Ashlyn (The Highland Clan Book 5) (2 page)

Chapter One

Early winter, The Highlands of Scotland

Ashlyn of Grant nocked her arrow and mentally reminded herself of everything her aunt had taught her: correct stance, eyes on target, elbow even with her jaw line, allow the muscles in her back to take over. Before she finished her usual routine, a loud thwack sounded off to her left. The stray arrow had hit her target. She turned to investigate, but she appeared to be alone on the archery practice field. The men should all be in the lists at this hour. She knew Jake, Jamie, her stepsire Robbie, and Uncle Brodie would be working the men hard.

Ranulf MacNiven was likely still out there, after all, so it might not be long before their next battle.

She was about to return her attention to her practice when another arrow whistled past—this one far too close for comfort. She dropped to the ground, and the arrow struck the tree behind her. There was still no sign of an intruder. Was she the target?

She yelled out, “Stand tall like a man. Are you afraid of a lass like me? You dare not show your face?” If someone was shooting at her, then she needed to find out who—and preferably before the arrow embedded in her shoulder or somewhere worse.

Another arrow swished past her and buried itself into the tree directly behind her. Now she was angry.

She propelled herself to her feet, shouting, “You hide in the trees and try to shoot a lass? What kind of man does that? Who the hell are you?” Hellfire, she probably shouldn’t be so bold, but she couldn’t stop herself, hoping to catch the lout before he got away. Running in a crooked path instead of a straight one, she circled the periphery of the target area, wanting to shove her fist in the careless fool’s face.

“Ashlyn!”

A booming voice rent the air and she spun around, only to see Magnus heading straight for her in a dead run. He was almost upon her when another sound distracted her. But before she could turn around and get a look at the archer, a huge arm wrapped around her middle, throwing her down to the ground.

Magnus. She shoved his arm away, but then grabbed him, tucking into his side, when two more arrows hit the trees not far from them.

“Have you no sense, lass? You’re being shot at!” His arm, the size of an oak tree that had been around for centuries, held her fast to the ground.

As soon as her wits returned to her, she shoved against him. “Magnus!” she shouted, trying her best to disengage his enormous arm. It was fruitless, of course. There was more strength in his arm than there was in her entire body. “Get away. Leave me be. How dare you touch me!”

He sat up, releasing her as she swung her small fists at him. “Touch you! I was trying to protect you. Nay, I
did
protect you. Did you not see how close those arrows came to you?”

He stood and held his hand out to quiet her. “I heard something in the trees,” he explained in an undertone. Searching the area, he held his sword out in front of him.

Her chest heaved, and she could hear her own breathing in the silence. Anyone would tell her that panic was a normal reaction to being shot at. But that wasn’t why she was panting.

She did not like being touched by a man.

The lads in Clan Grant had, for the most part, learned to stay away from her. Magnus normally did, too, but she could tell he truly feared someone was after her.

Fear crept up her neck—the same prickly feeling she’d experienced so many years ago on a beach south of Ayr when she’d helplessly watched a Norseman beat her mother. She almost groaned because she did her best to bury those horrific memories, but they still found their way to the surface occasionally, especially in moments like this one.

As much as she hated to admit it, her fear stayed at bay because Magnus, one of the few men she trusted, stood in front of her. True, she trusted her laird and her cousins, but that was usually her limit.

Except for Magnus, and she did not understand why he was an exception.

After staring into the trees for a good long while, Magnus pivoted around to glare at her. “What in hellfire is wrong with you? How could you make yourself such a target to someone?”

“I do not think they were aiming to kill me, just frighten me. ‘Tis just another daft fool who believes a woman cannot fire a bow. He’s not the first to try to send me away from the archery field.”

“Then if you are accustomed to such treatment, why did you not duck behind the trees to be safe? Where exactly were the arrows coming from?”

She settled her hands on her hips and leaned toward him. “How in hellfire would I know?”

Magnus leaned toward her. “Must you be so foul mouthed for a lass?”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

“Aye, it does.”

“I’ll speak however I choose. I see no reason you can say hellfire and I cannot. Accept me or leave me.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and shook his head, letting loose a great, bellowing laugh. There was an edge of bitterness to it, she thought. “Unfortunately, I am now charged with your safety, so I cannot just leave you. And you’ll do as I say because I’ll not have you ruin my chances at becoming the future chief’s second.”

“You are not charged with my safety until we leave Grant land, so go back to your needlepoint, Magnus.” She gave him her back and picked up the arrows not far away.

