Page 35 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)

CHAPTER TWO

“ T hrice-cursed English… ye’d think they could stand tae build smaller castles and less crooked roads.” Ewan MacDuff, Overseer and Potential Laird MacTavish, scowled up at the imposing structure before him.

It was a fortress, overlooking a moderate town. More importantly, it was known to the locals as the current residence of Lord William Lancaster and his only niece, Grace Lancaster. And it was Grace Lancaster he’d been sent to find.

It had taken longer than he’d expected to find where the Lancaster family lived. In the Highlands, he knew where every family was, every clan seat, and where every laird and heir was likely to be found. But English soil was foreign to him, and the lords weren’t like the Highland lairds he knew.

It was exasperating, and the encounter of the night before, along with the letter he’d received by swift messenger some three days prior, made his mood no better.

The words of the message had been short, but they were seared into his brain regardless.

A contender fer the lairdship has appeared. Gael MacTavish, o’ a cadet line originating from a bastard o’ the previous laird’s grandfaither, with a wife and a child. Ye must return swiftly, or I fear the Council shall accept his claim.

Devlin

Gael MacTavish. Why the man hadn’t stepped forward two seasons ago, when the previous Laird MacTavish had been killed by Ewan’s brother, was a mystery. But it wasn’t one he had time to put much thought into.

He had to get back to his lands, to sort the issue out. Unfortunately, he was honor bound not to return until he’d located the childhood friend of his brother’s wife and secured her agreement to return with him.

He’d thought it would be a simple matter, until he’d been told her name and that she lived across the English/Lowlands border. Now, here he was, half a moon away from his lands, and it was only yesterday that he’d learned where to find her.

Lancaster. There was a whole region of ‘Lancaster’ folk. But of course she had to be daughter - and niece - of one of the Lord Lancasters, rather than one of the simpler folk that bore the same name.

Niamh was a wonderful woman, and a perfect wife for his brother Alistair, but he did wish she’d chosen to have a proper Lowland lass as her best friend, rather than an English noblewoman.

Still, that was none of his concern. His concern was finding the lass and delivering the message Niamh had put into his hands the day he’d left.

Ewan smoothed his hair into a semblance of neatness, checked once more that he was wearing no identifiable signs of his origin - a Scotsman would never be permitted entry into a lord’s home - and that his appearance conformed to that of a border messenger, as much as it could when he was far more heavily muscled than most. Once he was satisfied that he’d not get turned away from the gate immediately, he made his way forward.

The guards had some sense, for they stopped him immediately. Had the urgency of his errand not been prickling under his skin like the touch of a stinging nettle, he would have approved of it. And if they’d been proper Scotsmen, clansmen, instead of English lackeys.

He forced himself to maintain a reasonable expression. “I’ve a message for Miss Grace Lancaster. From a friend of hers.” He held up the missive Niamh had given him. “She asked it be tak’n directly to the lady.”

It was an effort to mimic the English way of speaking, and he knew quite well that his Highland accent was noticeable despite his best efforts. Even so, he made the effort, and was rewarded with a slight relaxation in the guards.

They probably thought he was some border peasant looking to earn coppers as a messenger. Well, whatever they assumed, as long as he wasn’t chased away before meeting the lass he’d come so far to find, he would let them assume it. Perhaps one day he’d have the pleasure of proving them wrong on the battlefield.

“Who is the message from?”

“Lady… her name is Niamh.”

The guards considered, then nodded and led him into the keep, into a small antechamber. “Wait here.” One man went to, presumably, tell Lady Grace Lancaster that a messenger had arrived, while the other went to the door to keep watch.

Ewan took the time to look around the sparsely furnished chamber. It was obviously not meant for greeting guests of any note - in the Highlands, it would have been embarrassing to have a room so sparsely furnished to meet anyone, even a messenger. The walls were almost completely bare, there was only one chair, and a small table, and the fireplace was not only unlit, but looked as if it hadn’t been touched in almost a season.

