The Warrior Laird (17 page)

And she was expendable.

Maura knew 'twould be a long time before she would be able to fall asleep, but it hurt too much to talk to him any more. Besides, she needed to give him some time to decide what he was going to do.

She heard him grumble as he pulled on his clothes. He blew out the candles, then pushed the chair to the door. To guard it, presumably. As though she could leave wearing naught but her shift.

Clearly, 'twould be a cold day in hell before he cared enough about her to keep her from Kildary.

 

Chapter 19

M
orning dawned. Maura was still asleep and every bit as alluring as Dugan had found her last night, but at least his reason had returned. So had his anger.

He got up from his chair and stretched, and made a point of avoiding looking at her. When he thought of her sweet kisses, 'twas far too easy to contemplate abandoning his ransom demand.

He picked up his maps and left her sleeping while he went into the room where his men had slept. He wanted—needed—to consult with them.

Needed to put some space between himself and Maura before his anger could dissipate.

The men were all awake, and Dugan went directly to a table that stood by the window. He cleared everything from its surface and spread out the section of the map that showed Loch Monar. “Come here, all of you.”

“What is it, Dugan?” Lachann asked.

“What does this look like to you?” He pointed to Loch Monar.

“ 'Tis Loch Aveboyne,” Conall replied.

“No,” Lachann said. “ 'Tis more the shape of Loch Monar.” He pointed to another blue shape. “This is Aveboyne, north of Monar. See how much longer and narrower it is.”

“Aye,” Dugan replied. “Look closely at Loch Monar. Do you see any sign on this map that the gold might be hidden there?” Dugan stepped back and let the others study the document, hoping one of them would take note of the green mark.

The men shook their heads, all but Bryce. “Dugan, you do'na mean this green splotch of ink at the wee neck of land on the north shore?”

“ 'Tis naught but a blur of ink,” Lachann said, and Dugan heard a fair degree of incredulity in his tone. “Dugan, this is just the blue of the loch, blurred away from the main part.”

Conall frowned, lowering his head even closer to the map. “Mayhap not, Lachann. This is definitely a mark made in green paint, Laird.”

“Well, I am fairly sure this is Loch Monar, and the Duke of Argyll asked a few pointed questions about it last night,” Dugan said. “I think he's heard of the gold and he intends to look there for it.”

The men were silent as they considered Dugan's words.

“Just because Argyll believes it's there doesn't mean it is, Dugan,” said Lachann. “This mark . . . Well, it looks like naught to me.”

Dugan rubbed the back of his neck. The green spot was hardly the beacon that should draw him to Loch Monar.

“Well then, let's find Loch Nan Eun. 'Tis another spot Argyll mentioned.” Though Dugan believed 'twas just a distraction from the site Argyll really believed in.

“I see naught,” Conall said.

Bryce shook his head.

“Dugan, I don't think we can put all our hopes in this spot,” Lachann said, pointing to the green mark at Loch Monar.

“Nor I,” said Bryce.

Dugan let out a long breath. According to Maura, the gold was located elsewhere. Could he believe her?

Could he risk following Maura into the highlands merely because she claimed she'd figured out the key to the map and knew where the gold had been hidden? Or was she leading him on in the hope that his ransom plan would fall apart if she was not at Braemore when the baron arrived?

He should have known from the moment he'd seen Lady Maura facing down that ram by the waterfall that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Dugan could not help but hope he wasn't about to make an even more serious error in judgment, worse than the enormous mistake he'd made the night before. As much as he did not like it, the lass belonged to Kildary. He'd been a fool to touch her.

A fool to want her.

But even now, he could not regret one moment that he'd spent in her bed. He wanted her still, wanted to wipe away the sheen of tears and kiss away the hurt expression in her eyes.

But he could not.

“Lachann, go to Caillich's stable and try to get a look at Argyll's baggage. See if you can determine how many men he brought with him and whether they have carts with shovels and picks.”

Lachann nodded and went to follow his brother's orders. The other lads left to find Archie and hunt down some breakfast while Dugan shaved and washed and made himself ready to face Maura.

He admitted she had a very good reason to lie about discovering the key to the map. They both knew a delay in their arrival at Braemore could negate Dugan's ransom demand. If Dugan did not produce his captive when Kildary or his men arrived at his keep, he might well forfeit the ransom.

