Highland Rake

PUBLISHED BY:

Terry Spear on Smashwords

Highland Rake

Copyright © 2012 by Terry Spear

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Discover more about Terry Spear at:

http://www.terryspear.com/

Thanks to Vonda Sinclair who talked me into visiting Scotland and shared a fun-filled experience of a lifetime as we set off the alarm at a Wal-Mart equivalent store, drank Irish Cream in Scotland, drove on the wrong side of the road—on occasion—and loved every bit of the dining, bread and breakfasts, and the beautiful castles, friendly people, and fantastic scenery.

Thanks, Vonda, the trip and your friendship mean the world to me!

From the moment Alana Cameron and her clansmen had ridden into the mixed pine and oak forest that fall day, she felt uneasy.

The air was cool and wet, gray clouds covering the whole sky as Alana quickly lost sight of her da and the rest of the men racing after the stag somewhere hidden in the dense woods. At nine summers, no matter how hard she tried, she could not keep up with the Highland warriors.

One of the lads stayed with her, eager to be with the men instead of watching her. Landon was five and ten summers like her brother, only Connell had been caught stealing a loaf of bread from the kitchen that morn and their da had punished him by making him stay at the keep.

Poor Connell. She knew he had only taken the bread to give to a family living beyond the curtain wall who had not enough food to feed their family. Her da had not been pleased with two of their nearly grown lads who had caused trouble with the MacNeill clan bordering their own lands when her da had not approved it.

But now the sense of foreboding she'd been feeling intensified. At first, all she heard was the sound of the men's horses running through the woods, but then men's shouts filled the air. Cries of warning. Angry words. Curses—the like she'd never heard of before.

The sound of swords clanked against each other as if the men were practicing their sword skills out in the woods now instead of in the inner baily.
That
had her heart pounding furiously. She knew they had to be fighting somebody, and she'd never been in the middle of a skirmish before. She trembled, unable to help herself.

The lad staying with her appeared uncertain. He ran the strips of leather through his fingers as he stared in the direction the fighting took place, hidden from their view. She knew he wanted to see what the matter was. She knew he hadn't wanted to sit watching her if the rest of the men needed him to help them fight off whoever had attacked them.

Yet she was certain her da would have wanted Landon to stay with her.

"Stay here," Landon finally said, his voice hard and a command.

She nodded.

He swallowed hard as he studied her for a moment, looking as though he was uncertain if he should leave her alone. Would he get into trouble if he did?

Then he took a deep breath and frowned at her, his brown eyes narrowed. "Stay. I will be right back." He sounded like a lad trying to be a man.

She wanted to tell him to stay with her. That she was afraid for him and afraid for herself. But she couldn't. He was older and in training as a warrior. He knew what was best. She couldn't help wanting him to stay with her though.

Landon rode toward the fighting and like the rest, disappeared in the thick woods. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to settle her fright. She sat quietly on her horse, grateful Lettie was staying put, not shying away and not making a sound. For the first time ever that she'd gone to the forest, Alana felt scared, the chill in the air seeping into her bones despite the warm green and dun wool cloak draped over her shoulders and the hood pulled up over her head. The fighting continued and she knew they were nearby, but she'd never felt so all alone in her life.

Startling her, she saw her da suddenly ride through the pines, the stark terror in his expression revealing all was not well. He looked angry about the fight and regretful mayhap that she had been with them. She wanted so for him to tell her that all was right and that he was returning her home at once. She wanted to ask where Landon was and why he had not returned the lad to watch over her.

Instead, her da shouted, "Dismount, Alana! Hide yourself, lass!" Then before she was ready to face the uncertainty alone, he turned and rode back into the forest, vanishing in the greenery.

Terrified, she didn't want him to abandon her now. Her heart in her throat and her body trembling, she jumped down from her horse, not wanting to desert her. She was almost certain if she tried to ride toward the safety of the keep—though she didn't know the way as she'd never been this far away from the castle or this deep in the woods—someone could hear her. Her da must have known she could not ride away fast enough to save herself.

Tears threatened to spill as her body shook so hard, she was having a difficult time trying to decide where to hide. She quickly found a fallen tree to use as a makeshift wall on one side of her, wishing she was home, safe inside their stone fortress. She gathered leaves about her and piled more of the rest of them on top of her as if they had blown that way against the log. Some of them had and she hoped the rest didn't look too out of place. They were wet and smelled of mold and decay and made her want to sneeze.

