His Wild Highland Lass (3 page)

She wondered then if anyone had even tried.

Though she knew if her sister, Lady Akira, had any say in it, she would have moved mountains to locate her and bring her home. She adored her older sister, loved Akira's daughter, four sons, and their nephew, but she hated the man her sister had been forced to marry. Then she wondered if this wasn't providence. Mayhap she could work on this laird's staff and no one would ever be the wiser. If he was a good laird, mayhap it could work in her favor.

When she didn't say anything further, Ronan said, "How did you come by a horse? Did your father gave it to you? A brother?" As if he was considering other possibilities, he was silent for a moment. "A husband?"

"She appears to be sleeping," Ward said. "She probably has been traveling for a good long while and is exhausted."

"She is too stiff in my arms to be sleeping."

She had nearly fallen asleep until Ward spoke, startling her a bit. But it was true. She'd been trying to stay awake, attempting to keep her distance from the hot-blooded Highland laird she was seated against. She finally relaxed the rest of the way, too weary to fight it any longer. And mayhap, he would quit asking any more questions of her.

He tightened his hold on her again, probably fearing she
had
drifted off to sleep and could very easily fall off his horse.

***

Ronan smiled when Sorcha's head fell against his chest. Now, he was certain she was asleep.

When they reached Dunloch Castle, several of their clansmen stopped their chores to see the woman in Ronan's arms. Who would have ever thought a trip to see to a crofter's troubles would result in Ronan discovering a lass in distress?

One of his men hurried to take the woman from him so that he could dismount.

"Is she wounded?" Fagen asked, carefully taking her into his arms.

"Nay. She is sleeping. Take her to the room off the kitchen. She can slumber there until the meal is served." Ronan dismounted and a lad took his reins.

Their dark-haired sister, Elspeth, rushed out of the keep to greet them and her dark brown eyes focused on Fagen carrying the lass. "What has happened?" she asked, worried. She was the most sweet-tempered lass, always concerned about the welfare of their clan and since their mother died, she had overseen the staff.

Ronan explained what he suspected, concerning the lass.

"Should I see to her?" Elspeth asked, wringing her hands.

"Nay. Let her sleep. For the time-being, she can stay in the room off the kitchen." When Elspeth turned to head back to the keep, Ronan said, "You can see the lass later." He was afraid his sister would wake her and try to learn all there was about her, when the woman needed to rest most of all.

Elspeth nodded and hurried off.

"So what do you think?" Ward followed Ronan into the keep as Alban stopped to speak to a sweet lassie.

"That she lied about where she is from. But she is dressed too fine to be just a peasant."

"And her horse? Do you believe she truly had one?"

"Most likely. She had a few reddish horse hairs on her
léine
and the mud splatters also, that appear to have been caused from a horse's gallop through a wetter region. After the meal, I want you to organize fifteen men to sweep the area in search of her horse and the men who stole it, if it is true. I want the horse and the men brought here if you know or even suspect a horse doesna belong to them."

"Aye. Do you want Alban or me to be in charge of the search?"

"You, with your hawk's sight. Mayhap you will spy her horse when no one else can." Ronan stopped and turned to face Ward. "I really dinna see how you do it."

"My hawk's sight." Ward grinned. "I will organize the men at once, and following the nooning meal, we will be off."

"Aye. And let me know right away if you have any success."

"Will do." Ward strode back outside.

Ronan knew his brother was pleased he had been right—this time.

Red-faced and highly flustered, Cook practically ran into the great hall to speak to Ronan. Her dark eyes were wide, which didn't quite seem to be the reaction he would expect. He assumed she didn't like that the lass was allowed to sleep off the kitchen when he had not first talked to her about it. Even though the castle and everyone who lived within was under his rule, he was amused that Cook had claimed the kitchen and the storage room as her own.

"Aye, what is it? I take it that the lass—"

"She is armed with a kitchen knife and threatening us with it, my laird!"

Sorcha had awakened in a small dark room to the sound of loud, banging noises and fearing for her life, she had quickly found a knife and armed herself.

Her heart thundering in her ears, Sorcha eased her way toward the entryway, intending to make her escape. She didn't know where she was when she saw six women preparing a meal. A spitted boar roasted over an open fire and pots of fish soup bubbled over another, making her stomach grumble with hunger.

Then one of the women turned, saw Sorcha, and screamed. The other five women whipped around, wide-eyed to see her wielding the knife for protection, none of them making a move.

A black-haired man ran into the room, carrying a sword, and when he saw her and the knife she was holding, he advanced on her, backing her into a corner. A tall, thin woman standing with the rest of the women rushed out of the kitchen.

Threatening to cut Sorcha if she moved from where she was wedged between a table and a wall, the man effectively blocked her escape from the kitchen.

"Where am I?" Sorcha was so confused, she couldn't comprehend where she was.

His black eyes narrowed. Towering over her, the man scowled at her every bit as much as she scowled right back at him and didn't answer her.

Footfalls hurried toward the kitchen, and she suspected armed guards would come and carry her off to the dungeon, if they didn't kill her outright first.

Ronan and the tall woman entered the kitchen, and Sorcha felt a bit of relief to see someone she knew. She realized then she was at
his
castle, having forgotten he had told her he was bringing her here. He didn't look in the least bit pleased to see her holding a knife as much as she was pleased to see him. She dropped the knife on the table to show she had not meant to hurt anyone.

"Sorcha." Ronan stalked toward her.

"I woke and didna know where I was. I was in a dark room. And then…" She burst into tears.

