My Wild Highlander (29 page)

"I didn't know you were such a fearsome
little warrior." Lachlan kissed her forehead, warming her. She felt
safer in Lachlan's arms. Still, she feared even he couldn't protect
her this time.

"He will want revenge for losing his arm and
for Pierre, if he died. And he will want the diamond back," she
said.

"Where is this diamond? I've never seen
it."

"I keep it hidden at all times."

"Where?" Lachlan asked. "Surely you trust me
enough by now to show me."

Despite being held in his protective arms,
and enjoying it, something inside her would not let go completely.
"I do…trust you, but you must understand…it is difficult after all
that has happened to me. For more than a year, I have done nothing
but look over my shoulder. And during that time, Camille was the
only person I could trust."

"I know." Lachlan kissed her temple, and the
affection in that gesture touched her deeply. "You don't have to
show it to me now," he went on. "Only when you feel like doing so.
Is there anything else about Girard you should tell me?"

"He is elegant but deadly. A viper. He smiles
while he does the vilest things. That smile can seem warm, charming
and friendly, but it hides a heart of ice. Mayhap he has no soul.
And yet, I did not know his true nature for a long while. You will
stay away from him,
non
? You must not confront him
directly."

Lachlan's eyes took on a predatory quality,
again like a lion. "You confronted him; why would I not?"

"He is angered and perhaps desperate. He will
blame me for all he has lost. And he may be even lower on funds
than he was last year. He will not give up easily."

"Nor will I."

***

Kormad watched the tall, one-armed man stride
toward him across Burnglen's great hall. As a rule, he did not like
Frenchmen but this one seemed eager to meet with him, considering
the early hour. He doubted the gallant brought any men with him to
reinforce Kormad's own small army, which he'd been building over
the last few days.

"
Comte de
Girard, at your service,
monsieur
." He gave a deep, sweeping bow.

"Baron Kormad," he said by way of
introduction. Though he was tempted to smirk at the man's
posturing, he stepped forward and shook his hand. At least Girard's
handshake was firm. 'Haps he would be a strong ally. "What can we
do for each other?"

"I like that you arrive at the point quickly.
I understand we have a common enemy, Angelique Drummagan and this
MacGrath she has married."

"Who sent you?" Kormad demanded. If this was
one of MacGrath's tricks, he would put an end to it quickly.

Girard raised a black brow, looking much like
the devil himself. "The countess of Wexbury said you might be
willing to help me."

"Eleanor Stanhope?"
Hmph.
The
hoity-toity lady had always turned up her nose at him.

"
Oui,
apparently MacGrath was her
lover and she desires having him back in her bed. I had to promise
her we would not harm him."

Kormad would make no such ridiculous promise.
MacGrath was naught but a whoremonger. Certainly not worthy to be
earl. "You have my interest. Why are MacGrath and his new wife your
enemies?"

"Angelique has stolen something that belongs
to me. And I understand they have stolen land which is rightfully
yours."

"Aye, they have!" A renewed spark of rage and
determination lit within him. He would have Draughon.

"Perhaps we will help each other?" Girard
stroked his sleek black mustache.

"In what way? Do you have men to add to my
fighting force?" Kormad asked.

"
Non
. I have only one servant with me
and he is not a soldier. I am not suggesting a battle, but
something infinitely more subtle."

"Such as?"

"Subterfuge. Someone sneaks into this castle
of theirs and destroys them from the inside."

"Aye, I like the way you think. But who would
do this?" Kormad asked. A clever idea occurred to him. A distant
widowed cousin of his lived nearby. Neilina Lockhart was both
beautiful and sympathetic to his and Timmy's claim for Draughon
because of their shared hatred for the late John Drummagan. Neilina
and his sister Lilas had been the best of friends.

Burnglen's entry door burst open,
interrupting Kormad's thoughts.

"M'laird!" MacFie trotted toward him.

"What is it?"

"MacGrath and his men rode by, headed toward
the village."

"Well, don't just stand there. Prepare the
men!"

