Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel (3 page)

Aileana kept her gaze fastened to the laird’s son as she quickly stood, then curtsied out of respect. She’d always admired his rugged features, his strong jaw, those gray eyes that seemed to light up whenever he beheld a beautiful woman, his dark hair with streaks of coppery-gold, the stubble on his chin, and that incredibly expressive mouth—the one that spewed curses at the feast table whenever someone angered him, and just as easily soothed a weeping lass. She should know, having served his meals these last eight years.

“Forgive me,” she said. “Did you come all this way for me?”

He stalked closer, looking irritated and exhausted. “Did you think my father would leave you to the wolves or the Hebridean outlaws that plague us? If they found you, God only knows what they’d do. Women are kidnapped, never to be heard from again. Is this how you repay the laird’s kindness, by running away? The MacDonalds are on the loose, girl. Our tenuous peace has been irretrievably broken. What if they attack our home while I’m gone?”

Guilt washed over her as she trembled. She eyed the sword sheathed at his hip, wondering what it would be like to see him in battle. Oh, she’d watched from the keep windows when he practiced in the bailey. Few could beat him. And the women chattered incessantly about his skills off the field. Her cheeks heated immediately.

“Are you suddenly struck speechless?”

“No.” But her imagination had gotten the better of her momentarily. She owed him an explanation. Maybe once he understood, he wouldn’t be so angry. She hoped. “How did you find me?”

“The woman, Sgùrr. She showed me this place, offered sustenance if I agreed to check her snares in the morning. Is there food?” Errol’s attention switched to the table behind her.

“Yes.” She turned around and grabbed an empty wooden bowl off the table, then walked to the fire, where broth flavored with parsley and garlic waited. She spooned a generous amount into the bowl, making sure he got plenty of leeks and cabbage to eat. “Please,” she said. “Sit. There is bread, and wine to drink.”

Errol removed his fur, draping it over the back of the chair before he sat down. His great size dwarfed the furniture. She pushed a wooden spoon in his direction, but he refused it, and instead lifted the bowl to his mouth, sucking down the broth. He emptied the vessel and grunted with approval, holding it up.

“More,” he commanded.

Without hesitation, she did what was expected, and rushed to refill the bowl. Although the cave was located at the top of a mountain, Sgùrr had managed to make it feel as comfortable as any cottage. The iron pot hanging over the fire was the main thing she used to cook with. She also had a metal skillet for meat.

“What’s taking so long, lass?” Errol asked gruffly.

“Sorry for the delay, milord.” She joined him again, presenting the broth. “There’s more if you want it.”

This time he used the spoon. “Thank ye,” he said, not sounding friendly. “Wine.”

She filled his cup from a skin hanging on the nearby wall. “Do you need anything else?”

“Yes. An explanation.” He looked up at her. “Go where I can see you.”

She moved around the table, standing across from him.

“Why did you flee the safety of the keep?”

Aileana wrung her hands together. In the eight years she’d been around the laird’s son, they’d never spoken this much. And if she slandered the good name of one of his closest friends, she feared the reprisal. Only a few years older than Errol, Broc was never far away from him. They ate and trained together.

“Please don’t make me tell.”

He took a deep drink, then set the cup on the table. “I wouldna force you to do anything, lass. But out of respect for me being the future laird, I expect you to be forthcoming. I willna punish you—no matter the reason for your lapse in good judgment.”

Words formed in her mind, but she couldn’t speak.

“Are the rumors true? A man took liberties?”

She nodded shyly. What else had the wicked women in the kitchens told him?

“Did ye welcome his affection, lass? Are you ashamed of bedding him?”

Again her cheeks flushed. Did he have no feelings for her situation? “I did nothing wrong. Believe me.”

He swallowed a mouthful of bread before he spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with a comely maid warming a man’s bed.”

Aileana covered her face with both hands and took a deep breath. “I remained in the kitchens after the other women went to sleep. Several men were still in the hall, and I served them ale and meat. After I returned to the kitchen, Broc cornered me and attempted to kiss me and…”

Errol slammed his fist on the table, grinning. “You’re the lass he’s been carrying on about? The fool. Why didn’t he just tell me? I salute your future happiness.” He raised his cup. “My father will be pleased. You couldna pick a better husband.”

Had the wine polluted his mind? “Sir,” she said. “Save your wishes of good fortune for the day your friend finds a woman who welcomes his affection.”

Errol’s mouth dropped open. “What are ye saying, lass?” His eyes narrowed, so Aileana couldn’t read his emotions.

