Page 15 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

T he inn at the outskirts of Munroe territory was almost empty when the four arrived in the dead of night.

Maisie had ridden with Lucas, and it had taken everything in her not to look above her shoulder at every moment.

They had left the house just as the sun was starting to dip, and they headed south.

The journey from Moray Firth to Perth, north of Edinburgh, where the King resided, was going to take more than a sennight.

Between then, they were going to stay in some inns along the way and other times in the forest so as not to leave a straight trail to where they were headed for anyone who might be following them.

After Lucas had paid the fee for the room, and she went in, Maisie took stock of her temporary lodging.

The room she was in was clean and somewhat sparse, a slender bed with a coarse wool blanket thrown over sat in a corner.

A wooden chest was near the far wall, and a copper water basin with a matching pitcher near the bedside.

From beyond the one small window, she could hear the soft neighing of horses, and Lucas went to it, hooked a finger around the curtain’s edge, pulled it apart and looked out. “We’re near to the stables, that’s good.”

“In case we’ll need to run,” Maisie understood.

“Aye,” he nodded and dropped the cloth. After turning to her, he leaned on the wall, cocked a hip on it and crossed his arms. “I daenae ken what will happen when we get to the King, lass, but two things are sure. I will be by yer side an’ I will do all in me power to make sure ye are nay harmed.”

She mustered a smile. While Maisie knew they were safe for a while, she knew that nothing would be set until they got to the King and solved this mystery about who was trying to annihilate the two clans.

It was not safe in the village or at this inn and she had a suspicion that news of her presence at this inn would not be secret for long.

“Can ye wrangle that power to gain me a bath here before we leave in the morn?” Maisie asked, a fleeting smile on her face. “Or should I say use yer persuasion?”

He laughed and pushed off from the door. “Let’s see what I can do.”

When he left the room with an amused chuckle and closed the door behind him, Maisie latched it and began to look around the room. The magnitude of the peril they were in had sunk into her heart moments after they had left the seaside home and ran through the dead of night.

They were not safe, and until they found who was behind this plot, both their families would be in peril. Her father would disown her when he found that she was entangled with the son of his sworn enemy, and Maisie would count herself fortunate if she were not exiled as well.

Am I only na?ve? Is this because he is the only man that I feel drawn to that I ken I will be all right even when common sense says otherwise?

Sighing, Maisie kept out of sight from the window, but managed to peer through it. There were woods beyond the village line, which stretched up into the mountains and far off to the south where the Ross clan ruled.

As she waited for Lucas to return, she considered the two options that rested before them; if the King was behind this then they would have no other choice but to break from the monarch.

However, if he were not, who could it be?

Someone in their ranks? A mutual enemy was the most sensible choice but between the two clans, they would have dozens of adversaries who wanted them to fall.

Time slipped away and before Maisie knew it, she was slumbering. A knock on the door had her startling awake though and she went to the door to answer it. Lucas stood there with a bundle of cloth under his arm.

“They have a bathing room, lass, with a tub ye can use,” he handed her the clothing. “I ken it’s late, but I managed to get ye some clothing for the rest of the journey.”

She took them with a nod then went back to the bed, only to see Lucas entering behind her and closing the door. Maisie felt confused. “What are ye doing?”

“Staying with ye,” he replied easily. He then quirked a brow, “Ye ken I was goin’ to leave ye alone even though I am nae sure if we have any attackers on our trail?”

She huffed, “I was hoping for privacy.”

“I’ll turn me back,” Lucas grinned. “Daenae ye worry, lass, I’ll willnae be stealing yer bed. I’ll be sleeping on the floor.”

By the time she had slipped into bed, Lucas had amassed a pile of god-knows-what on the floor and was laying on it.

Squinting, she tried to make out what it was—was that a horse’s blanket?

Shaking her head, she tugged the covers over her and tried to settle down to sleep—but she could not.

Maisie found herself attuned to Lucas’s presence as if he were a lodestone and she a shard of iron.

His breathing was steady, but she knew he was awake. After a moment, she asked, “Do you ken of any mutual enemies our clans have?”

Lucas rustled on his makeshift bed. “I ken of a few. D’ye ken that this threat is coming from them?”

“If is it nae from the King, it could be,” she replied while grasping the covers. “Between yer clan and mine, there are many who would want us to fall.”

