Page 12 of The Laird’s Guardian Angel (Highland Lairds #3)

11

H e heard her before he saw her.

The lass really had no instinct whatsoever to keep herself safe in a foreign land. If he hadn't happened upon her before making the same noise, Alistair might have envisioned a horde of boar stampeding through the night.

But alas, instinct told him it was Ramsey's daughter.

She was barreling down the road, her heavy, wet skirts held in her hands as she ran as though her life depended on it, boots slapping against the dirt. And perhaps to her, it did. She had, after all, borne witness to death this night.

Alistair would give her that concession, though he was damned angry she'd escaped Broderick and defied an order.

Only it wasn't Broderick chasing after her, but Duncan and Alistair growled in frustration as he pushed his horse forward, reaching her just as she was about to run past him. Her eyes darted up to his, determination and fire in their depths like he'd never seen before on a woman.

Without hesitation, he lifted her onto his horse, his mind trying to reconcile the fiery woman before him as the same slumped woman from before.

"Dinna kick like that, ye're liable to hurt Prannsa," he warned.

"Who is Prannsa?" She stilled as she asked the question, and he took advantage of that moment to further settle her into his lap.

"My horse."

"You've named him?" Strangely, she seemed genuinely shocked to learn that he had.

Alistair frowned. "Do the English no' name their horses?"

"Well, of course, we do," her tone was exasperated as if he were daft when she was the one to have started this line of questioning.

"Then why would ye think I did no' name mine?"

She gave a dainty shrug. The lady returned from the fiery heathen he'd lifted from the road. "Because all Scots are savages." The delicate way she said it, as if she were remarking on the color of the thistles, was not lost on him.

"All of us?"

"Aye." She straightened her shoulders and sat up a little taller as if she'd made up her mind and was prepared to fight him about it. The lass was strange. An hour ago, she'd been a timid wee rabbit, and now, well, he couldn't say what she was.

"Ye do realize ye're half Scots?"

She made a harumphing sound but didn't reply.

"I'm sorry, my laird, she simply got away from me," Duncan said to Alistair while frowning at the Ramsey chit.

"I did run away from him," the lass offered. "Do not blame him for my escape."

"I dinna blame him at all, lass." Alistair left it implied that it was she, he, in fact, blamed.

The lass muttered something under her breath, and Alistair had to hold himself back from demanding to know what it was she'd said. Duncan looked taken aback and was quick to avoid eye contact.

His sisters Matilda and Iliana had certainly tried his patience, and he supposed there'd been moments when their peculiar behavior might have even driven him mad like this lass was currently doing. Iliana, in particular, loved to spar with swords and often goaded his men and the armies of his brothers into fights. They'd had to build her a special training room, and she'd even trained Noah's wife in how to wield a weapon. Perhaps this woman reminded him a little of both of his sisters.

Alistair wracked his brain, trying to recall if he'd ever noticed either of his brothers' wives behaving this way. No memories came to mind. However, he also spent only a short amount of time with Noah and Ian's wives. When he did see them, he was so involved with his brothers he'd not taken the time to notice, other than his two brothers seemed utterly besotted.

Unfortunately, the distance between their holdings was vast. Depending on the weather, at least a fortnight of travel between, if not longer. Traveling there over such a long period of time often required a lengthy stay, and Alistair could rarely find three minutes, let alone three months when he could disappear from his duties on the border.

Upon their father's death, the elderly Earl's three holdings had been split between his sons. The three of them were a set, born on the same night. The fact that they lived was considered a miracle. The fact their mother had lived through the ordeal was beyond a miracle.

Being the youngest of the three bairns born that night, Alistair had been granted the holding in the lowlands. The eldest, Noah, granted the lands and earldom in Caithness, and Ian granted the lands and earldom in Orkney. Their titles were bestowed by the Scottish King Alexander III before his death, who had considered their father to be his right hand and wished for his sons to continue in his footsteps. Which, of course, they had, with Alistair now serving Robert the Bruce.

"Wait, what are you doing back here?" The Ramsey lass whirled around in the saddle to glare at him, bringing him back to the present and making him all too aware of her body in his arms. "Shouldn't you be rescuing my people?"

Alistair stared straight ahead, forcing himself to forget the softness of her bottom on his lap. Reminding himself that he didn't like to be questioned, especially not by a wee slip of a lass. But considering her situation, Alistair thought he might oblige just this once. Hell, it seemed he was doing that a lot with her. He hoped he wasn't getting soft as he aged.

"I did no' go inside, lass," he said softly. "I merely scouted to find out what I could."

"And what did you find out?" Her tone was impatient, her pink lips pressed into aggravated lines.

What if he kissed her right now? Would they plump out as he'd seen them earlier? Would she kiss him back—or stab him with her tiny dagger. Stab. She'd definitely stab him.

Alistair narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat. Dear God, he needed to stop thinking about her arse and her mouth on his.

The keep. Focus on the Ramsey keep.

The keep's lights had been doused, and the torches had been snuffed out on the wall, but even in the pitch black, he could make out men on the walls and hear the sounds of warriors behind the stone fortress. They were making it look like they'd left, but the castle was still very much occupied.

"They have laid siege and are lying in wait. Who is your father's closest ally? Who would come to his rescue?"

"I… I do not know." She shook her head, shoulders dropping slightly, hands wringing in her lap.

The poor lass had quite literally been dumped into this upheaval.