***

Wearing thick leather armor, Lachlan, Rebbie,
Dirk and five more clansmen entered the low-ceilinged common room
of the Breakstane Inn. Lachlan's gaze immediately landed on
Eleanor, eating at a table by the window. She sent him a beaming
smile and waggled her fingers in a flirtatious wave.

"Och. He is here no more than five seconds
and he is summonsed to a woman's bed," Rebbie muttered.

"I'm going to question her. Watch for
Girard." Lachlan approached her table.

"Oh, Lachlan, 'tis so nice to see you."
Eleanor's voice oozed a sugary sweetness that near turned his
stomach. Her gaze traveled down his body. "You appear to be dressed
for a wild Scots battle. How exciting."

"If it comes to that."

"Won't you please join me? Oh, and
congratulations on your marriage and your new title."

"I thank you." He dropped into the chair
across from her. "I understand you traveled from London with
Philippe Descartes."

Her smile disappeared. "Well…um…not
with
him precisely. We happened to be traveling to the same
place, but for different reasons."

"Or for the same reason—to come between
Angelique and me."

"No. Never." Her pout was even worse than the
sugariness.

"Do you know a Frenchman named Girard?" he
asked in a harsher tone.

She paled. "I wouldn't say I know him. I have
met him."

"Here?"

"Yes, actually. He was here yesterday. I've
not seen him today."

"Did he say anything about Angelique or
me?"

Eleanor hesitated a second too long.
"No."

So she was determined to lie to him. "Did he
say why he was here?"

"I only spoke to him for less than a minute.
We introduced ourselves. We did not state why we are here."

"And why are you here? Why were you at
Draughon?"

"I but wished to offer you and Angelique my
congratulations. I thought since we are friends, I might spend a
bit of time in Scotland, but Angelique was far less welcoming than
I expected."

What a load of horse dung. "Can you tell me
anything else about Girard? 'Tis very important."

"I know nothing more."

He gave her a hard, threatening glare. "I
think you do."

"I swear to you, Lachlan," she said in an
intimate tone. "If I had more information, I would gladly give it
to you."

He was wasting his time with her and her
lies. He was not prepared to force the truth from her at
knifepoint. But even her lies gave him information—Girard was here,
he discussed Angelique with Eleanor, and he was likely now putting
some plot into motion. "Very well, then." Lachlan stood and gave a
brief bow. "I bid you good day."

"Wait! Would you perhaps like…" Her voice
lowered to a whisper. "…some company today? I have the best room in
this place, which isn't saying much but—"

"Nay. Thank you." He strode away from her and
joined Rebbie and Dirk at a table on the opposite side of the
room.

"I talked to the proprietor," Rebbie said in
a low voice. "Girard is staying here, but he headed out somewhere
very early this morn. He is expected to return."

Lachlan's stomach felt as if a lead weight
landed in it. "He could be headed to Draughon for Angelique."

Dirk guzzled a hefty amount of ale and
lowered the mug. "We didn't pass him on the road."

"If he is going there, he would not wish us
to see him," Rebbie said. "Perhaps he traveled another way or hid
when he saw our party coming."

"We need to head back. I'll leave a man to
watch the inn," Lachlan said.

A quarter hour later, while on the road to
Draughon, a flock of birds rose from the copse of bushes up ahead.
A flash of steel glinted from among the shadows. The fine hairs on
the back of Lachlan's neck stood on end. He motioned for the men to
stop.

"They're waiting for us there." He
pointed.

All his men pulled out weapons and readied
themselves.

"Kormad!" Lachlan called. "I ken you're
there."

Nothing, no movement.

Lachlan aimed his pistol. "If you're not
there, then it won't matter if I shoot into the bushes."

Before he could pull the trigger, a shot
exploded from the bushes and the lead ball whizzed over his
head.

"Everyone, back!" He didn't want his men nor
his horses injured. They retreated out of pistol range. "Anyone
hit?"

A chorus of nays and curses went up.

"Come out and fight like men, you cowards!"
Lachlan yelled.

A rustling from behind snagged their
attention. Lachlan wheeled his horse about and came face to face
with five men charging on foot, swords in hand. He fired the
pistol, the lead ball catching one in the upper chest, near the
shoulder. The man fell. Lachlan shoved the pistol into his belt and
drew a basket-hilt broadsword to deflect the first blow aimed at
him. The whoreson looked familiar; he'd seen him on the streets of
London when they'd tried to steal Angelique's coach.

