My Wild Highlander (9 page)

Angelique spun around and rushed to her.
"Camille, are you well? Thanks be to God."

She placed a hand on her head and groaned.
"
Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?
"

"You fell off a horse."

"I remember now. Did you shoot the bastard
who grabbed me?"

"
Oui.
Do you want us to wait for the
physician?"

"No, I hate them. I am well."

"If you're sure, we shall set sail," Lachlan
said. "'Tis not safe for us to stay here."

"
Oui. Allez-y.
Go."

***

Kormad glared at his men who stared at the
worn floor planks within his room at the inn. Six imbecilic
failures, they were. The damned MacGrath bastard had stolen away
Angelique and married her. Worst of all, he'd become chief, earl
and now held Draughon Castle and lands.

"'Tis mine by birthright!" Kormad slammed his
fist against the table. The candle flickered wildly.

"Y–you mean Timmy's, m-my lord," Arnie
said.

"Aye! And mine until he comes of age. I have
waited to take my place at Draughon the whole of my life." At least
he had yearned for and coveted the rich estate the whole of his
life. It was so close he could almost touch it. "I will not let
some whoring, kilt-wearing MacGrath snatch it from me! He is all
that stands in my way."

"She chose him," Rufus said.

"I know that, you whoreson! And she'll regret
that decision. I intend to make sure of it."

If she would not choose Kormad, he would not
suffer her to live. She was naught but a pebble in his path and he
would kick her out of his way. The bigger obstacle was King James
himself and this damnable Highlander he chose for Angelique.

"What are you going to do?" Arnie asked.

"Go back to Burnglen and rally support
amongst the Drummagans and the neighboring clans."

A fist wrapped at the door.

"Come!"

One of his men, MacFie, burst through the
door, breathing hard. "I came as quickly as I could, my lord. I had
to hide for hours, but Pike got on board their ship."

"You jest." A thrill passed through
Kormad.

"Nay. 'Tis true."

"Pike. Now there's a man what knows how to
get things done!" Kormad laughed and let loose a hoop of victory.
"Where is the ship headed?"

"Direct to Perth. Pike said he would meet you
there at the Ram's Head Inn three days hence. Likely MacGrath and
the lady will be dead by then."

"Aye!" A sudden bloodlust came over Kormad.
Too bad he couldn't spend it on MacGrath and his bitch. But Pike
would make short work of them. "Secure us passage on a merchant
ship to Perth. A swift one!"

***

"There you are," Rebbie called.

The wind whipping his hair, Lachlan turned
from surveying the turbulent sea and the waves crashing onto the
distant rocky shore as they made their way up the English coast.
Rebbie approached along the rocking deck, his hair stark black
against the orange dawn light.

"Aye." The nausea tormenting Lachlan had
naught to do with the horrid breakfast he'd eaten nor the choppy
water and rolling of the king's small galleon.

"Is aught the matter?" Rebbie eyed him with
concern—or nosiness—he couldn't be sure which.

"Nay." He had but wanted a few moments alone
to think; the few crewmen on deck were easy to ignore. And the
chill air helped clear his head.

"You're pale as January snow—nay—you're
looking a wee bit green. Seasickness?"

"The sea is rough this morn." Lachlan took
hold of the wet rail to steady himself, hoping Rebbie would cease
his questioning.

"Indeed. How are the ladies?"

"Camille improves, but Angelique has
seasickness."

"She will be well once we reach Perth."

Lachlan nodded.

"'Haps you should be abed yourself. I believe
you are more ill than you will admit."

"Nay." Lachlan sucked in a deep breath of
salt air and tried to slow his racing heartbeat. He wanted no one
to ken how he felt at the moment. A frightening realization had
snuck up on him in the wee hours of the night and gored his
vitals.

"Too much drink last night?" Rebbie
asked.

"Nay."

"What then? I'm not good at guessing
games."

"Devil take it," Lachlan muttered. Rebbie
would never leave off when he sensed something amiss. "'Tis only
that…I'm married," Lachlan said far more calmly than he felt. The
blood drained from his head, like a physical weakness washing over
him. Saints! He was not weak! He had fought in and survived clan
battles and skirmishes. He had traveled across Europe, rubbed
elbows with the nobility, and won the favor of his king. How could
a vow uttered to one wee thorny lass snatch his equilibrium?

