Journey to the Highlands: Robbie and Caralyn (Clan Grant Series Book 4) (2 page)

Chapter Three

When Caralyn opened her eyes, she stared straight up at a coarse tent over her head. The sun was just coming up, but she had no idea where she was or whose tent she was in. Her face ached something fierce, and she gingerly ran her fingers across her features, detecting crusted blood, swelling around her eye and cheekbone, and a cut lip. What had happened? Her breath hitched at the shooting pain whenever she touched the swollen areas. Oh, dear God, what had happened and where were her bairns?

She moved her legs, but groaned as pain shot from her ankle up to her hip. Her eyes fluttered shut, longing for a return to the blissful darkness, but something prompted her to stay alert. Turning on her side, she moaned at the soft fur beneath her. She was alone in the tent, which was larger than any she had ever seen. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but she controlled them, pulling strength from her gut. Her skin was flayed in multiple places, and memories surfaced of the churlish Norseman who had dragged her toward the seashore.

She managed to get herself to a sitting position and muttered, “Nay! My lassies…” She had sent them to their hiding spot in the rocks. They must still be there. She pushed against the ground and tried to raise herself to a standing position in the tent, clutching a plaid that had been her blanket to cover her, but not caring what she had on underneath or who saw her bare skin. Her daughters. She had to find them. A keening whimper reached her ears and she realized it came from her own lips. She finally stood and made her way to the flap in the tent, limping in pain, but vowing not to stop for anyone or anything. Stepping outside on one foot, she accidentally dropped the plaid to the ground and gripped her shift as she peered at her surroundings, only to find a sea of male faces staring back at her. Confusion clouded her mind. Where was she? Who were these men?

The reception from this group of men confused her. They didn’t make any insulting remarks about her lack of clothing and none of them tried to grab at her; they just stared at her in concern. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the pain in her ankle as she moved forward, trying to find someone, anyone, who could help her find her lassies.

“Please, someone help me,” she shouted to the sky, not caring who responded to her urgent plea.

“Lass, doesn’t look like you should be up and about.”

“The Captain won’t be happy to see you out of his tent.”

At first, she halted as their comments registered in her mind. She must be a sore sight to receive such a response. But there was naught they could say that would sway her from her purpose. Continuing, she stared at the men as she passed, hoping for someone to step forward and help her.

“My daughters? Does anyone know where my daughters are?”

Naught. The men stared at each other in confusion. She had to stay focused.

A whistle stopped all the men in their tracks and eerie silence descended on the group of warriors dressed in red plaid. Caralyn didn’t stop; she couldn’t stop. She had only one goal, to find her bairns. A large man wrapped in the same red plaid surged through the group, bellowing at everyone to stand back. “Leave her be, I said. Finish your duties.”

The apparent leader of the warriors stood in front of her with his hands on his hips, his gaze sending the men scurrying in various directions. When his eyes settled on her, her breath hitched in response to his good looks. It had been a long time since she had seen a man this handsome. He didn’t speak, but reached his arm out in an attempt to usher her back into the tent.

Caralyn would not have it.

“Nay, do not push me inside. I need to leave.” She shoved against his rock hard chest and swatted his hands, grappling with anything she perceived as a possible threat. Glancing around at the strange surroundings, she paused to ask, “Where exactly am I?”

“Lass, you are in the Clan Grant warriors’ camp. My name is Captain Robbie Grant and I am in charge of these men. We are awaiting orders from our king about the war with Norway.”

“Where are my lassies? Take me to them. You have them, don’t you? You found them?” She raked her hand through her tangled locks, frantic to make sense of everything, especially when he shook his head in response.
Nay, nay, nay
. “Why did you bring me here? I need to find my daughters. Tell me you didn’t leave them alone in the cold night?”

“What daughters? I found you on the beach south of Ayr. You were attacked by a lone Norseman. He was dragging you to his galley when I saw him punch you in the face. He knocked you senseless, lass.” The pity in his eyes told her how bad the situation had been.

Panic rushed through Caralyn’s body as she locked eyes with him. Sweat dripped from her palms so she fisted her hands in her shift. She would do anything to make the reality of the situation change, but there was no avoiding the fact that her girls were missing.

Captain Grant held his hand out toward the tent. “Please, I will explain everything that I know.”

Caralyn had no choice. She moved toward the tent and allowed him to hold the flap back for her. Her shoulders slumped as the truth came down hard on her. She was entirely dependent on this one man right now.

Reining in her anxiety, she reached for the strength she needed to listen and plan.

“There were no young ones around you,” Captain Grant said once the tent was closed behind them. “You didn’t leave them behind in the cottage, did you?” His gray eyes bore through her, giving her something unexpected—a strange sense of support.

She shook her head. “Nay, I sent them to their hiding spot.”

“Where? I saw no one.”

“There is a group of craggy boulders not far from shore. I trained them to hide there in case of an attack so they couldn’t be seen by anyone.” Tears formed on her lashes. “I must go. They must still be there.”

