Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens (29 page)

“In truth?” Alec said as he set his mug down. “I do no’ rightly ken how myself. That be why I am here. I want ye to ken that no’ all of Rutger’s people support what he has done.”

“His people?” Brogan asked suspiciously. “Be they no’ yer people too?”

Alec gave another slight shrug. “I suppose they are. But I have been away fer many years, ye ken. I fear I do no’ recognize the clan I left. I barely recognize me brother, fer that matter.”

“So ye want us to help
ye
get me wife back so that
ye
can take over as chief of Clan Bowie?” Ian asked.

Alec raised his hands. “Nay! I have no desire to be chief of Clan Bowie. Or any other clan. I only want to help ye get yer wife back. It is me hope that if we can do that, me brother will see the reason in it and accept a peace accord between our clans.”

“Pardon me,” Ian began, “but I find it verra difficult to believe a man would go against his own brother to help his sworn enemy, in order that his clan have
peace.
”

Alec leaned back in his chair. “Most of the Bowies have never travelled more than a day’s walk from their homes. Only the warriors have gone farther than that, and only to raid and steal. I have seen more of this world than me people could ever dream of seein’. I have seen war.
Real
war. I want no part of that.”

Ian’s brow furrowed into a hard line as he listened to Alec Bowie’s talk of peace.

“I fostered with the MacGregors fer seven years. They are a good people. They are prosperous by their own hard work, no’ by stealin. They are a happy, peaceful people. I want
that
kind of life fer the Bowies. If it means goin’ against me brother to have it, then I shall.”

Ian cast a questionable glance toward his brother, as if to ask,
do ye believe this man?

“So ye want peace and are willin’ to go against yer brother to have it, even though ye say ye have no desire to be chief,” Ian recounted to be certain.

“Aye, I will and, nay, I do no’ want to be chief.”

Brogan was just as leery as his brother, but the most important question still went unanswered. “How do ye propose to get me sister-by-law out of the Bowie keep? The same way Aggie, Rose and Ian made their way in when Aggie killed Eduard?”

“Were those tunnels still open, I would have brought yer sister-by-law with me this day,” Alec replied in frustration. “But me brother had all those passages and tunnels sealed off or destroyed when he learned how entry was made that night.”

There went Brogan’s plans for entering unseen into the Bowie keep.

“Then how?” Ian asked.

Another shrug from Alec, this time born of irritation. “I do no’ ken. Rutger has men watchin’ her day and night. He has an old woman to bring her food and check on her several times throughout the day. He has doubled the guard on our walls, has increased the men on patrol. He might be a greedy bastard, but he’s no’ foolish enough to let his guard down.”

Ian and Brogan were as lost as Alec when it came to any viable plan to remove Rose unharmed.

From the back of the room, came Leona Macdowall’s soft voice. “Can ye steal someone
inside
the keep?”

* * *

* * *

E
veryone
in the entire room turned to look at Leona. She stood in the far corner, half in the shadows, half out. With her head held high and shoulders pulled back, she waited for Alec to answer her question. When the silence stretched on far too long, she nervously asked the question again. “Can ye get someone
inside
the keep?”

Ian stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. On Brogan’s face was the same expression.

“What did ye have in mind, lass?” Alec was the only one brave enough to ask.

She took a tentative step forward as she fidgeted with her fingers. “Everyone is always remarkin’ on how much Rose and I look alike. I volunteer to take her place.”

Half the men in the room laughed while the others shook their heads derisively.

“Leave the plannin’ to the men, lass,” Fergus said as he turned his back to her.

Ian and Brogan stared at Alec Bowie. The three men were giving some strong consideration to her idea.

“Do ye think ‘twould work?” Ian asked.

“It might,” Alec replied.

“Until someone notices she is no’ heavy with child. Or her eyes.”

Leona made her way quickly to the table. “I ken me eyes be different!” she seethed at Brogan.

“Lass, I meant no offense. I am merely statin’ a fact. Rose has bright green eyes and she is with child.”

Undeterred, she argued on. “Aye, but we only need them to believe I am she long enough fer Alec to get her out of the keep and on her way back home.”

“And what then, lass?” Alec asked. “What happens when me brother discovers Rose is gone?”

“I do no’ ken, but ye must admit it be a good idea.”

Fergus stepped forward. “Leona, ’tis madness ye speak.” He looked to Ian for confirmation but did not find any. “Ian, ye can no’ be thinkin’ to agree with her?”

