Ian (12 page)

“Te protect ye,” he said. “Why else?”

He coul
d see the look of dismay on her face and wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her gently on the cheek. To tell her not to worry, that he wasn’t going to let her go through with this marriage and that he’d find a way to stop it. But instead, he just looked the other way and continued on. If Kyla even had a hint that he was along to stop the marriage from happening, she’d be so angry thinking he was trying to keep her from happiness that she’d probably come after him with her dagger.

Nay, he couldn’t tell her. He’d just have to show her somehow that she didn’t really want to marry
a MacTavish even if she was convinced she’d seen her husband-to-be in the Samhain bonfire and thought it her destiny.

At first
, Ian had thought she’d seen Tearlach in the flames, the same as he had, but was glad when she’d told him differently. None of this witchery was real he told himself and neither did any of it matter. After all, the man he’d seen in the fire was no vision – he was dead. Dead and buried by Ian’s own hand, and most likely rotting away in a place worse than hell right now.

“There’s a pub up ahead,” he told her. “We’ll stop there fer the night.”

“Why no’ jest sleep on the ground the way we did comin’ back from Glasgow?”

“Nay,” he said with a shake of his head, his eyes constantly scanning the grounds for anyone possibly following them. “It’s too risky. If we come across the MacGillivrays and especially if they’ve heard we’ve made an alliance with the MacTavishes, they’ll no’ be happy aboot it. And I wouldna want te even think what they’d try te do te a future bride o’ one o’ their enemies.”

“Fine. I dinna care where I sleep, but let’s jest get te the pub becooz I’m hungry.”

Once they arrived at the Buzzard’s Beak Pub at the south end of Loch Tulla, Ian dismounted quickly and reached up to help Kyla off the horse. Kyla was about to object, and he probably knew it, because before she’d given her permission, his hands were around her waist and he lifted her in his strong arms and set her feet gently on the ground.

She looked up, and in the moonlight his
profile was sharp and confident. His face seemed even more handsome and rugged then she’d ever noticed before. His eyes settled on her, guarded and yet at the same time filled with half promises. Then his gaze lowered slightly and she was sure he was looking at her mouth. But it only lasted a second before he quickly looked the other away. That got her thinking about kissing him again, but she wouldn’t now that she was going to be married to someone else. Besides, she knew it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Wel
l, what are we waitin’ fer?” she asked, turning around and starting to unfasten the travelbags from the horse.

“I’ll get the
t,” he told her, and came up behind her and reached around her, the warmth of his chest pressing into her back, and the scent of woodsmoke and pine drifting past her nose from his clothes. He reached out a hand, letting it rest atop hers. She felt a slight tingle flit across her skin just from his mere touch. She closed her eyes, and realized she was holding her breath. Then she released her breath, opened her eyes, and quickly pulled her hand away.

His wolfhound
came up, sniffing her, and she was glad for the distraction and bent over and ran her hands through the hound’s fur.

A stableboy ran up to Ian, and helped him to unfasten the travelbags from his horse as well. Ian threw all the bags over his shoulder and flipped the boy a coin.

“Can ye tell me, are there any MacTavishes or MacGillivrays in the pub tonight?” he asked him.

“Nay,” the boy answered. “The MacGillivrays passed through here just yesterday, and the MacTavishes havena been back since their chieftain caused a ruckus and started a brawl o’er a lassie he was tryin’ te bed.”

“That sounds like the MacTavishes,” he said, shifting the bags on his arm. “Who is their
new chieftain now-a-days anyway?”

“
They have no new chieftain,” said the boy. “It’s the same it’s always been fer as long as I can remember.”

“What?” asked Ian.
“Who?”

The boy looked at him as if he were addled that he had to ask a question like this. “Why I’m speakin’ o’ Tearlach MacT
avish. I thought e’ery Highlander kent this.”

“Tearlach?”
Dread as well as disbelief swept through him, as he was startled by this announcement. It couldn’t be true. He’d killed that bastard. “Are ye sure, laddie? I thought he was deid.”

