The Highlander's Temptation (11 page)

The question was, was she willing to risk her heart?

Lorna shoved another bite of tart in her mouth, barely tasting the sticky apple sweetness. Instead, the bitterness of regret coated her tongue. Worst of all, she’d never know if what she’d given up was worth it, or if it was all a fantasy. A question that would likely haunt her the rest of her days.

Departing Dunrobin should have been easy. In fact, it truly was. Jamie’s horse had been saddled, his reserves filled. His men were in high spirits for having attended Beltane, and though he’d not gained any new men for the Bruce in the Lowlands, he had them set in the north and supplies going south.

All in all, his mission was proving to be a success.

Excep
t that he felt heavy, and a cold lump had settled in his chest.

At least three hours had passed since they’d left the castle, and he’d regretted every minute of it. He should have said good bye to Lorna. Should have told her he’d return on his way southward, if only to see her face.

Then again, perhaps leaving was a good thing. He’d never been so… enamored by a lass before. Every sweep of wind reminded him of her hair. Every village they passed, the scent of peat fire in the air, reminded him of their kiss. Even the snorts of the horses, for they’d been surrounded by the animals as he claimed her mouth in the barn.

There was nothing for it. The woman had somehow implanted herself in his brain. And now he’d have to suffer the consequences.

“Ye all right?” Toby asked. “Been awfully quiet, my laird.”

“Aye. Just fine.”

Toby grunted, and on his other side, Donald did the same. He was surrounded by men who would pique his ire.

“What?” Jamie asked, exaggerating the syllable.

“There was a lovely lass at the castle,” Donald said. “Hair as golden as the sun.”

“Mind your tongue,” Jamie growled.

“Och, but did ye nay notice her?” Toby drawled out. “Lips as red as—”

Jamie lashed out, punching Toby in the shoulder. A gut reaction, for he was certain they taunted him. Had he been so obvious?

Toby clutched at his shoulder howling with both laughter and pain. “I take it ye noticed her, then?” he asked.

Jamie growled and lashed out again, only this time Toby was fast enough to scoot his horse to the side before Jamie could connect.

“Dinna speak about her that way,” Jamie warned. “She’s a lady.”

“Aye, a lady she is,” Donald said.

Jamie whirled toward the man. “What do ye mean by that?”

Donald shrugged.

“Well?”

Donald shook his head, eyes wide as he studied Jamie’s clenched fist. “Dinna want a punch like the one ye gave Toby.”

“Out with it,” Jamie demanded.

Donald moved his horse to the edge of the road and out of reach. “Only that your lairdship would not take too kindly to a man kissing his sister in darkened corners. Would ye?”

Jamie growled. Both angry at his man for pointing out the obvious and at himself for having taken advantage of Lorna and her red, plump lips. He was a cad, through and through.

“Och, a little kiss is nay a problem,” Toby chimed in. “Donald’s kissed many lassies and never shamed himself for it.”

Jamie frowned and turned his gaze from one to the other. What were they about?

Donald grinned. “Aye, I have, and loved every one of ‘em too. But not a one was a lady, nor am I a laird.”

“True,” Toby replied, looking deep in thought. “I kissed a lady once, but she slapped me soundly for it.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Shut it
, ye two.” He’d had enough of their babbling about kissing, especially since it only brought to mind the one thing he was trying to forget—Lady Lorna.

The distant sound of chinking metal carried on the wind and made Jamie stop his horse in the center of the road. He held up his hand for silence from his men, and they, too, stopped to listen.
The source was not completely clear, and judging from the distance, could have been a half-mile away, but nevertheless, Jamie could still hear its steady clink.

The only other time he’d heard that distinct,
chink chink chink
was when the English marched their horses past him on the road while he stayed hidden.

English. Here, in the Highlands?

How had they made it past the council’s scouts? Unless the scouts were on their way now to find Jamie to warn him.

Recognizing the sounds for what they were, Jamie’s men stared at him with looks of strain.

Jamie nodded, affirming their thoughts, then pointed to the woods. “We hide off the road. See how many there are. If ’tis not too many, I say we take them out before they can get any farther north.”

And closer to Dunrobin. No way in hell would he allow them to hurt his woman.

His
woman?

Before he could reflect on that train of thought, Jamie led his men into the trees where they hid away from view. Toby pulled out his bow and arrows, making ready to shoot should Jamie give the command. Donald held his broadsword in one hand and his targe in the other, reins linked through his hand that held the targe, same as Jamie.