Which was so unlike her!

She was exhausted, hungry, infuriated with Parthalan MacNeill for forcing her to flee Craigly Castle against her will, and to leave her sister and her niece and nephews behind, all of whom she loved dearly. Then to lose her beloved horse. She wasn't given to wild emotional outbursts ever, and she was furious with herself for doing so in front of Ronan and his staff.

But she couldn't have stopped the tears, no matter what.

Here she thought she might even find employment at Dunloch Castle. Now, neither the laird, nor anyone else, could trust her with even a kitchen knife. Worse, he probably thought that her disintegrating into tears was all an act to gain his sympathy.

But she truly couldn't help the raw emotions swamping her this instant.

"Come, Sorcha." Ronan's voice was soothing as he offered his hand to her.

He wasn't going to throw her in the dungeon? She hastily brushed away the tears on her cheeks, though her eyes were still filled with them. She sniffled and took his hand.

His eyes widened a bit, and she guessed he meant to take her arm, which was much less intimate. She quickly released his hand. He smiled, and that one little smile made her body heat all over again.

He took hold of her arm and gently led her out of the kitchen. She was certain the servants would share what had happened in the kitchen with the rest of the staff. Which really restricted the possibilities for working here.

"I…I didna know where I was."

"Aye, lass, I gathered that." Ronan walked her through the great hall, and her heart began to race again.

What if he meant to place her in the dungeon? Instead of by force, he was taking a willing hostage?

She slowed her pace, but he didn't. No one was throwing her in a dungeon without a fight.

"Where…where are you taking me?" She glanced down at his belt and the sword swinging from it, and the
sgian dubh
he carried in his boot.

He smiled down at her, then clasped his hand around hers, as if he knew just what she was thinking. "Dinna even consider stealing one of my weapons, lass. You well remember what happened the last time, aye?"

Certainly. The braw warrior and laird of his clan had not only disarmed her, but taken her down and rested between her legs as if he was her lover. That thought made her hot all over again as if she had been baking bread on the warm summer's day.

She saw his brother Alban watching them from the great hall and the way he was grinning at her. She knew that the word of her actions in the kitchen were already spreading throughout the clan.

"I saw Fagen and he told me that you might need to watch your back, Ronan. Do you need to?" Alban remarked.

Ronan shook his head. "Tell Fagen I wish to see him at the guest chamber on the top floor in a while. I will see you at the meal shortly."

When he reached the stairs and found Sorcha slowing her pace even more, he glanced down at her, hating to see her so distressed. "Are you tired?"

"Aye."

"I only wish to speak to you." Ronan suspected she was tired, but also wary of where he was taking her. He intended for her to sleep, undisturbed, in a small chamber guests used when visiting. There was no escaping the room through the arrow slit windows and as high up as the chamber was located. But he would have to post a guard to ensure she didn't slip out through the door.

As soon as he opened the door, she stood fast.

"A room to sleep in. Naught more."

"You promise?"

He frowned down at her, suspecting the worse. That some knave had molested her or had attempted to. "Aye, lass. Well, and to talk. I would know who your kin are. Then you need to sleep. I will have food sent up to you when you are awake and wish it."

She walked inside the room then, and sat down on the bed, not on the chair as he had thought she would. He couldn't help but think of her in that bed, with him. Only because they had already been so intimate before.

He cleared his throat. "First, you are no' from the Chattan clan."

She shook her head.

"Then which?"

"Barclay."

He frowned. "The Barclays I have heard of are Franks, who came over with William when he conquered England. Some of the Barclay families settled in Fib. Are they your people?"

"Aye."

"So you are Sorcha Barclay?"

She sighed deeply and nodded.

This time he believed her, as far as who her family was. Four different clans held land that bordered his. But that concerned him. The Barclays were not one of them.

"Fib is far too distant from here. You couldna have traveled that far, lass. They are even farther away than the Clan Chattan."

"Aye." She was looking at the rushes at her feet now.

"Lass, where have you been staying?"

"With your enemy, Laird Parthalan MacNeill. He married my sister and…and he isna a good man."

Relieved she had not run away from a husband and all the trouble that could cause his clan because if she had been abused, he would not be returning her, he said, "But he leads his clan well, from what I know of him. His men are behind him."

Sorcha glowered at him. "Oh, aye, and some of the women, too. Or beneath him." Her cheeks turned a brilliant red.

"He attacked you?" Ronan was furious. There were always women willing to pleasure a clan chief if he so chose, so no man ever had to resort to forcing a lassie to his bed.

She looked again at the floor and nodded.

"Did he…succeed?" Ronan wasn't sending her back there, no matter what. If she chose to stay with his clan, she was welcome to stay, as long as she remained unarmed.

"Nay." Her eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

"Ahh, lass. Dinna fret. You can stay here with us for as long as you wish. Unless you want to return to Fib and rejoin the Barclays."

"Nay." She brushed away more tears trailing down her cheeks.

"They…didna want to pay a dowry to someone to marry you off," he guessed. "Instead, Parthalan agreed to wed your sister and take you in." To take advantage of her later, he suspected.

"Aye. But you are enemies, I thought." Her eyes were so wide with astonishment, he couldn't believe she thought he might treat her ill because of her association with the MacNeills.

"Nay. And even if we had major disagreements, I wouldna hold that against you, lass. They have no' stolen our livestock…" He paused, then frowned. "Did you see the men who stole your horse?" He realized that she must have truly had a horse, but had the men who stole it actually been searching for the lass? Had they been some of the MacNeill men looking to return her home?