Chapter 30
Chapter 30
“But I—”
“Talk to me about Rosie,” Dugan said, but his voice sounded very far away. “Tell me what you remember when you think of your sister.”
“Her pretty eyes,” Maura said. “They’re green, but so very sparkly. And she always smiles when she sees me.”
Dugan could not imagine prettier eyes than Maura’s, or a more beautiful smile. She snuggled deeper within Dugan’s arms and he felt her drifting off again.
“What else?” he asked. He needed to keep her awake so that she did not slip away from him. He could not imagine losing her now, not when he’d just come so very close to it.
“Wee Rosie keeps Deirdre’s bairns amused so that Deirdre can do her chores. Dugan, what if something ... wh-what if something happened to Rosie, too?”
“Do not borrow trouble, lass,” he said. “We’ll get to her. Soon.”
“Why? You hate Duncansons. Why would you help us?”
“Because I find that not all Duncansons are the same.”
“No?”
“You would never blindly obey orders, would you?” he asked.
“Umm. I have enough trouble with orders I can see.”
He chuckled against her back. “Who is Deirdre? Another sister?”
“Ach, no. My other sisters are so very grand they will have naught to do with Rosie. Or me.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Six. All older, and each one more beautiful than the next.”
’Twas impossible to believe any of them could possibly be lovelier than Maura.
“And four brothers.”
“There are twelve of you?”
“Mmm.”
Dugan bristled at the idea of brothers who did not take care of their sisters. He would no sooner leave Alexandra to fend for herself than he would leave a newborn bairn to die. “Your brothers do not stand up to your fath—”
She laughed, then groaned and put her hand to her head. “My siblings are good, obedient sons and daughters of the Earl of Aucharnie. They do as they are told. They’ve all made good marriages. My father takes pride in them.”
“Your father is a fool.”
“You know ’tis my father who is keen for me to wed Kildary.”
“Aye. I know.”
“Dugan ...”
“Hmm.”
“Will you really take me to Loch Camerochlan?”
“I said I would.”
Alastair Baird rode over a high pass and came to a crag that towered above a long, sparkling loch and noticed some movement down near the shore. He stopped to watch for a few minutes, but...
He rubbed his eyes. Were they playing tricks on him again?
He shuddered almost uncontrollably. Would this damnable wet never cease? He’d thought the weather would work in his favor, but all it had done was make him cold and miserable.
He’d assumed Maura would head due north toward the place her sibling had been taken. But now he wasn’t so sure that was where Maura would go.
He looked to the loch below, but all the activity was too far away to see exactly what was going on. He saw no colorful plaids, so they would not be highlanders. Their scarlet coats indicated they must be His Majesty’s troops.
He watched the scene below for a few minutes and decided it was real. There were no witches or wraiths screeching at him now. His father’s disapproving words were nowhere near.
If he had more time, he would ride down to determine exactly what was going on down there. But he had his mission, and it did not include investigating the activities of any other battalion.
It was far more important to prove wrong his father’s disparaging words and capture Maura Duncanson.
He had made good time on his ride northward, and it was only when it became nearly dark that he realized he was hungry. He had neglected to bring any provisions but for some dried meat when he’d ridden away from Higgins and the others. Fortunately, he did have his pistol and could do some hunting.
Do not count upon it, Alastair. You’re a poor shot. Always were.
“Stop berating me, Father!” he shouted angrily. “I could have shot those peasants at Glencoe as well as you!”
A deep, scolding chuckle arose from the shadows that lurked in the gloaming just out of sight. Alastair shuddered.
He took out his pistol and loaded it, ready to shoot the man who so taunted him.
You should not have sent your men back without you. How will you survive out here alone?
“Are you there?” Baird demanded. He looked ’round but saw no one. “F-Father ... ?”
That laugh again. Alastair covered his ears, but still he could not shut out the voice.
You are weak-minded, boy.
“No!”
You could not get one puny female to Cromarty without mishap.
“You do not know her, Father! She is a bane to all who know her!”
You are the bane, Alastair.
“No! Enough! I won’t listen to you. Or to that dead hag, either!”
See how far you can go alone, boy.
“I can do it! I’ve done everything I was ordered to do!” Baird shouted. “I went to that pit where you sent me—Aucharnie Castle. Six years, Father! I’ve been at Aucharnie six years without promotion. The earl barely acknowledges me! And Ramsay—”
Baird paused to think. “Is that what you expected when you sent me up there? To be ignored? To be out of your way?”
Alastair slid off his horse. There was no reply to his questions, and he stood still for a moment listening to the silence. It should have been a blessed lack of sound, for the auld witch had been tormenting him for days. And his father—
He gave a brief shake of his head. What in hell was he doing, shouting to the hills? He must be mad.
Dread filled him. He was completely alone now, in the wild highlands with very few provisions. He had no map, and wasn’t quite sure where Maura Duncanson’s sister had been taken. How could he even ask for directions if he did not know exactly where he was going? How was he going to—
He heard voices again, along with the sound of horses and bridles jingling in the mist.
