Ravished by a Highlander (17 page)

Gilles’s face contorted with rage and beneath him, his mount pranced backward at the viselike grip of its rider’s thighs.
“So, James’s daughter has a champion. I’ll make certain to kill her while he watches.”

Maarten watched his Admiral wheel his horse around and thunder away from the front gate. “De Duivel,” he whispered to himself,
horrified by what he and the others had just done… again. “Perhaps God has finally sent a warrior to deliver us all to hell,
where we belong.”

D
avina knew something was amiss just before they reached the tree line. It was too quiet. The sun was not yet down, so the
men could not be asleep. She turned nervously to Rob and found him studying the campsite and slowing his mount to a silent
halt.

He held his finger to his lips to quiet her while he peered through the thin tree trunks.

A moment later Davina heard the roar of hooves pounding the bank from the north. An army! Her heart nearly fainted in her
chest. Where was Finn… Colin? She clutched at Rob’s plaid to keep herself from calling out to them. Somewhere to her left
a bird whistled softly, seemingly unfazed by the oncoming intruders. When Rob whistled back, her heart slowed, knowing who
the bird was. She was still afraid to look at who was coming though. What if it was Gilles’s men, or Argyll’s? They’d found
her before.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, looking at Rob instead of over her shoulder at the approaching riders.

“Fer what, lass?” he asked just as quietly.

“For putting your life and the lives of the others in danger. I fear it will not stop.”

Her name, falling so softly from his lips, set her pulse racing all over again. He brought his fingers to her face and traced
the contour of her cheek. “Nae matter who comes, I’m no’ goin’ anywhere.”

“But if you’re hurt… or killed—”

He smiled directly at her and dipped his face closer to hers. “Trust me.” His breath fell softly on her lips. “Ye have nothin’
to fear.”

Confidence, forged generations ago, lit his eyes like fiery kilns, igniting her faith in him. Allowing herself to give in
to it, she exhaled the breath trapped in her lungs and nodded.

“Connor!”

She and Rob turned at the same time to see Finn charge through the trees on foot. “’Tis Connor! Connor!” he called out again,
waving his arms at the riders.

“Dinna’ move from here,” Rob warned her and slipped from his saddle. His pulled his claymore from its sheath and held it at
his side while he strode into the clearing.

Davina wanted to call out to him but covered her mouth with her hand instead. He knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t die.
With that thought firmly in her mind, she finally turned her eyes on the army. It was not as large as she feared, and the
men were donned in the same deep red and white military attire as Edward.

Finn reached the soldiers first, tearing off his cap and waving it over his head. “Brother, ’tis me, Finn!”

The lead rider slowed his mount and leaped off before it came to a complete halt. He held up his hand to stop his men as he
charged toward Finn, his smile wide and his sun-streaked hair peeking out from beneath a wide-brimmed hat cocked up on one
side.

“Connor, what the hell are ye doin’ here?” Rob threw down his sword and embraced the tall captain next.

“My men and I were sent to Glencoe last month to quell a small uprising between the MacDonalds and the Campbells. We are on
our way back to England fer the coronation.”

“Ye’re a bit late,” Rob pointed out.

“Aye,” the other admitted with a dimpled smile as languid as his voice. “When I heard that most of the Highland chiefs were
attending, I delayed my departure.” He angled his head around Rob’s shoulder and looked directly to where Davina was still
hiding. “Is yer family with ye?”

Rob laughed and shook his head. “Nae, Mairi is in England.”

“Then I am not late enough.”

Everyone on Rob’s side was smiling, save for Colin, whose scowl had grown blacker than Rob’s on his angriest day. Still, it
looked safe enough to Davina to dismount and join them.

Captain Connor Grant’s wry grin deepened into something so nakedly male, so innately seductive, it near stopped her in her
tracks.

“Yers?” he asked Rob without taking his eyes off her.

“Nae, she—”

“Davina,” Finn plucked his cap from the ground, fit it back over his tousled hair, and raced to her side. “’Tis my brother,
Captain Connor Grant.”

