A Highlander Never Surrenders (9 page)

“I knew it!” Claire exclaimed, casting back her head at the stars.

Graham slid his gaze to her. So, she was to be married. Oddly, the thought of it did not sit well with him, but he said nothing.

“But,” Angus continued, “until he discovers who the traitors are, he will give them to nae one, save the MacGregors.”

“Did his missive mention what sort of treachery?” Robert asked him.

“Nae, but he did write that he’s awaitin’ yer arrival with the lady’s brother, Connor Stuart.”

“He believes Stuart can be found, then.” Robert cut a satisfied glance to Claire, and then to Graham. He knew Monck had no idea of Connor’s death. The general had not betrayed him.

“Is he missin’?” Angus retrieved his pouch and took another swig.

“He is dead,” Claire told him.

“Then,” Brodie said over the cooling embers of the campfire, “Monck has a reason to fear fer the life o’ yer sister, and yers as well, I’d imagine.”

“Aye,” Angus agreed. “Ye’ll come back to Skye wi’ us, Lady Stuart. Dinna fret aboot yer safety any longer. Ye’ll be safe now.” He swept a menacing glance to Graham. “Ye have no defiled her, have ye, ye bastard?”

“Your reputation certainly does precede you, rogue,” Claire threw at Graham before turning back to Angus. “If Skye is where you’ll be returning, I can assure you, you will be returning to it without me or my sister. The danger to our lives comes from the man your chieftain so easily trusts. Callum MacGregor is either a traitor to the king, or he is being lied to as my brother was. I tell you, Monck cannot be trusted!”

The sound of Brodie’s blade swooshing out of its sheath turned Graham’s attention to him. He gave Brodie a hard look that warned the warrior to back down.

“I’ve killed men fer callin’ Callum a traitor fer less than what she suggests,” Brodie replied in a low growl. “I’ll warn her once to watch her tongue.”

“Aye, ye warned her then. I’m still yer commander. Put away yer sword,” Graham demanded just as menacingly. When Brodie obeyed, Graham turned to Claire. “And ye’ll not speak so carelessly about The MacGregor. He is not a traitor. If Monck is a threat to him, I vow I will help ye kill him.”

“Monck is no threat,” Robert said, still convinced. “He wants Anne sent to Skye because no one will think to look for her there, and even if they did, they would have a hard time reaching her. I’ve been to Camlochlin, my lady. Its stronghold is the land that surrounds it. If Anne is in danger, she should be with the MacGregors.”

“ ’Tis true,” Graham told her. “Only a few noblemen from Cromwell’s rule know of Camlochlin. ’Tis hidden beyond the cliffs of Elgol.”

Claire still wasn’t convinced that Anne would be safe anywhere but with James. None of the generals knew about Ravenglade. Though Connor trusted Monck, he hadn’t given him the location of his army. Still, her brother had trusted him enough, and it had cost him his life. She would not make the same error.

Getting out of Edinburgh alive and with Anne was going to be difficult enough. How the hell was she going to rescue her sister from these brutes? She looked down at her hand, still coiled within Graham Grant’s. Those fingers closing around hers had near shaken her to her core. She was used to the feel of a hilt in her hand, not the warm, calloused strength of a man’s fingers. She didn’t like how his touch affected her. It made her feel defenseless. She could handle herself on a battlefield, but a mere smile from this man made her limbs go weak. She couldn’t think with him holding her so intimately. But she had to, for Anne’s sake.

She smiled as a way of delivering her sister out of the hands of the MacGregors hatched in her mind. She did not have to trust them. She simply had to make them trust her. And the best place to begin was with their commander. She would give him what he wanted. What he had wanted since he’d come upon her in the hands of Lambert’s men; time to try to seduce her. She simply had to stay focused on her task, ignoring what he did to her insides.

“Let us travel to Edinburgh together, then,” Claire offered, lifting a veiled gaze to Graham’s. Her plans had changed, and she made the adjustment as needed. Grant was a man, and growing up around men who tried to deny her every wish had taught her how to get what she wanted using tactics other than force. “I will do as you say until we discover where the true treachery lies.”