“Aye, Fergus, I am,” he told him pointedly. “Unless ye can come up with somethin’ better?”

Fergus clamped his jaw shut and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

Ian turned to his brother then. “Well?”

Brogan thought on it for a long moment. “Do ye think ye can get her into the keep unnoticed?”

Alec chuckled slightly. “I am ferever bringin’ one whore or another into our keep—” he stopped abruptly to look at Leona. “I be no’ sayin’ ye are a wh-, that is I mean—”

“I ken what ye’re meanin’ m’laird,” Leona said in a firm tone.

For the first time in years, Alec blushed like a lad who’d just been chastised by his mum.

* * *

T
he remainder
of the morning was spent developing a plan whereby they could gain Leona’s entrance into the Bowie keep without harm, and then the safe rescue of Rose.

While Ian, Brogan, Alec and Leona went over the plans, horses were readied and supplies packed for the two-day journey. Because he still did not know who the second traitor was, they kept the plans to themselves, save for the fifteen men who had heard the original idea to begin with. Those men, though well respected and trusted, were not allowed out of the armory.

The entire McLaren keep was on lockdown. No one would be allowed in or out until Ian’s return. Brogan would be in charge of the keep during Ian’s absence, something he was growing more and more used to doing.

Alec’s men had been waiting for Ian a safe distance from the keep. A messenger was sent to retrieve his man Kyth, to join his friend and partner in crime inside the McLaren keep. Ian and Brogan were taken aback by the man’s size. He stood well over six feet tall with shoulders that seemed nearly as broad as he was tall. He wore his dark hair in the same fashion as Alec, but his face was cleanly shaven. With dark brown eyes, he could very well have passed for Alec’s brother. He was introduced as the man’s cousin and most loyal ally.

As requested, he was as unarmed as Alec. Even the sheaths on the outside of his boots were empty. Alec quickly filled Kyth in on their plans for retrieving Rose. He listened quietly and intently with his arms crossed over his chest.

While the two men talked, Brogan leaned in to whisper to Ian, “If we had more men that looked like him, we could lay siege to the Bowie keep with great ease.”

Ian gave a wry smile and nodded his agreement.

After a quick summary, Kyth looked about. “Where be this lass?” he asked, directing his question to Ian and Brogan.

Brogan cleared his throat before answering. “She is off tryin’ to see if she has any clothes that will make her look like a common bar wench.”

“The girl be far too bonny to be a bar wench,” Alec pointed out. “But I think if we keep her face obscured, mayhap with a hooded cloak, she should do well enough.”

“Bonny is she?” Kyth asked with a devious smile.

Brogan stepped forward. “Aye, she is. And she be a fine young woman and an innocent. We will thank ye kindly to make certain she remains so,” he said in his most serious tone.

Kyth offered him a nod of understanding, taking the warning to heart. “Her virtue shall be safe with us. I give ye me word.”

“I shall hold ye to that,” Brogan and Ian said in unison.

A thought suddenly occurred to Brogan. “What if Ingerame does no’ allow Leona to go?”

Ian had not given that a moment’s thought either. “Do no’ worry it,” he said. “We all ken how he feels about his daughter. And after his shameful behavior the night of the raid, he will want to do everythin’ he can to get himself back in me high regard.”

“How old is the lass?” Alec asked.

“Three and twenty,” Ian told him.

“Unmarried?”

“Aye,” he said. “As far as I ken she has never married. Her father be me lead carpenter. While he is one hell of a man with a hammer, his parenting skills leave much to be desired.”

Alec left the subject alone then. “Let us hope he will allow her to go.”

“He will,” Ian said. “He will.”

I
an had been right
in his assumption that he would get no argument from Ingerame Macdowall as it pertained to his daughter. He even went so far as to see them all off, though he had not one kind word for his daughter, nor did he offer her any words of encouragement. The more Ian got to know the man, the less he liked him. Carpentry skills be-damned. As soon as he could, he would write to Frederick and suggest seeking a replacement for the ill-mannered man.

Leona met them in front of the armory, somewhat excited about what lay ahead. Over a serviceable dark green gown, she wore a wide apron draped just so — in order to help hide her ample bosom — warm boots and a brown hooded cloak. Her ever-present pouch hung from a belt at her waist and on her back she carried a bundle filled with what Ian assumed were clean clothes and supplies.