Connor stepped around Rob and sauntered toward her. He moved with absolute power and the lithe, leisurely grace of a lion,
confident in his prowess to catch his prey if it fled. Davina resisted the urge to step back and sized him up as boldly as
he did her.

He wore the same military style short coat as Edward, but Connor’s was crisper, silver buttons polished against scarlet, and
fitting more snugly over a trim waist and shoulders almost as wide as Rob’s. Like Finn’s, his hair, when he removed his hat
to greet her, was absent of any curl, cut slightly shorter and streaked in bold shades of flaxen and honey. But that was where
the resemblance ended. His nose was sharper, his startling blue eyes shaded by more experience, and his smile, accented with
a deep, roguish dimple on each side, banished any trace of innocence.

He reached for her hand and then flicked his gaze to Edward when the other captain stepped forward and introduced himself.

“May I also present Davina Montgomery, who is in my care,” Edward added and dropped his gaze to Connor’s fingers wrapped around
hers.

“In
yer
care?” Connor asked skeptically, swinging his glance to Rob.

“We found her at St. Christopher’s Abbey just ootside Dumfries,” Rob said, shoving Edward out of his way.

“They were burning it down,” Finn added, getting in on the conversation. “When we arrived, there was little left, and then
Rob got sh—”

“Who was burning it down?” Connor dropped Davina’s hand and gave his full attention to Rob.

“The Dutch,” Rob told him soberly, “We are no’ certain whose orders they were followin’, the Duke of Monmouth or the Earl
of Argyll. They killed the sisters, and Asher’s regime of men.”

Connor’s jaw went taut and when he looked at Edward again, sorrow and rage vied for dominance over his features. “What were
yer men doing at the Abbey?”

When Edward didn’t answer him right away, he settled his gaze back on Davina, but she looked away. She wasn’t about to tell
him anything. Captain Grant might be her cousin, but she knew firsthand that in noble courts, family sometimes meant very
little.

“Connor.” Rob pulled the captain’s attention back to him. “’Tis gettin’ dark. Make camp here tonight and I will tell ye what
we know.”

“Aye, my men could use the rest,” Connor agreed, “We’ll leave at first light. If the Dutch have arrived in England and have
killed our soldiers, I must inform the king.”

Davina bit her lip, worried what Rob might tell him, and then remembered that he didn’t know much.

“So, ye are certain that the men who attacked the Abbey were Dutch?” Connor walked along the moonlit bank with Rob at his
side. They did not venture far from the camp, but stayed well enough away so that the others could not hear them. “Did ye
see them?”

“Aye, I saw what was left of them. I didna’ know who they were until the lass told me.”

“Could she have been mistaken?”

Rob shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t considered that she had. “Could Asher?”

Connor looked back at the camp and at the dark-haired captain watching them from his place by the fire.

“Accordin’ to him,” Rob continued, “the men were led by Admiral Peter Gilles.”

“Gilles?” Connor’s attention snapped back to Rob.

“Aye. D’ye know him?”

“I know of him. Satan’s bloody arse, Rob,” Connor said, raking his hand though his hair. “This does not bode well for the
king. Though Gilles is the Duke of Monmouth’s man, ’tis rumored that he has affiliations with William of Orange.”

Rob thought about the implications while they walked. “So,” he said after a moment, “the king may have enemies more powerful
than he suspects.”

“Aye, he may,” Connor said thickly. “After Monmouth was exiled, Prince William staunchly denied any affiliation with him,
or with Argyll, Gilles, or any of the Exclusionists who opposed a Catholic succession. Though my uncle did swear to having
seen the Prince with Monmouth and Gilles when he was in Holland, William is James’s son-in-law and with no other proof against
him, remains in good standing with the new king.”

“I understand why William would plan a rebellion against the king,” Rob said, knowing firsthand now why England’s politics
were important to his clan. “With James gone, the prince’s wife, Mary Stuart, is next in line fer the throne. But what will
Monmouth benefit from such treason?”