On the other hand, if she helped him find the gold, she would be free to make her way up to Loch Camerochlan and take her sister wherever she decided to go.

Dugan didn't want to give her to Kildary, but he surely did not care to think of her traveling all the way to Camerochlan alone, and then leaving Scotland for good.

Kieran and Calum would make haste in their journey to Cromarty to deliver the ransom demand, and Kildary or his men would leave immediately for Braemore. 'Twas what Dugan would do if his own bride were threatened.

But perhaps Dugan could delay Kildary at Braemore. It would take some days for the baron to travel all the way from Cromarty to the western highlands . . . By the time he arrived, Dugan might already have the French gold in his possession.

Dugan decided on a plan as he folded his plaid about his waist and fastened his belt. He would send Bryce to placate Kildary while he and the other men accompanied Maura to the location where she believed the gold was hidden. If they did not find it—well, then they would hurry back to Braemore and turn her over to Kildary.

Not that it would be easy, for Maura was certain not to cooperate.

T
here was no room in Maura's heart for any fondness toward Laird MacMillan, in spite of what had transpired between them in her room the night before. Perhaps
because
of what had happened. She was so embarrassed to have bared not only her body, but her soul to him.

And he'd handed it right back to her when he declared there was no change in his plan to ransom her.

She'd been right to keep her knowledge about Loch Aveboyne from him. She prayed she would be able to find the loch, for 'twas the only chance she had for getting away from Lord Kildary and on to Loch Camerochlan.

Dugan must have significant doubts about Loch Monar actually being the location of the gold, because now he'd decided to trust her. Well, not actually trust her. 'Twas clear by his cold manner this morn that he had no particular liking for his predicament. She knew his preference to send her to Braemore had not changed. Their intimate interlude meant naught.

And so it would mean naught to Maura.

She had to get her hands on the other sections of the map, though, and try to make out the rest of the words that were etched on them. Perhaps Loch Aveboyne was not actually the location. Perhaps the rest of the message indicated that the gold was miles away from Aveboyne. Or sunk in the middle of the loch.

But at least she was not doomed to become Kildary's bride. At least, not yet.

“Which way, Maura?” Dugan asked. His voice slid through her like warm honey. But she resisted any softening toward him.

“Where is Bryce?”

“I asked you a question, woman.”

She straightened her shoulders and bolstered her resolve. He would
not
intimidate her. “We travel northwest, as before.”

It was early, and no one but servants were about the castle bailey. The sun had not even crested the mountain peaks to the east, but Calum, Archie, and Lachann had already saddled their horses. They took their leave and rode down to the gates rather than waiting for Dugan and Maura.

Dugan set his jaw as he took her traveling bag from her, but something caught his attention as he tossed it onto the back of his saddle. “Wait here,” he commanded. “I mean it, Maura. Do not step away from this spot.”

Dugan hurried away toward the chandler's shop across from the stable where a young maid—hardly more than a child—was hauling two heavy buckets, one in each hand. Maura's heart clenched when she noticed the lass's limping gait, and when she stumbled, Dugan lurched ahead to catch her before she fell.

He righted her and took the buckets from her hands. He carried them into the shop, and Maura could not help but defy his command and approach the building when she heard low voices coming from inside.

“Are you such a neep, chandler, not to see how your lass struggles?”

“And who are ye to tell me m' business?”

“I am laird of the MacMillans”—Dugan tipped slightly forward at the waist and pointed at the chandler—“and I'll tell you what you clearly need to hear, man.”

“Get out of my shop.”

“Get the lass a cart so she can pull the buckets from the well rather than spilling half the water over the ground and herself.” By his tone, 'twas clear Dugan would not brook any argument.

“I do'na need ye t' tell me—”

“
Aye, you do.
You'll have a more efficient shop if you provide her with the tools to perform her tasks.”

An intense wave of emotion came over her as she watched the interchange between Dugan and the chandler, but Maura had no time to think about Dugan's actions when he turned to leave the shop. She gathered her wits and hurried back to where he'd left her, standing beside his horse.

Their departure was delayed yet again by Bryce's arrival. Dugan took the man aside and spoke quietly with him, then returned to Maura.

“Come on, then,” he said, lifting her up to his saddle.

He mounted behind her and they followed the path his men had just taken, with Bryce alongside them.