“Aye, I am charged with your safety from this day forward, so get used to having me by your side. MacNiven could find his way here. For all you know, he’s in those trees aiming for your heart.”

“Do as you must.” Despite her dismissive tone, his words gave her pause. Could Magnus be correct? She’d assumed it was some lad trying to scare her away from the field, but what if it wasn’t? What if someone truly had been aiming for her heart?

What a ridiculous suggestion. There was no one trying to kill her. Dismissing those thoughts, she turned around to glare at him again. “Just remember not to touch me. You have no right to touch me.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, lass. We all know that touching you could cost us our ballocks. Do not make the mistake of kicking me there, or you’ll pay for it. My only interest is in doing my job so I can be promoted. No lass can compare to my sweet Rhona.”

Magnus made his way to the tree and pulled the remaining arrow out of it. “Whose arrow is this?”

Ashlyn calmed down. Aye, his Rhona had been a sweet lass, and the whole clan had mourned her and the son she had died trying to deliver. Mayhap the reason she trusted Magnus was because he’d always loved Rhona and would probably never be interested in another.

Finally a bit calmer, she turned the arrows over in her hand. “There is no doubt that it is a Grant arrow, but as I said, it probably belongs to a lad who was trying to scare me away. I do not scare so easily.”

Magnus stared at her, his face only a short distance away. He smiled at her—that wide, white-toothed smile he was so known for—and his brown eyes might as well have reached over and stirred her insides. “Careless? Your innocence amuses me, but I cannot believe you are that naïve.” Just as quickly, his smile disappeared. “Lass, someone was aiming for you. You must accept that their intent was more than to merely frighten you away.”

“What? ‘Tis foolish. Who would wish to injure me?”

Magnus was close enough for her to pick up his scent. She scowled, wondering why such a thing as the scent of a man would draw her attention. Neither of them was young and giddy. She was six and twenty, well past marrying age, and Magnus was nearing thirty. Why was she suddenly so aware of him? She scratched her head and tried to tidy her locks. What had they been discussing? Hellfire, but now the man was affecting her ability to think.

“Now, Ashlyn. Can you think of something that has happened recently that may have upset a young lad or two? A lad who works in the lists every day, a lad who desires to travel as a Grant warrior, who wishes to brag to all his friends that he is now a chosen one.” He crossed his arms and stared at her, that pesky grin of his back.

“Must you always smile, Magnus?” she whispered, her brow raised.

He chuckled. “Aye, I must. Does it bother you?” His eyes widened, his face now radiant with delight.

She refused to give him the satisfaction. “Nay. Of course not. Smile in your sleep, if you wish.” Then she returned her thoughts to what he had suggested. Could it be true? “My guess is that you believe someone is shooting at me because I have taken their spot in a warrior’s journey. Surely, no one is that small. The men of the clan have been carrying out all the warriors’ duties forever. Why would they be this upset that a lass has been included for a change?”

“Well now. Allow me to help you reason through this for a moment. Suppose you do such a great job that the chief decides to send more lasses on his next attacks or searches, not that I expect that to happen, but please consider the possibility for a moment.”

“There are no more lasses who are interested in going.” What a preposterous thought. “Where do you get such ideas?”

“Hmmm…and how would the warriors know that Gracie or Kyla or Aline wouldn’t like to go along with you? You know how fast word travels, do you not? Do you know what is being said in the Ramsay clan now?”

“What?” Aline…hmm…she hadn’t considered such a possibility. Gracie would never leave Grant land, and Kyla? She was more like her sire than her mother. Eliza, the youngest, was more like Aunt Maddie.

“Och, I see you have not heard that because of your aunt Gwyneth, her daughters Molly, Maggie, and Sorcha all wish to be trained as warriors.”

“That’s just silly. Molly and Sorcha are archers, true, but they have no desire to travel with the warriors. They prefer to travel with their mother and sire. And Maggie has never liked to leave Ramsay land.”

She frowned, working this through in her mind. After all her hard work, she’d believed the other Grants would think her worthy of inclusion in the guards. But her stepsire had told her once that many men did not believe a woman should be fighting. Were they all so narrow-minded?”

“But…”

Magnus moved over to whisper in her ear. “Take my word for it. Whether you choose to believe me or not, there are several warriors who believe a lass belongs at home and not out with the guards. You need to decide how you’ll deal with that on our wee trip. Because you will be forced to deal with it.” He walked off back toward the keep, but spun around just as he reached his horse. “And you’ll not be kicking me where you can hurt a man most.”

