The Accidental Highland Hero (5 page)

“Lass, your name?  The name of the ship you were on?” he asked, his voice harried, but coated with warmth and reassurance.

Her name?  Panic rose in every bit of her. Her name?  Why could she not remember her name?

“She is half drowned, Eanruig. She will never make it to Castle Craigly,” the younger man said.

Eanruig snorted. “She is a Scotswoman, Niall. She will make it.”

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“Aye, if you are thinking the comely lass would be a good offering for your cousin James.”

Nial laughed. “‘Twould be something, would it not, if she were not betrothed or wed, to fish the half-drowned lass out of the sea and present her to the only clan chief in the region who refuses every offer of a wife, and he accepted her?  Except we have no idea which clan she hails from nor if we are at war with them. And as choosy as my cousin is…”  His words dropped off, and he said no more.

  Was she betrothed?  She could not recall. She could not remember anything, and the panic returned with a vengeance. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the brightness of the sun, saw the tanned face of the dark bearded man who carried her, his black hair hanging loosely about his shoulders, dripping wet like she was. Wet and cold.

“But bonny Catriona will catch James’s eye, and that will be the end to this madness. ‘Tis not fair he has had four offerings and has turned them all down.” Niall glanced down at her. “She is awake.” His voice was tinged with hope. “Lass, your name?”

She looked at the younger man, his dark brows furrowed with concern, his brown eyes wide. He stood tall and lean, his posture straightening as if to impress her of his height. She
was
impressed. High cheekbones and an angular face were covered in a shadow of a beard running along his chin and jaw, giving him a slightly roguish look. A steady breeze tugged at his wet, tangled auburn hair. He seemed familiar somehow. Was this good or bad?

His lips curved up slightly. Was he amused at the way she so boldly considered his attributes?  She only wished to consider the men more closely who had rescued her. Would they soon place her in a dungeon?

Mayhap they would, if she was one of the clan who had attacked these two. Beaten by the waves and wind and rain and rocks, she was too weary to care what happened next.

The older man, Eanruig, the other had called him, stared at her for a moment, then watched again where he was going, his long stride carrying her farther away from the waves crashing against the beach. “No other survivors. But the lass does seem a wee bit familiar.”

No, not him. She didn’t recall having seen the older man before.

“It was God’s will we found her when we did, or she might not have made it.”

“Aye, if Dunbarton’s men had not set upon us, we might not have paused at the beach and seen the lass. Which makes me wonder what they were doing there in the first place. Although our men are still trying to learn about the ship that Dunbarton was interested in. I am wondering if their cargo was on the same ship the lass was on.” Eanruig smiled. “If so, he has lost his precious cargo at the bottom of the sea.” He gave a shake of his head. “As for your cousin, he rejected the last four lassies, Niall. Think you he will not reject Catriona also?  He is a hard man to please.”

“Aye, my aunt has always said so.”

The two men laughed.

“Catriona will be here on the morrow to catch James’s eye,” Niall said. “Think you I will have a chance with this one?”

Eanruig considered her further. “She is a bonny lass, lad. You stand a chance if she is not from an enemy’s clan. Unless she is already betrothed.”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep then wake and know who she was and where she was bound, whether she was wed and if so, had she lost her family aboard the ship?  Her heart sank even further into a pit of despair. But she could conjure up no feelings about the matter, no sense of what had been, and it was more than terrifying.

“James will be enraged when he hears of this latest attack against us.”

“On his own cousin, no less,” Eanruig said.

Then the sun, the smell of the man’s fishy woolen clothes, or even her own, the touch of his warm body, and the smell of the horse he lifted her onto, all faded into nothingness.

 Sometime later, although she was not sure how much except the sun hovered high above, the rhythmic clip-clops of the horses woke her. She observed the inner bailey of a sandstone castle that appeared golden in the sun’s rays. Several men, women, and children ran to greet the two men and stare at the stranger in their midst. Worse, she was as much a stranger to herself as she was to them. Yet something deep inside her begged her to keep her identity secret as if it was best no one ever knew her. What evil had she done to warrant feeling in such a manner?

“Who is the lass, Niall?” an older woman asked, her brown eyes warm and kindly, her equally dark brown hair tinged with a light smattering of gray, braided down her front.

The ends wrapped in silk, and metal tassels extended them even farther for the longest, most beautiful tresses. Having her hair adorned with expensive trinkets and fabric indicated she was the lady of the castle. She had the same eyes and mouth as Niall. A relation, no doubt.

“Half-drowned in the sea, my lady, and the ship carrying her lost forever,” Eanruig said. “As fiery colored as her cheeks are, I fear she has taken a fever.”

The woman placed ice cold fingers on her temple, and she shivered. “She is burning up. Take her into the guest chamber next to the laird’s.”

Niall’s brows rose. “Aunt Akira, I thought you bid the servants prepare the chamber for Catriona.”

The woman huffed, her eyes narrowing. “Think you she arrives on time?  Nay, the willful lass sends word she is coming in a fortnight.”

“You have told James?” Niall asked, his voice dark.

