A Wee Highland Predicament: A Duncurra Legacy Novel Read online

  By the time she returned in his overlarge clothes, he had sparked the tinder into flame and was feeding the fire with smaller kindling.

  “I can do that,” she offered, kneeling beside him. “I expect Captain is no more comfortable than we are.”

  “Aye, I’m sure he isn’t. That’s very thoughtful of ye.”

  When he had finished rubbing Captain down, Lucas settled him with a feed bag containing the last of the oats he’d brought. Then he turned back towards Ailsa. She had nursed the fire into a small blaze and knelt beside it, warming her hands. Again her brows were drawn together and she looked pensive.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Aye,” she said, absently.

  “Ye’re sure?”

  “Aye.” She nodded, but didn’t look at him.

  “Good.” Still, just as he had a few minutes ago, he couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. “I have one other léine in my saddlebag. I’ll change into it, then we’ll eat the rest of the rabbit. With a bit of luck, all of our wet clothes will be dry by morning.”

  He stepped deeper into the cave to don the dry garment. When he returned, she still sat by the fire, her brow knitted.

  “Ailsa, ye’re clearly concerned about something. Tell me what it is.”

  “Uh…well…ye said something else that confused me.”

  “What did I say?”

  “When ye said we’d shelter in these caves, ye also said we’d be home early tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “But this cave is a long day’s ride from Brathanead.”

  Damn. Damn. Damn. She was bright and observant and he should have been more careful. This journey was almost over and so far she had accompanied him willingly. As a result, he had enjoyed every minute of it, even though the little voice deep inside warned him that he had created this illusion. It will be shattered the minute she learns who ye really are. He knew that was true and he had to prepare himself for the moment it happened. But he wasn’t ready yet and if she began to put all the pieces together he’d have trouble on his hands. “Uh…is it?” How was he going to handle this?

  “Aye. I told ye, we stopped here on our first night.”

  Yep, she was putting the pieces together. The only answer was to plead ignorance. “Well, I’m not in the habit of going to Brathanead or the village there. I guess I underestimated the distance.”

  She considered this before nodding. “Aye, I guess it would be hard to know for certain, if ye’ve never been there.”

  “Exactly.” Pleased that she accepted his answer, he turned away to get the food bag…and hide his relief. Returning with it, he sat beside her. “Are ye ready for supper?”

  She nodded and took the portion of rabbit he offered her, remaining uncharacteristically quiet as she ate. Something was still bothering her. At this point, he wasn’t sure whether he should push and try to address her concern, or just let it lie. Finally, he decided ignoring it seemed prudent at this point. If whatever it was worried her enough, she would ask him.

  When she was finished eating, she sat staring into the fire with her knees to her chest and arms around them.

  He could stand it no longer. “Ailsa, something is obviously on yer mind. What is it?”

  “Lucas, a little while ago ye said ye’d never been to Brathanead. So I don’t understand how ye could know where it is.”

  Well, at least this one was easier to address. “I didn’t say I’d never been there.” Although he never had. “I said I wasn’t in the habit of going there. And I do know where it is.”

  Finally appearing reassured, she smiled. “I knew I could trust ye.”

  Holy mother of God. Could he possibly feel like a bigger arse than he did at this moment? He forced a smile, trying to tamp down his guilt. “Aye, well, let’s get some rest. I’m exhausted.”

  Just as they had the previous nights, she curled up next to him, wrapped in his extra plaid. She fell asleep almost immediately. In spite of not having slept for two full days, Lucas laid awake, pricked by his conscience. I knew I could trust ye. He tried to assuage his guilt by telling himself he wasn’t actually the one who kidnapped her. He had saved her from an unknown fate at the hands of the Galbraiths.

  He had promised to keep her safe and had been a perfect gentleman.

  Except for lying to her.

  Nay, he didn’t actually lie. He omitted certain facts in order to mislead her.

  But other than that he had been a perfect gentleman.

  Except for letting her believe they’d arrive at Brathanead tomorrow.

  Of course there was also the whole thing about seeking a ransom for her return to the MacLennans.