She was given her own mount, a brown speckled, good-natured mare. ’Twas her first time ever riding. “I fear I be used to walkin’ or ridin’ in a cart or wagon,” she said as Ian and Brogan gave her a quick lesson. “But I shall do me best to keep up and no’ fall off.”

Not long afterward, the Mackintoshes and McLarens headed out of the keep, where they picked up the rest
of Alec’s men: Gylys Bowie, the young lad named Fenner, and a man named Davy MacReynolds.

“This be
all
yer men?” Ian asked disappointedly.

“Aye,” Alec said with a proud smile. “’They be all that I need at the moment.

Ian flinched inwardly. Hopefully the man’s arrogance would not get them all killed.

They would ride until well after nightfall, using the moon to help guide their way. The contingency of men and one woman rode in relative silence, each one of them lost in their own thoughts and concerns.

For Leona, this was a chance to prove to herself and to those who thought they knew her, that she was neither tetched nor possessed by the devil. She wanted to prove to one and all that she was an intelligent young woman, completely worthy of anyone’s respect. Mayhap, just mayhap, if this mission was successful, they would stop calling her Leona Two-Eyes or Leona the Witch.

Ian’s thoughts went between the plan they had developed and worry over the possibility of its working. For once, he would not allow his mind to wander to all the conceivable horrible outcomes. Instead, he chose to do what Rose would do: concentrate on nothing but the positive outcome.

Feeling a good deal more hopeful than he had in weeks, he thought instead about his reunion with his wife. As soon as she was safely in his arms, she would be surrounded by no less than six men at all times. He would write to his father and brother, asking for more volunteers to help rebuild the clan. Never again would he take another chance on his wife being kidnapped or hurt. And never again would he be besieged with worry and dread over her well-being or that of their child. Nay, he would do whatever he could to ensure their safety, no matter the cost.

* * *

B
y the time
they made camp, just a few hours before dawn, Leona was exhausted. Her back and legs hurt, as did her bottom. But she’d not utter one word of complaint. Rose’s safe return was the only significantly important thing that mattered.

A fire was made and a pallet placed near the fire for her. She could not help but wonder if the men were silent because of her presence, or if they were always this quiet. Oftentimes she had helped serve the Mackintosh and McLaren men. Always boisterous and talkative, save for now. Mayhap the seriousness of this mission was what had them holding their normally wagging tongues. She was asleep before she pulled the covers over her shoulders.

As soon as the sun rose the following morning, Brogan gently woke her. “We need to be on our way, lass,” he said with a sleepy smile.

Quickly — or as quickly as her sore muscles allowed — she tended to her morning ablutions and they were soon on their way. They ate while they rode, bread and dried meat, and again, silence fell in all around them.

It took two days to reach the border between Bowie and McLaren lands. With the increased patrols, the Mackintoshes and McLarens could not risk going farther onto Bowie lands. They would have to wait behind in the forest and avoid being seen by anyone. ’Twas not a position Ian relished.

’Twas early morning and a fine mist hung in the air, while gray skies overhead threatened more rain. “This is as far as we can go with ye, Leona,” Ian said as they stood next to their mounts. His tone and countenance were both quite serious. “Ye can change yer mind if ye wish. No one will hold it against ye.”

Leona offered him a wan smile. “Nay, m’laird, I will no’ stop now. No’ when we be so close to gettin’ Rose back.”

He admired her tenacity and was grateful for her devotion to his wife. “Rose has a good friend in ye, Leona Macdowall.”

“As I have in her, m’laird.”

Brogan appeared, looking just as serious as his brother. He too offered her the chance to back out and once again she refused.

“Do ye have a
sgian dubh,
lass?” Ian asked.

With wide eyes, she answered, “Nay, I was in such a hurry to pack, I did no’ think to grab one of da’s.”

Almost in unison, Ian and Brogan each reached into their boots to retrieve hidden daggers. With hands extended and hopeful expressions, they presented the
sgian dubhs
to her.

“Keep one in yer pouch,” Ian said. “The other in yer boot.”

“Thank ye,” she said breathlessly as she took both daggers. “I shall return these to ye in a matter of days.”

“Nay,” Ian said. “Keep them.”

She looked at them in awe, as if they had just presented her with the crown of Scotland. ’Twas the first gift she had received since childhood, when her grandminny presented her with her first journal.