He dropped his pistol to the ground and bent at the waist, covering his head with his hands. ’Twas altogether too much—the phantom voices, that damned wraith, his father—
“You there!”
Baird looked up. Then he straightened up and saluted the captain who glared down at him. The man rode at the head of a long file of uniformed men. A grizzled old nobleman in thick furs wearing a trim white beard sat mounted beside him. “Yes, sir! Lieutenant Alastair Baird at your service, sir.”
“What are you doing here, Lieutenant?” the captain asked. “Where are your men?”
Baird felt at a sudden loss. Naught had gone right since Fort William, and now this. Suddenly, his plans to beat Maura to the place where her sister was being held seemed ill-conceived. “Sir, my... my mission is my own concern.”
“Baron?” the captain asked, glancing to the old man beside him. “What are your orders, my lord?”
Baird quickly bent over and picked up his pistol. He gathered his horse’s reins in hand.
The baron looked eerily like Baird’s father, with his pointed white beard and dark, judgmental eyes. In a few more years, the general’s beard would be completely white and he would look exactly like him.
It had been six years since Alastair had seen his father. That was just before the general had ordered his son to repair to that useless holding at Aucharnie.
To be rid of you!
God, no. Not the voice again. Alastair blinked his eyes and tried to make sense of all this. But ’twas all too confusing.
Only because you’re an oddity, Alastair.
“What’s wrong with you, man?” the captain demanded.
Alastair tightened his grip on the pistol. He ought to shoot him now. Shoot the bastard between his eyes!
The white-bearded baron spoke. “Do you know Laird MacMillan?” he demanded.
Alastair frowned. His hand shook. “Mac-MacMillan?”
“Aye. Laird Dugan MacMillan of Braemore,” the baron said with an ugly sneer. “He has my property, and I’ve come to get it.”
Dugan had spent far too much of the day’s ride alternating between trying to keep Maura awake, and reliving the moments when she had been at the mercy of the runaway horse and wagon. He had come so damnably close to losing her.
And yet she was not his to lose.
He lowered Maura down to the ground and turned her over to Conall and Archie, for he was in desperate need of some distance. He did not want to think about the siblings who ought to have taken better care of their youngest sisters, or the father who’d abandoned his imperfect youngest and arranged a contemptible marriage for the next.
He didn’t want to think about the day he would leave her to fend for herself at Camerochlan.
“We’ll camp here,” he said. “Lachann, come with me.”
“Laird?” Conall asked. “ ’Tis early still.”
Dugan looked toward the setting sun. Aye, they might be able to ride a few more miles, but he didn’t want to push Maura any more today. Besides, there was something he wanted to do before they went any farther. “Make a shelter for Lady Maura against the rain and try to keep her awake awhile longer. We’ll be back soon.”
He turned his horse and went back the way they’d come, with Lachann riding abreast of him. “Where to, Dugan?”
“Back to Loch Monar. I want to see what Argyll is doing.”
“And whether Maura lied to you?”
“She didn’t lie,” he growled. She’d mentioned allies ... Dugan knew she was the ally spoken of by the Frenchman who had given his grandfather their piece of the map.
And she was nothing like any Duncanson he could have imagined. He found it difficult to think of her as part of that despicable family, and everything she’d said about them rang true. She was nothing like them.
He pictured her walking through MacDonnall’s great hall that morning, walking among the women and children who had gathered there for protection, and knew she’d conducted herself as would the wife of any great highland laird. She’d given appropriate orders and kept the women and children calm in the face of a possible threat. She had not panicked then, or even when Murray’s horse had startled and run off.
Dugan recognized he had put her in an untenable position. She had good reason not to trust him. She did not believe he wouldn’t give her to Kildary ... and Dugan had to admit that until a short while ago, he hadn’t been sure of it himself.
He decided not to mention his decision even to Lachann, not yet.
They rode to an outcropping that overlooked Loch Monar, then left their horses and walked to the lip of the ledge that towered over the loch. When they saw activity below, they dropped to a crouch and watched.
There were at least two dozen men below, many of them wearing Argyll’s regimental red coats. Lachann spoke quietly to Dugan. “If Lady Maura is telling the truth, then the old bastard brought his soldiers to dig around the wrong location.”
“Aye,” Dugan replied.
A regular campaign camp had been set up, with torches illuminating the northwest end of the loch—exactly where Dugan had seen the green marking. A cook fire burned nearby, and the smell of their rations wafted up to them.
“Looks like they plan on digging up every inch of ground at this end of the loch,” Lachann said.
“Aye, but look. They’ve concentrated their efforts on the spot where I saw the green mark on the map.”
“So they have.”
“And they’ve found naught,” Dugan said. “Argyll must be working from memory.
“Lady Maura ...” Lachann frowned in thought.
“Aye?”
“ ’Twas Argyll’s part of the map she stole?”
Dugan nodded.
His brother paused for a moment. “Mayhap she’s not entirely untrustworthy.”