It was the sort of room where you sent visitors you wanted to see the back of as soon as possible. On the one hand, he was somewhat offended by the lack of even minimal courtesy - they’d not even offered him refreshment - but on the other, he was just as glad to get out of there as soon as possible. He had no time for courtesies.

He was there to deliver a message, secure a travel companion, and leave.

The door swung open, and a young woman entered. She was slim, pretty in a delicate sort of way, with hair the color of sun-ripened wheat, which fell in a soft wave of gold down the back of her neck.

She looked familiar, but he couldn’t think why. Then he saw the bright blue eyes.

The girl in the ridiculous feathered hat. The one he’d bumped into the night before. His heart thumped into his boots, just as her eyes widened in recognition.

“You!”

“Ye’re Grace Lancaster?”

A tense silence fell, and Ewan could see the lass struggling to regain her composure. He felt much the same way. Of all the people he’d expected to encounter in a tavern, Lady Grace Lancaster was not one of them. And of all the people he’d expected to find in that estate, the lass with the foolish hat was not someone he would have anticipated.

It was she who broke the silence, her eyes wary and sharp with resentment and anger. “I am Grace Lancaster. And who might you be? Aside from the boorish lout who managed to upset my evening plans last night, and without even an apology for his actions.”

Ewan flushed, but he deserved the rebuke and he knew it. “Ay… yes. I was a lout last night.” He swallowed hard. “I… I apologize fer me poor manners. I was irritable, and rude.”

For a moment, he thought she’d throw him out. Then she nodded. “Your apology is accepted. And your name? You still have not introduced yourself.”

“Me name’s Ewan.” He glanced at the door, shut but still guarded from the outside, hoping to convey his meaning. It wouldn’t do for anyone to hear his clan name, and guess his full identity, not here in English territory. Still… “I think ye’ve met me brother, Alistair.”

Alistair had warned him that the brief encounter between himself and Niamh’s friend had not been cordial. From the way her face darkened in anger, it seemed his brother had understated the unpleasantness of it. Even so, she managed to remain civil. “Why have you come here? The guard said you had a message for me.”

Ewan nodded. “I’ve come with a message, and an urgent request, from yer friend, Niamh. Niamh MacDuff, nee Cameron.”

Her whole expression changed in an instant. Yearning, so deep it cut like a blade. Hope. Then wariness and fear. In the space of two breaths, she went from hopeful and happy to a guarded cautiousness not unlike that of a hunted deer. “How do I know you have truly been sent by Niamh? Why would she not come herself?”

“She’s nae in a fit state tae be traveling.”

“Is she hurt? Ill? Captive?”

“None o’ those things.” Ewan started to speak again, but Grace cut him off.

“Wait. I still have no proof that you have come from Niamh. You could be attempting to trick me.”

Ewan huffed. “Why would I dae that?”

“To use me as a hostage against my uncle. To kidnap me for your own nefarious ends.”

Ewan strangled the growl that wanted to rise in the back of his throat. One threatening move, and the guards would no doubt be on him like hounds on fresh meat. “If I wanted tae kidnap ye, I’d nae dae it coming through the front gate.”

“And how can I know that?” She shook her head. “You could even be a spy from Uncle William. He has been looking for an excuse to…” She trailed off and shook her head again. “I do not know how to trust that you are who you say you are.”

Ewan sighed. He had little patience for such intrigue on the best of days, and this was far from one of his better mornings. “I’ve the message here fer ye tae read. And if ye need proof o’ who sent me… Lady Niamh gave me a message.”

“What message?”

Ewan steeled himself. He’d memorized the message dutifully enough, but even after all this time carrying it in his head, it still sounded ridiculous to him. Though, if it would get the girl to agree to come with him…

“She said ‘tell me heart-sister that me list o’ sins has grown little longer, and I pray her fortune’s such that her own has done likewise, though fer different reasons.’ That was the whole o’ it.”

He’d no idea what the words meant, but it was clear from the way her whole expression softened with relief and dawning hope that Grace Lancaster knew exactly what the message referred to. Tears sparkled in her blue eyes for a moment, then she wiped them away and held out her hand. “The letter, please.”