“O’ course I’m sure,” the boy
said with a laugh. “Tearlach MacTavish was deid, but he came back te life. I’m surprised ye didna hear.”

“So am I
,” he said, knowing the lad had to be wrong, yet feeling a stab to his gut that told him it could somehow be true. He pulled another coin from his pouch and handed it to the boy. “This is fer ye. Now I want ye te alert me if ye see anyone from either o’ the two clans. I dinna care if it is in the middle o’ the night, I want ye te find me and tell me afore they step foot inte the pub. Do ye understand?”

“Aye,” said the boy with wide eyes, taking the money from him eagerly and slipping it into his own pouch. “Anythin’ fer ye, Ian MacKeefe.”

“How do ye ken who I am?” asked Ian.

“E’eryone kens
aboot the Madmen MacKeefe,” the boy told him. “And I jest figured it was ye by yer tartan, as well as the fact I’ve heard aboot yer new hound. It’s an honor te be at yer service.”

“All right then,” said Ian with a nod of his head,
surprised at how fast news traveled. The boy took the horses and headed to the stable. Ian was rather pleased that his reputation preceded him, but at the same time it worried him. If this stableboy had known his identity, then others would know too. And if so, they’d probably be looking for trouble. He would have to raise his guard around a place like this.

He turned around and almost bumped into Kyla who was standing right behind him with his hound at her side.

“Why did ye ask him aboot the clans? And who is this chieftain, Tearlach thet ye speak o’?”

“
I’m jest bein’ careful, thet’s all. Dinna worry aboot it,” he said, stepping around her and heading for the pub. She followed closely at his heels just like the wee sister of his friend had always done. His hound ran up ahead of them.

“If I’m goin’ te be a MacTavish, then I need te ken all I can aboot them.”

“I dinna expect ye to ken aboot Tearlach since ye’re a lassie,” he said. He knew he’d made a mistake in saying that when she stopped and didn’t continue to follow. He glanced back over his shoulder, and by the firm set of her jaw and the way her narrowed eyes burned into him, he realized he’d managed to annoy her.

“I’ll find out all I
need with or without yer help, Ian MacKeefe.”

“Ye jest do thet,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand and pulling her along with him. “But right now we need te get a room and some shut eye fer the night. Tomorrow is goin’ te be one hell o’ a day
, and I need me rest.”

He knew he
wasn’t going to be able to relax now after what he’d just heard from the stableboy. But he needed time to think without Kyla rambling on, because he didn’t know how a dead man could rise from the grave. And he was no longer sure he even wanted to march right into MacTavish territory if this rumor were true. But he knew he had no choice. The clans had made an alliance, and if he didn’t hold up the MacKeefes end, the MacTavishes were sure to attack in retaliation.

He opened the door to the pub and his hound darted inside and got lost in the crowd. It wasn’t one of the better pubs in Scotland like old Callum’s Horn and Hoof. Nay, this pub smelled strongly from cheap whisky, soiled rushes
, and . . . sex. Sure enough, he no sooner had a foot in the door when a whore had her hand on him.

“In need o’ a woman tonight?” she asked, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

“Nay,” he said, trying to ignore her as he handed a coin to the bouncer at the door. It was required for entry to the pub, as many fights broke out and the entry fee would help pay for damages should this happen. “I’m already here with a woman, so I willna be requirin’ yer services, but I thank ye jest the same.”

The whore looked over to Kyla and scowled. “She’s no’ a woman, she’s jest a girl. Let me ken if ye change yer mind, as such a fine man with a body like yers shouldna be wasted on the likes o’ her.”

He saw Kyla’s hostile glare toward the whore, and when she started opening her mouth to say something he knew there was going to be trouble. He couldn’t allow that to happen tonight. He needed to keep his head clear and think about what he was going to do come the morrow. So he did the only thing he could to shut her up. He leaned over and kissed her.