  But other than that…

  ~ * ~

  It was barely light when Ailsa woke the next morning. Lucas still slept. The fire had burned out, but she was still surprisingly cozy. In the night, Lucas had wrapped an arm around her and had one leg thrown over both of hers. By all the angels and saints, she knew taking pleasure in this intimacy was wrong but she did enjoy it. She imagined what it would be like to wake up every morning with him wrapped around her. She smiled and a happy sigh escaped her lips. Maybe she could convince him to stay at Brathanead and once there, maybe she could convince Fingal to let him court her.

  Nay, she didn’t want to get her hopes up. She might have a glimmer of a chance if he was a member of Laird Macrae’s family, but he wasn’t. Was he? Had he told her that or had she just assumed it? She wracked her brain—they had talked about so much over the last few days. Come to think of it now, he hadn’t actually told her that. But he said he was a Macrae and surely, if he were someone important, he wouldn’t be traveling alone. She’d have to remember to ask him.

  He stirred behind her, yawning and stretching.

  She rolled onto her back so she could see his face. “Good morning, Lucas.”

  He smiled. “Good morning, Ailsa. I trust ye slept well.”

  “Aye, I did.” Always forthright and honest, Ailsa wanted to tell him that she didn’t want this to be the last time she woke next to him. “Lucas, I…uh…” Nay, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I…want to thank ye for everything ye’ve done.”

  “Say no more, ’twas nothing.”

  “Nay, ye’ve been wonderful. I owe ye so very much, I’ll never be able to repay yer kindness.”

  He looked a bit uncomfortable. “It isn’t necessary. What is necessary, however, is that we get up and be on our way.”

  “Aye, we’ve a long journey still.”

  He nodded but didn’t meet her eye. “I’ll give ye some privacy for a few minutes. I want to gather some wood to replace what we used. It’ll be wet now, but in the shelter of the cave it will dry out and be ready for the next poor souls who find themselves wet and cold.”

  She rose and gathered her clothes from where she’d draped them near the fire to dry. The bottom of her kirtle, which had gotten wettest, was still a little damp, but it would have to do. She couldn’t arrive at Brathanead wearing a strange man’s clothes.

  After she had dressed, Lucas returned with several armloads of wood. The sleeves and front of his léine were soaked.

  She frowned and handed him the dry léine she had worn in the night. “Here, ye need to change out of that or ye’ll start the day damp and cold.”

  He looked down and grinned. “Aye, I suppose I should. Turn yer back.”

  “Ye’re just going to undress—” She spun around, feeling a hot blush rise in her cheeks as he started to pull the wet garment over his head. Evidently he was…and he found it amusing, based on his rich chuckle.

  A very, very wicked part of her wished she hadn’t turned her back quite so fast.

  It didn’t take him long to don the dry garment. “I’m decent now, lass.”

  She turned back around to see him removing the last two oatcakes from the food bag. He handed her one of them. “We have a fine, hearty meal to break our fast with,” he teased.

  Sh
e was starving and could have eaten an entire stack of them. But if she was hungry, a man his size must be ravenous. She handed it back. “Ye can have it. There will be plenty to eat when we get to Brathanead.”

  He pushed her hand away. “Nay, lass, I’m fine. Eat it and let’s be off.”

  “But ye must be hungry.”

  “I assure ye, I’m fine.”

  “But—”

  “No more buts. Ye could argue the devil out of hell. Eat.”

  Always the gentleman. “Very well, if ye insist. But—” He arched a brow at her. She huffed. “Fine. At least I can promise ye we’ll have full bellies tonight.”

  His brow furrowed for a moment before he said, “No doubt.”

  And with that, they were out and on their way. It was still very early. The sun was barely up, however it was light enough to see the track. The day was gray, but at least the rain had stopped.

  They rode for several hours. Nothing looked particularly familiar to Ailsa, but then the trip to Edinburgh was the first time she had been this far south.

  By midmorning, the clouds began to thin, allowing the sun to break through occasionally. Finally, in the early afternoon, the breeze picked up and the clouds gave way to brighter sunshine. She longed to feel the warmth on her face, but the sun was to their backs.