They waited for about a quarter hour, the clanging of metal growing louder. The damned Sassenachs had yet to learn that the noise of their armor alerted men for miles of their approach. Jamie shook his head. They truly were imbeciles.

A dozen knighted English walked two-by-two
on horseback down the dirt-packed road. They stared straight ahead, hands on reins, backs properly upright. Motionless, expressionless. Like they were the undead riding horses dressed in metal. It was chilling, and had he not had experience with the blasted bastards he might have been a little afraid of them. As it was, he was confident that between the three of them, they could take on these twelve.

Jamie nodded to Toby, who nock
ed his bow, took aim and let his arrow fly, slicing into the small space between the knight’s helmet and his collarbone. The sensitive spot they’d discovered in battle months beforehand. Before the other knights had figured out what was happening, Toby had taken down four more. Eight knights held steady to their horses, turning in circles, shouting to one another as they tried to decipher from which direction the arrows had flown.

By the time they figured out that Jamie and his men were to the left, Toby took down two more. Six knights charged their horses into the trees—a bad move.

Jamie motioned his men to stand together as the six approached. Two against one were damn good odds, though he had been looking forward to more of a challenge. He supposed he should be grateful for Toby’s skill with a bow—one of the reasons he’d invited him along this mission to begin with, besides him being a good friend.

“Morning, lass
ies,” Jamie taunted the English. “Out for a stroll, and so far away from your border?”

The men bared their teeth.

“Not much for talking this morning, then?” Donald said. “’Tis fine with us. We’d much rather fight.”

At that, all three of them smiled like hungry bears in the Sassenach’s direction.

“Aye. We love to fight,” Toby added.

“We
’ve got ye outnumbered,” the English knight who’d taken the lead said.

“Outnumbered?” Jamie replied. “Nay, laddie, ye’ve got just the right amount.”

The knights moved restlessly in their saddles.

“Shall we?” Jamie asked, surprised he had to invite these idiots to fight. “Let us get on with it, for I’ll not let ye go any further down the road. If ye wish to pass, ye’ll have to kill me first.”

“With pleasure,” their leader growled.

And that was the last thing he ever said. Jamie, Toby and Donald, lunged forward, not holding anything back as they each took down one and then the second of their opponents within a minute. All six knights lay upon the ground, their eye
s staring lifelessly into the clouds.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Toby murmured. “Thought I’d get a bit more exercise than that.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Ye killed eight men afore the nooning. Is that not enough to sate your needs?”

Donald chuckled. “Toby likes at least a dozen to fall beneath his sword
a day—whether it be killing or rutting, doesna matter.”

“Och, I take offense to that. I’d much rather be sliding inside a wench than a knight.”
Toby grinned and wiped his blade upon the grass.

Jamie shook his head. “Ye’re both a
couple of hounds.”

The men laughed at that. They cleaned up the bodies, giving them a proper burial even if they were the enemy,
for no man deserved to rot, and burying them hid the evidence of what they’d done should any other Sassenachs follow. The three of them waited an hour off the road to be certain no other English followed.

“Should have asked what they were about, afore we killed them,” Jamie mused.

“Aye, but likely they’d not have told ye, my laird,” Donald said.

“Likely.”
As soon as they reached the MacLeod clan, he’d have a missive sent back to Dunrobin.

Och, hell, he’d just as soon take the message back himself after securing allegiance from the MacLeods. Sad as it was, the English were yet again an excuse for him to see Lorna.

Jamie spurred his mount forward. The faster they got to MacLeod land, the sooner it would be that he saw her again.

Chapter Ten

Night had long since fallen over Ardvreck Castle, and yet Jamie still sat in the great hall with not only Laird MacLeod, but Laird Mackenzie and the Laird MacKinnon’s eldest son who was standing in for his ill father.

“I’d have liked to see ye and your men take down a dozen of those cock-sucking vermin,” Laird MacLeod boomed taking a long draw from his ale.

“Aye, as would I,” MacKinnon said. “’Twas one of the English bastards who killed my sister this summer past after abusing her relentlessly.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Felt good to put the sot underground, but I’ve still a hankering to fight more.”

Jamie blew out a hard breath at that news. ’Twas always hard to hear of a man suffering, and the death of a loved one, especially so violently at the hands of the English.

Laird Mackenzie nodded vehemently and sat forward. “Just what Montgomery here is offering, MacKinnon. A chance to avenge your family.”

“Aye,
Father was never the same after sweet Annabelle was found.”