"Did ye know your father had only just recently returned from a raid on English lands?"

"I did not." She sounded so forlorn, he almost wished there was a way he could comfort her. "Do you think that Sassenach’s castle is the one he raided?"

"Mayhap." Ramsey had been on watch on the border weeks before Alistair, chasing some of the English soldiers back across the border. A few of his men had taken it upon themselves to teach the Sassenachs a lesson, going a little too far.

If it had been Alistair, he would have made certain to keep his men in line. But Ramsey was getting older, and the younger warriors thought they could get away with it. Alistair hadn't been told more than that, but he'd issued Ramsey an order to get his men under control, or it was going to cost him. He hadn't realized it would cost him so soon.

She slumped down against him. "Why is this world so brutal?"

Alistair didn't have an answer for her. No matter what side of the border one was on, there were bound to be dangers. That was a lesson he'd learned over and over again.

Awkwardly, he patted her back, trying to soothe her. "Hush now, we'll keep ye safe."

She leaned against him, and he pretended not to notice her closeness. "Until the next man decides they want a fight."

"Even then, I'll no' let harm come to ye until we've figured this out."

"I have no army. I'm still determining where my father's army is. Do you suppose they've abandoned me?"

That was an odd thing for her to say. Likely, the Ramseys who'd survived were regrouping. Possibly taking a vote on the next Chief. "What do ye need an army for?"

"To take my castle back."

Her castle. The lass had barely been on Scottish soil a day and was already taking ownership. But she wasn't wrong. It was her birthright. Alistair grunted.

"And don't you dare make it out as if I were another English conqueror. I am half Scots, and I am my father's only heir. That castle is more mine than anyone else's."

"If the clan will have ye as their leader. The elders may vote for someone new. I agree, ye have a right to it, but they may no' feel the same given how long ye've been away and the betrayal of your mother."

"Why would they do that? My mother's mistake is not my own."

Mistake. That was an interesting way to put abandoning one's husband and faking her own death and that of his child. But Alistair wasn't one to judge the dead or the decisions they made when alive. What did it matter?

"Because, lass, ye may be Ramsey's only child, but ye know nothing of our ways, nor those of our people. Ye're a stranger here, an outlander. And some may no' feel ye're the best to lead."

The lass scoffed and crossed her arms. "If I were a man, they'd not think that, and you'd not say it."

"Ye're right. If ye were a man, ye'd be dead."

That quieted her, and he hoped he hadn't hurt her feelings. What in the bloody… Why the hell should he care about her feelings?

His sisters must have been making him soft. Now that his brothers had married, he was outnumbered—there were four women in their family as opposed to the three male Sinclair sons.

"Nay, I refuse to believe that," she said, surprising him. "If I were a man, I would have been trained better, and my father wouldn't be dead, and I'd not be here on your horse, Prannsa. You would have never met Edgar on the road and, therefore, would have ridden right by Ramsey lands."

He couldn't argue with her logic. Everything she said was absolutely true.

"Duncan, gather the men. We're going to Dunbais Castle."

"Aye, my laird. They were checking to see if there was anyone in the village after seeing to the croft that was on fire."

Alistair nodded. "Good."

"What?" the Ramsey lass said. "Leaving? You can't take me with you. I forbid it."

"Ye're no' in a place to bargain, lass. We'll go to my castle and sort this out. I will send envoys to your father's allies and your people to figure out where they've gone. For now, they are safest in hiding."

The lass sat forward, jerking her head in denial. "I won't leave them. Let me down."

Alistair held on tight to her. She would be the cause of her own death and the death of his sanity if she didn't quit. "Ye'll die at the same hands that took your father. What good will ye do them if ye're dead?"

She stilled, and the silence dragged on so long that he wasn't certain she was contemplating what he said or if she'd fallen asleep sitting up. Perhaps another scenario was that she was plotting his own demise.

Finally, she said, "Fine. But I want to be a part of the planning."

Alistair almost laughed, except he was very aware of what it cost him when he laughed at his sisters. "Nay," he simply said.

"I insist." She was rather quick to reply.

"I dinna care if ye insist."

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Ye're a woman." He rolled his eyes. Why was she so stubborn? "Women do no' make battle plans with men."

"I'm more than a woman, Sinclair, I am Chief Ramsey. You may not accept it, and perhaps my people do not accept it, but 'tis a fact that when my father drew his last breath"—at this, she crossed herself—"God rest his soul—I became their leader until someone takes it away from me."

"And ye would no' consider the attack to be someone taking it away?"

"Not by an Englishman. It can only be taken away if one of the clan votes in a new laird." She sounded rather pleased with herself to have brought up this fact that he had supplied her with not ten minutes before.

Alistair couldn't help but grin. "All right, I'll let ye in the room, and ye canna sit at the table, but ye canna say a word while we're discussing."

The way she stiffened, he could almost see her frown, the pink bow of her lips pinching. He almost turned her around just so he could see if he was right. Who knew it was going to require such a feat of willpower in all matters to be around her?

"I will agree for now, but if I think you're on the wrong path, I will intervene." She nodded as if it were settled.

"Did ye hear what I said, woman?" Alistair couldn't help the indignation in his voice. "Ye'll no' say a word, or I'll have ye removed from the hall."

She didn't say anything, and Alistair took that as her consent. However, when he thought about it further, he realized that it meant the opposite whenever his sisters were silent.

Heaven help him, the Ramsey lass was going to test his patience.