A hint of amusement crossed his features at her unexpected compliance. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, sending a sizzling lick of flame to her belly. “Ye have naught to fear from these men. Once ye return to Skye with them, ye’ll be convinced.” He turned to two of the men sitting near Angus. “Andrew, Donel, ye’ll leave with the lady now. The rest of us will continue to the city and get Anne.”

Claire yanked her hand free of his. What had just happened? He’d been eager to follow her since they’d met, but now that she agreed to spend days with him, he was casting her off? He was daft if he thought . . . “I’m not going anywhere without my sister.”

His eyes met the stark, raw determination in hers and she blinked as his gaze seemed to penetrate her garments, her flesh, her very thoughts. Her eyes darted to Andrew and Donel rising to their feet, readying to leave and take her with them. God’s fury, a fight with these men could possibly injure her, leave her helpless to save Anne. She remembered the first time James had refused to let her join an ambush on a group of English soldiers. He’d even fought with Connor about it, but in the end she was victorious. A simple kiss and a few softly spoken words to stroke his male pride was all it had cost her. Biting back a scathing oath, because she had a feeling Graham might cost her more, she placed her palm on his thigh. “I would prefer to remain with you. I feel . . . safer.”

The wry curve of his mouth made her doubt her own words.

“Hell, that had to be difficult.”

Not as difficult as it is maintaining the control not to punch you in the nose right now
, Claire thought. “On the contrary,” she said, softening her voice to a rich murmur and moving an inch closer to him. “Is it difficult to concede to a man who is clearly stronger, quicker, and more intelligent than I?” His eyes narrowed, but och, she could tell by the elusive spark of satisfaction in them that this was what he wanted to hear. “I have no other choice but to place myself entirely in your hands.” His green eyes grew dark with intensity. She had the rogue. “But
only
in yours,” she added to clinch his agreement.

His sensual lips pursed, contemplating her newly docile demeanor. Then he shrugged as if he didn’t care what purpose lay behind it. “Verra well, in my hands ye shall be.”

She had prevailed. Victory was once again hers. Why then did she feel as if she’d just stepped into the devil’s lair?

Chapter Nine

B
y means of deception, I myself have been deceived.

Two hours into her journey toward Edinburgh, Claire Stuart realized that trying to think about anyone or anything other than Graham Grant was useless.

He kept his mount at an even pace just ahead and to the right of her, granting her full view of the flare of his back, the billowy spray of burnished locks flowing from beneath his cap, glimpses of a lean, gold-dusted thigh pressed against his horse. Hell, it was all making her daft.

Of course, Anne remained a constant concern, but there was naught she could do for her sister at present. At least the general had decided to wait before he married Anne off to a Roundhead. But what if he planned on giving her to a MacGregor? Claire looked at the men surrounding her and felt a cold tremor pass though her. Her sister would never survive a night with one of these hard mountain men. Claire had to find a way to get to Perth after Anne was freed from Monck. There, she could take up arms with James and the men of Ravenglade’s garrison and rid herself of her unwanted companions once and for all. She simply needed to figure out a way to get them there.

She tried to concentrate on Connor, and the way he used to sound when he laughed with James. She thought of his voice and remembered the pitch and depth of it while he tirelessly taught her how to fight. He was thoughtful and trustworthy, and always optimistic. He’d trusted General Monck and agreed to a meeting of truce with Charles Fleetwood. Aye, there was a way to kill a warrior without engaging in battle with him. It was betrayal, and it was cowardly. And worse, it robbed the warrior of his glory in death.

She would find a way to kill her brother’s betrayer. Of that, the saints in heaven could be sure. But for now, naught could be done. Naught but keeping her senses alert to danger while they traveled, and her eyes off a certain golden-haired Highland warrior. The trouble was, Graham Grant was excruciatingly handsome and insufferably vain. She was certain he was fully aware of the devastating power in even his most casual smile, which he felt compelled to aim at her several times during their journey.