“What’s your name?” He reached down to pick up a plaid—probably the one she’d dropped on her way out of the tent—and tossed it over her shoulders. She cringed in response. The warrior held his hands up. “Lass, you have my word as a Grant Highlander, I won’t hurt you.”

“What makes you any different? All men hurt me.” She chewed on her thumbnail, eyeing him carefully.

“Nay, I won’t. As I told you, I am a Grant, and my sire taught me different. I’ll ne’er raise a hand to a woman. You can trust me. Now, tell me your name and I’ll do what I can to help you.”

She flicked her gaze to the big Highlander before returning her attention to her thumbnail. Was it true? Could she trust him? He had kind eyes, gray flecked with silver. It couldn’t hurt to give him her name, she decided. “Caralyn. Caralyn of the Craufords.”

“And you have two daughters?”

“Aye.” She stepped on her left ankle and flinched when she remembered she couldn’t put all her weight on it, but he caught her before she tumbled. Captain Robbie Grant was massive and broad-shouldered, with bronzed skin from the sun and light brown hair. His upper arms looked like tree trunks from the rippling muscles visible through his tunic. But for some strange reason, she trusted him, and not because of his appearance. No, there was something different about his camp, his warriors. They didn’t seem to be the typical roughshod warriors. They had almost treated her with respect. Was that it?

He held his arm out to help her balance. “What do they go by?”

“Gracie is just over two summers and Ashlyn is eight.” Her decision made, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Will you help me? Please? I have to find my bairns.”

Chapter Four

Riding his horse down to South Ayr for a second time, Robbie thought he would lose his mind for sure. He could not believe how his day had gone. After striding toward his tent at dawn to find the gorgeous lass, dressed in naught but a shift, standing amongst his warriors, what else could he do but go daft? Fortunately, his men understood he wouldn’t tolerate any misuse of a woman, but still, they were only human and Caralyn Crauford, if that was her real name, had the most glorious breasts he had ever seen. And it was undeniable that the sight of her had commanded his attention, too. The fact that she was so worried about her daughters made him feel guilty for appreciating her body, but saints above, the lass had the most beautiful form he had ever seen. And those nipples? They had to be the deepest shade of peach, and he yearned to see them bared. Glory, what he wouldn’t give to suckle her until she cried out his name.

Fortunately, his sense of duty overtook his loins, and he had brought her into his tent to find out what he could do for her. The only thing she had told him was her name and that she had two missing daughters. Since he had a younger sister, Jennie, as well as three nephews and three nieces, he had made the only decision possible. There were two young lassies on their own in South Ayr, so he was heading back to the area where he’d first found her. His commander, Alexander of Dundonald, would not be pleased with the delay, but knowing first-hand what the Norse were capable of, he could do naught but follow his gut. If the Norsemen had managed to find her wee lassies, all he could do was shake his head at the thought of what might have befallen them.

Being in charge of the largest group of Highland warriors, at last count around three hundred and fifty, was a major undertaking. Widespread war was imminent, Robbie could feel it, which was also the reason his commanding officer would be unhappy with his decision. He had left another warrior in charge before heading out with Tomas to try and find the girls. They had to act fast in case the Grant warriors were called into battle. Robbie was determined to be there when he was needed. He would make his clan proud, even if he lost his life in the endeavor.

Caralyn had begged to come along, but they’d convinced her that her injury would only slow them down.

Robbie came down the path and slowed to a canter, shouting at Tomas. “Check the cottages and make sure there is no evidence of any bodies.”

Glancing at the burned cottages, he hoped the wee lassies had known enough to stay away from the embers. When he found the area of large rocks near the beach, he dismounted. This had to be the place Caralyn had described. “Gracie? Ashlyn?”

Silence.

Tomas rejoined him. “No bodies that I could find. Looks as though everyone got out in time in the two cottages I checked.”

He and Tomas dismounted before wandering through the area, and searched in between the rocks, but there was no sign of the little girls. Hellfire, he had to find them. “Head down the beach, Tomas. I’ll go this way. The thought of two lassies out here alone churns my belly. Where could they be?”

Robbie pictured what Caralyn Crauford’s face would look like if he was forced to inform her that he had been unable to locate her daughters. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He suddenly understood why his brother Alex had been so driven to help his now-wife Maddie when they first met. His devotion to her and his determination to save her from abuse had made him a new man.

Just as Robbie was about to head in a different direction, he heard a sound to his left in a group of trees. Jerking his head in that direction, he froze. A wee lass about the age of his niece, Lily, stood just behind the front row of trees. She made no sound, just peered at him, curiosity apparently winning over the need to hide.

“Gracie?” Robbie took a few more steps toward the lass, but then he stopped in his tracks, not wanting to scare her away.

“Gracie,” he squatted down not far from the bairn. “Your mama is with me at my camp. She sent me to rescue you and bring you and your sister back to her. Where is Ashlyn?” No answer. She stared at him with the biggest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. She did not smile or cry, just stared. He stood and moved a few steps closer.