She shifted on her feet, anxious and fearful her very existence was slipping away. What little she owned in this harsh world was in her tiny chamber back at the keep. Slandering the name of a captain would cost her dearly. “For months I’ve discouraged his attention, even begged him to find someone else. But the captain refused to listen.”

“Did he rape you?”

Her vision blurred.
Please, dear Lord, spare me this interrogation.
But she knew Errol wouldn’t give in, even if she swooned.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“No, he didn’t rape me.”

He sighed with relief, his big hands on the table. Surely carnage would follow in his wake if she stoked the beast inside him.

“Please forget about me,” she pleaded. “I will find another place to go.”

“You’d give up your home so easily?”

“I wish to avoid scandal, sir. Who would believe me over a respected warrior? I am but a woman, and a bastard at that. Though I’ve found happiness under your father’s roof, there are some who never let me forget what and who I am.”

“You’re a bloody MacRae,” he said, standing up. “And if you were my own sister, I’d tell you the same as I do now. Face him. Running away makes you look weak
and
guilty.”

“Guilty of what?” she shot back.

“Of something,” he answered, not looking pleased.

“Then I choose guilty over exposing myself to further indignity.”

“You’ll do as you’re told,” he said. “My sire wishes to see ye safe. In the morning, we leave together.”

From somewhere deep inside, Aileana found the strength to stand her ground. “These aren’t MacRae lands,” she said. “You have no jurisdiction here.” So much for obedience. But the idea of seeing Broc again made her sick. The man would stop at nothing to have her or ruin her reputation. He’d said as much, but she blamed it on the ale. Men claimed many things when they were drunk, bragged and made idle threats. “I would stay here, with Sgùrr.”

“Another matter altogether,” he said. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I havna seen her since this morning. Why?”

Errol rubbed his chin. “Is she your mother?”

The question surprised her. In her dreams she had a mother as independent and intelligent as Sgùrr, someone who would fight for her and love her unconditionally. “Of course not. I only met her yesterday.”

He grunted, a look of doubt on his handsome face. “It matters not. We will return to MacRae lands tomorrow, where I
do
have power.”

At the moment he looked too dangerous to defy. And since she was a servant in his household, Errol had every right to do with her as he pleased. If he wanted to sleep with her, he could. If he wanted to impale her with his sword, he could. The law favored the nobles, not a nameless peasant. As much as she hated to admit it, she was powerless against him.

“The hour is late,” she said, hoping to end the conversation. “Do you wish to sleep?”

He paced, stopping at the mouth of the cave, then returned to the table. “I wish our hostess would return. I have questions.”

“I can tell you what she shared with me.”

Errol’s eyebrows rose with interest.

“She counsels men from the nearby clans.”

“A seer?”

“Aye. Of some renown, judging by the riches in this cave.”

“Agreed,” he said, taking stock of her possessions. “And for some time, I believe. Why have I never heard of her?”

“I wondered the same thing, for none of the men in your father’s service, or any visitors I know of, have ever spoken of a seer in the mountains.”

“Who does she advise?”

Aileana averted her eyes, for she feared his temper if she revealed a certain name.

“Speak, girl.”

“The MacKenzies…”

“And?”

“MacDonalds.”

“Gonadh!”
he roared. “Conspiring with our mortal enemies. I should slit her throat and leave her carcass for the crows to feed on.”

Aileana retreated a step, waiting for his next move.

“Is that all she said?”

Aileana shook her head. “Until my arrival, she’s never met a MacRae.”

“See,” he said. “Ye claim my name as easily as I do.”

“No,” she denied. “I will tell you what I told Sgùrr. I claim no kinship to any clan, though my loyalty is with Laird MacRae.”

With a grimace, he edged closer, his expression full of something she couldn’t name. “Does my father not hold you in high esteem?”

“Aye.”

“Has anyone beaten ye?”

“No.”

“Have you been starved or overworked? Denied sustenance or a safe place to sleep?”

“No.”

He towered over her now. “Then why do you cast my clan off as if we’re nothing to you, lass?”

“Because somewhere in this world are the answers I seek. Possibly a father or mother. A name waiting for me to claim it. My fate.”

His face softened at her last utterance. “Never tempt fate, lass. I’ve made that mistake too many times to count.”

Aileana possessed spirit. Most women were docile creatures, willing to obey without question or complaint. He understood her split loyalties. Being true to oneself often meant the difference between life and death. But she owed his father for taking her in. Without that single act of mercy, she would have perished long ago. The MacRaes turned no innocent away. A rule that set them apart from some clans. Barbarism had no place in the Christianized world. Leave that to the MacDonalds, half-men with hearts as black as the devil’s. They left as many bastards behind as they did slit throats.

