Page 51

15: LOST

THEY SAID THEIR farewells at the crossroads an hour’s ride south of Kintraw the following morning.

A warm wind gusted across the hills as the five warriors who’d accompanied Davina north reined in their horses and twisted in the saddle to face her.

“Goodbye, my lady,” Hamish said, favoring Davina with a tight smile.

The older man’s eyes were shadowed this morning.

He was trying to hide it, but he was worried about her.

“Take care of yerself.”

“And ye too, Hamish,” she replied, warmth in her voice.

Her gaze then slid to each of their faces.

“Keith, Archie, Fergus, and Elliot,” she named each of them.

“Ye are honorable men, and I will never forget yer loyalty over the years. I wish ye all well.”

“Aye, my lady,”’ Archie replied, clearing his throat.

The red-haired warrior had flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Have a safe journey to Dun Ugadale.”

“Fear not, I shall take care of her, Archie,” Mackay said then.

He was seated in front of Davina, and as such, she couldn’t see his expression.

“I shall protect Lady Davina with my life.”

Davina’s breathing caught.

There was a quiet surety in his voice, one that made her cheeks warm and her pulse start to patter.

His assurance made her feel both flustered and reassured.

Yet his words pleased the others.

Fergus and Elliot flashed him warm smiles, while Archie and Keith both nodded.

Hamish inclined his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his bearded face split into a grin.

“Ye’re all right, Mackay,” he said gruffly.

Lennox Mackay snorted a soft laugh.

“Just come to that realization now, have ye?”

Hamish scratched his bearded jaw before shrugging.

“I’ll admit that me and the lads weren’t sure about ye … until this trip.”

“But ye showed us ye don’t shy away from a scrap,” Fergus piped up.

“Aye … ye’ve got balls,” Archie added.

Davina coughed into her hand.

The warriors seemed to have forgotten there was a lady present.

Archie flashed her an apologetic look, while Hamish glanced over at Mackay once more.

“We’re sorry to lose ye as our captain,” he admitted then.

“But ye are doing the right thing.”

“I know,” Mackay replied quietly.

“Thank ye, Hamish.”

The older warrior nodded before glancing over at Davina once more.

“Godspeed, my lady.”

Davina smiled back.

“And ye.”

They parted ways then.

Mackay turned his gelding and urged the heavy feather-footed beast into a swift canter, while the others headed west toward Loch Awe.

Davina was comfortable on a horse’s back and had a good seat.

Nonetheless, she tightened her hold on Mackay’s waist just a fraction.

The road was uneven, and he was setting a cracking pace.

Neither of them spoke as they traveled south, kicking up stones and dirt behind them.

If Davina was honest, it felt awkward to be alone together.

In other circumstances, it would have been considered improper.

But after everything that had happened, her reputation no longer mattered.

She’d already disgraced herself when she embarked on an affair with Blair Cameron, and then had lost her father’s love by insisting she take the veil.

And now, she’d lost her dowry.

Whether or not anything improper occurred between her and Mackay, few would care now.

It already has.

Davina’s belly fluttered as she recalled the heat of his mouth on hers, the passion of his kiss.

She’d wanted more—they both had.

But at least Mackay had stopped things before they’d gotten out of control.

Davina squeezed her eyes closed, giving herself up to the jolting rhythm of the gelding’s canter.

Think of something else, lass, she counseled herself.

Or ye shall get yerself into trouble.

Once they’d left Kintraw far behind, Lennox eventually slowed their pace.

It was a breezy day, and clouds scudded across the sky.

They rode over emerald-green hills sprinkled with clover, heather, and thistles—varying hues of purple.

Lennox had been tense upon departing that morning, yet with each furlong south, something inside him unraveled.

I’m going home.

Home.

Had he missed it that much?

Over the last few months, he’d stubbornly fought his longing to see the moss-encrusted walls of Dun Ugadale and the windswept hills of the Kintyre peninsula.

But now he didn’t.

Lennox’s breath grew shallow, excitement unfurling inside him.

He’d have to eat humble pie, of course—yet he’d do it.

“This is lovely countryside,” Davina drew his attention then, speaking for the first time in hours.

“Aye.” Lennox smiled.

“It gets bleaker as ye ride south, yet there is a beauty in it.”

A pause followed before she spoke once more.

“Ye miss yer kin, don’t ye?” Despite himself, Lennox tensed, yet she continued, “When ye spoke of yer brother yesterday, I saw it in yer eyes.”

A sigh gusted out of Lennox then.

“Iver and I didn’t part on the best of terms,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry for it.”

“Did ye quarrel?”

Lennox pulled a face.

“Something like that.”

Davina said nothing else, clearly noting the edge to his voice.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I’m just not used to talking about it.”

“Ye don’t have to,” she assured him.