What in blazes was wrong with her? He was simply a man! A rogue used to women swooning at his feet.
Enough!
she chastised herself, slapping her thigh. She would not spare him another thought, save to relish the idea of what a blow it was going to be to him when he finally realized she was immune to his wiles. She did not like him, and she would never . . .

“D’ye need to stop fer a rest?”

. . . lie with him.

His honeyed burr drew her eyes to him. He’d slowed his mount and was keeping an even pace with hers. His gaze lingered leisurely on her lips, then rose to meet her eyes without a trace of guilt over his blatant perusal.

“Ye look weary and uncomfortable in yer saddle,” he said, after a moment passed with no response from her but a heated glare.

So far he’d told her she looked ragged and dusty and weary. How often did he intend to insult her? “The longer I know you,” she said in a voice she reserved for her most scathing sarcasm, “the more convinced I am that your mouth is not the deadliest weapon in your arsenal against women.”

He shrugged his powerful shoulders, a lazy ripple of muscle. “There are many lasses who would disagree with that assessment.”

Damn him to Hades, but he was probably correct. Every blasted time she looked at him she remembered the way he’d kissed her, so rough and so . . . acutely arousing. Such an uninvited kiss should have enraged her, but instead she had near melted all over him.

“Yer mouth, on the other hand,” he said with an irrepressible smile, “is deadly, indeed.”

Claire felt her cheeks burn and looked away so that he wouldn’t see. This effect he had on her was completely foreign and entirely unwelcome. Few men had ever praised her for the skill of her arm; none, for the power of her kiss. She had no idea how to respond, save to blush to her roots and warn him to never dare kiss her again.

“Yer tongue,” he continued mercilessly, “is as swift as a viper’s, and as cunning as one.”

Her face grew even hotter. The lout wasn’t speaking of her kiss at all, but of her . . . “Cunning?” She tossed him an anxious glance. “I’ve no idea what you—”

“Ye’re proficient at deception, Claire Stuart.” His eyes sparkled watching her, as if enjoying the unease he provoked in her. “Did ye think a man as
quick and intelligent
as I could be so easily fooled?”

Her lips tightened into a rigid line at hearing her words thrown back at her. “Bastard.”

He wrapped his fingers around his reins and steered his horse closer, until his knee rubbed against hers. Leaning in, he closed the distance between them further, his breath mingling with hers when he said, “If I was truly a bastard, I would have made ye prove yer promise to do as I say by demanding another kiss from ye before agreeing to let ye ride with us.”

Claire did not draw back, though part of her warned that she should. No matter the danger he presented to her sound mind, she would not show him his effect on her. “And would I have swooned at your forceful seduction?”

“Aye, I think ye would have if ye thought it would aid yer purpose.” He lifted his fingers to the curve of her jaw. His touch was tender, delicate, his thoughts intent on examining every inch of her face. He withdrew, leaving her with the lingering warmth of his breath upon her flesh. “ ’Tis a resolve I find quite commendable.”

Dear God, that was a charming thing to say. Och, but he was infinitely more dangerous than she had thought. What perfect cunning to seduce her with compliments, not on her appearance, but with the kind only one other man had thought her worthy to receive.

She watched him ride away from her, feeling as if he were taking her common sense with him. God help her, she wanted to kiss him again.

Graham called a halt several hours later. He sat with Robert while he ate and laughed with Angus and Brodie, but his eyes often found Claire’s during their meal.

“Why is Jamie not with ye?” he asked Angus, and refused the pouch the burly Highlander offered him. “I would know if my brother fares well.”

Brodie snorted and shoved a piece of stale black bread into his mouth. “Maggie conspires wi’ Kate to turn him into a pansy.”

Robert laughed, and Brodie’s scowl deepened. “His sister,” he complained to Graham, “keeps the reins tight around Callum’s heart, and she need but ask the laird to prohibit Jamie from comin’, fer Maggie’s sake, and ’tis done.”

Graham looked as disturbed as Brodie when he shook his head. “ ’Tis what marriage does to a man.”