Maura had to remind herself to breathe. The man who would hand her over to Baron Kildary without a second thought had dashed to assist a lame child-servant who was no one to him. Until now, Deirdre Elliott's husband was the only man Maura had ever seen come to Rosie's aid. And Dugan had done even more for this child he did not even know. He'd admonished the lass's master to accommodate her shortcoming.

She wanted to turn right around and kiss him.

But that would not do, not at all.

They began their day's ride as Maura considered what Dugan intended to do. It seemed he was going to follow her directions and hasten to the site where she believed the gold was hidden. In the meantime, he would send someone—Bryce—to Braemore to await Kildary. He needed someone to placate the baron if he arrived at Braemore before Dugan returned with Maura.

He wasn't willing to trust in her completely.

In spite of that, Maura could not ignore the soft warmth that came over her when she reflected on Dugan scolding the ignorant chandler for giving his crippled servant tasks she could barely perform.

It occurred to her that he would treat Rosie fairly, too—if he ever met her.

He said naught as they rode through Caillich's gates and circled 'round the walls of the castle, and Maura tried very hard to forget about the intimacies they'd shared. But that proved to be more difficult than she wished. Especially when he sat so close, his arms 'round her, his breath warm on her ear.

She had to guard her heart, for she found herself falling a little bit in love with him, and that would never do. A highland laird would never ally himself with the daughter of a lowland lord, especially a man like Lord Aucharnie. 'Twas best to keep her head and do what she must in order to get to Loch Camerochlan and Rosie.

“Exactly where are we headed?” he asked her as they caught up to his men, waiting just outside the gates.

His men exchanged puzzled glances and it was obvious to Maura that Dugan had not told them of her stipulation—that she would take him to the gold without disclosing its location.

“We need to ride toward Loch Monar,” she replied, ignoring the others.

He turned to look sharply at her. “Maura—”

“ 'Tis not
there
. But that is the direction, Dugan.”

Maura had not known the location of Loch Aveboyne until Dugan had pointed it out on the map, and now that she knew where it was, especially in relation to Braemore, she felt she'd be able to use the situation to her advantage, even if they didn't find the gold. While the men searched for the gold, Maura could slip away and go to Loch Camerochlan—which was somewhat farther north—without Dugan.

 

Chapter 20

B
eing so well and truly manipulated rankled. But Dugan could hardly fault Maura for turning the situation to her advantage. 'Twas what he'd have done were he in her place, and he felt a grudging respect for her strategy. Her plan was brilliant.

And since she seemed completely certain that the treasure was not hidden at Loch Monar, Dugan decided to go along with her. At least for now.

He was accustomed to being the one in charge, but he'd had to turn over his leadership to Maura—a woman whose people he did not know, and whose motivations were entirely suspect. He hoped he hadn't allowed himself to be controlled by the cravings of his cock over the cleverness of his mind.

But damned if he did not want her now, in spite of her manipulations.

The only thing Dugan knew for certain was that he had to get ahead of Argyll. Lachann had discovered the man was prepared to do some serious digging. He'd brought shovels and picks and carts, and had more than twenty men to do the work.

If Maura was not lying through her teeth, the duke's jaunt to Loch Monar would be fruitless. Dugan did not know if Argyll had a secondary plan other than searching at Loch Nan Eun, or if he even suspected there was yet a different possible location.

It angered him to think about the bloody bastard going after a treasure that had been meant to displace men like Argyll from power. The duke had battled against King James's forces in the uprising two years before, and it was largely through Argyll's efforts that the rebellion had failed. If there was a cache of French gold hidden somewhere in the highlands, the damned Duke of Argyll should be the last person on earth to claim it. And Dugan would dearly love to be the one who kept him from it.

“Dugan, are you sure this course is wise?” Lachann asked him.

“No. I'm not sure at all,” he snapped, and he felt Maura stiffen against him.

“Then why do we follow a woman whose word might well be worthless?”

Lachann might be mistrustful of beautiful women in general, but Dugan had spent the night wondering the same thing. “Do you have a better plan, Lachann?”

“You know as well as I, Lady Maura has naught to lose. If not for her tale of finding a clue only she can see—”

Dugan lost the last vestige of his patience, probably because Lachann voiced exactly his own worries. “Do you plan to wage a battle of words here, Lachann? Because I'm not exactly in the mood for it.”

“No, brother,” Lachann replied. “I just hope you know what you are about.” He rode ahead to join the others.