A voice broke through the trees. “Gracie doesn’t like men.”

“Ashlyn? My name is Captain Robbie Grant. I have come to help you. Your mama sent me. Are you both unhurt?”

Ashlyn popped out from behind a large tree trunk. “You aren’t the man who dragged her to the beach.” She pointed to Tomas coming toward them. “Who is that?”

“Nay, I’m not the one who hurt your mama. I would never hurt a woman or a child. You can trust me, lass. And you can trust my friend.”

Her unwavering gaze caught his. “You’re the man who took her away on your horse. But you killed the bad man first. You ran him through with your sword after he punched our mama in the face.”

She stood straight and proud, just as her mother did. Unfortunately, that told him quite a bit about her past. They hadn’t lived an easy life. This lass of eight summers had protected her sister and kept them both alive overnight, a stark tribute to her character.

“Aye, lass, ‘twas me. I’m sorry you had to see that.” Robbie nodded to Tomas, who had made a slow approach and was now standing next to him. “This is my friend, Tomas.”

She moved to her sister’s side and grasped the wee lass’s hand. “I didn’t let Gracie watch, just me. I had to see where Mama was. But you took her and I didn’t know where she had gone. I searched for her last night. Is Mama safe?”

“Aye, your mama hurt her leg, and she has some bruises, but she’ll be fine in a few days. She is verra worried about you. You and Gracie are good?”

“We aren’t hurt, just hungry. We ran out of oatcakes. Gracie is verra hungry.”

Robbie held his hand out to the young girl. “Come with me. I have a couple of oatcakes in the satchel on my horse.”

“Please give them to Gracie. She needs to eat more than I do.” Ashlyn leaned down to her sister and whispered in her ear. “Come, Gracie. This man has an oatcake for you.”

Gracie peered up at her sister and nodded. Robbie waited, expecting to see a smile cross the wean’s face at the mention of food, but her expression never changed. Tomas followed them over to the horses.

Guessing at his thoughts, Ashlyn said, “She never smiles, Captain Grant, nor does she talk.”

“She doesn’t need to talk or smile, as long as she eats.” He led the two waifs over to his horse and dug in his bag until he produced two oatcakes. “Do you have anything you wish to bring with you, lass?”

“Aye, my sack is behind the tree. Gracie, stay with Captain Grant for a moment while I get our things.” She let go of Gracie’s hand and ran back into the trees.

Robbie held the oatcake out for Gracie. She grabbed it from his hand and sat on the ground. She devoured the food, but never took her wide eyes off him. When Ashlyn returned, he offered her an oatcake, too, but she handed it over to Gracie, who finished it in seconds. He handed Ashlyn his skein of water.

“Ashlyn, you need to keep your strength up. You must eat as well. Tomas, do you have another oatcake with you?”

“Gracie needs it more. I am fine.” She leaned over her sister and brushed the crumbs from her mouth and skirts before helping Gracie drink from the skein. “Thank you for saving our mama.” She handed the water back to Robbie.

Tomas handed an oatcake to Ashlyn. “Here, lass, this is for you.”

Ashlyn paused for a moment before she took it, stuffing it into the folds of her skirt. “My thanks. I will eat it later. Can we go see her now?”

“Aye, you may ride with Tomas and Gracie can ride with me. Tomas will tie your things to his saddle.” He handed the sack to his friend.

“But Gracie won’t go with you. It’s as I said, she doesn’t like men.”

“Even her da?”

“She doesn’t know her da, and my da died several years ago.”

Gracie eyed both men warily. She stood up and walked over to her sister, clasping Ashlyn’s hand. “She will probably have to ride with me.”

Robbie wasn’t about to argue. “Fine. I’ll hand the girls up to you after you mount, Tomas.” Once Tomas was in his saddle, Robbie settled Ashlyn in front of him. When Robbie reached for Gracie, she held her arms up to him, but when he lifted her toward Tomas, she shook her head vehemently.

Ashlyn whispered, “I told you there would be trouble with her. Gracie has only known mean men.”

Robbie peered into the wee one’s eyes. He didn’t relish the idea of finding out about the mean men in her life or why she never smiled. After a short pause, Gracie’s hand popped up and pointed directly at Robbie’s horse. Ashlyn sucked in a breath in apparent surprise.

Robbie didn’t wait to see if the girl would change her mind. He didn’t have time. He mounted with the lass under his arm, then settled her in front of him. Rather than complaining or crying, she clung to his forearm.

“Captain Grant, you must be special.” Ashlyn smiled from Tomas’s horse.

Robbie started his horse at a slow trot, but Gracie never flinched, just continued to hang on tight to his arm. She was a sweet wee thing, but sad she never smiled. When he increased to a gallop, Tomas following behind him, he checked on the lass again, but she seemed fine. Less than half a mile later, Gracie leaned back and fell asleep in his lap, her thumb propped in her mouth.