The Highlander's Runaway Bride Read online

  ‘Mayhap this is for the best, Rob? Brodie would not ask someone he did not trust to do something as important as this.’

  Rob nodded. ‘Aye, you have it right, Margaret. I had just hoped...’

  He paused, not knowing how to explain his feelings to her. Men and women looked at this from different perspectives and, since her marriage—one that resulted in a deep love—had been an arranged one, she would likely not do anything but support it. Some noise outside caught his attention and gave him the excuse he needed to leave.

  ‘I must see to packing for the journey,’ he said. Kissing his sister, he nodded at Magnus and then could not stop himself from a wee tease. ‘Have a care with those heavy tasks, Magnus. A man could find himself confined to a bed easily if they are not done well.’

  Rob walked out quickly then, but not without hearing Margaret’s sputtered curse and Magnus’s deep and hearty laughter. It did his heart good to know that Margaret had found joy again and that Magnus would be there for her.

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed quickly, too quickly for his taste, as he saw to his duties that involved training the warriors. Fighting at Brodie’s side over the past years had honed his skills with weapons and strategies, and he enjoyed this part of his duties the most.

  Then, he gave Brodie, and Arabella, his answer at dinner.

  Brodie’s reaction was exactly what he expected it to be—a knowing nod of his head and a satisfied expression in his gaze. Arabella, well, Arabella jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and clutching him close, regardless of her ever-expanding girth.

  ‘I am glad, Rob,’ she said, wiping at her eyes as she released him. ‘I want you to be happy in this. I pray you will find the MacKay girl to your liking and you will be happy.’

  Any desire to argue or correct her dissipated at Brodie’s approach. The look in his eyes now promised retribution and pain if Rob dared ruin Brodie’s wife’s happiness in this matter. Having been at the wrong end of Brodie’s anger more than once, Rob decided to allow her to believe the optimism in her words and he just nodded.

  ‘When will you leave?’ Brodie asked, as he guided Arabella back to her chair.

  ‘In a day or two. I have some things to see to before I leave.’

  ‘How many will you take?’

  Rob inhaled and let it out before answering his laird. He’d thought on this all day while finishing up some tasks. If this failed, he wanted no one to witness it. Whether Brodie would agree was another matter.

  ‘I go alone.’

  Silence greeted his words for several long seconds. He met Brodie’s stare, waiting as his friend thought on his answer.

  ‘I would rather you take at least a small number of men with you,’ he said. ‘But you will be travelling through lands held by allies or kin and can defend yourself,’ Brodie agreed. ‘How long will you take?’

  ‘If the weather holds, no more than a fortnight to get there and another to get back. I will stay there as long as it takes,’ he said.

  ‘Rob...’ Brodie began. Rob held up his hand to forestall his friend.

  ‘I am at peace with this, Brodie. If I cannot tolerate the woman or have some strong objection, I will speak my mind to you.’ Brodie smiled and nodded. ‘I am at peace,’ he repeated, ‘but not happy at all.’

  Accepting more wine in his cup from a passing servant, Rob drank it down in one swallow. He’d been truthful with Brodie—if there was something wrong with the lass, he would refuse. If there was some impediment or other reason, he would refuse. And if there was none, he would have to accept her.

  * * *

  As he mounted his horse and gathered the reins of the packhorse in his hand two days later, Rob rode out of Drumlui Keep, knowing that he would be a different man when he returned.

  A married man, for better or worse.

  He could only pray that it would be for the better.

  But the situation that greeted him on his arrival made him realise, it was only going to get worse.

  Chapter Two

  Three weeks later—Caisteal Bharraich—Castle Varrich—village of Tongue, Scotland

  He should have gone by ship. He should have taken men with him. He should have done many things differently than he had. Rob knew that and more now as he neared the MacKay’s keep outside the small village of Tongue.

  Following the winding path up and around the hill on which the castle sat, Rob heard the guards call out as he cleared the last copse of trees and approached. He called out his name and the gates opened. One man motioned for him to follow and he did, aware of those watching his every move. Once he’d ridden close to the entrance to the keep itself, he threw a leg over his horse and dismounted. A gap-toothed boy ran up and Rob tossed the reins of both horses to him. He whistled to the boy before the young one got more than a couple of paces away and tossed him a coin.

  ‘Mackintosh?’ a man called out from the open doorway. ‘The MacKay awaits you.’

  Rob nodded and climbed the steps, leaning down to avoid hitting his head as he entered the keep. It was smaller than the one at Drumlui, but well kept and brightened by windows high up on the walls in the main hall. Glass from the looks of them. With the winds that blew in from the sea to the north and across the Kyle of Tongue, it was clear to him why those windows were small and thick.

  Walking towards the large table at the other end of the rectangular chamber, Rob took note of a woman rushing there, as well. Not young enough to be his intended, she arrived there just as he did. He paused and bowed to the large, bearded man before him.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, as he lifted his head. ‘I bring greetings from the Mackintosh to you and your family.’

