Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Maura grabbed her bag and made a run for it. She ran as fast as she could, cursing the twisting of her skirts about her legs. They slowed her immeasurably, and if she could have torn them off to get away from the filthy brigands, she’d have done it.
She began to pray for her salvation when she turned back for a quick glance and saw them gaining on her. But the rumble of galloping hooves was coming toward her through the dense woods, distracting her. She tripped and nearly fell, but suddenly Laird MacMillan was there, jumping from his horse and catching her in his arms.
He quickly shoved her behind him as he drew out his massive claymore from his sword belt.
“You’d be wise to stop where you are, lads.” His voice sounded like steel.
The outlaws laughed. Maura gaped at the men, her terror in her throat. Her knees wobbled so badly she was afraid they would not support her. She tried to step back, away from Laird MacMillan, but quickly realized she was holding on to the back of his tartan. She was using him as a shield, the very man who’d come to take back the property she’d stolen from him.
He was poised to fight. His knees bent, arms spread wide, his plaid swaying against his legs as though naught was amiss. As though he was about to spar for his own amusement.
“You do not want to test me,” he said. Maura let go of his tartan and watched in horror as the men surrounded them. Did he not understand what a dire predicament this was?
“Nay?” asked the tallest of the men, lunging at Dugan with his sword.
Dugan leaped away to one side, pulling Maura with him. Her ankle shrieked in pain when she took a step. “Stand away, Maura,” he commanded.
But there was nowhere to go. Their attackers seemed to come from every direction all at once, two with long swords, the other from behind, wielding a short dirk.
But MacMillan turned and dodged quickly and effectively, parrying every thrust and jab. The clang of steel echoed in the woods, as did the taunts of his attackers. Maura ducked and tried to stay out of MacMillan’s way and out of the reach of the men who’d come upon her.
“Ye can’na keep this up, ye wee bloody bastard!” one of them shouted.
But yes, it seemed that Dugan MacMillan, who was not wee in any way, could keep it up indefinitely. And he would have, but one of the swordsmen came for her. Maura turned to run, but her injured ankle prevented it. She lost her footing and fell to the ground.
MacMillan spun quickly and speared her assailant before Maura could look away.
Screams of rage came from the two who remained and they charged MacMillan, clearly intending to slaughter him for killing their accomplice.
He dealt with each one, seemingly all at once. And yet Maura knew it could not be possible. No one was that fast or that capable a swordsman. But when all was quiet in the woods, the three robbers lay in the grass all ’round them.
The only man standing was Dugan MacMillan, and he was coming toward her with his claymore in hand, his steely blue gaze upon her.
She swallowed hard. “Please ...”
“Please what, Lady Maura? Please do not take back what you stole from me?” His voice was harsh, and for the first time, she actually feared him. He seemed exactly the kind of barbarian warrior she’d been warned of—a man who was frighteningly capable of using that sword in his hand.
Maura tried to scramble away from him, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her to him through the grass. It was humiliating to be caught this way, with her skirts sliding up past her knees. But at least he held his claymore down at his side. He was not going to kill her.
Yet.
“ ’Twas only a map, Laird MacMillan,” she said, despising the wobble in her voice. “And I ...”
“You what?”
His plaid reached only to his knees, and from her position on the ground, Maura could not help but notice the powerful muscles and sinews of his legs. Her eyes drifted up to his broad chest when he crossed his arms over it, then to his unshaven jaw. He truly was a barbarian.
She had to get away from him.
“I n-need to find my way into the h-highlands.” She knew it sounded lame, but she didn’t think he would appreciate any reason she might give him for taking his map.
His expression darkened and she recoiled at the sound of his low growl. She felt the blood leave her head as he raised his huge sword. Mayhap now he would kill her.
Dugan sheathed his sword in his belt. The woman made no sense, but she was as beguiling as ever.
“Your man Baird is not taking you into the highlands?” He wanted to throttle her. But he was not in the habit of committing violence against women, even one who’d wronged him.
Lady Maura shoved down her skirts, depriving him of the sight of her delectable legs. “Lieutenant Baird is not my man,” she shot back at him.
“No? Then where was he taking you?”
