Beneath a Highland Moon (The Highland Moon Series 1) (3 page)

Even though
she'd known all along that the title was the reason he'd come, it both shocked and angered her to hear him make such a ridiculous suggestion.
Jillian took a deep breath to steady herself before she spoke, refusing to allow Gordon to see her tremble.
"If this is the proposition you spoke of, 'tis rejected.
Ian has no need of your guidance.
You and these men are free to leave here at once."

His lips twisted into a cynical smile, and
icy contempt flashed in his eyes. "I've no intention of shirking my duties, Jillian. Now, bring the lad to me so that I may introduce myself, as he is to immediately become my ward."

As panic set in, she
trembled and her throat constricted.
"
Jilly,"
her father used to say, "
never let your enemy ken you're afraid. If you do, you've already lost the battle."
Remembering those important words, Jillian stayed strong.
"He's not here," she stated as calmly as she could manage, hoping he couldn't hear the fear in her voice.

Gordon
slowly came toward her, reminiscent of a wolf sizing up its prey.
He stopped within a hand's length from her face.

Roderick
lunged toward him, but the man standing beside him jerked him back before he could get his hands on Gordon.

J
illian held her ground and refused to waver, even whilst believing he might strike her.
Instead, he leaned in so close she could smell the unpleasant scent of his breath.

"
I ken for certain the lad is here," he growled. "Bring him to me now.
Is that clear?" he demanded, striking the oak table beside him with his fist.

Jillian
flinched, but continued to look him squarely in the eye and calmly repeated, "He's not here."
Gordon sounded so assured that Ian hadn't left Lochstorm, Jillian wondered if perhaps someone had betrayed them.
Surely no one she knew would do such a thing—certainly not one of her own clan.

Gordon sighed.
"Very well. If this is the childish game you wish to play, I'll find the lad without your help."
He turned to the group of men.
"Find him," he ordered, "and don't stop looking until you do."

Whilst
they searched, Jillian paced back and forth in front of the fire, holding onto the hope that Winnie had made it into the tunnels and hidden Ian well.
Her nerves on edge, she prayed he'd not be found.
If only her father hadn't died and left them in such a predicament. Of course, Jillian didn't blame him.
She just missed him and felt so helpless without him.
Time stood still whilst she waited, listening to the thundering of the men's boots as they stomped up and down the corridors, opening and slamming doors, while they searched the castle from top to bottom.

After
some time had passed and her brother had still not been found, Jillian began to relax a bit, believing that perhaps he'd remain hidden after all. Then Ian's terrified screams echoed from some distant part of the castle.
She ran to the stairs. Fear and anger knotted inside her upon seeing a large man tramping down the stairs with Ian tossed across his shoulders like a sack of oats, with Winnie on his heels pounding on his back with both fists.

"
Leave the lad be, ye big oaf!" Winnie screamed at the top of her lungs.

The
giant of a man ignored the old woman's blows as if she were but a tiny midge.

J
illian raced across the room.
"Put him down! Do you hear me? Put him down!" she shouted, but he refused to do so until he stood in front of his benefactor, only then did he set Ian on his feet.

Before either
his captor or Gordon could grab him, Ian ran back to Jillian.
She picked him up and he threw his arms around her neck, sobbing, causing her heart to ache.
"Don't fret so, wee brother.
I'm here."

He
soon stopped crying and rubbed his eyes, wiping his tears and his nose, on the sleeve of his nightshirt.

"
Trust me?" she whispered. "Then do as I say."

He nodded.

"Good lad."

Gordon
frowned.
"Enough. Bring the lad to me, or would you have me take him from you?"

Jillian clenched her
teeth, wishing she was close enough to the wretch to make good use of her
sgian dubh
. Smoothing Ian's tear dampened hair away from his face, she slowly carried him across the room.
"Ian, this is Gordon MacRae, Father's distant cousin." She put him down in front of Gordon, but stood behind him with her hands protectively on his shoulders. He looked so small and helpless standing there in his nightshirt.

Gordon
immediately appeared to soften, as he bestowed a smile upon Ian that was clearly insincere. "Lad, I've come to Lochstorm to instruct and guide you in the ways of a laird and baron.
There's much to be learned before you become of an age to perform your duties adequately."

Ian
drew himself up to the full height of his four years.
"Papa already taught me."

Jillian felt pride for
her wee brother as he so bravely faced the stranger before him.
She could almost see the warrior he would one day become as a man.

Gordon
's eyes narrowed.
"You are now my ward, which means that you will do as I say.
I'll see to Lochstorm until you become of an age to do so yourself.
Is that clear?"

Ian l
ooked up at his sister.
"Jilly can do that."

"
Certainly not." Gordon snorted.
"She's but a female and incapable of providing you with the same sort of guidance I can offer."

Ian reached up and placed his small hand over Jillian
's. "Papa died and he was the laird of Lochstorm.
Jilly told me that now I am."

Gordon laughed, but his e
yes flashed with outrage.
"Of course you are, but before you may truly rule, you've much to learn.
Now, back to bed with you, lad. 'Tis still early."

With her teeth
tightly clenched, Jillian listened to Gordon spout his nonsense to her brother. She had much to say about it, but decided to hold her tongue for the moment. "Sleep well," she said, kissing Ian on top of the head before handing him over to Winnie, who quickly hurried back upstairs with him in tow.