  He’d brought several gifts that yet remained on the packhorse that he would present formally later. And, something more personal to give the young woman when, if, he accepted the marriage contract. Rob glanced around the chamber and, though he saw several servants and others in the hall, no woman young enough to be the MacKay’s heiress was present. Reaching inside his tunic, he took out a packet from Brodie and handed it to the MacKay.

  ‘Ye were expected nigh to a week ago,’ the MacKay said, nodding to a servant. ‘We heard of storms to the west. Did ye get caught in them?’

  ‘Aye,’ Rob said. He accepted a cup of ale from the servant and followed the laird’s lead over to a table. ‘What roads I found quickly became muck and mire.’

  ‘Not surprising at this time of year,’ the older man explained. ‘And this year the storms seem stronger coming from the north.’

  The talk about the weather continued on and Rob knew it was forced. The rains came and went. The winds howled or caressed. The sun shone or hid. And none of that was of enough consequence for a man like this chieftain and a man like himself to dwell upon. It was, however, a perfect way to avoid the subject they should be discussing.

  And why would the MacKay be avoiding that?

  ‘I have been amiss, Mackintosh,’ he now said. ‘I do not believe ye have met Lady MacKay, Morag Munro.’ Rob stood once more as the woman approached them now.

  ‘My lady,’ he said with a bow of his head. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’

  ‘Was your journey pleasant?’ she asked, sitting on a chair across from her husband.

  The journey again. Would the weather be next?

  ‘Longer than I expected, my lady.’ He kept his tone polite and tried not to let his suspicion enter it.

  ‘These storms have been unusual.’

  Rob nodded, smiled and drank from his cup, unable to speak in that moment. Something was amiss here.

  Granted, he spent the first week of his journey being angry and cursing his fate. Well, cursing his best friend’s high-handed method of seeing to his life and future. And cursing his own inability to simply refuse. M
ayhap the storms had been the Almighty’s way of slowing him down so that his eventual acceptance of this arrangement would happen before his arrival in Tongue?

  And he had accepted the inevitable of this situation.

  Until now.

  He had not lived this long without a healthy amount of suspicion in his blood, without knowing when to look for more or without knowing to respect the feeling in his gut when it told him of danger. Or betrayal. He’d survived and protected Brodie’s life by understanding the signs.

  Something was wrong here.

  Rob searched for any sign of treachery and found none. The usual tasks and chores he would expect in a keep this size went on around him. Other than several guards posted at the doorway and one closer to the laird, he saw no increase in defence around the hall. Yet...

  ‘Your belongings have been taken to your chamber, sir,’ the lady said now. ‘If you have need of anything before our evening meal, simply ask one of the servants.’

  Rob stood as the lady did, understanding he’d been dismissed from their company, even if the laird remained in his chair watching them silently.

  ‘Lady,’ he said, with a bow. ‘I appreciate your hospitality and look forward to speaking more at the evening meal.’

  With another bow to the MacKay, he followed the servant off as he was clearly meant to do. Rob paused as they turned the corner down a corridor and glanced back at the laird and his lady. He found them watching him.

  Oh, aye, something was amiss here. Now all he had to do was discover what it was. Suddenly, his reluctance over this match seemed the sensible approach after all.

  * * *

  The next hours passed slowly as he waited for darkness to fall and dinner to commence. He unpacked his clothing and found the two gifts he’d brought for the MacKay daughter: a book of prayers—from Arabella’s own collection—and a silken scarf—suggested by his sister. Lady Eva MacKay was well educated, according to Arabella, so the book should be appreciated. But, as Margaret had pointed out, a lass was still a lass and a lass liked something pretty, too. Hence the pale blue scarf.

  A servant knocked on his door and invited him below, so Rob followed, observing the others who preceded and followed him as much as he could. Other than a few furtive glances, ones not unusual when seeing a stranger in their midst, he noticed nothing else. His presence would have been known by now and his position as the emissary of the Mackintosh would assure polite if not deferential treatment.

  The hall filled with kith and kin and Rob was led to the front table and a seat waiting next to the MacKay. Strangely, there was no other open place, and his intended was not yet present.

  ‘Lady Eva?’ he asked after bowing and taking his place.

  ‘I must beg your pardon, sir—’ Lady MacKay began.

  With a curt wave of her husband’s hand, her words and nearly her breath were cut off.

  ‘When you did not arrive as expected, my daughter asked permission to visit her cousin until you did. I have sent word, and she should arrive back here by midday on the morrow,’ the laird explained.

  It was not the news or even the fact that the woman they all meant for him to marry was not present for his arrival. It was not even the nervousness of Lady MacKay or the furtive glances she threw in her husband’s direction. Many noble husbands and wives led barely civil lives together and others lived in open warfare.

  No, it was the way everyone present there who could hear this conversation paused and seemed to hold their breath that gave Rob concern. As though this delay and absence was not a simple and usual thing, but was instead something big and important. Which made his hackles rise. He cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence, and nodded.

  ‘I look forward to having the pleasure of meeting her on the morrow, then.’

  It was as if everyone let out their breath at once and returned to the conversations that they’d paused moments ago. Servants carried platters of roasted meats and fowl to the table, holding them so the laird and lady could select the choicest bits first. They brought the food to him next, as the honoured guest, and then to the rest at the high table.

