Highland Rake (6 page)

Cautiously, he maneuvered his horse over the rocky terrain. Again she admired the way he handled the situation, not tearing down the hill, risking his horse's neck and his own. No, he was a careful man, caring about his mount, just as much as she had been about hers.

That all changed when he reached the bottom of the hill. Without hesitation, he spurred his horse on and tore across the glen to reach her. Her heart nearly drummed out of her breast as the fear took hold again. She had to force herself to keep her horse in place and not move a hair from her position. To show him she was not afraid. That she had a mission, and she would not be dissuaded.

To her horror, a second man on horseback crested the hill, and then several others. No, this was not what she had intended. Just one man. A quick question. A direction to head in.

What if this was a raiding party that intended to breach the Cameron's territory, and she could be in the midst of it? What if they thought she would warn her people that men of the MacNeill clan were coming?

Her blood becoming ice and her only thought now being to flee, she turned her horse and headed for the forest. She was too deep into the MacNeill lands to easily make her escape. But she had a better chance if she was within the cover of the forest.

"Dougald!" Someone shouted from the hilltop as the men began making their way down to join the one who was trying to intercept her. "It could be a trap!"

Whoever had hollered after him sounded worried for his safety. As if the Highlander had to fear a lass such as herself. Not that she wasn't armed. She didn't believe in her wildest dreams she could fight off a man as big as the one chasing after her with nothing but her dirk though.

She glanced back to see him close the distance between them, his horse's legs longer, his determination to catch up to her evident in his expression, a grin splitting his face in two. So he wasn't as much worried about who she was as he was in taking pleasure in the hunt.

Her heart was racing as fast as her horse's now, and she knew her mare would never outrun the man's long-legged steed.

Dark-haired and his eyes just as dark a brown, he eyed her with a devilish smile and a body that screamed Highland warrior, which she had already seen way too much of. He was every lass's nightmare—a man who most likely bedded every wench he chanced to meet. Just like her brother had done. She was certain the lasses would be very willing.

She hadn't even reached the lacy fringe of pines edging the forest when the warrior rode up beside her, his leg brushing hers, shocking her with his familiarity.

Worse, he did not do what she expected. Instead of seizing the reins from her hands and yanking her horse to a halt, he seized
her
!

Shrieking in startled surprise, Alana fought the man who yanked her onto his lap. She tried to hit him and jump free. His arm was like a steel band gripping her tight against his body as he headed back toward the rest of his men still trying to catch up to him.

"Let me go, you barbarian!" she screamed.

He laughed, nuzzled his face in her hair, and laughed again. "'Tis a bonny lass I find this bright day seeking my pleasure, eh?" His voice was dark and filled with merriment.

"I seek naught of the sort from you, sir," she ground out. He was holding her so tight as she tried to wriggle free, she felt she was wearing a
léine
two sizes too small and could barely take in enough air to fill her lungs. "My horse," she rasped out, attempting to put some distance between her and the muscled Highlander, but he only tightened his grip on her, pressing her indecently against his hard chest and his groin.

"You will fall, lass. Sit still. My cousin, Niall, has reined in your horse. Although I must say I am certain he wished he would have been the one to rein
you
in instead."

"I am not a horse!"

"Of that I am
well
aware." He squirmed a little beneath her as if she was making him uncomfortable.

That's when she noticed just why he had the need to reposition himself beneath her. Though she'd attempted not to look at that part of him that had been growing in size when she had observed him naked at the loch, she imagined his staff was doing the very same thing now beneath his plaid. Beneath
her
!

She tried to move away from him, to not incite his desire for her any further, yet he let out his breath in a whoosh and said, "Lass, quit your wiggling. You are making me want you something powerful."

That made her sit stock still, her back as stiff as his staff pressing against her in such an indelicate way.

"If you were a gentleman, you wouldna be having such thoughts."

He gave a hearty laugh. "It has naught to do with being a gentleman, lassie, but the way your arse is seated against my…"

"Say no more," she quickly said. "I wish to hear no more."

He chuckled. Then he grew serious as his men joined him, and they began to ride back over the hill.

His cousin, Niall, looked similar to the man they'd called Dougald, the man she was riding with—so improperly. Tall, impressive, muscled, dark haired, though he had a reddish cast to his locks, and the same smiling dark eyes.

His dark hair curling about his shoulders, Niall was grinning his fool head off at her as he rode beside them, holding her mare's reins. "Your brother found his lass in the sea. Mayhap you have found yours in the heather?"

Dougald's brother? Dougald was the laird's third eldest brother. She had heard that James MacNeill, who ruled Craigly Castle, had recently wed a lass found half-drowned in the sea. Her kinsmen had joked that he could not find a suitable wife so he had to dredge up the sea, looking for one.

Dougald was one of four brothers. Malcolm, the second eldest, had married a Lady Anice, cousin to King Henry's wife, without the king's permission. Her uncle had said the man would not live once the king learned of the traitorous deed, but Henry had welcomed Malcolm into the fold. Alana had heard rumors that Anice had fae sight, and she'd thought she would like to meet her. Yet, would the lady appreciate that Alana could see the dead? Mayhap not. She probably attempted to hide her curse just like Alana did and would not wish others to know of it.

The youngest, Angus, she'd heard was wounded in a battle at Lady Anice's castle and did not know if he had survived or not.

Her uncle would kill the MacNeills, every last one of them, if he knew she had been taken against her will by the laird's brother himself.