  The sun was to their backs? They should have been traveling north, but they were heading east.

  “Lucas, I think ye’ve made a wrong turning.”

  “Nay, I haven’t.”

  “Are ye sure? When we went to Edinburgh, we traveled south from Brathanead to those caves. So we should be heading north now.”

  “I assure ye, we are heading in the right direction.”

  Soon, they left the forest, entering a beautiful glen, a village and castle clearly visible in the distance.

  Ailsa frowned. “Lucas, I don’t think this is right. I’ve never seen this place before. We need to be riding northward.”

  “Nay, lass, I know where we are.”

  She felt the first fluttering of fear in her gut. “But we’re not anywhere near Brathanead.” Had she imagined the arm he held around her waist tightening ever so slightly?

  “Now, about that. I said I was taking ye home.”

  “Brathanead is my home. Ye know that.”

  “Aye, but I never said I was taking ye to yer home. We’re going to my home.”

  His home? “Ye never…but…nay this can’t be right. Castle Macrae is southwest of Brathanead. Grant territory lies to the southeast.”

  “Aye, it does.”

  “We’re in Grant territory?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising.

  “Aye. That castle ahead that ye’ve never seen before is Castle Grant.”

  “Castle Grant?” she nearly shouted. What was he doing? She tried to rein in her panic, saying as calmly as possible, “Ye can’t take me to Castle Grant.”

  “I think it’s fairly clear that I can, as that’s where we’re heading.”

  “Nay, I mean ye mustn’t take me there.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s where we’re going.”

  This couldn’t be happening. She had to make him understand. “Lucas, please listen to me. The Grants and Macraes might be on good terms but the Grants and MacLennans are not. If ye take me there, and they find out who I am, they’ll likely hold me for ransom.”

  “Ailsa, ye have nothing to worry about,” he assured her.

  “Nay, Lucas, ye must turn around,” she demanded, her panic rising.

  “Calm yerself, lass. Ye’re in no danger. I swore to ye that I’d keep ye safe and I will.”

  “But ye don’t understand. I can’t go there. I’ll go with ye to Castle Macrae if ye wish, but please don’t take me to Castle Grant.”

  “Why would I take ye to Castle Macrae?”

  His question confused her. “What do ye mean? Ye said ye were taking me to yer home.”

  “And I am.”

  It took a moment for the implications of that statement to sink in. Nay…it couldn’t be. “But ye said…ye said ye were a Macrae.”

  “I actually didn’t say that. I said my mother was a Macrae. And she was. My mother was Coira Macrae and she married a Grant—Laird Andrew Grant, specifically.”

  “Ye’re a Grant? Yer father was…oh dear God…ye’re Lucas Grant?”

  “I am.”

  “Ye lied to me. I trusted ye and ye lied to me.” How could she have been so wrong about him? She had to get free of him. She twisted and pulled away, trying to slide off the saddle.

  He tightened the arm wrapped around her waist. The same arm that she had so enjoyed having around her this morning.

  “Nay, Ailsa. Stop fighting me. Ye’ll hurt yerself.” He voice was as hard as his iron grip. “Ye aren’t going anywhere and I didn’t lie to ye. Ye asked about my clan and I said my mother was a Macrae. I didn’t say I was and ye asked no more.”

  Hadn’t she? She remembered asking about his family—his parents had passed away, he had two married brothers, three nieces, two nephews and one of his sisters by marriage was expecting. She knew his favorite food was roasted venison and that he liked taking walks on snowy evenings. He liked carrots but not neeps. They had talked about all kinds of inconsequential things, but not who he really was.

  “Nay, I guess I didn’t. But ye said ye were taking me to Brathanead.”

  He shook his head. “I most certainly did not. I said I was taking ye home. Again, ye made the assumption that I meant yer home and ye asked no more.”

  She thought about all their conversations and frowned. He was right. She hadn’t. “Fine. Ye misled me then. It was a dishonest thing to do even if ye didn’t tell outright lies. So ye aren’t a liar exactly, but ye are a thief. Ye didn’t follow the Galbraiths to save me, ye only meant to steal me for yer own profit.”