Dugan turned to Maura. “Are you taking us to Loch Nan Eun?” he demanded in frustration. “Because the Duke of Argyll will be right behind us after he searches at Loch Monar.”

“No,” Maura said simply.

She was quiet and pensive after Lachann rode off, which suited Dugan well enough. If she wasn't going to tell him outright where they were going, he didn't mind the silence in which to think about the territory that lay ahead. It quickly became clear that their path could lead them nearly anywhere in the highlands.

“Do you think we've lost Lieutenant Baird?” Maura asked.

Gesu
. Yet another damned Sassenach to worry about. “Likely not.”

Dugan felt her shiver.

“He has no liking for me,” she said. “There were times when . . . I thought he wanted to do me harm.”

“The man was your escort,” Dugan said, refusing to allow himself to feel any concern whatsoever. For all he knew, this was yet another manipulation, though where she intended it to lead, Dugan did not know. “Baird would have found disfavor had you arrived at Cromarty in any way but perfectly undamaged.”

Though it occurred to Dugan that her undamaged state would not continue once she was Kildary's bride. The idea of Maura in the auld wolf's bed made him cringe. The baron would want to get her with child right away, and Dugan doubted the man would have a care for her innocent state.

He felt ill. “Most paths from Fort William lead to Caillich Castle,” Dugan said.

“So he will be able to track us to Caillich?” she asked.

“Aye, 'tis likely.”

“Then can we not do something clever to conceal our tracks and keep him from finding us?”

Dugan could do naught but appreciate Maura's canniness. Though he would not have minded facing the Sassenach soldier in open battle, such a clash did not serve his purpose. “Aye. I have an idea.”

They rode on until they reached a shallow, rocky-bottomed burn. Instead of crossing, Dugan led his horse into the water. “We can follow the water for several miles. Which way is best, lass? Still toward Loch Monar?”

She nodded.

Dugan gestured for his men to ride ahead through the water. “ 'Twill be better for us all to throw Lieutenant Baird off our trail. We can afford to go a few miles out of our way if it keeps the lieutenant at bay.”

M
aura fought a sense of panic. She wasn't sure she actually could lead them to Loch Aveboyne, and knew that if she didn't manage to get them there fairly soon, she would have to tell Dugan about the clue on the back of the map. Then he'd have no reason to keep her with him. He could send her to Braemore with one of his men to wait for Baron Kildary while he and the others rode directly to Aveboyne without her.

It was impossible to tell distances just from looking at the map. As Maura had already seen, there were no straight lines of travel in the mountains. There were glens and high passes, and she'd noticed that they'd needed to ride far out of their way to find passages they could use in getting to Caillich. And the heavy mists . . .

But these were features that made travel just as difficult—if not more so—for Lieutenant Baird. Maura did not believe he was well traveled in the highlands. He could not possibly know the territory better than Dugan MacMillan.

At least they could get to Loch Monar without much difficulty, for Dugan knew the way. Once they arrived there, it did not appear to be a long ride north to Loch Aveboyne.

When they made camp that night, Maura needed to get her hands on the map and figure out the rest of the clue without letting Dugan or any of the men see what she was doing. She felt certain there must be at least a few more words written on the back of that map, and hoped she could bring out the rest of the wax etchings by using a light coating of dirt or ash. The only problem with her plan was that Dugan was not likely to leave her alone with the map. Ever.

She was just going to have to come up with some kind of distraction.

Y
e are as empty in soul as the mon ye seek to please.

Lieutenant Baird batted at his ear to try and make the voice go away. “You are dead, hag,” he muttered under his breath. “Leave me be.”

But she would not. Her wisp of a voice had followed him all along the mountain trail, taunting him. Accusing him. Making his head pound.

It seemed the only thing that brought him any relief from the unrelenting headache was the promise of taking Maura Duncanson to some deserted promontory and shoving her off it, showing her what a wretched, inconsequential little worm of a female she was.

His father would never have approved of a match between them, anyway. The eleventh child of an inconsequential earl? He'd heard she did not even have a proper dowry. Not after Aucharnie had married off her six elder sisters, proper ladies, every one of them.

But Alastair intended to have his satisfaction for the way she'd rejected him and snubbed him in front of his men. And when he was through with her, she would be as humiliated and debased as was humanly possible. Then he would toss her over the cliff.