“Nay. Mayhap a miracle will occur, and Catriona will arrive on the morrow as she had promised. No sense in borrowing trouble. Who is the lass, Niall?”

Their words echoed off the massive stone walls of the keep.

“She has not spoken a word, my lady.”

“We have no idea which clan she comes from?”

“Nay, Aunt,” Niall said. “And naught from the wreckage to identify the ship.”

“Verra well. I will be right up to see to her. And Niall?”

“Aye, my lady?

“You and Eanruig, no word to His Lairdship concerning the lady.”

“Because we know not who she is?”

“My verra thoughts, nephew. ‘Tis best James not know who she is until we do. He has had his own battle this morning with more raiders and is not in a verra good mood.”

“And if she is from the enemy’s clan?”

“We will deal with that when we have to.”

Then the interrogation would truly begin, and her deepest worry beset her. Who was she truly, and was she from an enemy clan?  Was she in league with those who had attacked her rescuers?  She would die if she was, after the kindness these people had shown her.

****

In his solar, James listened intently to what his seneschal and his cousin had to say about the attack at the beach, both looking a little worse for wear. “Have you no idea what the precious cargo was they were seeking?  The ship would have docked at the seaport. Why would the brigands be so far away from the docks?  And why were you not with the rest of our men?”

Niall cleared his throat and glanced at Eanruig as if waiting for him to explain. His seneschal didn’t seem to have an answer any more than his cousin did, but then Niall spoke. “The ship had broken up in the storm. ‘Tis our guess they were searching to see if anything survived. Our men were still trying to find records of a ship coming in at the docks. We had not thought Dunbarton’s men would be at the beach and not at the docks, but they must have seen the debris as well, and gone to investigate.”

James rubbed his chin, his thoughts dark. “I have to know what the cargo was that Laird Dunbarton deemed precious.” He considered Niall’s bloodied sleeve. “Your blood or theirs, cousin?”

“A wee bit of both.”

“Have Tavia see to your injuries.” James turned his attention to Eanruig, the man as big as the one he had bested earlier in the day and the perfect choice as a bodyguard for his cousin.

Although neither Eanruig nor he would ever let on to Niall that was the purpose Eanruig served whenever they left the castle. With his three brothers gone to seek their fortunes, James was not about to lose his cousin, who had been raised as their brother, to a band of rogues. Beyond being incensed Dunbarton’s men attacked him and James’s seneschal, the business of a shipment coming to port that carried some goods for Dunbarton’s clan, intrigued him. Good that the ship sank and left them without. But he had to know what precious cargo the ship had held. No doubt Laird Dunbarton would pay for another shipment, and James would have to stop that one next.

“The men on board the ship all drowned, I take it?”

“Aye,” Eanruig quickly said.

James stared at him, feeling as though something was not right. His cousin and Eanruig were much more subdued than they normally would be after a clash with Dunbarton’s warriors. Although they were now dry, he could smell the saltwater on their skin, and a residue of the white powdery sea salt clung to Eanruig’s beard and both men’s hair.

“You took a dunk in the briny sea?”

“Aye,” Niall said, then his lips lifted a wee bit, but the result looked insincere.

A servant carrying a bucket of water hurried to pass him, but as soon as James caught his eye, the man quickly lowered his gaze and rushed toward the stairs.

This matter concerning choosing his betrothed had to be decided quickly. ‘Twas making his people ill at ease whenever they saw him, but he did not think he was to blame.

****

A hoard of women pulled off her wet gowns and though a fire burned in the hearth, she was even colder than before. Then sometime between that horrendous effort and the next, she, who couldn’t remember her name, was washed, then dressed in a dry gown. Lying buried beneath blankets in a huge bed and smelling of sweet lavender, she stared up at the face of Niall’s kindly aunt.

“Lovely lass, may we know your name?” the lady asked. Large concerned brown eyes and lips curved upward slightly as if trying to set her at ease, greeted her.

Niall stepped into the room, and his aunt frowned at him.

“Did you learn her name?  Which clan she is from?” he asked.

“She is barely able to stay awake. She has had a bad bump on her head. I fear ‘tis hopeless until she is better.”

“James is asking again about Catriona. Would it not be better if we told him the truth?  That the lass will not be here on the morrow?”

“Nay, you know how he is. He must have a wife by winter, or give up the clan to his brother, Malcolm. So leave him be. For a fortnight, he has behaved like a bear. ‘Tis better he knows naught about Catriona until the morrow. Mayhap she has changed her mind and will still arrive by then?”

“Aye, like the remnants of the ship we plucked the lassie from will suddenly become whole and emerge from the bottom of the sea.”

His aunt smiled at him. “‘Tis not that you have some interest in the lass, is it?”

He shrugged. “I will need a wife one of these days, especially should James’s brothers not be interested in being laird. Then I would be next in line. And I am not as choosy as my cousin.” He grinned. “This one suits me fine.”

His aunt shook her head. “Impulsive as always. You have no knowledge of who the girl is. What if she is married?  With child even?”