slept on her back, her pale blond lashes glimmering in the fire’s glow. Quietly, he lowered to his haunches and gently smoothed the back of his knuckles across her flushed cheeks. Everything about her touched his heart, and he desperately wished he could explore what was between them. Except taking that chance when his current mission was such a treacherous one, would only endanger her.

He breathed deep and her sweet rose scent swirled seductively around him. Her mother had adored roses, and she and Annie had planted cuttings along the forest path near their cottage. Wild copses of roses had bloomed, and each time he’d ridden that trail over the years and encountered the fragrance, memories of Annie stirred and overwhelmed him. He hated that she lived so far away on the Isle of Skye, that he could only visit her when his duties allowed it. Those visits of late had become fewer and further between.

“Mmm, Colin.” She pushed her arms out from under the covers, dislodging the tartan blanket.

Hell. Her nightrail was loose at the top and gaped open.

With shaky hands, he caught the ties, but before he could pull them together, she wriggled and stretched and exposed her full breasts.

“Dinnae leave me, Colin. You promised you’d always be close,” she murmured in her sleep.

Lust shot straight to his cock. This had been the most tortuous day, and it appeared it wasn’t yet at an end. He needed to close those ties. He hauled the fabric together as best he could and knotted it.

“Colin?” She blinked her eyes open and grasped his hands and sat up. “You’re back. Is all well?”

“As well as can be. The king thinks to weaken Lachlan but his mind remains strong.”

“The Chief of MacLean is one of the most determined warriors I know. He’ll never lose his mind or fail his clan.” She wriggled across and patted the mattress. “You look tired. Surely you can guard me from here.”

“I should sleep afore the fire.” Yet he kicked off his boots, propped his sword beside the bed where it would lay within easy reach and slid in beside her. The itch thrumming through him to be close to her was too strong to be curtailed. “Come here, scamp.”

She rolled into his side, slid her hand over his chest. Her soft circular strokes over his heart soothed him, as did her warm lips pressed against his cheek. “You worry too much.”

“There are two men intent on harming you. James proposed, and Arthur admitted to me he too made an offer.”

“I turned Arthur down, although he didnae take my answer as a firm nay and told me to think on it.”

“You cannae wed him.” His words, a mere whisper between them, were the strongest he’d ever issued. “I’m sorry, but bearing witness to the two of you together would kill me.”

“Why is that?” She kissed the corner of his lips. “Do you feel what could be between us too?”

“I gave my chief an oath, and I must abide by it. I’m here for him, no’ to dally with you.”

“You dally with no woman, or at least none I’ve noticed.” She licked along his lower lip and heat surged through his veins. “A point you should take note of.”

“Because you continually scatter my thoughts, as you’re doing now.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Annie, you’ve held a piece of my heart since the day you were born and always will, but of late, we’ve grown too close. I want to kiss you, and ’tis wrong.”