She gazed up at him, and her fathomless eyes were hard to look away from. As for her lips—those deserved his special attention, too. It would be so easy to seduce her, away from watching eyes, free of the gossipmongers. Errol forced those thoughts out of his mind. If he so much as touched her, he’d be as guilty as his friend Broc. The lass required guidance and comfort. And from the way she looked, a full night’s sleep.

“You may rest now,” he said. “I believe we’ve reached an understanding. You’ll return with me tomorrow.”

She fidgeted with the material of her dress. “Under protest,” she said.

What he credited as spirit before was quickly turning into obstinacy, a very unattractive trait for any woman to have. “There is no winner or loser here, lass. The fact remains, yer under my father’s protection, and therefore under his command—like a soldier, if you wish to make it more palatable. I too am under his control. ’Tis the way of things. Why question what we cannot change?”

She didn’t respond, but walked to one of the two pallets on the floor and sat down, lifting the hem of her skirt enough to remove her boots. She set them aside, then tugged her wool leggings down so her ankles were covered. Then she pulled the fur back and crawled underneath it.

“Sleep well, lass.”

After a few minutes, he heard her steady breathing, signaling she’d fallen asleep. Errol quietly moved about the cave, adding logs to the fire, then filling his cup with ale again. Curious what the older woman had to hide, he wandered about the cave, looking for answers to her true identity.

Sometimes sleep eluded him, for different reasons. Tonight it had more to do with a guilty conscience than anything else. Forcing the lovely Aileana to go somewhere she didn’t wish to made him uneasy. She’d challenged him, even given valid reasons for wanting to remain with the seer. But he couldn’t break his word to his father. The girl would face the laird soon enough, and then Errol could wash his hands of the situation.

A bit later, as he took a sip of ale, Sgùrr appeared at the entrance of the cave, looking untouched by the elements.

“Where have ye been, woman?” He eyed her suspiciously, never comfortable around seers. And in his heart, he knew this one was a true witch.

“Did Aileana not tend to your needs?”

“Aye,” he said. “And also announced her intentions of living here with you.”

“She is welcome to what little I have.”

Errol clicked his tongue. “You’ve done nothing to hide your wealth. There’s enough food here for four people to survive a long winter. And the tapestries, furs, and garments stored in that trunk, all would bring a small fortune at the market. You may easily trick someone as unworldly as Aileana, but don’t lie to me.”

Sgùrr held her hands over the fire, listening.

“Why did you tell me she was your daughter?”

“To make sure you didn’t refuse my hospitality.”

“You think me incapable of resisting a woman?”

“I think yer ruled by your prick like any other man, Errol MacRae. Only once in a while the gods temper desire with compassion. It’s like adding a pinch of salt to meat. The change in taste is subtle, but makes all the difference.”

“You speak in mindless riddles.”

“Do I?”

He scowled in displeasure. The lies she told weren’t enough, now he had to listen to her insult his sex? Without men, women and children would suffer and starve. “I’ve yet to meet a lass who isn’t equally ruled by my prick once it’s been inside her.”

She chuckled. “You’ve unconsciously proven my point. Women spend their lives nurturing the people in their care. But let us not debate any longer. You and I will never agree, Errol MacRae. I chose to leave the protection of my clan and seek a life free of men. I don’t require a husband, father, or brother telling me what to do. Yer here because I offered you shelter in exchange for work. Let us remain peaceable. Sleep, you have a long walk tomorrow.”

Numb with exhaustion, Errol agreed he needed to close his eyes. But before he did, he would have an answer to the one question burning inside him. “Is she your daughter?”

“Every unwanted child is mine. And for Aileana’s sake, I will claim her, if that’s what it takes to give her purpose in life.”

The next morning, Errol followed the detailed directions the witch had given him, finding three rabbits in her snares. Although the snow had tapered off, everywhere he looked was blanketed in white. The pale sunlight reflected blindingly off the powder and he stumbled a couple times over hidden rocks. Little vegetation grew there, only the occasional berry bush or twisted tree. It reminded him of Sgùrr, frigid and isolated, and a bad influence on a girl as innocent and warm as Aileana.

As soon as he could, he’d take her away and make sure to explain why he didn’t want her to ever return to the mountains. Impressionable lasses needed strict guidance. And since Aileana possessed a fiery spirit, if the witch filled her mind with rebellious ideas, she’d never find peace with the MacRaes. Her future was in his hands now. He deeply regretted ever disconnecting with her, for her happiness had always been on his mind. Until he denied his own feelings for her.