* * *

T
hey’d left
the Mackintoshes and McLarens behind hours ago. Leona now travelled with four relatively complete strangers, heading toward heaven-only-knew what. Though she tried to keep a reserved facade, her insides were a jumbled knot of nerves and trepidation.

Riding on either side of her were Alec Bowie and Kyth, while Fenner and Davey took up the rear. They had just poured out of a small forest and onto a hilly, rock-covered area of land. The morning mist had abated and now the sun shone down brightly. ’Twas an altogether beautiful day, which would be made more beautiful if they were successful in their mission.

“Lass,” Alec asked as they made their way around a large boulder. The sound of his voice startled her, for they had all been riding in silence for hours. “Why do ye do this?”

Leona cast him a sideways glance as she focused on guiding her horse through the rocky terrain. She thought it a rather odd question. “To help me friend.”

Alec thought it a rather odd answer. “Do ye always risk yer neck fer friends?”

’Twas not an easy question to answer without looking like a downtrodden fool. Carefully, she chose her words. “Rose is me dearest friend,” she told him.
And me only one.

He was quiet for a long moment. “Do ye truly understand how dangerous this is?”

“I do,” she replied.

“And yet ye take the risk in hopes of helpin’ yer friend,” he said with a hint of disbelief.

Deciding ’twas a statement and not a question, she fell silent. Her reasons were her own. Some of them were purely selfish. But her primary reason for risking life and limb was most sincere. She had to help Rose get back to her family and clan.

Slowly, they made their way up a small incline, winding their way around large rocks and small boulders. When they crested the top of the hill, he began his questioning again.

“Have ye thought of what will happen to ye, should we be found out?”

In truth, she had given that some thought. “It matters no’,” she told him. “I must do everythin’ I can to get Rose back to her family, to Ian. To the clan.”

“And if me brother learns of our plans?”

Leona smiled wanly. “Me own neck is no’ near as important as Rose’s.”

She took note of his furrowed brow and puzzled expression. “Ye see, m’laird,” she continued to explain, “Rose is verra important to her people. If anythin’ were to happen to her or her babe, the ramifications are most severe. ‘Twould be a loss felt for many years by many people.”

“And if they were to lose ye?”

Growing frustrated with the conversation, she answered as honestly as she could. “None would mourn me passin’, m’laird.”

* * *

T
he plan was
to wait for night to fall before entering the keep. Darkness would be their precious ally this night.

An hour before reaching the keep, they stopped at a small thicket of trees and bramble. Alec helped Leona from her mount, setting her on the ground with great care. She thanked him politely, before stepping away with her bag. “I shall change me clothes now, m’laird.”

He thought her a most comely lass and was beginning to doubt the success of their plan. Far too pretty and quiet to pretend she was a bar wench, he began to worry no one would believe it.

Surprise did not begin to describe how he felt when she stepped out of the thicket.

Gone was the sweet, innocent looking lass. Before him stood a beautiful young woman. She had pulled her chemise to rest seductively low on her shoulders. Over that, she wore a bright green dress, the laces of which were stretched taught over her large, round breasts. Breasts he hadn’t noticed until then. The skirt was pulled up at different points, and tucked into a dark belt, exposing more of the chemise as well as her slender ankles than was right or proper.

And no longer was her hair tied into a simple braid. Nay, it was unbound, tossed loosely over her shoulders, where it cascaded down her back. Golden blonde, wavy locks that looked as soft as silk when the setting sun glinted off it.

Apparently his men were just as surprised as he, for he heard Kyth utter under his breath, “God’s bones,” while Gylys all but gasped.

“Well?” she asked as she rested one palm on a dainty hip. “Will I pass fer a bar wench?”

Before his men could answer, Alec removed his own cloak, stepped forward, and draped it around her shoulders. “Aye, lass, that will do.”

’Twas then she smiled. A smile that very nearly stole his breath away. Proud as well as relieved, she allowed her lips to curve upward, exposing nearly perfect white teeth. Even her eyes sparkled with glee.

“I have a patch too,” she said happily as she reached into her pouch. Carefully, she tied the patch around her head, taking great care to settle it just so. “To cover me blue eye.”

Inexplicably, he found he did not care for the patch, but understood its importance. While he found her oddly colored eyes intriguing, they would surely bring unwanted attention. Then he chanced another glance at her beautiful bosom and realized she could have three eyes, all of a different color, and not a man on earth would notice.