"You're only now figuring that out?"

Lachlan should've said naught. Rebbie would
never give him peace now.

"Of course not! But it didn't seem so real
yesterday, no different from any other adventure we've been
embroiled in. When I woke up this morn, my first thought was 'what
the hell have I done?' I even had to take her clan name in order to
be chief. I'm a Drummagan now, more fully than a MacGrath."

A wave hit the hull and a cold mist sprayed
onto them.

"So, you regret it?"

"Nay. I don't ken how I feel about it. I only
know 'tis something I cannot walk away from. 'Tis permanent."

"Like prison. I tried to tell you, but you
wouldn't listen."

He would not liken it to prison. More, he was
simply afraid he'd fail and not be very good at being a chief, earl
or husband. Or that he wouldn't enjoy marriage.

"'Tis only a bit overwhelming at the moment
is all. I'm sure 'twill pass. I am responsible for someone besides
myself now. Not only a wife, but a whole clan. 'Tis something new
to me." He pressed a fist against his aching stomach. "A wife,
God's bones. What the devil will I do with a wife?"

"I wager you'll think of something." Rebbie
grinned.

***

"My lady." A knock sounded at the cabin door.
"I have food so you may break your fast."

Lying on the top berth, Angelique groaned,
nausea roiling inside her so intensely she couldn't lift her head.
With the swaying of the ship, everything spun around. She had
already vomited several times and had nothing left in her
stomach.

"Non.
I do not want it," she called,
hoping the crewman heard her through the door.

"My lady, you must be hungry."

"Non!" Damn you, go away.

The normal wood-against-wood creaking of the
ship filled the silence. Thank the heavens he'd left. She drifted
to sleep. What seemed only minutes later, something thundered
against the door. She sat bolt upright, a pain shot through her
head and her stomach rebelled at the sudden movement.

"My lady," a male voice called outside the
door. "'Tis your husband. He's injured and bleedin' severely."

Cold prickles showered over her. "What?
Lachlan?"

"Aye, he asks for you."

Mère de Dieu
,
protect him.
She
slid from the top berth, down in front of Camille.

"Qu'est que c'est?"
she asked.

"Lachlan is injured." In her mind, Angelique
only saw his smiling eyes. She missed his warm protectiveness.
Holding to the table, then the chair, she made her way to the
door.

She unlocked the portal and opened it. A
brawny bald man waited outside. His gray eyes bore a hole through
her and his expression was odd…leering for a moment, then blank.
Had he never seen a woman before?

"Where is Lachlan?" she asked.

"In the galley. We were eating midday meal
when a fight broke out and he was cut on the arm. He's lost a lot
of blood."

"
Sacrebleu.
He's a free-bleeder. Take
me to him."

She clasped the smelly man's elbow and
allowed him to escort her from the stern and along the deck. The
strong, chill wind pierced her clothing with icy needles. She
wanted to run, but her skirts clung fast to her legs, hampering her
movements. Shivering, she realized she had forgotten her cloak.
Surely they would be below deck in a moment and away from the
wind.

She had to see Lachlan. Why did she care?
I do not know; I just do
. He'd protected her and now she
must do the same for him. "I hope he does not lose too much
blood."

The man grunted and quickened his pace.

The ship tossed and she near lost her footing
on the wet decking. Her stomach ached, a new bout of nausea
rising.

No, go away. I cannot be sick now!
She
pressed a hand to her throat. The gag doubled her over and she
could not stop it. Retching, she fell to her knees.

"Come!" The man jerked at her arm, dragging
her up. "We got to hurry."

A pain shot through her shoulder. What the
devil was he doing?

"
Non
." He yanked her into his arms and
tossed her over his shoulder, panic clawing through her. "
Mère
de Dieu
!" She screamed.

Running footsteps approached. "You, there!
Unhand her!"

"Whoreson bastard!" someone else shouted.
More running.

Upside down, she could see little. The
blackguard's shoulder drove into her aching stomach. Someone else
grabbed her upper body and a tug of war ensued. She kicked. The
bald man released her and fled.