Jillian
waited until Winnie and Ian had disappeared down the corridor—and out of hearing—before she turned her full wrath onto Gordon.
"You've no right to come here thinking you can just take over.
'Tis Ian who holds the barony here—not you. He's but a wee lad of four years, and he didn't understand half of what you said—for he's much too young.
I well ken, Gordon MacRae, that whatever 'tis you have in mind for him is but for your own good and no one else's."

His face was a glowering mask of rage
and she thought for a moment her life might be in danger. "Don't cross me on this, Jillian," he bellowed, his voice echoing against the high beams of the great hall.

She seethed with anger
as she shook her finger in front of his face—a habit her father had always found quiet annoying.
"If you think I'll idly stand by and let you destroy everything my father worked so hard to build, or watch you pretend to instruct my brother for your own selfish reasons, you're greatly mistaken, cousin." She spat the last word out as if it were a bitter herb on her tongue.

He sighed.
"I'd hoped you and I could reach some sort of agreement. But if you're going to insist on this way of thinking, I've no other option than to have you remain in your bedchamber—'til you decide to come to your senses and see things my way.
There will be no use for you to try and leave, for a guard will be posted outside your door 'til I say otherwise.

Jillian couldn
't believe what she was hearing.
"How dare you!
I'm the mistress here. You, Gordon MacRae, have no rights over me whatsoever, or anyone else who abides under this roof."

He shrugged.
"Who will stop me?"
He pretended to look about the room. "I see no one."
His voice held a note of mockery. "Take her to her bedchamber," he ordered the man nearest him.

As the guard
reached for Jillian's arm, Roderick—who'd been left alone—stepped in front of her, and knocked the man's hand away.
"Leave her be," he said, his hands clenched into fists.

Gordo
n chuckled.
A sound so sinister that it made cold chills crawl up Jillian's spine.
"How noble of you to come to the aid of your lady, but as I'm now in charge here, I'll not tolerate such disobedience.
Show this man what happens to those who dare stand against Gordon MacRae," he ordered the two men who'd brought Roderick in earlier. "He'll be an example to the others. Perhaps they will think twice before refusing me."

One
man grabbed Roderick's arms, pinning them behind his back, whilst the other beat him mercilessly.
The wound on his head split open further and blood splattered through the air with each blow to his face.

Jillian looked on, shoc
ked. "Stop! You're killing him!" she screamed. "Do you not hear me?
Please stop, I beg of you." Her tearful pleas fell on deaf ears, as they continued to beat Roderick until he slumped to the floor and lay still.

Tears
streamed down her face as she ran to his side and fell to her knees, praying that he still lived.
She placed her ear next to his mouth and nose.
His warm breath puffed against her ear.
Thank you, God.

"
Throw him into the dungeon along with the others," Gordon ordered the two men who had just finished beating him, "and you there, Fergus," he called to a skinny, freckled redhead, "take Lady Jillian to her bedchamber and make sure she stays there. Don't allow her outside her door for any reason."

The man smiled a
t Jillian and winked, giving her a good look at the few teeth still left in his head.

Gordon
reached Fergus in two strides and grabbed him up by the front of the shirt, until only the toes of his boots touched the floor.
"Lay a hand on her, you miserable cur, and I swear I'll kill you," he said through clenched teeth.
"I'll not have the likes of you spoiling her for my bed, do you understand me?"

Fergus
's mouth dropped open and he visibly paled.
He quickly nodded.

"
Now, go and do as I said," Gordon ordered, letting go of Fergus's shirt and shoving him toward Jillian.

Fergus
grabbed Jillian by the arm and yanked her up from the floor.
She struggled to pull away from him, but he dug his dirty nails into her skin and held on so tightly she had no other option than to follow him.

Jillian fought
to keep her footing as he dragged her up the narrow stairs. Steadying herself with her free hand pressed against the wall was all that kept her from falling.

He
stopped once they reached the landing.
"Which one of these rooms be yours?"

She held her tongue.

"Don't matter to me none which one I toss ye arse in. They're all the same t'me."

"
Very well," she sighed, and pointed to her room.

He
opened her bedchamber door and shoved her inside.
When he came in behind her and began to close the door, fear knotted inside her. "If it weren't for being afraid of losing m'life," he whispered, "I'd bed ye right here and teach ye a thing or two about pleasuring a man. I still would if given the chance."

Jillian almost gagged at his stench
when he suddenly stepped closer and rubbed his dirty, unshaven cheek against her own.
He grinned from ear-to-ear, winked at her and left the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

She
shuddered, quickly rubbing away the horrible smell and feel of Fergus with what was left of her rose scented water.
Being bedded by a man like him would most certainly be worse than death itself—and something she had no intention of ever letting happen—nor did she intend to wed Gordon MacRae either.

As for
his taking Ian as his ward, 'twas naught but a pretense. One day an accident would conveniently happen to her brother to take his young life, giving Gordon the opportunity he'd been waiting for all these years—to hold the title of Baron of Lochstorm.

Jillian
might not be able to stop Gordon MacRae, but she knew someone who could.
Kade MacLachlan, the laird of Ravenskull Castle.