Clashes of steel, yells and curses filled the
air.

Finally, Lachlan's blade sliced the other
man's forearm. He screamed and ran away. Another warrior, wearing
full leather armor including a helmet, rushed him. He looked
familiar as well… the bald bastard who'd tried to throw Angelique
from the ship.

***

"Where is he, Camille?" Angelique stared
through the distorted glass window in Camille's chamber toward the
empty courtyard, praying Lachlan would ride through the gates on
his big bay. "He should be back by now. It is almost noon."

"Will you please calm yourself and sit. He is
a warrior knight. Not so fragile as you imagine." Camille's needle
slid through the cloth over and over, effortlessly.

"He is a man, vulnerable as any of us." She
strode to the other side of the room and back. "Girard is vile and
devious. You can never tell what he will do."

"I believe you have fallen in love with your
husband," Camille sing-songed.

Angelique snorted. "Nonsense. Just because I
worry about his health does not mean I love him." She refused to
love him. If she did, then she was the fool.

"What does it mean then?" Camille's blue gaze
challenged her.

"It means I worry about my husband's health.
I need a husband and he seems best suited for that role at the
moment."

"Indeed he does. I'm glad you finally realize
that."

"If he dies, I'll be saddled with another
husband, one that might be far more dreadful."

Camille snickered. "'Far more dreadful.' You
always did delude yourself, my cousin, since we were small
children. I suspect Lachlan isn't dreadful in the least."

She refused to comment on that, though it was
true.

"How was last night?" Camille inquired.

"Do not tease me."
Last night.
Angelique dared not think of the lovemaking, just as intense and
passionate as their previous encounters. The indescribable carnal
pleasures Lachlan gifted her with. Then he held her while they
slept, snuggled and warm. How agreeable and cozy that aspect of
marriage was. But he was gone this morn when she awoke. How dare he
not even tell her good-bye before he went on such an important and
dangerous mission?

Horses' hooves clattered in the stone-paved
bailey outside. She darted to the window but couldn't recognize
Lachlan's form through the wavy glass. "They are returned." She
raced from the room.

Angelique ran across the great hall and
outside. Rebbie dismounted, his arm and hand covered in blood.
Other men were injured and bleeding. Her heart stopped.

"Where is Lachlan?" Her throat was so dry,
the words came out a near whisper. Her gaze searched the men.
"Lachlan?"
Please, Mère de Dieu, do not let him be dead.

She spotted him emerging from the stables.
She ran forward, scanning his body for blood and injuries, but
found none.

"Lachlan, are you hurt? Are you
bleeding?"

"Nay." He still wore that intense warrior
expression.

Angelique launched herself at him. "Thank the
Bonne Mère.
"

He lifted her, holding her close while she
kissed face, covered in stubble, sweat and dust—a most welcome
feeling against her lips.

"I'm doing very well at the moment, thank
you." Lachlan grinned, wondering what the devil had gotten into his
wee wife. Whatever it was, he liked it. Her actions sparked
instant, thrilling arousal in him. And happiness.

"Grâce à Dieu."
She continued to plant
little kisses over his face. How unusual, but sweet, her actions
were. He turned his head aside and smiled at the teasing comments
coming from the men. Best to take this to a private place, he
decided, carrying her toward the entry steps. The men's calls,
whistles and yells grew louder. Pride swelled through him that she
would display her affection for him so publicly.

"I'm so glad you returned," she
whispered.

"You're trembling, lass." He carried her
across the great hall and toward the solar. No time for more steps
to reach the bedchamber.

"I was afraid. I did not want you to be
hurt."

His heart kicked about like a lunatic jester.
"Why not?" Savoring her slight weight in his arms, as well as her
admission, he closed the door behind them.

"You are my husband," she said in a breathy
tone. Her darkened green gaze held his, communicating so many
things…fear and desire. More—things he had never thought to see in
her eyes. Trust and love? Was he imagining them?