Jamie shook his head, and fixed his gaze on MacKinnon.
“Join us, so that no other woman, child or man should suffer at the English’s hands. We fight for Wallace. We fight for the Bruce to be king. We fight for an end to English tyranny and a country of our own. For Scottish freedom.”

The
battle might not have yet met the Sutherlands, but it had most definitely reached the Highlands. Jamie was damn glad he’d decided to head to MacLeod’s holding now instead of later. He might not have been so lucky to happen upon the three powerful men at one time.

“I will,” MacKinnon boasted. “For my sister. For my father. Thank God mother was already with the Lord when it happened.”

MacLeod leaned forward and patted the young MacKinnon on the back. “’Tis all right, lad. Your mother was able to hold Annabelle in her arms after the ordeal, up in the heavens.”

Jamie took a long swig of his ale. He couldn’t imagine if any of his sisters had been ravaged by the English.
Problem was, there was still the chance it could happen. Aye, they’d been married off to Lowland lairds with armies and well-fortified castles, but that didn’t mean that if they left those walls they couldn’t be attacked.

Flashes of Lorna riding alone on the
moors assaulted him. The lass had no idea her actions were begging for the English to come and hurt her. And they were here now, judging by the dozen knights he’d come across in the forest.

The mere thought of one of jackanapes getting within feet of her sent a burning rage rushing through his chest and limbs.

“What’s got ye so fired up, Montgomery? Ye must have had many run-ins with the bastards being in the Lowlands.” MacLeod held out the jug of ale offering to refill Jamie’s cup but he shook his head. He needed no more ale to cloud his judgment.

“Aye.
Many run-ins.” He cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his mind of all the vile imaginings of Lorna being assaulted. “’Tis why the council chose me.” Jamie looked at each man, studying their faces. He’d already told them of the knights in the forest, which had riled them up beyond belief. MacLeod was ready to order his men out the gates now to scour the land, but Jamie had convinced him to sit tight for a little while longer.

MacLeod was easily twice his age, hair as white as snow and a face marred with not only age but battle scars. His
bushy brows were dark as night, in contrast to his white hair and beneath his brows were eyes that seemed to know all. A fierce warrior he had been and still was. Mackenzie was closer to Jamie’s age, his wife was MacLeod’s daughter. He was red of hair and red in the face, as wide and thick as an old oak. MacKinnon was a few years younger than Jamie with a Viking look about him. Broad, fierce of body and hair as golden as Lorna’s, but eyes as blue as the sea.

“Have ye come across any man who might go against the council? Perhaps claim no loyalty to the Bruce?”
Jamie inquired, trusting these men after being in their presence for several hours to tell him the truth.

MacLeod blustered. “I’d bring my sword across any man’s neck if I found him.”

“Aye, I’d have him fed to the dogs,” Mackenzie added.

But MacKinnon squinted his eyes, assessing Jamie as much as he had done moments before. Perhaps judging for himself who he could trust.

“Why would ye ask?” MacKinnon took a sip of his ale, never taking his eyes off Jamie.

Jamie didn’t waver. “There is much strife in Scotland. Both Lowlanders and Highlanders must unite in the cause of freedom. Our men are dying. Our women abused. Children starving. And yet, there are some Scots who
, for a price, will side with the English. Murder their own people. I’m not only here to ask for your aid in the cause, but to find out if ye would know of anyone who might sabotage us.”

MacKinnon grinned. “I like
ye, Montgomery. Ye dinna beat around the bush, nor skirt the issue as many men of the council do.”

Jamie agreed, but still questioned, “Ye’ve met men of the council?”

“There is one on your council who came to me when my father fell ill.”

Jamie waited, as MacKinnon chose his words carefully.
No one on the council had told him of their visit to the Highlands, and he found that fact to be very suspicious.

“He did not come right out and say that should I be swayed to the other side there would be much for me to gain from it, but enough of what he said led me to that conclusion.” He rimmed his cup with a finger, staring into the depths of his ale. “Of course, I praised the Bruce mightily and lamented of a time when Scots could be Scots through and through.
I dinna think the man was aware of what had happened to my sister, else he’d not have come rooting around in that respect.”

“Who was it?” Jamie was seething inside, having suspicions of one of the council members himself.
But he kept his emotions intact, his voice steady and calm, direct.

“The Earl of Ross
,” MacKinnon said very matter-of-factly and without hesitating.

Jamie supposed he’d passed the test and MacKinnon trusted him.

“Did he come right out and say anything that could indict him as a traitor?” Jamie asked.