He stomped inside the cave, finding Aileana in the far corner with the seer. Neither of the women welcomed him, so he paused by the fire, watching in silence. Aileana was standing in her linen shift, the outline of her generous breasts too alluring to look away from, her erect nipples pressing against the thin material.

“This was a gift from a laird I gave right counsel to last year,” Sgùrr said. “He avoided marrying his only daughter to a murdering animal. So he sent a man on a ship across Loch Duich to present this fine garment along with a bag of salt as further thanks for my help.”

“ ’Tis beautiful,” Aileana murmured, running her delicate fingers over the dyed blue wool and fur collar. “I’ve never worn anything so fine.”

“Well, today you will,” Sgùrr assured her. “And I will fill a leather bag with other treasures I think you deserve. Tell no one where they came from. Let it be enough that you have an admirer in the mountains overlooking your home. You remind me of myself when I was young and full of potential and hope for the world. Do not let the people around you strip you of your dreams, lass. Promise me that much.”

“Until I met ye,” Aileana said, “I’d given up on many things. But now I know better.”

The seer cradled her hand affectionately, like a mother would. Which struck Errol as odd. The two had only met a couple days ago. Though he didn’t pretend to know what happened between women, he was sure it didn’t differ much from when two men first meet. Respect and admiration came quick enough, but the familiarity these two displayed raised suspicions.

Sgùrr helped her pull the dress over her head, the long sleeves trimmed with black beaver fur. “And now these.” The seer offered her matching fur gloves. “To protect you against the bitter cold.”

Aileana shook her head. “It is too much. I have nothing to give you.”

Sgùrr gripped her shoulders. “Have I not already told you how precious our time together was? Months go by where I have no company. Do not underestimate the value of your mind and heart, child. Our conversations will carry me into spring, when the first of my regular visitors will arrive. Then my humble cave is bustling with activity. Go now, the future laird is waiting.” She waved to Errol.

“Do you wish me to skin your rabbits, woman?”

“No,” she said. “I will hang them from the ceiling for a couple days first and drain all the blood. If you’d place them on the floor by the red deer, I’d be happy.”

He grunted and did as she asked. Nothing about the woman felt right. In fact, whenever she came near, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He dismissed it, some people just didn’t get along. But the one thing they did share was concern for Aileana. The protectiveness that came out when Ian offered to accompany him to find the pretty lass had grown deeper. Not because her soft curves looked so delectable in her shift, or because she dared to stand up to him in ways no woman had before. Maybe not being resigned to her unfortunate circumstances and wanting to fight for more appealed to him.

Few men in his acquaintance were born with such heart. Regardless of the reasons, she had his attention and protection now.

“Dress quickly, lass. The snow has stopped, and if we make haste, we may reach the keep by nightfall.”

Sgùrr walked to the other side of the enclosure and opened one of her many trunks. But Errol’s watchful gaze strayed back to Aileana, who now sat on the chair with her skirt hiked above her knees, as she put her boots on. One day, he suddenly swore to himself, he’d behold Aileana’s long, silky limbs without wool leggings obstructing his view. From her glorious red curls, to her delicate feet he’d seen last night, the lass exuded beauty. Why it had taken him eight years to notice, he didn’t know.

Broc knew—the uncivilized bastard would hear from Errol soon enough. Boon companions they’d be until Errol drew his last breath, but that didn’t pardon Broc’s bad behavior or exempt him from feeling the sting of Errol’s fists. With a head as dense as a cornerstone, Broc might require a wallop or two from a club.

The situation only reinforced Errol’s earlier opinion. He’d find a suitable husband for her as quickly as possible, one she approved of, hopefully, and that would put an end to his friend’s wasted efforts.

“I am ready.” Aileana stood before him now, encased in fur and leather.

She even wore a fur hat that matched her gloves. The witch had done her a great disservice, gifting her with rich garments above her station as a kitchen maid. Some clans forbade commoners from wearing such things, but not the MacRaes. No, the only resistance she’d face would be the ridicule of her peers, who would assume the gifts came from whatever man she’d spread her legs for.

So now she’d be called a
bastard
and a
whore.
Rage rose inside Errol. If he ever again heard anyone insult her, he’d break their neck—man or woman.

“Take this.” Sgùrr presented her with a satchel that she could drape over her shoulder.

“Thank ye.” Tears wet the corners of Aileana’s eyes.

“And for you.” The seer offered him something wrapped in cloth. “Enough food to get you home,” she said.

“I willna forget your kindness,” Errol said more out of duty than anything else.

After Aileana gave the woman a heartfelt goodbye, he gripped her elbow firmly and steered her out of the cave.