Highland Rake (2 page)

Panic rose inside her as her da said in a rush, "Hurry, Alana, come this way."

She tried to follow him without tripping over the hem of her tunic or brat or roots or dead branches. She attempted to make the least amount of noise as her boots hurried over the uneven terrain, crunching on the fallen leaves, but not as loudly as the men had done since she was so much lighter in weight. She wanted to ask her da where his horse was and where hers was. Couldn't they ride faster if they were together? Or if she rode with him?

But her da was leading the way and she barely could see anything but him striding quickly ahead of her. She dared not disobey him for he knew the way of warriors and what to do to survive. She dared not lose sight of him, either.

"Over here," Dougald said. "'Tis a young lass's horse. Dinna you think?"

"Lady Alana's horse?" James asked. "She would be the only young lass who would own a horse on the Cameron's lands."

She turned to head back that way—the horse was hers and she wanted her.
Lettie.
What would they do to her? She wanted to protect her.

"Nay," her da warned, his voice rough and edged with concern. "Dinna look back. We are going home, Alana. The others are still searching for you."

The others
. She should have asked who he meant, but her thoughts were still on her horse and what the MacNeills would do with it. 'Twas her horse!

"I have searched, but I have no' found any sign of the lass's body with the others," Dougald said. "Niall, look over there."

"I have searched. Gunnolf and Angus are sweeping the area south."

"Riders!" someone shouted in the distance, and she thought they were some of the men who had attacked hers.

A chill swept up Alana's spine as she continued to hurry after her da and the other riders headed away from the MacNeills and away from her and her da.

Her da urged, "Hurry, Alana. We must hurry before any of them find you."

Any of them—the others and the MacNeills?

Ten years later, Braniff Castle, Cameron Stronghold

With thoughts of preparing for the coming winter and any sickness that might befall the clan, Alana Cameron was snipping medicinal herbs in the garden when she saw movement on the path and looked up, barely managing to stifle a scream. She had not seen her dead brother in several days, believing he had finally passed to whatever world he belonged after he'd died.

She couldn't believe he was here.
Again.

He'd never visited her in the gardens before, her place of sanctuary. Why couldn't he find his proper resting place and leave her be? Not that she didn't love him, but half the time his sudden appearance came as such a shock, she feared screaming out and her clansmen would believe she was possessed.

Standing tall, his arms crossed over his chest, an imperious look on his face, Connell scowled at her. Earlier this morn, she'd gathered blaeberries, bog myrtle, and butterwort from the moorlands. Why had her brother not visited her there where not a soul had been about? Not that there was anyone in the herb garden at this very moment, either, but there could have been and someone could still show up at any time.

"Go away," she whispered, making shooing motions, only because she was alone or she would have to feign he didn't exist. Which he didn't. At least to anyone else.

Why did she have to be plagued with spirits of those who died a violent death and couldn't seem to find their way to the next world? Thankfully, most did, but a few, like her brother, were the exception. She needed only
one
to make her nearly expire on the spot with his or her sudden appearance.

"You didna warn me the lass's husband was returning," Connell growled.

She couldn't believe how real he looked, standing there in his plaid, his blond hair several shades darker than hers, brushing his shoulders, his blue eyes hard with condemnation. She frowned back at him, having had this discussion right after the Highlander had killed her brother.

The fault was not her own! How could he not see that he should take full responsibility for the calamity that had befallen him? Mayhap that was why he was still hanging around her. He needed to accept his complicity in the matter before he found peace.

"I told you," she whispered in an annoyed voice. "I warned you the lass you were dallying with would be your downfall. That her husband wasna one to challenge."

She loved her brother, but no amount of warning him of his folly would have changed his course. When he wanted a lass and she was willing, that's all that needed to be said. The wee matter of a husband would not have stood in Connell's way.

"My lady," a maid said, joining Alana on the stone path in the herb garden.

Heart pounding, Alana whipped about so suddenly, she startled Pelly, a maid who helped Cook in the kitchen. The maid gasped, then quickly curtseyed, her raven-colored hair plaited tight against her head, her soft blue eyes glancing nervously about as if she might have thought Alana
wasn't
alone. But then seeing no one about, she most likely feared Alana was speaking to something or someone no one else could see.

Alana shielded her eyes from the early morning sun, as she stared at the girl, her pulse racing, afraid the servant had overheard Alana speaking to her dead brother and spied her motioning for him to go away. They'd had no rain for days. She'd had to carry water to her special garden just to keep the plants from burning up, and now she was even hotter than before, her skin freckled with perspiration from worry.

"Annoying flies," Alana said, trying to explain why she had been waving her hand in the air and shooing her ghostly brother away. If the girl had heard the rest of her conversation though…

Pelly quickly lowered her lashes, hiding her eyes and whispered, "A lad came by to tell Laird Cameron that Odara, the shepherdess living near the border between our land and that of the MacNeill's, is ill."

Frowning, Alana rubbed her hands together vigorously to brush off the dirt. "My uncle has been gone three days. Has she been ill all this time and no one has told me?" She tried to keep the bite out of her words, but she should have seen to the shepherdess three days ago!

The woman gnawed on her lower lip, then shook her head. "I…I overheard the lad tell your uncle, my lady. I thought he would advise you of the matter. But…but then you never left to see the shepherdess, and I know you
would
have. I…I thought you should know the way of it." She quickly lowered her gaze again.