MacLeod and Mackenzie sat silently watching them speak. Neither sipped from their ale, nor seemed to breathe.
As if one wrong move would make MacKinnon clam up again. Jamie wondered if the silent men individually plotted Ross’ death.

“Nay, nothing outright. More a matter of how he said things. Such as, he’d heard the English were giving away lands, titles and castles—pieces of England and Scotland—to any man willing to join forces with them.
Coin to any man willing to spy. Knew of the amounts of coin to be paid and which holdings were available. How would he know such intimate details, was what kept going through my mind.”

“Aye,” Jamie mused.
“How would he?”

Ross would have known that because all the men of the council knew it. Had just discussed the problem recently. But they’d also sworn themselves to secrecy. The fact that Ross had gone and told MacKinnon, and God knew who else, was traitorous a move enough.

MacKinnon continued, “We’ve all heard tale of Longshanks making promises, yet not specifics. And besides, when a man starts talking about Longshanks’ promises, most of us go into a rage and never get to the details as it is.”

“Why, then, did ye let Ross get to the details?” Jamie asked.

“’Tis simple. I didna trust him from the moment he walked across our threshold. With my father ill, we’ve had more than one odd guest, coming to try and force an alliance or buy up a parcel of land. More than all the others, Ross had a greedy look about him.”

“Aye, that he does.” Jamie sat back in his chair, taking in the information and wondering what he should do about it. He’d had suspicions of Ross before. He’d not show
n up to certain meetings, and feigned ignorance of their happening. The man was boastful and oftentimes argumentative. Little things like that had made many on the council distrust him, but none had come up with any reason other than the man being an arse to thrust him aside.

“We’ll keep an eye on Ross, and be certain to get any news to ye as soon as we hear it,” MacLeod said with a stern nod. His son-
by-marriage also nodded just as firmly.

Jamie glanced at MacKinnon, gauging the man’s thoughts. “And ye? Will ye tell me if
ye should hear from Ross again?”

“I’ll be with ye, Montgomery, but I’ll leave word with my clan to keep their eyes open for signs of treason and English arse licking.”

“With me,” Jamie stated, rather than asking.

“Aye, my laird. I’ll be joining ye, along with at least five score of the MacKinnon men.”
The man held out his arm. “I want the chance to beat these bastards into the ground where they belong. I know my father will approve.”

Jamie grabbed MacKinnon’s arm and shook. “Aye, man, me, too.”

“Dinna leave us out of it. I canna go along with ye,” MacLeod said, “but I can offer ye five score of our men as well.”

Jamie shook the older man’s arm, taking note that Mackenzie didn’t want to be left out either.

“Five score of the Mackenzies will join the fight as well. I, too, canna join ye, with my lady about near to giving birth to our first bairn, but ye can rest assured that any English who traipse over Mackenzie land will be dealt with. Ye have our support undeniably.”

“My thanks. The Bruce and the council will be pleased to know they have your support. If we are to win our freedom, we must do so as one.” Jamie stood and set his ale on the trestle table. “I’ll leave at first light.”

“Where will ye go next?”

Jamie frowned. “I’ve a few more clans to visit and then I’ll be returning to Dunrobin afore heading back to Glasgow.”

“Back to the Sutherlands? May I ask why?” MacLeod asked.

Golden curls teased the recesses of Jamie’s mind. “Aye, the Sutherlands.” He didn’t expound on it.

“Do ye mean to ask more of him?” MacKinnon asked.

“Aye. I wish to purchase his wool.” A partial truth. Indeed, Sutherland wool was superior to all else. But it was not the soft wool he wished to feel slide over his fingers, but the silky tresses of Lady Lorna.

Several of the men grunted their approval.

“Their wool is unsurpassed. I’ve been brokering a deal myself,” MacKinnon said. “In fact, would ye mind giving a missive to Laird Sutherland when ye see him? If I’m going south, I’ll not have a chance to speak with him, and I’d like him to know my terms.”

Jamie agreed with a nod, but his mind was completely elsewhere—imagining precisely what it would be like when he crossed under the portcullis and held Lorna in his line of vision again.

The following morning, Jamie gave directions to MacLeod, Mackenzie and MacKinnon on where to meet, with his word that he’d be there within a month and a half to join them.

N
early three hundred warriors were now pointed in the direction of Glasgow. Jamie couldn’t have been happier with his call to the MacLeod castle. And what luck to find the Mackenzie and MacKinnon men there. All three clans promised to send out missives to their fellow allies in search of more support.

With Sutherland funds and supplies and so many warriors now headed into the f
ray, Jamie felt his mission was a success.