  “Nay, ye’re wrong there too. I saved ye from the Galbraiths because ye were in a world of trouble. If ye’d been a Macrae or an Urquhart or even a Carr, I’d have returned ye to yer home. But ye’re a MacLennan and thus worth a tidy sum.”

  “Ye said we couldn’t go to Castle Carr because ye wouldn’t be welcome.”

  “And I’m not sure I would have been with Ailsa MacLennan as my prisoner.”

  She gasped. Prisoner? His prisoner?

  He continued, “The Grants and the Carrs are allies but the bond is not nearly as strong as that between the MacLennans and the Carrs. However, if I’d brought a wee Carr lass home, it would have gone a long way to bolstering our alliance.”

  Ailsa huffed. “Fine, ye may have technically told the truth, but ye seriously misled me and that’s nearly as bad as an outright lie.”

  “Ye said it yerself, ye’re too trusting and that’s what got ye into this mess in the first place.”

  His tone was gentle, but the words still stung. Aye, she was too trusting. And she fell in love too easily—just like Gillian had said. That was perhaps the most painful part of this. She had fancied herself in love with him and all the while he’d intended to hold her for ransom. He had broken her heart. He didn’t care about her. The closeness that she thought was forming between them was just another lie. She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t stop a hot wet tear from slipping down her cheek.

  “And ye’re no better than the Galbraiths,” she said bitterly.

  ~ * ~

  Lucas had known this moment would come. He had worried about it last night and had tried to harden himself against it. But in spite of his best efforts, when a tear hit the back of his hand, he felt like the worst kind of vermin. He had to make her understand.

  “Ailsa, I did not ply ye with drugged ale and steal ye out of Edinburgh Castle, nor would I ever do such a craven thing. And ye, yerself, admitted that eluding yer guardsmen and leaving the crowded hall with a man ye’d just met was an immensely stupid thing to do.”

  She sniffed loudly and more tears dripped on his hand.

  “Ye were being held by six men. Galbraiths, at that. I wouldn’t have l
et the daughter of my worst enemy be taken by the Galbraiths, so I got ye out of their clutches. Would ye have preferred them to me?”

  “Nay,” she sniffed again. “But if ye were a decent man, ye wouldn’t have misled me so.”

  “And what would ye have done if I’d told ye I was Lucas Grant and I intended to hold ye for ransom?”

  “I’d have tried to get away from ye before we were riding up to the gates of Castle Grant.”

  “Exactly. So the best ye could have hoped for would be to escape me. Then what would ye have done?”

  “Find my way—” her voice broke in a sob, “—home.”

  Dear God, the despair in her voice nearly gutted him. “On foot? With no food, no weapon, no money and no idea where ye were? Not to mention those entirely inadequate slippers that prevented ye from walking back to Edinburgh.” He couldn’t help himself from chuckling at that memory.

  “I could have done it.” Her tone was petulant.

  “Perhaps. But it is much more likely that ye would have gotten lost and ill from exposure and lack of food. Or worse, run afoul of outlaws or men who truly have no honor.” He let that thought sink in before continuing. “So because it would have been exceedingly dangerous, I’d have had to prevent ye from escaping by keeping ye bound. Ye wouldn’t have liked that.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  He sighed. “I’m sure ye don’t. But, Ailsa, I swore to ye that I’d protect ye and I have. I did what I thought was necessary to get us both safely here. Only this morning ye thanked me for all I’ve done and said ye’d never be able to repay my kindness.”

  “I didn’t know I was yer prisoner and ye weren’t actually taking me to Brathanead when I said that.”

  “Nay, ye didn’t. Still, ye can’t possibly think ye’d have been better off if I’d left ye with the Galbraiths.”

  She shook her head, but didn’t answer.

  “And what do ye suppose Fingal MacLennan would have done in the same situation—if he had saved a lass from a terrible fate and then learned she was a Grant?”

  Ailsa shrugged. “I don’t know…but not this.”

  He laughed outright. “Now who’s lying? Ye know precisely what he’d have done. He’d have seen to her safety and treated her well, but he’d hold her until a ransom was paid.”