Ewan handed it over, and watched as she broke the seal and read it. Every second chafed at him, but he understood the necessity of it. He tried to remain calm, but there was a part of him that begrudged every instant spent reading, rather than packing and riding.

Finally, Grace looked up. “She says she is wed, to Laird Alistair MacDuff, by the blessing o’ her father. And with child - a firstborn. She wishes for me to come to attend the last months of her child-bearing, and the birth of the babe.”

“’Tis truth, all o’ it.”

“She… married? That man…?” She stopped, evidently remembering that he was his brother. “I… I didn’t think she would ever… we swore… and she… she always said she would never bear children…”

“Much has changed. And it wasnae an easy change fer either o’ them, so far as I recall. But her maither’s kin live among our clan, and I’ve heard that had somethin’ tae dae with her change o’ heart.”

Not that Ewan knew the details. He’d not even known that Niamh was terrified of childbirth and had once sworn never to risk it until Alistair had told him in confidence, before asking him to deliver the message to Grace.

“Niamh never knew her mother.”

“Even so, her mother was Highland born, and her kin are kin tae the MacDuff clan. Our cousin, the clan healer, is the daughter o’ a younger sister, I think. Or mayhap her mother’s mother was the younger sister.” Bloodlines were not something he kept track of. That was more the sort of thing Alistair and Catriona paid attention to.

Although, perhaps if he’d showed more interest in the matter, he would have seen the danger Gael MacTavish represented sooner - before whatever happened that had caused Devlin to send him such an urgent warning.

“I… see. But… it hasn’t even been a year since she was taken from here…” Grace looked almost hurt.

“’Twas a difficult time. Bonds can be forged fast, in such trials. And Alistair and Niamh were never indifferent tae one another, nae since I met her.” Whatever had occurred on the journey between the Cameron clan and the Highlands, it had brought those two together, even before the wedding. Oh, they’d fought, and still did, but even then he’d seen the beginnings of the relationship between them, even deeper and stronger than the love his brother had felt for his previous betrothed Constance MacBeth.

Well, whatever happened between Alistair and Niamh, ‘twill nae be repeatin’ between me and this English lass… assuming I can convince her tae accompany me at all.

“Tell me what happened, please?”

Ewan grimaced before he could stop himself. “I dinnae ken all the details, but even what I dae ken ‘tis a long tale. Too long fer a messenger delivering a message. If ye want the story, ye’ll have tae come with me.”

Grace nodded, her eyes going back to the missive. “Yes. Niamh did say she wants me to go… and I do so want to see her again. I have missed her, and our meetings. But I…”

“If ye want to come, then come. Make yer excuses. I’m sure yer guardian willnae mind ye goin’ tae see a friend.”

There was a flash of heat in her eyes when she responded. “If you think that, Master Ewan, then you do not know my guardian. Uncle William would never approve my going to visit another lady, escorted or no, unless it were perhaps a member of the royal court. And even then he would insist on accompanying me himself.”

Ewan scowled. “He’ll find himself in dire straits, if he wishes tae follow ye intae the Highlands.”

“There is not gold enough in the world to convince Uncle William to let me travel to the Highlands, not even with an invitation from a Lady. And if you knew anything of my uncle’s character, you would realize that his hatred runs deep indeed, that he would scorn wealth for such reasons.”

Clan MacDuff wasn’t particularly wealthy, in any case. They were still recovering from the Border Wars, and from Fergus MacTavish’s depredations. Alistair had forbidden him to empty the MacTavish coffers to repay Clan MacDuff, saying it would only incite anger and rebellion among the recently conquered clansmen.

But that was not the point, not now. Ewan sighed. “Then are ye refusing?” It would break Niamh’s heart, but if the lass refused to go with him, then there was little he could do.

“No. I would not abandon Niamh like that, not if she has asked for me. I am only pointing out that my uncle will never permit me to accompany you.”

“Then…”

“There is only one logical solution. We shall have to find some way for you to ‘kidnap’ me.”