X Marks the Scot (24 page)

Declan stopped abruptly as the healer’s words hit him like a stone catapulted into his chest. A firm nudge from the guard brought him back to reality. He could not glance back, for if he did, he would take his wee bonny wife right there where she stood. The lass loved him? After everything he had done to her, every horrible word he had ever spoken to her, his wife loved him. He could not understand it. And yet, it was truly delightful. His mouth curved into a smile.

Ciaran and Aiden would fill the healer in on their plan. Once King James had his trusted men spread the word regarding the papers, Dunnehl, Catesby, and Percy would be more inclined to make a mistake. That was the easy part. Now they just had to flush out the man who took the shot.

The guards threw Declan back into the dungeon and closed the door. This plan had better work. Settling back in the confines of his prison, he thought it was ironic how life takes turns. Declan MacGregor was known as a rogue across the Highlands for his expertise in bed sport, a title he would now willingly bestow on another. Out of all the lasses he bedded, not one of them ever uttered a single word of love. Granted, he had never believed in such a ridiculous idea, but for some reason when his raven wife spoke the words, they were something he clearly desired to hear. His heart swelled with a feeling he had thought long since dead.

His eyes burned dryly from sleeplessness and his back ached between his shoulder blades. There would be time for sleep once he was back in his own home, in his own bed, and with his own wife to share it with. Until then, he mused on the smoldering passion that he had thrilled her with.

Not much time had passed when the keys to Declan’s prison jingled and the lock opened. Dunnehl ambled in and the door shut behind him.

“Are they treating you well, MacGregor?” the portly lord asked, studying the unaccommodating surroundings.

“Unlike ye pampered English, I could live anywhere. Where have ye been, Dunnehl? I thought ye would have been here to gloat.” Declan paused. “Do ye think it safe for ye to be in here with me alone? After all, I am naught but a Highland barbarian—verra uncivilized.”

“I’ll take my chances. There have been rumors surfacing of papers drawn in Argyll’s own hand that implicate and give the names of men who plotted against His Majesty. Is this true or perhaps another attempt to cry for freedom?”

Declan had a hard time trying to wipe the smug expression from his face. “Worried are ye?”

“Let me tell you what I think, dear boy. You will soon face the hangman’s noose and I believe you’re nothing more than a frightened dog. If you had any proof, you would have presented it. You do not play a good hand of cards and your time is running out.” Dunnehl’s eyes darkened and a wicked smile played on his lips. “Argyll’s sister, on the other hand, looks ripe for the picking. I’m sure she will need consoling after the death of her Highland husband. I will be more than happy to provide her with the comfort she deserves.” The cur turned on his heel and knocked on the door for the guard.

“Donna fret, Lord Dunnehl. Ye, Argyll, Catesby, Percy, and Fawkes can all sleep peacefully in your soft beds this eve—well, Argyll and Fawkes are already lying in theirs. They have been waiting verra patiently for ye. It willnae be long now before ye join them.”

Dunnehl stiffened and did not turn around.

The plan was in motion.

***

Ciaran, Aiden, Calum, Seumas, and Montgomery watched their backs. They could not risk being spotted. Each had carefully taken their leave from the estate and covertly gathered at the edge of the forest before the setting sun. Ciaran needed to make sure that everyone knew his role well. There was too much at stake and he would not chance his brother’s life.

“Ye werenae followed?” Ciaran asked, his senses on alert.

“Nay,” the men answered in unison.

“Liadain?”

“Stays with Viscount Cranborne’s wife,” said Montgomery. “She wasnae happy, but I have her word she willnae interfere. Besides, Cranborne gave his word he would watch over her as well.”

“Good. Now listen verra carefully,” Ciaran said to the men. “There will be at least two chances for a clear shot at Declan: when the guards break for the midday meal or when they stop to break camp this eve. Calum and Montgomery, ye two will keep watch on Dunnehl, Catesby, and Percy, while Aiden, Seumas, and I will tarry along and search the forest for the man. Do ye have any questions?”

The men shook their heads. “Nay.”

Ciaran nodded. “Good. Lest I need remind ye, this is Declan. Eyes and ears open, alert at all times. Montgomery, I am counting on ye.”

“I have your back,” he said.