’Twas a huge admission for Lachann, and Dugan decided not to spoil it by telling him how she came to have access to the duke’s map.
They watched as Argyll’s men came up empty time and again while digging around the vicinity of the green spot, and Dugan knew he’d been right to trust Maura. She had not lied to him.
“What do you think Argyll will do when he doesn’t find the gold?” Lachann asked.
’Twas the same question Maura had asked.
The green marking had not been obvious—most of Dugan’s men had not seen it. But Argyll had, and he’d followed it here. What if the clue Maura had seen was equally obscure? Mayhap Argyll had seen that one as well. He would set out for Maura’s site as soon as he’d exhausted his possibilities at Loch Monar.
Dugan did not want to mix Maura up in this mess any more than he already had. He needed her to give him the clue, and once they found the treasure, he would personally escort her to Loch Camerochlan.
He wasn’t going to think about the alternative. Not until it was absolutely necessary.
“Is that Argyll?” Lachann asked.
Dugan smiled. “Aye. Let’s ride down and see if we can cause the man some more grief.”
“Dugan, are you sure that’s wise?”
“Not certain at all. But ’twill be gratifying to witness the maggot’s plans going awry.” Seeing Argyll squirm would go a long way to making his day complete.
Archie and Conall made a meal with some of the provisions Laird MacDonnall sent with them, but Maura had no appetite. She was far too worried about Rosie to eat.
How had Tilda Crane drowned? Had Rosie been at risk, too? Had they been in a boat on the lake? Or had some other accident occurred? Maura could not imagine what had happened. If Tilda had drowned a few weeks ago, it still would have been wintery weather in the highlands. What would Tilda have been doing in a boat?
Ach, Maura could not torture herself with thoughts of what might have happened. Rosie had to be all right. Maura had to believe—as Dugan had said—that the highlanders of Loch Camerochlan would not leave her on her own to perish. They would take care of her. The idea of anything else was too painful to contemplate.
Maura could not afford any more delay. Not here, and not at Loch Aveboyne, which must be at least one more day’s ride from where they were. She was going to give Dugan the clues she had and...
He would not want her to go. He’d said he would take her to Rosie, but not until after they found the gold. And then there would be yet another delay when he went to pay his rent to Argyll. Anything could happen to Rosie in the meantime. She’d been left alone long enough!
Maura knew better than to try and leave the highlanders. Mayhap ’twas time to trust Dugan’s word. He’d said he would not give her to Kildary, but what about Lachann and the others? What if there was no gold at Loch Aveboyne?
Conall spread out a fur under the wagon that had nearly taken Maura to her death, and bade her to take it for her bed. But now that they had stopped, she was too restless to lie down.
The rain had let up, so she sat on a wide, flat rock and watched the sun set, her thoughts racing. She did not know what Dugan would do if he was unable to find the treasure at Loch Aveboyne. And he might not, for the clues Maura had discovered were incomplete.
She wracked her brain trying to figure out the missing words, but had had no luck. She feared ’twould not become clear until they reached Loch Aveboyne and they started digging under the large rocks they found on the western shore. And even then, Maura might not figure it out.
If they didn’t find gold, what would Dugan do about the rents he owed Argyll? He could not let his clan be tossed off their lands. No laird would allow it without a fight. And yet he’d given her his word.
Maura’s stomach clenched. The MacMillans would have to go to war against Argyll if Dugan found no way to pay the money the duke demanded.
She lowered her head into her hands, biting back a cry when she touched the bump she’d sustained during the earlier mishap. Dear Lord, she did not want him to go to war. She’d seen with her own eyes what a fierce warrior he was. But anything could happen during a battle.
The thought of losing him to a Campbell sword was too much to bear.
Only a week ago, she’d thought ’twould be enough to take Rosie from Tilda Crane and go away somewhere far from her father’s reach. Now the idea of running away and never seeing Dugan again, never tasting his kiss, never feeling the chafe of his whiskers against her skin, or the low rasp of his voice in her ear, was unbearable.
But she was a Duncanson. Every time he looked at her, he would be reminded of the crimes her kin had committed against his family. He would never take her as his wife.
Maura sniffed back a new spate of tears. His wife? The only marriage Dugan had ever considered for her was the one she might be forced to make with Baron Kildary. He’d told her he would take her to Loch Camerochlan himself, and he knew what she planned to do once she found Rosie.
Archie came up behind her. “You should eat something, Maura.”
“Thank you, Archie, but I’m not hungry,” she replied.
Archie sat down beside her. “Will ye no’ tell the laird where the treasure is? Ye know yer clues might have been lost today. If ...”
“If I’d gone over the cliff.” Guilt gnawed at her. She could not risk the possibility that Dugan would be unable to find the treasure if something happened to her.
“Maura ... I know ye think ye must keep the clues to yerself to prevent Dugan givin’ ye to the auld baron,” Archie said. “But though he’s a fierce warrior, he’s a wee sook and would never do that to ye. I think he loves ye.”