Ravished by a Highlander (22 page)

“Are ye the reason my nephew is not in England with his father?” Maggie asked her when they were out of earshot from the others.

Davina inhaled deeply before she answered. What were they going to think of her when they found out who she was? When they
realized how much danger Rob had put them all in, and how she’d gone along with it. She realized at that moment just how like
a princess she had behaved thus far. Rob’s family would see her as nothing more than as a spoiled, selfish bratling. “I’m
afraid so,” she answered truthfully.

“Well, ye’re lovely enough to turn a few heads,” Maggie said, glancing up at her from the corner of her eye. “But a bonnie
face isn’t enough to keep Robert from his duties.”

“It was never my intention to…”

“Are ye a Stuart?”

Davina nearly tripped over her feet at the unexpected question. Maggie’s arms caught her, though just barely.

“Aye, I thought as much,” the smaller woman said, reading Davina’s eyes as easily as if she were reading a Gaelic scroll.
“My Jamie’s brother is married to a Stuart. I thought ye were her when I first set eyes on ye on Rob’s horse.”

Davina looked over her shoulder for Rob, but he was gone. What should she say? How much should she tell this stranger who
tore away her secrets with less effort than it took to peel an onion? She did the only thing she could without having to admit
who she was to anyone else but Rob. She evaded the question. “Robert and Finn told me of Lady Claire. I am curious to meet
her.”

“Aye, sweeting,” Maggie spared her a glance that was both kind and shrewd together as they entered the castle. “I’m sure ye
are.”

Davina had never been inside a castle before. She’d seen many drawings of their glorious grand halls and stone stairways in
her books, but walking into Camlochlin felt like stepping back through time and into a dream. She looked around, turning a
full circle in order to take in the full size of everything around her, from the two-foot-thick doors riveted in wrought iron,
to the cavernous corridors lit by candelabras and carved iron wall sconces. There were many people hurrying about, each one
looking at her, many of them smiling.

While Maggie led her toward the stairs, issuing requests to this person or that about their guests’ needs, Davina’s eyes were
fastened on the great tapestries lending warmth to the halls. She’d never seen such workmanship and felt ashamed of her own
needlework skills.

“I’ll put ye in Mairi’s chambers fer now, until we get another cleaned.”

Davina barely heard Maggie, but nodded. She would sleep on the floor without complaint if there were no other chambers available.
She inhaled, trying to place the oddly pleasant scent lacing the air. It smelled like the hills, only richer, smokier. Whatever
it was, she loved it and everything else about Camlochlin. It was Rob, menacing and formidable, until one gained entrance
into its warm, sheltering core.

She didn’t think anything could affect her more than Rob’s home, until she stepped into Mairi’s room. It wasn’t the painted
walls or the rich dark furnishings that made her emotions spring up hot and heavy, but the lesser comforts, like the delicate
brass comb set beside other feminine trinkets on a small table by Mairi’s bed, the dried sprigs of heather arranged in a painted
clay vase on another table by the window. Even the twin swords crossed above an alcoved hearth bore testimony to something
Davina never had. A father who loved and indulged her.

She swiped a tear from her eye when Maggie touched her hand. The smaller woman did not question her, but simply took her hand
and patted it.

“Do ye like rabbit? To eat?” Maggie clarified when Davina blinked at her.

The question was so out of the blue that Davina blurted out the truth before she could stop herself. “N… no.” She cringed,
hoping she hadn’t just insulted her host on a meal she was preparing. “What I mean is… I prefer not eating meat… but I would
be happy to share anything….” Her words trailed off and she couldn’t help but smile at the woman grinning back at her.

D
avina didn’t see Rob again until several hours later that evening. In the meantime, she enjoyed a hot bath, a host of female
visitors who brought her food, handfuls of colorful kirtles, and information about the MacGregor men of Camlochlin, and a
short nap on a heavenly soft mattress.

Their laird, she learned from two of the women who prepared her bath, was fair and patient, and according to Agnes, who spilled
more water onto the floor than into the basin when she spoke of him, as striking as the Cuillin ridge in winter.

When Caitlin MacKinnon brought her a tray of warm leek soup and sops, Davina giggled and gasped when the dark-haired beauty
told her of the rogue, Tristan, and how he enjoyed inciting his younger siblings’ fury as much as he enjoyed ridding lasses
of their virtue.

“He is cunnin’, and sometimes thoughtless,” Caitlin confided. “But ye willna’ care aboot those things once he smiles at ye.
Ye’d do well to steer clear of him,” she added, looking over Davina’s long, flaxen tresses with a glint of envy in her eyes.
“Will is just as handsome, and no’ half as wicked.”

Davina found that a little hard to believe after spending so much time with Will. But she liked Caitlin and suspected that
the girl cared for Tristan and was trying to keep her out of his bed.

“What about Rob?” Davina asked, sipping her mead and trying to sound as indifferent as possible. She believed she already
knew much about him, but she was curious to know what the women of the castle thought of him.

Caitlin followed her to the bed and sat with her as easily as if they were close friends sharing kitchen gossip. “Och, dinna’
waste yer time on that one. He has little use fer anything that willna’ benefit the clan. Besides, I think his faither wants
him to wed Mary MacDonald. Mary’s faither is one of the four main chiefs on Skye and…”

Mary MacDonald? Davina’s heart sank to her feet. Rob hadn’t mentioned her—or his plans to take her as his wife. But how could
she fault him for keeping secrets? How could she be angry with him for kissing her while being bound to someone else, when
she had done the same thing? Still, her heart felt as if it had just been torn in two.

Thankfully, Maggie pushed through the door before Caitlin could tell her anything else she couldn’t bear to hear.