“No, but ye asked.” He paused then, searching for the words to describe his relationship with his elder brother.

“Over the years, people have asked me … yer father included … if I wished I were the first-born son. But I didn’t. I never coveted my brother’s position. I’ve always looked up to Iver … he was born to rule Dun Ugadale … but growing up, I felt the odd one out. I’ve got a quick temper, and I can be reckless, and when Iver took over as laird, he handled me as ye would a hot coal.”

Lennox broke off there.

He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, only that, now that the words tumbled out of him, he wanted to set everything inside him free.

Instinctively, he knew Davina wouldn’t judge him.

Not after everything she’d been through of late.

“I’m the second eldest, yet instead of making me Captain of the Guard as I’d hoped, he gave that role to Kerr, our younger brother … and made me his bailiff.”

“Ye’d make a good bailiff,” Davina replied.

He snorted, noting her wry tone.

“I’m aggressive, ye mean?”

“I never said that,” she teased.

“Aye, well … I was a decent enough bailiff, although arresting criminals and threatening tenants who are overdue on their rents wasn’t the life I’d imagined for myself. With the years, I grew increasingly restless … and when we stopped at Kilchurn on the way home from Stirling, and yer father offered me a position, I decided I’d had enough of pretending to be happy.”

Silence fell once more as Davina took in his words.

When she replied, her voice was thoughtful.

“But ye weren’t any happier at Kilchurn, were ye?”

“No” he admitted quietly.

“So, do ye know what ye want now?”

Her question threw him, and he considered it for a few moments before answering.

“I wish I could say ‘aye’, lass,” he murmured, “but the past days have thrown everything into upheaval.” He grimaced.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt as lost as I do now.”

Her grip on his waist tightened just a fraction.

In truth, riding double with this woman over the past two days had been a distraction he didn’t need.

The feel of her slight body against his brought up desires he desperately tried to quash.

Davina was vulnerable, and she needed his help.

He wouldn’t take advantage of her.

There was nothing sensual in the way she touched him now.

Instead, she was trying to reassure him.

“This is my doing,” she murmured.

“I’ve ruined yer prospects at Kilchurn. I’m sorry, Mackay.”

Shifting his left hand, which had been resting on his thigh, for his right one held the reins, he brought it up and placed it over hers.

“Don’t be,” he replied.

“I need to go home … I need to face things.”

They stopped to rest around noon, on the bank of a narrow burn in a shallow wooded vale.

Clear water bubbled over peaty soil while a pair of goshawks wheeled overhead.

Davina had noticed that the farther south they rode, the wider the sky became.

Mackay had told her that they’d reach the edge of the peninsula by nightfall and then strike out onto it the following morning.

Even though her disappointment at being refused entry at Iona still stung, she found herself looking forward to seeing Lennox Mackay’s home.

It wasn’t the sanctuary she’d hoped for, but it would allow her to make a fresh start, all the same.

She was fortunate indeed that this man had come to her aid.

How would she ever repay him?

Their noon meal was delicious—nutty bread, butter, and boiled eggs—and Davina ate hungrily.

“Ye look happier than ye did at Kilchurn, lass.” She glanced up to see Mackay watching her.

“Despite everything that has befallen ye, of late.”

Davina shrugged.

“I couldn’t breathe within those walls.” She pulled a face then.

“Not after what happened to Blair. Everywhere I turned, there were memories.”

Mackay’s brow furrowed.

“Do ye still miss him?”

Davina stilled.

His question surprised her.

“It’s a year now,” she admitted with a sad smile.

“And his loss cast a shadow over my days for most of that time. However, now that we are far from Kilchurn, that shadow has drawn back.” She paused then.

“It’s strange, but although this trip has been a disaster, I feel as if a burden has been lifted from my shoulders.”

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful.

“It sounds as if neither of us belonged at Kilchurn.”

Davina shook her head.

She popped her last piece of bread into her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her skirts before glancing up at him once more, almost shy this time.

She was used to verbally sparring with Lennox Mackay; it felt strange to converse so openly with him.

“Bonnie will be delighted to see ye when we reach Dun Ugadale, I’d wager,” Mackay announced then, smoothly changing the subject.

“After months defending herself from my mother’s barbs, she’ll be desperate for gentler company.”

Davina laughed.

“Yer mother is a woman to be reckoned with then?”

He grinned.

“Aye, ye could say that. She—”

The snapping of twigs underfoot cut Mackay off.

Twisting around on the flat rock she’d sat down on to eat, Davina spied figures bursting from a growth of twisted, gnarled willows.

Three men in travel-stained braies, léines, and leather vests, their hair wild and their expressions savage, barreled toward the bank of the burn.

Panic jolted into her, for she recognized them.

They were the three Stewarts they’d faced on the way to Oban—the men Mackay had sent scurrying for the hills.