She filed this in the back of her mind, deciding she should discuss the matter with her stepsire. If there was a special way of stopping a lad, she had best learn it.

A thought popped into her mind. “Where are you going?”

Magnus patted his horse before he turned back to her. “I’m going to see our laird.”

“Why?” Fear rippled up her spine as his intent dawned on her. “You do not plan to bother him with news of this incident, do you?”

“For certes. Someone on Grant land shot at you. He needs to be aware of this right away, and though I deem it safe, I would suggest you leave the area with me.”

She reached his side and grasped his upper arm. Magnus quirked his brow at her, but she did not flinch. “Please, Magnus. Do not tell our laird. If you do, he’ll not allow me to go.”

“Lass, ‘tis his decision to make.”

“But I’ve worked forever on my accuracy. I
deserve
this. Besides, you and I and Jake are the only ones who have particular knowledge of MacNiven. Jake cannot go, so I must. Please do not ruin this for me.”

Magnus groaned. “My responsibility is to you and to our laird. Naught else. I must do as charged.”

“Then tell Jake. He’ll be the chief someday. Ask for his counsel, but please do not tell his sire.”

Magnus mounted his horse, then turned the beast around to face her. “Aye, I’ll agree to talk to Jake first, but if he chooses to go to his sire, I’ll not try to stop him. I’ll be watching as I’m charged to do, but you need to be more aware of your surroundings. Now, I’m not leaving until you get on your horse and follow me. You should not be out here alone.”

Picking up a stick, she broke it and whipped it across the field before she climbed on her horse and followed him.

She’d show them. She’d show them all what a lass could do.

And they’d better keep their hands a good distance away from her.

Chapter Two

Magnus did his best to calm his beating heart as he rode across the meadow. He would not admit to anyone how affrighted he’d been to witness the attack on Ashlyn. Guilt washed over him, for he could no longer hide the truth from himself. He had feelings for the lass.

Aye, she’d been around Grant land for a long time, but he’d not noticed her much before. He’d only started paying attention to her over the last moon or so. She was a tough lass, strong and well-trained, and she’d done a fine job of helping Jake’s new wife, Aline, escape from the keep where she’d been held prisoner by Ranulf MacNiven’s partner.

But he felt guilty because of his love for his sweet wife. Och, how he’d loved her, but she’d left him near two years ago. True, she had not chosen to leave him, and many mothers die in childbirth, but why had the Lord taken his family from him?

Rhona hadn’t been a strong lass like Ashlyn. She’d depended on him for everything. He suspected that’s why he was drawn to Ashlyn. While he’d sworn to never marry again, suddenly the thought of another marriage was more appealing, and it had to do with an independent lass with lush brown eyes.

He found that independence enticing. Well, that and her luscious curves that were just right for his hands. She was a tall and voluptuous beauty. The complete opposite of petite, fair-haired Rhona. Ashlyn’s hair was a sultry brown, rich because she allowed it to swing free most of the time instead of plaiting it. She did not go by customs.

He suspected Ashlyn would not have him, but a man could dream.

When they reached the stables, Ashlyn did not wait for him to help her dismount—she jumped down and hustled away before he could get close to her.

He shook his head. The lass was as prickly as a Scottish wildcat. Did she carry a wound from her past? Everyone knew Caralyn and her daughters had joined Clan Grant after escaping an evil man. Gracie had been too young to remember life before the Grant keep, but Ashlyn would remember.

Suddenly, he had a new purpose. He’d find out what was in her past if it took him ten moons. Mayhap he could help the lass if he knew what plagued her. He watched her as she strode away, her chin held high, ignoring all the men who cast her appreciative glances.

Jake strode toward him from the lists. “Magnus, did something happen with my cousin? Neither one of you looked verra pleased.”

“Och, you know Ashlyn, she’s a stubborn lass. There were stray arrows flying out at the archery field. She thinks it was naught. I believe she was the target. I refused to leave her out there alone, so she’s a wee bit upset.”

“Stray arrows? Who would fire at her? ‘Tis serious if she truly is the target. I’m glad you did not leave her out there, regardless of her feelings.”

“According to Ashlyn, it has happened before and she deems it due to some lads not liking her presence at the archery fields. I think it was more than that. The arrows were too close. I gave her something to think on.”

“And what was that?” Jake’s mouth curled up at the ends.

“I mentioned that some of the lads are upset about a lass traveling with the Grant warriors.”