"You are Dougald MacNeill? Brother of James? Laird of Craigly Castle?" she asked warily.

"Aye. One and the same."

He did not ask her name as if it was of no import. She would offer it and mayhap he would think better of ferreting her off to God knew where. Although she suspected he was taking her to see James.

"I am Alana, niece of Laird Cameron. You must let me go. Now!"

Dougald shook his head. "The niece of the Cameron wouldna be traipsing about our land, spying on naked warriors bathing in a loch."

She felt her whole body heat with mortification. A couple of the men grinned at her. One said, "Ye should have joined us, lass, on such a warm day."

She held her chin higher, not about to respond to the rogue.

"Whose horse did you steal? 'Tis a fine specimen. She should bring a goodly sum," Dougald said.

"She is mine, you heathen!"

Dougald chuckled and the sound made her believe he enjoyed her calling him such an ungracious name.

"She wants you," Niall said sagely. "When the lasses begin calling men names, 'tis a good sign they want you. Dinna you agree, Gunnolf?"

That's when she noticed the man with blond hair and blue eyes who looked more like a Norseman than a Scot. He was just as rugged looking as Dougald and his cousin, just as carefree with his smile.

"'Tis a saga we tell at home—when a wench is beating on us and calling us names, she is indeed in love with us," Gunnolf said.

They had to be jesting with her. That last comment made Alana snap her mouth shut. For only a moment. She tried again, only this time declaring her mission here. "I came seeking Rob MacNeill."

"Which one?" Niall asked. "We have a dozen or more in the clan by that name."

"A sheepherder."

"That makes it more like…a handful." Niall sounded as though he was guessing.

"What do you want with him?" Dougald loosened his grip on her as if he suddenly believed she was in love with the man or some such thing.

She quickly had to make him understand the import of the matter. Then she reconsidered. What if their laird was angry that the man had left a Cameron clanswoman with child? He might not approve any more than her uncle would.

"'Tis only a matter that I must discuss with him.
Alone
."

Gunnolf scrubbed his hand over his blond beard as if contemplating the matter. "Sounds to me like a love match gone wrong." He glanced at her slim waist as if he was looking to see if she was indeed with child. "Are you certain the man would wish to see you? That he would acknowledge the bairn was his own?"

What? Did he think she was a wanton woman, spreading her legs for any willing man?

"'Tis no' for me!" she snapped. As if she longed for the touch of a MacNeill! Despite that one was holding her way too close for her own peace of mind. Which was probably the reason she could not keep her temper. "He has left one of my kinswomen with child!" She felt her face heat as hot as a rock warmed beneath the sun on a summer's day. Why had she blurted out what she did?

She had not wished these men to believe
she
was with child! That was why!

No one spoke a word, but Dougald's arm tightened around her again, as if thinking she might still be willing to have a romp with him, if he was interested. She'd heard of his reputation with the lasses, and she wasn't about to give in to a man such as he was. Not when her brother had been such a notorious rake and died at the hand of an angry husband.

Why would she want a man like that? Who could not find happiness in one woman? And then get himself killed over some other man's wife? She wondered then where her brother was.

"Who is the woman?" Dougald asked.

Cold fear spilled through her. What if the MacNeill wanted to kill Odara, to eliminate the child growing inside her, to end the connection between their clans?

She pursed her lips and wouldn't say.

"She is a stubborn lass and courageous as well," Niall said, winking at her. "Mayhap she
is
the Cameron's niece."

"'Tis trouble we will all be facing if 'tis so," Gunnolf said.

"Aye," Alana said, grasping at any reason to convince Dougald and his men to release her and allow her to go on her way. "So you best let me go before the trouble begins."

Dougald motioned to Gunnolf. "Have four of our men investigate the whereabouts of this Rob MacNeill the lass has spoken of."

"If they find him?"

"Send him to join us at Craigly Castle at once where James will determine the truth of the matter."

"He has a sick niece. I was to see to her," Alana said.

Dougald frowned. "If you find this Rob MacNeill and his sick niece, have her taken to Craigly Castle as well," he said to his men. "Our healer will see to her."

"Whatever possessed you to cross the border between our lands?" Connell asked, and she quickly looked to her left and saw her brother riding between her and Niall and scowling at her. If he hadn't been just a ghostly spirit, she imagined he would have fought the men to free her and gotten himself killed. "When you saw to Odara, she began to talk about breeding and that was
more
than I wished to hear."

She imagined so, being that the notion of bedding lassies and leaving his own offspring with them wouldn't have appealed. Not that he wasn't good with bairns, but he just hadn't seemed ready to settle down anytime soon to raise his own.

"I leave you be for a time and what happens? You fall into the hands of the MacNeill? And not just any MacNeill." Connell glowered at Dougald. Her brother's gaze shifted to Dougald's possessive arms around Alana, then again looked at her. "The most well-known rake of the whole lot of the MacNeill clan."

When Dougald had seen the lass sitting upon her horse on the hilltop frozen in place staring at him, and only once glancing in the direction of his other clansmen who had still been bathing in the loch, he had thought she was one of the fae.

Until she rode away. He thought that the fae would have just vanished. Poof! In a puff of mist. If that's what she'd been. Her horse's hooves pounding on the ground sounded too real for her to have been one of the fae. He knew then she was the same woman he'd seen briefly earlier on the Cameron's lands.

He couldn't decide what she was up to. First, watching them from the hilltop, and then running off. Then turning again as if in battle preparedness, waiting for him to draw closer, and then—mayhap—having a change of heart and running again.