He could be the hero of this tale, really. Catching up to the poor, distraught female and valiantly attempting to save the little wench from leaping over the edge to escape marriage to Kildary . . . But alas. She'd been a few too many steps ahead of him . . .

Baird chuckled quietly. “Do you hear that, Father?” he murmured. “I did my best to save the earl's errant daughter.”

Alastair heard the whisper of a reply, but he could not quite make out his father's words.

'Twas nearly nightfall when they stopped at a small copse of trees, and saw the walls of a large settlement ahead. It appeared to be a castle or town.

A good night's sleep in a proper bed after a decent meal would relieve his headache and perhaps rid him of the old witch's persistent taunts.
Damn her to hell, he'd killed her!

He turned his attention to his surroundings. 'Twould not do for Higgins to take note of the voices that swirled 'round them. But Alastair was accustomed to them, or at least to his father's voice.

“We'll make for the town walls,” he said. With any luck, he would find his wayward prey up there, and would be able to take her into his custody.

Do not be a fool, Alastair. If you take her before witnesses . . .

He heard his father's voice clearly this time and knew that the general was correct, as always, though not usually so harsh. Alastair gave a shake of his head to throw off his father's disdainful tone. The important thing was that if there were witnesses when he seized Maura Duncanson, he might not be able to play out the tempting little tableau he had planned for her.

They started up the craggy terrain toward the walls. “Speak to no one about Lady Maura,” he said to his men. “Discretion is the most important thing.”

“But Lieutenant, don't we need to alert the authorities—the magistrate or whoever is in charge—that we're looking for a—”

“No! No. No need to foment a scandal, Higgins. Lord Aucharnie would want this handled quietly.”

“Aye, sir. I understand, sir,” Higgins replied, but Baird took note of the strange look the corporal cast his way.

Baird intended to keep an eye on the man.

“ 'T
would be much easier for you to travel to Braemore, lass,” Dugan said, “and wait for word of our search. You would be comfortable there.”

Maura turned and glared at him, raising one pale, shapely brow.

He was unruffled. “The lads and I can go to the site you tell us, and if the gold is there, we will hasten home and prevent your going with Kildary.”

“And if it's not?”

Aye. There was the rub. If it was not there, she would have to become Baroness Kildary, as much as Dugan might despise the notion of it. Mayhap 'twas so distasteful because her delectable backside happened to be wedged between his thighs.

“Maura . . .” Hell, she had every reason not to trust him. Not that he felt any great obligation to trust her, either. She'd stolen his map and had tried to slip away from him. And now she refused to tell him what clue she'd seen on the map to show her where the gold was hidden.

“My answer is no. I will take you to the site, and together we can find what treasure there might be.”

Dugan hadn't expected anything different, and he suppressed a grin at her audacity. She knew what was best for her, and was not about to relent. It was a quality to be respected.

Among others he'd noted. Dugan breathed deeply of her scent and remembered the taste of her, the smooth silk of her skin. He leaned slightly forward and nuzzled her neck.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling away.

“Tasting you. I've thought of little else since leaving your bed last night.”

“Your men—”

“Are far ahead of us. They will take no note.”

“But
I
will,” she said.

“Aye, lass. I am counting on it.”

She stiffened. “You are going to make a spectacle of us.”

“Only if you react as you did last night.” The thought of it made him want to take her off the path, lay her down in the soft grass, and have his way with her.

“A gentleman would not speak of it.”

“Ah, but no one said I was a gentleman, Maura. Least of all you.”

He moved her hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck once again. “Do you know you have a pretty freckle here?”

“No. And do not kiss me again!”

“Are you sure that's what you want? No more kisses?”

“Of course that's what I want,” she retorted. “We should never have . . . I mean, I-I . . . Oh, you make me lose track of my thoughts!”

Dugan smiled and pulled her against his chest. He let his thumbs drift up to the undersides of her breasts and caressed her there.

“Dugan!”

“You enjoyed it last night,” he said. “And when I suckled your nipples.”

She shivered as though remembering. But her words went counter to what her body desired. “Please limit your contact to only what is necessary, Laird.”

'Twas torture holding her so close, and only made him want her more. He knew he ought to ease away, but could not find the discipline to do so.

They might actually find the French gold, and then everything would change. Dugan would have the power to negotiate fair terms for the MacMillan lands—hell, he would buy them out from under Argyll and never pay another groat for rent. Then he would buy even more livestock and improve the arable land . . .