Jake jerked his head back. “You’re lucky she did not take a swing at you.”

“She did,” he smirked, “but only because I grabbed her to throw her out of the path of the arrow. You know she does not like to be touched.”

“Aye,” Jake said, rubbing his chin. “We need to know what transpired at the field before we send her off to Edinburgh. Mayhap my sire will have an idea.”

“She begged me not to tell your sire, only you.”

“Why?” Jake crossed his arms as his gaze followed Ashlyn.

“She’s afraid he will keep her home.”

“If her life is in danger, she
should
stay here.”

“But what if the person who’s after her is here? She may be safer with us. Much as I dislike agreeing with the stubborn lass, I may have to this time.” Magnus stared after her, watching the sway of her hips. Ashlyn did not have the teasing, saucy move to her deportment. Her demeanor carried a determined stride, a movement that demonstrated confidence in her abilities. He guessed her to be innocent in the ways of men and women, an innocence that enticed him even more.

“She’s a stubborn lass, you have the right of it. I’ll see what I can uncover, and I’ll hold off on talking to my sire. His head has been paining him lately, so I’d prefer not to bother him unless absolutely necessary.”

“My thanks.”

“What do you suppose makes her wish to travel with the guards?” Jake asked.

“I suspect the same thing that is driving me—the desire to be the best she can be. She just happens to be different than most lasses. She wishes to ride with lads, and there are not many willing to do that.”

“It’s more than that. Ever since Ashlyn helped us rescue Aline and the other lasses from Castle Dubh, she has been determined to ride against Ranulf MacNiven. After all the fighting and death, you would think she would never wish to go back, but she’s as driven as if she had a personal vendetta against him. Mayhap ‘tis because two of the lasses from Castle Dubh are still missing? When they were wee lassies, Ashlyn and Gracie were stolen away from Caralyn.”

“Has Aline told you anything?”

“Nay. She did not get along with the missing women, says they were both nasty, but she doesn’t wish for any harm to come to them. For the most part, Aline would prefer to put it all behind her. She has no desire to chase after MacNiven. Yet I fear Ashlyn will not rest until she finds him.” He stared after his cousin, his hands on his hips. “Do you think one of our own guards was shooting at her? Because if so, we must find and unmask the bastard before we decide who’s going on the journey. He will be punished for his actions. You know how my sire is about men attacking women.”

“You mean
if
we go. Logan Ramsay has not returned yet.”

“He will. You can count on that. We’ve had dealings with MacNiven twice, once on Ramsay land, once here. He will not give up, and my sire and uncles will not let him go free. Neither will the king. King Alexander is furious that the traitor arranged for another to hang for his crimes. He wants him brought to justice. The man almost forced my cousin into a marriage he did not want, and once the betrothal was called off, convinced the Buchan to attack the Ramsays. This happened after being warned not to by the king.

“Now we have witnesses to MacNiven’s attempted attack on the Grants. Uncle Logan traveled to the king just to update him and receive his instructions. There is the slim possibility that MacNiven would have been caught by another, but I doubt it. I’m quite sure he will arrive to tell us we’re going after him. Truly we wait to see in which direction to travel.”

“Then Ashlyn might have a wee bit of trouble on our trip unless we can find the fool who shot at her.” Magnus hunched his shoulders up. “But somehow, I think she’ll handle it.”

“Aye,” Jake chuckled. “But can you handle her? Sometimes my sire’s wisdom amazes me.”

“Wisdom? I wish he’d chosen another to watch her.” He had to turn away a wee bit as he said it.

“You may fool yourself, but you’re not fooling me, old friend,” Jake whispered, clasping his friend’s shoulder. “My sire chose exactly the right person for this job. I just wish I were going along to see it, but Aline and I need to stay here with her wee sisters.”

“The lass will not make it easy on me, I fear, but I’ll do my best to make you and your sire proud.”

“You will.” Jake spun on the heel of his boot and started heading back toward the lists. His next words were spoken over his shoulder. “I do not envy your trip, but I do look forward to the tales of your travels.” There was a laugh in his voice. “Until then, I’ll see what I can find out about our sour-bellied guard.”

Magnus couldn’t come up with a response before Jake was out of hearing distance. Aye, his friend was right. Ashlyn would keep him busy and make sure his guard was never relaxed.

She would be a challenge, but Magnus was starting to discover he loved challenges.

***

Ashlyn broke into a run once she was close to her family’s hut on the loch. They were at the opposite end of the swimming area Alex had created after seeing his sister’s beautiful swimming area at Clan Ramsay. Sibling competition, her stepsire had called it.