“Let us find this man and put an end to this.
Seun
Dè umad!” Spell of God about you!
Ciaran said firmly.

“Feun Dè tharad!” The hand of God over you!

***

After Lord Dunnehl met with MacGregor in the dungeon, Dunnehl sent word to Catesby and Percy. In the darkened hours of the night, the men met secretly in the stables. Dunnehl needed these men to see reason. There was a very good chance that they all would be exposed and everything they’d worked for thwarted. And he refused to be brought down by a bloody Highlander.

“Take him out,” ordered Dunnehl. When Catesby and Percy exchanged a silent glance, their look infuriated him even more. “Did you not hear me? Bloody Argyll wrote down everything. If the king gets his hands on those papers, we are all dead. Kill him. We cannot risk it. I know he did not speak this to the king or we would already be in the hangman’s noose. MacGregor’s words mean nothing. He will need those documents as proof. Kill him before we are implicated. I should have known never to trust Argyll,” he snarled.

Tapping his finger on his chin, Dunnehl narrowed his eyes. “There is something bothering me, though. MacGregor never mentioned Cranborne. If Argyll wrote down all our names, why did MacGregor not mention Viscount Cranborne? Hear this, if I am charged, I am taking everyone with me.”

“What difference does it make if he did or did not name Cranborne now? He accused us all. If MacGregor hands over those papers to King James, we are all dead. I will take the bloody Highlander out before he even gets close to Castle Campbell, but I will have to ride out now to get ahead of him. You and Catesby ride ahead to Castle Campbell and find the damn papers before it’s too late. I’ll deal with MacGregor,” said Percy, shaking his head.

Dunnehl glared at Percy. “Try not to make a jumble out of it like you did with the king, Percy. You missed the shot.”

“I never miss twice.”

***

Declan had to admit that he’d had brighter ideas than this. As he sat bound upon his mount for appearances, he cautiously glanced around at his surroundings, knowing that at any moment someone could be lying in wait. What the hell had he been thinking?

Although the guards surrounded him, the archer had two chances: when they stopped for the noon meal and when they set up camp this eve. At least, that was according to Declan and Ciaran’s calculations. Unfortunately, the conspirator was not on the same schedule.

When the guard rested for the midday meal, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Not that Declan desired to be a marked target, but he was sick and tired of being branded a traitor. He craved his life back and yearned for his bonny healer.

Ciaran and Aiden were somewhere near. Even though he could not see them, he could feel their presence. They were kin and would do anything for one another. Although, Declan had to admit that his sisters-by-marriage frightened him a little. If anything happened to his brothers, their wives would have his bollocks on a platter. He shifted at the thought.

The longer the men journeyed toward Castle Campbell, the more restless and irritable he became. The corner of Declan’s mouth twisted in exasperation as he thought how much he resented simply being placed in this situation.

“How are you holding up?” asked a guard beside him. It was the same guard who had escorted him from Castle Campbell.

Declan’s smile was without humor. “I want this resolved.”

They had traveled several additional miles in silence when the guards halted abruptly. An overgrown tree splintered across the trail. When the tiny hairs on the back of Declan’s neck rose, his attention reached full alert.

His eyes darted around nervously. Damn, he needed to concentrate. Where would he make the shot?
Think
MacGregor, think.
God’s teeth! He felt like a lamb waiting for the slaughter. He refused to be a sitting target. He was sliding from his mount when an arrow struck him in the arm and he fell to the ground.

Springing to his feet, he turned to the guard. “Cut my bindings!” His arm burned like hell, but it was more of a nuisance than anything. Had he not shifted, the arrow would have struck his heart.

The guard hastily pulled out a dirk, reached around Declan, and cut him free.

Declan spotted his bow and arrow and quickly grabbed it. “I need this,” he said to the guard.

He thundered into the brush after the guards, scouring the landscape relentlessly. The foliage was too thick and he could not see a damn thing. Men yelled in the distance as they pulled out their swords and chopped away at the thicket. A man could easily mask his appearance anywhere in this terrain. Curses fell from his mouth and his nostrils flared with fury. He vowed to catch this man and personally send him to his maker.

