Page 36 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)

CHAPTER THREE

G race wasn’t sure what reaction she’d expected from the burly, brooding man before her, but it hadn’t been an openmouthed look of shock, followed by a strangled “I beg yer pardon?”

She swallowed her irritation. “I need you to ‘kidnap’ me. Steal me away.”

The Scotsman - Ewan, she supposed she must call him - shook his head. “I heard ye, girl. But dae ye nae ken what would happen tae me if I agreed tae such a mad plan? I’d be shot by the first Englishman tae see us taegether. And hunted the length o’ the Lowlands, if nae beyond. Stealin’ a lord’s daughter? I’d be a dead man.”

Surely it couldn’t be so bad. Ewan, however, certainly believed it was. And honestly, having been friends with Niamh for so many years… perhaps he was right. After all, Uncle William had scolded her fiercely for even deigning to verbally demand an apology from the man, and Lord Ambrose had hinted that actually stooping to exchange words with a Scotsman was one reason he’d refused to continue the courtship.

For that matter, she had to stifle a desire to do something incredibly rude and unladylike herself. Niamh was one thing, but the presence of this muscled, armed, bearded man with his clan brogue was another matter altogether.

Still, she did want to see Niamh. She’d missed her presence and her letters ever since she’d been carried away. If traveling with Ewan was what was required to see her dear friend, then she would do so.

He was still waiting for her answer, visibly impatient.

“What do you suggest?”

The Scotsman scowled, then smoothed the expression away with a quick glance at the door. “Can ye nae go… riding, or something? And meet me outside the village?”

“My uncle would surely see me escorted, if he did not choose to accompany me himself. And he might well. He has been increasingly interested in my whereabouts of late.” That was true, distressingly so, in fact.

“Then, if ye plan tae go with me, we need a plan that willnae result in me getting shot on sight.” The words were spoken in a low growl, that Grace suspected signalled the man’s patience was wearing thin.

The only option left was a risky one, but she would take it if it meant she would see Niamh.

But do I really know that he is a messenger from Niamh? The letter… it is so unlike her…

Grace shook the thought away. The message about the ‘list of sins’ could only have come from Niamh. No one else knew about the secret game they’d played ever since they’d become young women.

“If I cannot be kidnapped, and we cannot arrange a meeting, there is only one other option for it. I shall have to run away, and do it in such a manner that my uncle shall not suspect where I am going. And you shall have to help me.”

“Shall I?” One dark eyebrow rose.

“Yes. I can write a letter to make Uncle William think I have gone to visit my father’s old holdings close to London, which will buy us time, but the ruse will not confuse him for long. I shall need your assistance to make it far enough beyond the border that he will not pursue without being certain of my location, or my destination.”

“I can manage that well enough.” Sharp green eyes studied her. “If ye dinnae think ye can get one o’ yer own, we can share a horse.”

Irritation sparked through her. “I can ride well enough to manage a gallop, thank you. And I can take a horse of me own. I can say I will go for a ride on the grounds of the estate, where I am protected. And it will certainly make my story more credible, once Uncle William finds my message.”

“As ye like.” There was a glimmer of amusement in his otherwise dour countenance. She would have taken offense, had it not been for the situation. “How dae ye intend tae get past the guards?”

Grace scoffed. “I have my ways. It will be harder, however, when I must also carry luggage. I shall need your help for that. And possibly, for a diversion on the way out.”

Niamh’s messenger shook his head. “We’re lookin’ for a way tae avoid me gettin’ an arrow or a blade tae the gut, nae tae make it more likely tae happen.”

Grace scowled at him. “What might you suggest, in that case?”

The Scotsman - Ewan, Grace reminded herself, as she was to plan her escape with him - frowned, but it was less angry and more thoughtful. “Can ye get out o’ here easily?” He gestured to the walls surrounding them.

Grace considered the question. “My chambers have windows, and they do open. It would not be too difficult to leave from there. But I would have some trouble with my luggage.”

The man nodded. “I can help ye with that. If ye can organize for the horse and get outside, I can get the bag and get ye away without much trouble.”

It wasn’t the way she would have preferred to do things, but then, there was no ideal scenario in which Uncle William would let her go visit Niamh and her husband. Especially not in the company of a Highlander. “Very well. I shall be ready within the candlemark. I will meet ye in the forest on the road for the village. I will send a trusted servant girl down with a bag for you shortly. Wait down there by the bushes.”

He glanced at the guards. They weren’t where they could overhear the conversation He nodded. “Very well. I’ll see ye later. I will wait where you said so I can help with yer things.”

Grace smiled. It wasn’t the most ideal of circumstances, but she would finally get to see Niamh again.

Ewan glared at bushes in front of him and suppressed a snarl of frustration. He’d hoped to start the return journey with less risk and now he was was waiting for the bag to before going back to his horse.

The servant girl still hadn’t appeared,. It made him wonder if Grace was truly planning to go with him, or if it was some plot to see him captured. He’d most likely be killed if that was the case.

He was just considering whether it was worth the risk of remaining where he was when a girl appeared with a bag. “What the devil…?”

“My apologies. It was hard to find the right moment to get here without being seen, sir.”

“Aye. I’m certain. Forgive me, I was just startled,” Ewan tried to moderate his tone. It was not the girl’s fault after all, he was just tense and would remain so until they got out of there.

He was acutely aware that he was standing in enemy territory, and in a position where the wrong move would see him dead.

Hurry up, lass. I dinnae want tae be caught for thievin’, and nae one will ask twice if they catch me. ”

Ewan huffed and shuffled the bag into the deeper shadows of the forest where he wouldn’t be easily seen. Then he settled himself and relaxed into the stillness he most often adopted when on long watches.