"All right," Alana said, trying to be consoling. The girl was not at fault for her uncle's omission. Had he forgotten to tell her in his haste to depart for his destination—that was supposed to be unknown to her, though she'd heard rumors that he'd gone to see the MacDonalds?

"I…I overheard him say he was angry the shepherdess had refused to wed a widowed clansman that had offered for her twice, so she could suffer her illness on her own for all he cared," Pelly finally said, breaking into Alana's thoughts. "So when you did not go to her, I thought mayhap you didna hear about it."

Staring at the girl, Alana realized her mouth gaped and she quickly closed it. How could her uncle be so cruel? He normally wasn't like that, she didn't think. Unless he was aggravated about the shepherdess for some other reason as well. Or mayhap his travel objective had made him cross.

Alana was a healer, her mission being to ease the suffering of others as much as she was able. She didn't pick and choose who she would aid in his or her time of need. Odara was Alana's age and pretty with sparkling blue eyes and light red hair, and had played with her when they were little when Odara's mother used to bring sheep to the castle to sell. She was the only girl Alana had ever confided fully in about her secret. Odara had not feared Alana for her oddity, but instead had been fascinated. Even now that they were grown, whenever Odara brought sheep to the castle, Alana always went to see her and wish her well. Though because of Alana's position, Odara was shy around her whenever others were about.

Pelly dropped her gaze to the ground again.

"Thank you, Pelly. That will be all."

The girl curtsied and moved out of her way on the narrow garden path lined with stones.

Alana hurried past her and headed for the servants' entrance, hoping that if her brother had still been standing behind her, he stayed in the garden and wouldn't follow her. Her uncle would have a fit if he knew she used the servants' passage, but it was quicker to reach from the gardens, and the servants were used to seeing her entering it.

Besides, he wasn't there to say anything about it anyway.

Furious he hadn't told her that the woman was ill, now knowing he had done so on purpose and it wasn't an oversight on his part, she wouldn't delay leaving to see to her. What if Odara were to die? Or had died? Alana shook her head at the thought.

It did no good to consider the possibility.

She rushed through the great hall and noticed a few servants glancing in her direction. Her uncle's advisor, Turi, was speaking to one of the men who would be serving guard duty while a young girl was carrying in fresh rushes and spreading them on the floor.

If her uncle had told his advisor that she was not to leave the castle to see to the shepherdess's health should she get word of it, she feared he might try to stop her. She would use the servants' stairs to the floors below hers when she was ready to leave.

In her bedchamber, she hastily packed a bag of her herbs, then quickly exchanged her crimson and blue brat for the pale blue and green plaid wool one. If it had not been so far, she would have walked, but she would have to take her horse, so it would be impossible to leave without some noticing.

She might not have any say in what their people did, but being the niece of the clan chief made her more visible just the same.

She covered her plaited locks with a blue veil, the pale color of her hair a curse. In the full light of the moon, she was certain her hair could be seen from a mile away across the glen.

"Where are you going?" her brother asked, and this time she gasped.

Turning, she glowered at him. Why couldn't he be like a misty version of himself at least, and not so solid she felt she could touch his skin and feel the warmth there still. "Connell, go away! Do whatever you are supposed to do to find peace and leave me alone!" she whispered harshly.

"I canna. 'Tis no' my fault. 'Tis yours."

Annoyed with him that he would find fault with her for his own rash actions, she knew he'd say that again. For whatever reason, he truly believed she was keeping him here, when she had naught to do with it!

"I suspect that our uncle is hoping for an alliance with the MacDonalds," Connell said, changing the subject. "Which means you will most likely be marrying one of the MacDonalds. The middle brother, Hoel, I would think."

She wasn't happy about it, not that she expected to be delighted about any marriage her uncle arranged for her. "Did you overhear him speaking with Turi or someone else about it?" She should have thought to ask her brother. Then again, it would not make any difference as to her fate.

"Aye, I did. I didna wish to speak of it because I didna think you would wish to hear of it."

She'd only seen Hoel once years ago when he was bullying another lad. She'd had to remind herself that he was a warrior, and they all fought and tried to come out on top like a pack of wolves. The weakest didn't stand a chance. With her, he'd treat her as a lady. That's what she told herself. She was only nine at the time, and he four and ten, so he had only given her a cursory disgruntled glance, his older brother a couple of years older, teasing him mercilessly about marrying the fae wench.

Fae
. A derogatory slight because they must have heard the rumors she spoke to the fae. Or mayhap it was because of her hair that some said was so unnaturally light it shown like a soft moon's glow. Didn't that make her one of
them
?

"What do you know about him?" she asked, hurrying to pack herbs in a leather pouch.

"He is strange. Mayhap as much as you?"

She glanced up at her brother, not understanding his meaning. He smiled at her, warmly, in a genuinely affectionate way.

Many years ago during the ambush of their father, the Cameron clan chief and his men while she had been riding with the hunting party, and at her father's urging, she had hidden in the woods as he and the rest of his men fought valiantly to the last man. The overwhelming numbers had been too much, and her father and the rest of her clansmen had been murdered.

Although, she did not believe her father had been. Not when he stayed with her to ensure she'd find her way home. It wasn't until she'd reached the walls surrounding her castle two days later that she'd learned her father had died in the forest with the rest of his men and that he
hadn't
been with her at the gatehouse. When her people had fussed over her so and hadn't spoken a word to her father, she'd turned to look and see why he was not shouting orders. He had vanished.