  The meal progressed and no one else mentioned the missing daughter at all. They discussed the MacKays. They discussed the Mackintoshes and the Chattan Confederation. They discussed the storms another time. All in all, it was the usual conversations and the usual fare for a diplomatic meal. Rob knew he would learn nothing here from them.

  And yet, something flowed under it all. Mayhap he was right in his resistance to being forced into this marriage that would bring the Mackintoshes into an alliance with this clan? An opportunity to discover more came when one of the MacKay warriors approached and greeted him. They shared a mutual cousin, but Rob had forgotten that Iain lived here now.

  ‘Will ye join us for a wee game, Rob? When ye are finished with yer meal?’ Iain asked after greeting the laird and lady. ‘Just a few friends, ye ken.’ Iain, Rob now remembered, liked to throw dice.

  ‘With your permission?’ Rob turned to his host and awaited his word. There was a slight hesitation before a quick nod of consent. ‘Aye, Iain. I will seek you out when we finish.’

  * * *

  The table was cleared a short time later, and the lady was granted leave to retire. Once she’d left, the laird spoke to a few of his men, giving orders for the morn and then stood to leave. ‘Break your fast with us in the morn, Mackintosh. We can ride out to the coast, if the weather clears.’

  ‘Aye, my lord. Until morn, then,’ he said with a bow.

  Rob let out a breath he had not realised he’d been holding and turned to see where Iain and his friends were gathered. Now, now he could find out what was going on here. A few hours later and some coin lighter, Rob had discovered some interesting bits about the goings-on in the Clan MacKay.

  * * *

  Rob woke early the next morning and saw to his horses in the stables. Built under the keep, they had their own entrance that faced north and the Kyle of Tongue. A few men nodded in greeting as he made his way back and into the hall where the morning meal would be served.

  He held his words all through the meal, never giving any sign that he knew what was actually happening here. A short time later, the laird called for their horses, and he followed Ramsey from the keep, through the main gate and along the water’s edge south. A few of the laird’s men rode with them, and the first part of the ride was pleasant enough.

  The MacKay was clearly quite proud of his new keep and the growing village that it protected a short distance to the east. He led them around in a circle that kept the keep in sight at all times. High on its hill, it was visible from the surrounding lands and made an impressive sight.

  When they returned to the keep, climbing the hill and reaching a point that gave them a fantastic view of the surrounding kyle and lands, Rob pulled the reins and halted his horse. Ramsey waved his men on and stared at him. Rob could almost feel the man’s growing discomfort as each second passed them by.

  ‘So, my lord...’ Rob began, watching the laird’s face closely as he spoke. ‘In which direction do you think your daughter headed when she ran way?’

  Chapter Three

  Five days later—near Durness

  It had seemed a sound plan at first—run away from her home to give herself time to find her bairn. Run away and avoid this impending marriage. The Mackintosh’s man would have his choice in accepting this arranged marriage or forgoing it, and Eva had planned that the latter should be his choice.

  Surely, a man, no man, wanted to marry a reluctant or resistant woman? And if her disappearance shamed or humiliated him, would he not simply ride back to wherever he came from and seek out a willing woman to wife? Eva sighed again.

  Shifting on the cold stone floor beneath her, she tried to ease her way back to sitting up. Her ankle and knee proteste
d, sending shards of pain through her body with any movement.

  So much for a good idea.

  A shiver raced through her whole body then, reminding her of the fever that would not go away. She still bled as well, her body not healed yet from the birth eight weeks before.

  Dying would be one answer to her problems. But she would not leave this life until she found out her bairn’s fate. Not yet, she thought, as she shifted her weight to her uninjured hip and tried to pull herself up. Her leg slid on the slippery floor of the cave and she fell hard, forcing the breath from her body in a loud whoosh. Her head hit the wall and, as Eva watched, everything around her grew dark.

  * * *

  When next she opened her eyes, Eva could see a shape moving in the shadows. A fire burned somewhere close, and a huge creature skulked along the path inside the cave where she’d tried to hide. Oh, Dear God in Heaven! Had she unknowingly fallen into the cave of some dangerous animal? Mayhap if she lay quiet and unmoving, it would not hear her? But shivers racked her body and her teeth chattered so loudly she could hear them.

  The dark, fur-covered creature rose up to its full height and turned to where she lay hidden among the rocks. It began to growl and...curse? Her fevered mind could not make sense of how an animal could speak in a human voice, but this one did. As it moved along the path and closer to her, she closed her eyes and prayed.

  For forgiveness. For her daughter. For her soul.

  All was for naught as the huge figure stood only a few paces away from her and stared at her with eyes filled with the glow of hell itself. Could it be a bear? Nay, they had not been seen in centuries here. Some other mythic creature sent to punish her for her disobedience and other sins? Eva reached up and swept her hair away from her face, squinting into the shadows to see what would be her executioner.

  At its first step closer, she shook her head and tried to push herself along the slippery floor. With its second, Eva opened her mouth to scream. It would be the only thing she could do against something of this size and strength. She drew in a breath and brought her daughter to mind in that moment of her own death.