They were losing precious light when Declan spotted his brothers with Montgomery and Seumas. He studied Ciaran and Aiden struggling to walk through the brush, their legs tangled by the thistles and nettles. No man could have made an escape so easily. Damn, the revelation hit him like a nail to the head.

The shot would have been from the air. No sooner did Declan open his mouth to warn the men when Ciaran shouted his name.

A branch snapped directly over his head. Without thought, Declan lifted his bow and shot the arrow at the center of the dark-clad figure looming above. The man grunted and fell out of the tree into a thicket near Declan’s feet. Declan threw back his head, a cry of relief breaking from his lips.

Ciaran, Aiden, and Seumas cursed the nettles as they pulled the man out of the brush. Was that…
Percy
? As the realization sunk in, Declan could not believe it. That had been brilliant. Pretending not to be able to shoot a bow and arrow but actually mastering it. Percy had fooled everyone, including him. And to think, he had actually instructed the man on how to hit the mark.

Declan leaned against the tree. Damn, his arm hurt like hell.

“Ye got him,” said Aiden with a brief nod. “Ye are hit.” He reached for the arrow and broke it off in a single snap.

“An diobhail toirt leis thu.” The devil take you.

Aiden smirked. “I have heard worse from ye, Brother. Pull out the other end or I will have to do it for ye.”

“And why do I get the sense ye would thoroughly enjoy that?” Declan lifted his arm and let his brother pull out the other end of the arrow, grunting when it came through.

“And
that
was for Aisling. She will be angry I had to be away so long.”

“Fair enough.”

Ciaran spoke with the guard and then walked over to Declan with his laird-ish swagger. For the first time in his life, Declan realized leadership suited his older brother. “Your name should be cleared. The guards will take Percy’s body to King James, and the men have already gathered Dunnehl and Catesby. They will all be secured.”

Spotting the blood, Ciaran leaned over and examined Declan’s wound. “’Tisnae too bad. Only a flesh wound. Ye need to get that cleaned and cared for so it doesnae fester.”

Declan’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Ye know? I happen to have a verra bonny wife who is a talented healer. I have a feeling she will take good care of me.”

Montgomery growled and everyone looked at him. “Talented healer, my arse. Be sure nae to fire her ire or aye, she will take good care of ye all right.” When the men cast him a puzzled gaze, he chuckled. “Ye know Lady MacGregor was verra determined to come here. When I told her she couldnae come after ye, she tampered my oats with Auld Wife’s Huid and made me run.”

There was a moment of silence, and then all of the men threw back their heads and roared with laughter—well, all except Montgomery.

***

“God’s teeth, healer! That burns!” whimpered MacGregor, gritting his teeth.

Liadain wrapped her husband’s arm with a clean bandage. “Ye are a grown man. Ye uncovered a plot to bring down the entire realm and yet act as though ye are a wee lad that cannae handle a little scratch. ’Tis only a flesh wound, Husband.”

“’Tis only a flesh wound? I took an arrow aimed for my heart.”

When he placed his hand over his heart, she could not help but smile. She covered his hand with her own and tapped his fingers playfully. “But it missed.”

MacGregor’s eyes widened and he leaned back with a dramatic flourish. “But it missed? I could have been killed.”

Liadain leaned over her husband and brushed a brief kiss to his lips. “Aye, but ye werenae.” She gathered the soiled cloths and supplies, and placed them in the bowl on the table.

“I heard what ye did,” he said playfully.

She sat down on the bed beside her husband. “What did I do?”

“’Tis a wonder Montgomery still wants to be the captain of my guard. He will now be careful of eating anything ye put in front of him.”

“I was worried about ye. He was standing in my way. That was the end of it.” She shrugged.

“God’s teeth, lass, I hope ye donna become cross with me,” he teased.

“Ye will know if I do.”

There was a heavy pause and he looked her over wantonly. “Ye risked your life to come after me. I cannae say that I approve, but I am joyful ye are here and safe.”

“I am your wife. I should be by your side. Always.”

He lifted her chin with his finger, his grin irresistibly devastating. “I want to kiss my wife.” His lips feather-touched her with a gentle persuasion and she quivered at the sweet tenderness of his kiss.

She kissed him, lingering, savoring every moment. It had been too long since she held her husband in her arms. His lips were so warm and sweet on hers. It was a kiss for her tired soul to melt into.