This was Ashlyn’s favorite place in the world. Her mother and Robbie had fixed up the cottage for the four of them, but their family had expanded, and the original cottage had been too small to include Roddy and Padraig. Robbie’s brothers and a few carpenters in the clan had helped him add two additions to the building: one new room for Ashlyn and Gracie and one for Roddy and Padraig. Roddy had moved over to the warriors’ building, however, and Padraig would be going soon.

Ashlyn’s mother, who had been trained by the renowned healer Lady Brenna Ramsay, still functioned as the clan’s healer, which meant she was away from home more often than not.

As she stepped onto the porch they used to skin fish and enjoy the view of the loch, Ashlyn noticed how quiet it was. “Mama?” She stepped inside and found her mother tearing linen strips. Gracie, who often helped her in her healing work, stood at her side.

“Good day to you, Ashlyn. How was your archery practice?”

Gracie glanced up and smiled but said nothing. She had never been much of a talker. She spent most of her time with their mother, for the Grant lass closest to her in age, Kyla, was very different from her in temperament. Ashlyn thought that Eliza and Gracie would be much alike, but the laird’s second-born daughter was much younger—her hips were just beginning to broaden, and Gracie was twenty summers. It was a marriageable age, but Gracie never mentioned marriage.

“It was not the best. May we talk?”

“Of course. Is something bothering you?” Caralyn finished with her duties, then sat at the large table in the center of the chamber. She pointed to the chair across from hers. “Come sit with me. I have not talked with you much since you decided to join the Grant guards in their search for MacNiven. Do you not have some misgivings about traveling with a large group of men?”

Ashlyn sighed and flopped into the chair with a huff. “I was not worried, but it seems I should be.”

“Why?” She reached over and ran her fingers through Ashlyn’s long locks. “Ashlyn, if you choose not to plait your hair, you must at least run a comb through it, or it will become too unruly.” Ashlyn’s mama’s gaze carried down her dirty and disheveled clothing, but she said naught.

Gracie circled around the table to get a better look at her. “She appears to have been rolling in the dirt,” she said with a wee smile.

“The truth is I have been rolling in the grass, but not by choice. Someone was firing arrows at me on the archery field.”

“What?” Caralyn jumped out of her chair, but then sat down again. “Something tells me I should be sitting when I hear your story.”

“Someone else was shooting their bow, and I was almost hit by several arrows. Magnus came along and knocked me onto the ground to keep me from getting hit.” She rubbed at her elbow, only then noticing that it bled a bit.

Her mother reached for a cloth and dipped it into the water basin before washing the wound with it. “Aye, remind me to thank Magnus, will you please?”

“This has happened before, Mama. There are lads that do not want me at the archery field. I think the intention was to frighten me, not hurt me, but Magnus told me something else that concerns me.”

“I wish you would tell our laird this. He needs to know if someone is firing at you.”

“I’ll not tell Uncle Alex or he may order me to stay home, and I’m asking you not to say aught to him or anyone. ‘Tis a private matter.” Ashlyn scrunched her face in frustration and said, “There are men who are upset that a lass will be traveling as a guard. Magnus told me to be careful.”

Caralyn gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “We must tell Robbie.”

“Nay, I do not want to involve him. They’ll only get more upset with me. I just wish to have your opinion.” She took the cloth from her mother and used it to wipe the other spots on her face that needed it.

“Well, no woman has ever traveled with the Grant guards,” her mother said. “I suppose there would be some who would think you do not belong.”

Gracie asked, “I worry about you going alone with a group of men, Ashlyn.”

“I will not be alone. Jamie and Braden are going. They’ll stand up for me, as will Magnus.”

“You must be careful. Many men believe women exist only to attend to their needs.”

“I am already aware of that sad truth, Mama, you need not convince me of it.” She rolled her eyes as she handed the cloth back to her mother.

“And how would you know that, daughter?” her mother asked, catching her gaze. “Your stepsire does not believe that nonsense, and neither do your uncles. Did something happen when you were young that you need to tell me about? We’ve discussed this before, and you’ve always denied any ill treatment. Were you being truthful?”

Slud. She hadn’t intended to speak so frankly. It had to be Magnus’s fault for clouding her mind with odd thoughts. “Nay, Mama. Naught happened.” She’d carry the memories to her grave. Her mother could never know.

“Ashlyn? I do not believe you. Tell me, please.”