All this trouble with one lass… I dinnae think I’ve ever spent so much effort convincin’ a woman tae come with me.

Grace surveyed her rooms carefully. Everything was meticulously in place, neat and tidy, the way her uncle liked it. On her desk was a carefully written letter, which she hoped would keep her uncle from raising an outcry. Nervously, she read it once more, looking for any details which might cause her uncle’s wrath to erupt.

Dear Uncle William,

Forgive me for leaving without informing you beforehand, but news has reached me that my good friend, Niamh, is in need of my assistance. She is with child, and requested I come to be with her.

You have never met Niamh, for she was a friend of my childhood, before the passing of my father - the daughter of a lord whose lands bordered my father’s. He is a lord who married his daughter to another lord in the neighboring region opposite. However, we have kept in touch since I came into your care.

I would normally await your permission and escort, but her messenger informs me that her time is near, and thus hurrying is of the essence. Therefore, I must beg your forgiveness for my abrupt departure. I shall send word when I have arrived, and when Niamh is safely delivered. In the meantime, I pray you stay well and prosperous.

Respectfully,

Grace of Lancaster

It wouldn’t keep her uncle from being furious. However, it might keep him from pursuing her, particularly if he thought that her friendship with Niamh would serve his interests. She had crafted the letter to suggest that her friend was the wife of a lord, someone that he might claim as an ally.

She wouldn’t have even mentioned Niamh, save that Ewan had mentioned her when he delivered his message. Fortunately, Ewan had made an effort to disguise his accent, and would likely be mistaken for a border messenger - exactly as she had tried to convey in her letter.

With a sigh, Grace left the letter where it was, positioned in the center of her small writing desk, where Uncle William was sure to see it. Then she gathered her cloak, and a small bag of personal items, and turned to leave her room.

For all that she feared how Uncle William would respond, she couldn’t deny she would be glad to escape, at least for a little while. Uncle William’s estate was cluttered with symbols of his wealth and position. Even her room was crowded with heavy, forbidding furniture, thick dark drapes and austere stone walls. It felt stifling, like so much of her life since her parents had died.

She might not wish to go wandering into the Highlands with a strange Scotsman, but it would be a momentary respite from her uncle’s cold and demanding presence. And the chance to see Niamh again was worth the risk.

With a deep breath and no small amount of trepidation, Grace wrapped her cloak about her and left the room, carefully avoiding the notice of her uncle’s servants. Any one of them might report her movements to Uncle William, and she had no desire for that to happen. It would be best if he didn’t know she was leaving until she was already gone. She went to the stable, to which she had sent word to prepare her favorite horse, and mounted her ride.

The Scotsman was waiting in the forest, by the road. “Ye’re ready?”

She thought of freedom and Niamh, and nodded. “I am.”

The Scotsman eyed her outfit, then mounted his own horse, that was already carrying her travelling bag. “All right. Come with me lass, and try tae stay quiet.”

Grace bit her lip at the gruff tone, then nodded and followed .

The lass had some sense at least. Ewan had expected the daughter of an English lord to take offense at his tone, but she hadn’t. She’d simply nodded and followed him.

“’Tis good ye had the stable boy prepare a standard saddle fer ye. Ye cannae ride side-saddle over the moors.”

Grace colored, her eyes sparking defiantly. “I assumed as much, as it will be a long trip, although it is far from proper or ladylike and I have not done it since I was a child,” she said with distaste.

“Careful, lass, what ye say and what ye mean by it.” Ewan stepped closer. “Remember that when I say that lasses in Scotland ride properly, I mean yer friend and my brother’s wife, Niamh, as well.”

There were grown men, strong proven warriors who would have turned aside from his glare. But Grace Lancaster, it seemed, was made of sterner things. Her blush deepened, but she neither looked down nor backed away. “Yer point is made. However, I will ride side-saddle as long as we are in England or the roads allow it.”

Ewan shook his head at her foolishness. In truth, the saddle was wide enough that a dainty girl like Grace Lancaster could manage to ride side-saddle if she chose. And if he’d been inclined, he might have found a way to make it comfortable. However, he knew the condition of the roads and paths they’d need to travel to Castle MacDuff, and riding sideways was a foolhardy notion. She’d not be able to keep her seat for long.

On the other hand, he wasn’t of a mind to stand there arguing with a stubborn English lass. She’d learn soon enough. Until then, let her try to maintain her prim little English manners if it suited her. They needed to be gone before her kinfolk realized she was gone, otherwise, they risked being caught, no matter what diversion she had devised to divert their attention.

“I believe I can manage. I have before.” Grace soothed her mare with easy words and a light touch.

At least she can ride. I was afeared I’d have tae deal with a lass who’d nae more seat in the saddle than a sack o’ grain, but she’s decent with a horse, fer all her strange way o’ ridin’.

“This way.” He gestured to the narrow track that would eventually come out to the main road across the Lowland border. “And mind the trees. The trail’s thin in places. We dinnae want ye getting knocked from yer seat afore we’ve been half a candle-mark on the road.”

“You need not concern yourself with that, Master Ewan.”

Ewan snorted. “’Tis just Ewan. In Scotland, the only master a clansman has is his laird, and I’m nae one o’ those yet. Ewan MacDuff is me name, and I’ll thank ye tae call me by that, and naught else, lass.”

“Only if you will call me Miss Lancaster, or Grace, instead of lass, as if I was a child or a servant.”

“If ye were a child I’d call ye a wee lass or a bairn. And if ye were a servant, I’d call ye a wench.” Ewan smirked, then turned and nudged his horse into motion, pleased at having gotten the last word in.

It might be a long difficult journey back to his clan’s lands, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t seek some form of mirth wherever he could find it.