She looked away, unwilling to answer.
“Back to a husband, I suppose,” Dugan said, feeling some disgust at his part in cuckolding her husband. “Let me guess—he is an unaccountable brute and you decided to flee him.” He should have thought of that before. But last night, he did not know she was wholly lacking in scruples.
“No!” she retorted angrily. She leaned forward and rubbed her injured ankle through her boot. “Well, not exactly. Not that it’s any of your concern, Lieutenant Baird was taking me to Cromarty to be married.”
Dugan let out a low, bitter chuckle. “A bridegroom awaits you? ’Tis almost as bad as a husband. What do you suppose he would say about what took place on the veranda at the inn last night?”
She rose to her feet, but faltered, her ankle quite obviously injured.
Dugan did naught to assist her, but turned and gave out a loud whistle in the direction of the woods, where his men continued to search for her. Lachann would give out a whistle toward the next man who was searching, and so on, until each of the men had heard the signal and returned.
“I had no intention of going to Cromarty, Laird MacMillan.” She went for her traveling bag, but Dugan reached it first.
“No, I can see that. You planned to run away, alone, into the highlands.” Daft woman.
He grabbed her bag and when he opened it, saw his maps lying inside. Looking askance at Maura, he took out the parchments, quickly realizing there was yet another beneath it.
He let out a quiet, low whistle of surprise. “What have you here?”
She tried to get up, but her ankle would not support her. She could barely walk.
Dugan left her to her fate—and her pain. ’Twas nothing less than she deserved. He took out all three quarters of the map and crouched down, spreading out the documents on the ground. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.
She ignored him and limped awkwardly to a large, flat rock, where she took a seat. Reaching down to her boot, she unlaced it, then rubbed her ankle again.
Dugan averted his eyes from the surprisingly sensuous movement. He was angry and intended to stay that way, and lust had no part of it now.
He pieced the three portions of the map together and found that they fit. But Maura’s piece added no clearer clues than the ones she’d stolen from Dugan. Similar markings were all over it, but—
The only thing that helped was having more territory to compare with what he knew. He’d traveled through a good many parts of the highlands, so he knew it well. But he couldn’t identify every forest, glen, or loch.
At least he had one more section of the whole now, even though there was nothing that marked any particular spot.
“Where did you get this map, Maura?” he demanded.
“From a desk drawer in a house in Glasgow,” she replied grudgingly.
“Whose drawer?”
She shrugged and he swore under his breath. ’Twas difficult to believe this was the woman who’d given herself so completely—and so honestly—the night before. Dugan had never experienced the kind of kiss they’d shared. Had never found it so difficult to part from a woman.
Even now, as she sat rightfully accused, with the hood of her cloak down and her hair askew, she was more compelling than Artis MacLean or any other woman of his acquaintance could ever hope to be.
He took his eyes from those lips that had so bewitched him, and returned his attention to the maps. Lachann and the others would soon arrive, and Dugan wanted to have some answers for them.
Not the least of which was what to do with Lady Maura.
“ ’Twas in a desk belonging to my father’s cousin. I thought it would help me make my way—”
“Aye. Through the highlands. Right.” Dugan took a deep, disparaging breath. “How long have you had it?” he asked her.
She looked up at him then, frowning. “I don’t know what right you have to question me so, Laird MacMillan. We are not on your lands, and you have no authority here.”
“I have the authority of a man whose property was stolen. By you.”
She sagged slightly. “I took it just before I left Glasgow. I had no idea how little use it would be.”
Damn all. “So, you stole this one, too.”
She did not refute his statement, but pulled on her boot once more and began lacing it.
“So you know naught about the map ... who made it or where the—” He stopped himself before speaking of the gold.
Maura seemed not to know the true purpose of the map. If she’d taken it thinking it would guide her through the highlands ... Could she be unaware of the treasure?
Mayhap she was intentionally keeping her knowledge of it from him. As he was most certainly doing to her.
“I assume you had a destination in mind. Where did you intend to go?”
She weighed her words before answering, and then she gave him little to go on. “Into the northwest highlands.”
“That’s a great deal of territory, Lady Maura. Exactly where in the northwest highlands were you going?”