"Catch him!" Was that Lachlan's voice? It
sounded too harsh. "Angelique?" Someone lifted her high into his
arms. "What the devil happened?"

"Lachlan?" Head spinning, she looked into his
eyes.

"Aye."

"Are you bleeding? How is your arm?"

"What? Nay, I'm not bleeding. Is that what he
told you?"

"
Oui
. That you had lost a lot of
blood. And you wished to see me. You are a free-bleeder."

"Och. I'm not injured." Lachlan turned with
her and everything whirled around. She slammed her eyes shut
against the illness. "Is he one of your crew, Captain?" Lachlan
asked.

"No. Never seen him afore," a deep, rough
voice said.

Yelling and curses sounded from several yards
away. She opened her eyes a crack. Rebbie, Dirk and members of the
crew fought the bald man and tried to restrain him.

"Who is he?" Angelique asked, shivering,
trying to snuggle closer to Lachlan's body heat.

"I wager he's Kormad's man. How did he get on
board?"

"I know not, my laird," the captain said.

The blackguard broke away from the other men
and jumped overboard.

"God's teeth, he's getting away! Shoot him!"
Lachlan yelled.

Rebbie and two other men fired pistols into
the water.

"We're too far out for him to reach shore,
even if he can swim," the captain said.

"I'm not taking any chances. Keep firing!"
Lachlan told the men, then carried Angelique toward the captain's
cabin. "What happened to the two guards I stationed by her door?"
he called back.

The captain cursed and trotted away, shouting
orders.

"I bet the bastard killed them or knocked
them out. You must be half frozen, Angelique." Once inside the
cabin, Lachlan closed the door.

She nodded, still appreciating the warmth of
his skin.

"What happened to her?" Camille came
forward.

"Some knave tried to throw her overboard.
Kormad's man, no doubt."

"
Sacreblue!
Put her here." She
motioned to the lower berth.

"What are you doing up, Camille?" Angelique
asked. "How is your head?"

"I have pain but it improves."

"And how are you feeling?" Lachlan lay
Angelique on the berth, covered her with a thick blanket, then
knelt by her side.

"Terrible. So sick." She pressed a fist
against her stomach, praying the nausea would diminish.

He smoothed her hair back and stroked the
side of his thumb along her cheek, his gaze intense and concerned.
"Did he hurt you, lass?"

"Only my shoulder a little. I shall be
fine."

Frowning, he gently massaged her tender
shoulder with strong, warm fingers. "That bastard. He got his just
due. I'm going to see if he resurfaced." He kissed her forehead and
stood. She closed her eyes and savored the lingering tingle from
the kiss that did much to assuage her discomfort.

"When I leave, lock the door and don't open
it for anyone save me, Rebbie or Dirk. More of his men could've
slipped aboard."

Camille nodded, obeyed his orders and
returned to the berth. "
Pour l'amour de Dieu
, Kormad is
persistent is he not?"

"
Oui,
" Angelique said. "The beast
wanted to drown me, I'm sure of it. I fear Kormad will not give up
until I am dead."

***

Angelique had never been so thankful in her
life to set foot on solid ground in Perth. She had crossed
le
Manche
twice before in her life and always became ill. Even
more, she was thankful to be far away from that bald brute who'd
tried to kill her. The men on deck had spotted him swimming for
shore, but couldn't tell if he'd made it.

She prayed he wouldn't come after her
again.

Now she and Camille rode in a coach that
lumbered north from Perth toward her childhood home. She pushed the
curtain back and took in the familiar Scottish Lowlands outside the
window. The rolling green and brown fields and the tree covered
hills brought back memories of long ago. She drew in a deep breath
of the cool, fresh air but could find no comfort in it. What if her
clan didn't like or accept her? What if she was more French than
Scottish now and could not make a connection to them? What if
Lachlan found a buxom serving wench to warm his bed?

He and his friends rode before the coach, and
others along with the king's retainers followed on the narrow,
winding road.

Camille cradled her injured arm—the one she'd
landed on when she fell from the horse. Her eyes were swollen and
the skin around them blackish-blue. Thankfully she had washed all
the blood from her hair and it now shone fair blond.