Kyla was about to tell the whore to go to hell, when Ian surprised her by placing his mouth over hers. It was the last thing she’d expected after the other night, and if she hadn’t been so shocked she probably would have said something instead of standing there with her mouth open like a beached fish gasping for water as soon as he’d pulled away.

The bouncer t
ook the coin and bounced it atop the wet board in his hand to make certain it was real. It bounced once, and with a satisfied nod, he quickly shoved the coin into the pouch at his side. “Go on in,” he said. “But the pub is crowded and I’d suggest keepin’ thet wench o’ yers close te yer side if ye dinna want her touched by the drunken patrons. After all, she is quite a looker.” The man perused her and Kyla found herself pulling her shawl closer to hide his view. This place was filthy and smelled, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to be here.

“Do ye have any private rooms left?” asked Ian.

“I think there may be one if ye’re willin’ te pay the price.” The man smiled at Kyla just then, showing his blackened and broken teeth.

“Thanks,” said Ian, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her along with him.

“Ian, slow down,” Kyla said, almost tripping over the thick rushes as they tangled in her skirts as they swept across the floor. Still, he moved quickly toward the pubkeeper at the other side of the room. Usually the rushes of the floor were changed in order to keep them fresh, but they were so thick in this place and smelled so bad that Kyla knew they just kept laying new ones atop the old ones, and who knew what was hidden underneath.

“I dinna want ye lingerin’ in a place like this,” he said over his shoulder. “Now stay close te me, Kyla, as I’m no’ sure how safe it is fer ye te even be in here.”

“Then why dinna we jest sleep in the stables?” she asked.

“Nay. Too vast an area. At least if we’re in a room I can keep a better eye on ye.” He s
topped in front of the pubkeeper and exchanged a few words. She digested what he’d just said and realized they were going to have to share a room together.

“I’m no’ stayin’ in
the same room with ye,” she informed him.

“Ye are and ye have nothin’ te say aboot it, now I dinna want te hear anot
her word.” He paid the man, and just then his wolfhound walked up and jumped up and settled its paws on Ian’s shoulders, towering over Kyla and being as tall as Ian.

“Get down, Kyle,” Ian growled, pushing the dog’s paws from his shoulders.

“Ye canna keep that hound in here,” said the pubkeeper, taking a step back. “He’s too big and will cause trouble.”

“He’ll be in the room with us,” said Ian. “He won’t cause any trouble, I promise.”

“Nay,” said the man shaking his head. “Ye either keep the hound outside or in the stables, or ye canna have a room.”

“Fine,” grumbled Ian. “I’ll take him to the stables.
Come on,” he told Kyla.

She was tired and really didn’t want to have to go back outside and then walk through the midst of these smelly drunkards again.

“Canna I jest stay here and wait?” she asked. “I really dinna want te go out te the stables.”

“Nay,” he answered quickly, and grabbed for her hand again.

“I’m no’ goin’!” She shook out of his hold.

“Dinna give me trouble, Kyla, or I’ll put ye o’er me knee.”

There he was treating her like a child again, and she didn’t like it.

“I’ll watch her,” the pubkeeper offered.

Ian seemed to think for a moment, and his eyes scanned the room. Then he looked over to her and nodded slightly. “Fine, since I dinna want te fight with ye and cause a scene. But go on up and wait for me. Dinna stay here. We’re in room number two,” he told her. “I’ll be right there after I take care o’ me hound.”

He left her standing there and hurried to the door, still holding the travelbags over his shoulder
and being followed by his pet. Kyla watched him leave the pub, and suddenly every man there seemed to be looking at her. The whores glared at her as well, and the walls seemed to be closing in. She took a step backwards and stumbled when she bumped into the pubkeeper.

“Och, I’m sorry,” she said, turning around quickly. The man stood close to he
r – so close she could smell garlic and onions on his breath. “I’ll jest head on up to our room.” She took a step forward and the man blocked her.