She'd done this countless times before, following her brother and his friends into the woods nearer their home, burying herself so she could listen to the tales they told without them knowing, their bragging about what they would do in the future, how brave they were, and how they had kissed the lasses. She wasn't sure about the other lads, but she knew her brother didn't lie about his own conquests. Partly because he was the laird's son and partly because the lasses found him charming and irresistible, he had no trouble finding plenty of young lasses willing to kiss him back.

She was glad he was not here now or he would have ridden off with his friend, Landon, and they could both be killed. Thank the heavens she had worn her brown
léine
instead of the green one this morn. And her green and dun plaid brat was the one she always wore on a hunt. She hoped she blended in with the dead leaves.

With the dead tree beside her, she felt somewhat protected, and then felt foolish. What if no one was even looking for her?

The shouts and curses of the men in the woods, the clanking of swords and even the neighing and snorting of horses faded away until there was only the sound of the wind ruffling the pines and other trees' branches.

She barely breathed, trying desperately to slow her racing heart, listening for any sound that told her someone was coming. The absence of sounds was more frightening than all the noise before.

No one came. Not a word was spoken as if the battle had been fought and everyone had gone home and forgotten her, leaving her behind.

A million thoughts raced through her mind—of wanting to unbury herself from her leafy blanket, of wanting to find the others.

Then she heard boots walking toward her, crunching on leaves and twigs, snapping them in two.

No voices. No one calling her name. No one speaking to anyone else. Why was no one saying anything?

More boots clomped through the forest and the sound of horses' hooves tromping on the ground. Why wasn't anyone speaking?

A pair of boots drew closer. Too close. She held her breath. The leather of his boot brushed her arm. She choked back a cry of distress.

Was it one of her men? She didn't think so. If it was one of her men, he would call out for her. Did these men know she was here?

If they had found her horse, they would know a girl had been riding it. She pressed her fingers against the hilt of her dirk, the dagger sheathed at her waist. Her bow and quiver of arrows were with her horse, but these men would know by the size of her bow, that it had been made for a child.

Where was her da? The others?

"She is here," the man whispered. "Somewhere, hiding."

She felt her skin tingle with fresh dread.

Another nearby said in just as hushed a voice, "Keep searching. He wants her found."

Who
wanted her and did they mean to search for Alana? That they knew who
she
was?

She didn't recognize the men's voices. They continued to look for her farther away now, while dark shadowy fingers stretched into the forest as the day began to fade into evening.

As the sun began to set in the night sky, the rich greens and browns of the forest turned to shades of gray. She shivered from the cold, her wool cloak and linen
léine
no longer warm enough. They were still searching for her, though she wondered if they were using torches now to locate her, when she heard more riders.

These men were speaking, and she thought they couldn't be with the others because they were not as sneaky and had newly arrived and had come from the direction of the MacNeill's land, not the same as the others.

"I heard sword fighting this way, James," a lad said.

"Aye, Dougald, and 'tis no' our concern. If Cameron has a fight on his hands, he can deal with it. These woods are no' our own. And he would be vexed if he were to learn we were here as strained as our relations are."

The MacNeill? James, the laird, and Dougald? The younger brother who was much like her own brother, a rake, even at his youthful age. She wanted to call out to them, but then again, they were the enemies of her clan. What would they do with her, if they got their hands on her?

Another spoke, "Dougald, James, 'tis no' good. I have ill tidings. Over here."

"Malcolm, what have you…God's knees." James quit speaking.

She banked the tears fighting to be released. She didn't want to know what the MacNeill brothers had found. She didn't want to hear
the
news.

"Come, lass," Alana's da said, giving her a fright, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and she had to cover her mouth to muffle the shriek that tried to escape.

That
did
escape. Muffled, aye, but still she'd made an unnatural sound that was sure to give her away.

The MacNeills grew quiet.

How had her da found her still buried in the leaves now that it was growing so dark? Where were the rest of their men? The lad, Landon?

"Let us go home now," her da said, his voice gentle but insistent as if he was attempting not to frighten her any more than she already was.

She stood, brushing off the leaves that had caught on her woolen cloak and opened her mouth to speak.

"Nay, dinna speak, lass. Dinna say a word. 'Tis no' safe here for you."

Nor for him. Why was he speaking aloud when she couldn't even whisper a word?

"Did you hear it?" Dougald asked. "In the woods some distance away. Over there?"