“Aye,” he replied. “That’s true. But even so, I cannae help but believe this is from the King. I daenae ken what kind of plot he an’ the English King are makin’, but I’ll nae let it happen. I’m nae saying I’m right, but I ken that he isnae to be trusted.”

“But if it is a mutual enemy,” Maisie insisted, “Do ye ken our families will put aside these old, and well, new, grudges an’ find who is threatening us?”

“That, lass,” his tone was wry and doubtful, “Is one we can only hope for. Enough, now. We can speak of it later, though I canna imagine there being much to speak about. We need to sleep. What is to be, shall be.”

Maisie felt her heart sink at the notion that their families would pull apart even more. Could she bear that?

Just after dawn, Maisie woke to find Lucas—and his makeshift bed—gone.

Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and looked around for any hint to where he might have gone.

Finding none, she moved from the bed and unraveled the ball of clothing Lucas had given her only to balk at a set of trews and a tunic wrapped up with a towel.

“What in heaven’s name…” she shook her head. “That man is a mystery.”

As she looked over the clothes, she realized that Lucas might have hit up on a clever solution—a dress was beautiful, but it was cumbersome with travel and even worse while riding a horse.

She went to the table where the washing stand was and cleansed her face. And while she wanted to leave the room to search for Lucas, Maisie felt it wise to stay put. He would find her in suitable time.

Just as the thought settled in her mind, a familiar knock sounded on the door, and she went to admit Lucas into the room. His hair was damp, and his clothes were clean. “I hope ye slept well. The innkeeper has the bathing room ready for ye, lass.”

“I did and thank ye,” she said while gathering the bundle of clothes. “I’ll try nay to take much time.”

He led her to a bathhouse that was at the other side of the inn on the main floor over a kitchen. The room had several large holes in the floor where ropes passed through, and buckets were suspended from iron hooks, an innovative invention if she had ever seen one.

There were three large tubs set up against one wall against a flickering fire. Near the hearth, one tub was waiting. It had been filled with cold water in anticipation of her arrival and Lucas plucked a bucket of hot water from the hook before carrying it to the tub and dumping it.

A subtle hiss rose in the air as the hot water mixed with the cold and after three more buckets were added, Maisie tested the water and found it pleasantly warm.

Lucas looked at the pulley system with an appreciative eye. “I wonder if I can convince me masons to build something of the sort back at my castle.”

“It is new, I’ll give you that,” Maisie said. “I’ll be down soon.”

“We willnae be staying for a meal,” Lucas said. “We have food to eat on the way.”

“I understand,” she said as he left the room.

Before she undressed, she set the tunic and trews on a stool near the fire and then she did away with the dress, grimacing at the stiff feel of dirt on it before she sank into the tub with relief.

Reaching to a stool near it, she took the soap and smelled the lavender oil in it.

Delighted, she used it and a cloth to scrub her body and worked it through her wet hair, her senses filled with the delightful scent.

Before rinsing, she tipped her head back against the tub. The ever-present worry that all this effort was futile, and that their best intention of finding out who was undermining them would end up hurting both clans lingered at the forefront of her mind.

Lucas was proving to be a decent person, and if they had come across each other in different circumstances, if their families had not been so stringent in carrying on the deuced feud, if she had not been conditioned to hate the Barclays, maybe the two of them could have become friends. Perhaps even more.

Maisie could not allow herself to imagine what that more could be, as there was every reason to believe that after this, she would never see him again.

The water was beginning to grow uncomfortably cool, which had her hauling herself up with a heavy sigh and reaching over to the towel draped over the chair.

Just as she wrapped the towel around herself, a knock came and her head darted up. “Aye? Who is it?” She strove to speak with as much authority as possible.

“It is I,” Lucas’s voice rumbled through the door. “May I come in?

If steam had risen from her overheated skin, it would not have come as a surprise. “I’m nay ready yet,” she stammered, looking down at the towel.

“Hurry,” he said. “We’re about ready to go.”

Nodding, she dried off, dried her hair, reached for the trews and tunic, and dressed quickly.

Both were deliciously warm, heating her skin, sending ripples of comfort up her arms and down her legs.

She did not know where Lucas had purchased the clothes but the tunic hung around her like a sail, billowing when she moved.