“The Duke of Monmouth is Charles II’s illegitimate son.”

Rob stopped and looked at him. It made nae sense. If Monmouth deposed the king, Mary Stuart would claim the throne as James’s
firstborn legitimate daughter. Why would William give his support to a man who vied for his wife’s succession? And why, after
all Davina had told them about the new king and his policies, hadn’t she told him that Monmouth claimed titleship to the throne?

“Supporters of a Protestant succession, including the Prince of Orange, rallied fer Monmouth to be named Charles’s heir before
the Exclusion Bill,” Connor told him. “King Charles came very close to legitimizing Monmouth on a number of different occasions,
but he never did.”

What did any of this have to do with Davina?

“’Twas James who was formally acknowledged and Monmouth spoke severely against him in the House of Lords,” Connor continued.
“When Charles began hanging some of the duke’s supporters, Monmouth fled to Holland with the already exiled Argyll. ’Tis been
rumored that he returned a few months ago, but we did not know with any certainty.”

“So Monmouth hates James fer religious—and more personal—reasons. Why no’ strike James?” Rob asked. He hadn’t tried to figure
any of it out before. He hadn’t cared, but now, feeling as if he was on the threshold of learning Davina’s secrets, he did.

“Aye,” Connor agreed. “And why an abbey full of nuns?”

“’Twas Davina they had come fer,” Rob told him truthfully. Connor may have given his allegiance to his king, but he would
die before betraying the MacGregors.

Connor looked at him, then over his shoulder again at the campsite. “Why her?”

“She will no’ tell me why. No’ the truth anyway.” Rob’s eyes found Davina when she laughed at something Finn said. “Nor will
Asher.” His eyes hardened when they settled on Davina’s captain among the men. “He is in love with her.”

“Are ye?”

Rob flicked his gaze to his friend. “She is a novice of the Order.”

“Come now, Rob. She is obviously more than that,” Connor pointed out dryly. “What has she told ye?”

“No’ much, save that she is an orphan. Her parents were nobles from Whithorn. She refuses to tell me any more.”

Connor smiled and shook his head at him. “Mayhap she hasn’t given ye answers because it’s obvious ye don’t really want them.”

“Ye’re right. I dinna’ care,” Rob said in a low, warning tone. “I’m no’ goin’ to let her die.”

“Well, I don’t believe her family is from Whithorn,” Connor said, watching her loop her arm through Finn’s. “’Twould seem
she is more than a baron’s daughter.”

Rob sighed, giving in to his own curiosity. He didn’t believe it either. He knew in his heart that she was someone very important
to the kingdom, but he didn’t want to know any more than that. He didn’t want a sound reason why he shouldn’t… couldn’t bring
her home.

“She could be Monmouth’s sister,” Connor ventured out loud. “King Charles was known to have fathered many bastards. She is
beautiful enough to be a Stuart.” Connor’s voice went soft as the firelight made Davina’s hair shimmer like misty clouds around
a full moon. “Of course, then,” he added uneasily, “that would make her my cousin.”

His cousin.
Your friends have become my friends, my family.
Nae, she couldn’t be. Rob looked at her, and then at Finn. They could be siblings. Och, hell, she couldn’t be a Stuart. But
even as his mind rejected that appalling notion, everything seemed to make more sense now. He fought back the sickening wave
that washed over him. He didn’t want to believe it. Hiding a novice from a duke was one thing; kidnapping the king’s daughter
was another thing entirely.

“It still does no’ explain why Monmouth or anyone would try to have her killed,” Rob said, hoping they were wrong. “Even if
she is one of Charles’s illegitimate bairns, she is no’ a threat. A son always precedes a daughter. Unless…” Unless she was
not illegitimate—and Charles was not her faither. Rob stopped and closed his eyes as everything suddenly became clear. Hell,
if he was correct he was about to bring the entire Royal Army down on Camlochlin, and mayhap the entire Dutch army with it.
“Connor, could she be James’s daughter?”