When Rob’s aunt saw Caitlin, she gave her the kind of look one might aim at a cellar rat that had wandered into the kitchen.
Seeing her, Caitlin swept off the bed and hurried out of the room without another word or look in Maggie’s direction.

“What has that trollop been telling ye that brings such gloom to yer face?” Maggie asked, shuffling toward the bed to primp
Davina’s pillows. “Hell, ye look worse than when ye got here.”

Davina sighed quietly and handed Maggie the cup of mead when she held her hand out for it. She didn’t bother lying, since
she was so poor at it and Maggie had already proven that she could see right through her anyway. And so far, the woman hadn’t
regarded her like she had the plague. Davina wanted to keep it that way.

“She told me of Rob’s betrothal.”

“His what?” Maggie gave the pillow a soft punch and motioned for Davina to lie down. “To who?”

“Mary MacDonald.”

“What nonsense,” Maggie huffed. “Mary is a mouse who hides behind her father’s rather large arse every time my Robbie looks
at her. He does not even like her.”

Davina looked up into Maggie’s huge blue eyes and had the urge to throw her arms around her neck. She might have done it too
if Maggie wasn’t tucking her in like a mother.

“Do ye like flowers?”

Smiling, Davina nodded, already growing accustomed to the way Maggie veered from one topic to another.

“Good, because my Jamie has returned from Torrin with a cartload of orchids. I’ll have Agnes bring ye some after yer nap.
They are lovely. I swear the man has a gift fer picking out the bonniest ones. Not a one of them is wilted.”

When Rob’s aunt asked her next question, Davina suspected the purpose behind her quirky diversions was to catch folks completely
off guard.

“So then, ye have tender feelings fer Robert?”

“Yes,” Davina admitted, unable to conceal the answer already softening her features. “I think he is one of the best men I’ve
ever known.”

“Do ye, now?” Maggie asked curiously and sat on the bed beside her. “He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be. Ye’re
not afraid of him then?”

“Oh, heavens, no,” Davina smiled and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was, or how badly she missed lying
in a bed until her head hit the pillow. “He saved me, you know. He rode straight through the Abbey doors and saved me from
the flames.”

She barely heard Maggie leaving the room a short time later. She was asleep in minutes and already dreaming of her champion.

Rob entered the Great Hall with Will and Asher, and Finn close behind. He looked around for Davina and spotted his aunt instead.
She crooked her finger at him when he reached her chair and kissed him on the cheek when he bent to her.

“What was that fer?”

“’Twas fer being so much like yer father.”

As was often the case, Rob had no idea why Maggie would bring that up now at supper. He hadn’t seen her all day, having returned
just a few moments ago from seeing to the villagers. Rather than ask her to enlighten him, he chuckled softly, pulling out
his chair to sit. There was only one person his aunt loved as much as him and his uncle—and it was his father. If Maggie saw
similarities between them and wished to blurt it out when the notion struck her, ’twas fine with Rob.

“She’ll be along anytime now,” Maggie said knowingly when he lifted his gaze to the entrance of the Great Hall. “She woke
from her nap a wee bit ago. I sent Alice and Agnes to help her prepare fer supper. Did ye know that she doesn’t like to eat
meat?”

Rob glanced once again at the entrance and smiled. So, it wasn’t just men who fell helpless to Davina’s natural enchantment.
“I did notice that she ate a good amount of nuts and berries on our way here,” he said, knowing how much his aunt despised
the practice of eating flesh. Davina had won her over easily. “Ye have my thanks fer seein’ to her comfort.” When Maggie’s
gaze softened on him as if she could see his heart right there in his eyes, he looked away, turning his attention to her husband.

“What were the MacLeods doin’ here?”

Jamie Grant looked up and smiled at the server placing his trencher on the table. “Padraig MacLeod is actin’ as chieftain
while his faither is in England. He stopped through here on his way back from meetin’ with Alisdair MacKinnon’s son in Torrin
to bolster their alliance wi’ us all in these uncertain times. I had a missive penned to the MacDonalds in Portree, vowin’
the MacGregors’ support, should they need it.”

“Good,” Rob said, bringing his cup to his mouth. He felt a wee bit guilty about thinking Jamie had left Camlochlin to pick
flowers. He should have known there was another reason for his going to Torrin. Though many Highland clans fought against
each other, if the new king thought to bring his English laws down on them, they would stand together.

“The MacKinnons are with us then?”

“Of course. Skye will always stand secure against outside influences. Our hope is that King James will… Rob?” Jamie paused
until Rob looked away from the entrance and back at him. “She must be an extraordinary lass to be able to distract ye from
yer passions.”

She
was his passion, and he was past caring who knew it. Hell, what in blazes was taking her so long? He hadn’t seen her since
this afternoon and he missed her face so much he was tempted to go get her himself.

“I’ve grown accustomed to havin’ her near,” Rob said, his gaze already being pulled back to the stairs.

“I’ve been informed that she is a princess, mayhap even a goddess.” Jamie winked at Finn, sitting across from him, and then
dipped his bread into his stew. “But I doubt yer faither will accept divinity as a good enough reason no’ to return to his
side.”

“I made my choice, Uncle.”

“And ye couldna’ have chosen to take her to England with ye?” Normally, at this point in any conversation with this particular
nephew, Jamie would never have pressed on. Rob was someday going to lead this clan and he’d learned well not to be rash in
his thinking. He weighed and measured each decision he made before acting upon it, and once he set his course there was no
changing his mind. But he’d never set his course in a different path than his father’s, and never for a lass—who came attached
to an English soldier.

Rob ground his jaw, deciding how best to begin. He had intended on telling his kin the truth about Davina, but exactly how
could he do so without sounding like an impetuous whelp ruled by his emotions? “Her life is in grave danger,” he said, knowing
in his own heart that that was the emotion that ruled him first. “I pledged myself to protecting her, and this is the safest
place I know.”