She rose to her feet and faced him with her hands upon her bonny hips. “To Loch Camerochlan, if you must know, Laird MacMillan.”
Her answer was baffling. “Loch Camerochlan? ’Tis well beyond any civilization you would enjoy.” Not to mention only a few leagues from Braemore Glenn and his own loch.
“That may be, MacMillan, but that is where I intend to go,” she snapped. “And I might ask you what you are doing with the other parts of my map!”
Maura knew her statement was bold. In truth, it was ridiculous. But the laird had pierced her with a look so fierce she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded in intimidating her. At least he was not quite so threatening now that his sword was away.
“Your map! By God, woman, you’re unbelievable.”
She supposed she was. She’d shared impossible intimacies with him, then stolen from him only a few hours later. She wondered at her own audacity.
“Tell me of your bridegroom.”
“No. Why should I?”
“Because I am curious.” He did not appear curious at all, except for his interest in the maps, which he studied even as he conversed with her. “What kind of man has Lady Maura fleeing into the highlands? Mayhap he has the temerity to dislike thieves.”
Maura bristled. “He is not to my liking, if you must know.”
“Who is the man?”
“What difference does it make, Laird MacMillan?” she said. “I will not travel to Cromarty or anywhere else for any reason that is unacceptable to me.”
He had the impudence to laugh at her. “Do you truly believe Lieutenant Baird will not find you?”
“He won’t if I get right back on the path and put several more miles between me and Fort William.”
MacMillan shook his head with obvious disdain for her plan. “On that ankle? How far do you think you’ll get before it swells to twice its size and strands you in the middle of nowhere?”
It was a question that had worried her ever since she’d tried to take a few steps on it. But she was spared having to reply when a horseman—one of MacMillan’s men—raced into the site, dismounting before his horse had even stopped.
“Dugan?” he asked, taking in the carnage all ’round him. “What the ... ?”
MacMillan barely took his eyes from the map. “Thieves, Lachann. ’Twas necessary.”
Truly, the brigands had intended them harm. But Maura had never seen so much death. She shuddered, hoping to figure some way to flee these brutal highlanders. If she just gave them her map...
She nearly laughed aloud. Gave them? Dugan MacMillan was quite capable of taking anything he wanted. She could protest all she liked, but he had the upper hand in this.
MacMillan’s man barely took note of the slaughter all ’round them. ’Twas as though the sight of a massacre was nothing new. While she was grateful the highlander had ridden in to rescue her, the reality of what had just happened gave her pause. She took a deep breath and casually glanced toward the woods for a means of escape. The only town she’d seen had been several miles back, as was Sorcha’s croft. Not that Sorcha could offer any protection from Laird MacMillan.
Maura clasped her hands together and calmed her nerves as she studied the two men.
Lachann was similar to Dugan in both features and build. Both were large men, and Maura decided they must be brothers. But ’twas Dugan whose kiss she could still taste. Dugan who’d saved her and protected her with his life.
’Twas a novelty to feel quite so valued, but Maura knew it wouldn’t last. Most of her life she’d been either chastised or ignored by her family, and scolded for her mistakes by Lady Ilay. And Dugan MacMillan was obviously displeased with her.
“What’s this?” Lachann asked, taking note of the three pieces of map, their torn edges abutted together.
“The lass had yet another part of the map,” Dugan replied. “It fits our two.”
Lachann tossed Maura a dour look and she recoiled, afraid to consider what they intended to do with her. The parallel between the would-be thieves and herself did not escape her.
But surely if Dugan intended to kill her, he would have done so by now. She knew it was not going to be possible to get away from these men. They had two options. They could take her back to Fort William—against her will, of course. Or take her with them.
Or a third possibility that just occurred to her. They could leave her there in the woods to make her way—wherever—on her own. Maura was afraid she would not get far on her injured ankle.
The only acceptable choice was for her to go with the highlanders. Cromarty and Baron Kildary were out of the question.
But she could not think of any reason that MacMillan would want her along. Unless she could be of some use to them.
As the rest of the MacMillan men rode into the area, Maura knew she was going to have to think of something. Soon.