“Are ye ready, lass?” Lucas asked.

Despairing that the clothes would fall off her the moment she moved, Maisie said, “Nay, I—” and then Lucas pulled the door and walked in.

The moment he saw her, his lips quirked, and Maisie grew cross. “Stop laughing at me.”

In response, Lucas pulled the belt from around his waist and looped it around hers. “I never calculated just how tiny ye are.”

She scowled. “And ye are a behemoth. I feel like a trussed chicken wearing this.”

“Aye, ye do,” he laughed, while tightening it. “But a bonnie one, no less.” He then fixed the tunic so it covered the belt and handed her a set of boots that were made of heavy tartan.

As she strapped them on, Lucas kneeled and pulled a sheathed dagger from his boot, spun it around to show her the Barclay seal in the hilt, then crouched and slid it into her boot, “I want ye take this. I ken ye daenae ken how to use it yet, but it’ll come in handy in any emergency.”

The leather felt cold against her ankle, but Maisie nodded, “Thank ye.”

They left the room and while Maisie felt she looked odd, the garments suited her better than a dress ever had, especially as he lifted her to his horse. Increasingly, she grew to respect Lucas—mayhap things would work after all.

By past midday, the lass was dozing off in his arms; her drying hair tickled his nose and the lavender scent made him smile. She was such a little thing, but he knew she had fire, passion, and heart.

Would she make a good wife?

He looked over to his right and saw a muscle jump in Oliver’s jaw; he knew his friend was worried about Eilidh getting back home safely. “She is going to be all right, Oliver,” he said. “She should have gotten home by dusk yestereve.”

A grunt was his reply, “I ken that, sir, what is bothering me is that the bairn might be born by now.”

Ah. Oliver was missing the chance to hold his firstborn and name him, but Lucas was sure Eilidh knew what to name the lad or lassie when it was time. “I’m sorry about it,” he said. “But hold the faith, Oliver. Yer son will be there to welcome ye home when this deuced mission is over.”

Flashing Lucas a fleeting smile, Oliver said, “I ken it might be wise to sleep in the woodland tonight. I ken of a good inn a few miles away from the border of Mackenzie where we can get a good night’s rest on beds that daenae feel like they’re made from bricks. And the proprietress is discreet too.”

“Thank God for that,” he said while stirring his horse on. “I miss me bed.”

“Why did ye sleep in the lass’s room when we have our quarters above the stables?” Ian asked from behind them. “Was she in danger of runnin’ again?”

“Nay,” Lucas said, while glancing down at the girl resting on his chest. “I wanted to make sure the lass was safe. I havenae told ye this when I left, but I feared the other lass had arrived at the Hendry home and a spy had come quick enough to follow us.”

“I dinnae ken the lass would have arrived so quickly,” Ian said quietly behind them. “We left fast enough and the lass doesnae ken which route we took to the house. If anything, she might be arriving at her home about now.”

“Let’s pray that is the case,” Lucas grunted, before looking down at Maisie. “Otherwise, we might be in more trouble than we need.”

Clan Gunn

Night had fallen and while the rains had partially ceased, fog was creeping up the battlement of Gunn castle. A guard hefted his halberd and peered out into the murky dark as a few shadows shifted at the woodland beyond the dirt road that led up to the east buttress.

It was probably a wild animal or only the wind, but then the bushes parted and a body stumbled out of it, he grabbed his weapon in case. He nearly reached for his horn to sound an alarm, but when he saw it was a woman, tottering on her feet, he dropped it.

“Halt!” he shouted from atop the wall. “Come no closer.”

She looked up and the moonlight that fell over her face had his heart racing, just as a much as his feet. Dropping the halberd he descended the inner stairs as fast as possible and went to a side gate, to unlatch the irons. Darting out, he grabbed Miss Heather just before she collapsed.

“Miss Cowie,” he said while gently lifting her. “I’m here, I’ll take ye inside.”

Two other guards rushed out, one taking a stance with his sword out and the other holding the gate aloft. “Take her inside,” the one with his weapon out said, “And get her to the healers.”

“Nay,” Heather croaked, “Nay, I must tell Laird Gunn where his daughter is. He needs to get her from those men before they kill her. Take—take me to him, now!”