A Runaway Bride for the Highlander Read online

  ‘I’ll keep you safe,’ he murmured. ‘Trust me.’

  He took her by the hand and led her back round the corner into the market square. An elderly woman and her middle-aged daughter were sitting on a low bench beside a stall piled high with skeins of wool. They wore black cloaks and caps, had drop spindles in their hands and a large basket on the ground.

  ‘Good morrow, mothers,’ Lord Glenarris said, bowing with a flourish. ‘My wife is newly with child and feeling faint. May she sit with you awhile? She’ll work for her seat.’

  The women looked puzzled, but when a coin flashed in the Earl’s hand they moved up and let Marguerite sit between them. One handed her a pair of carders and a hank of wool.

  ‘Now, Maggie, my love, stay there while I complete my business. Keep yourself warm.’ Lord Glenarris pulled the hood of her cloak up. He stroked her cheek, leaving a trail of heat in the wake of his fingertips.

  Maggie! My love! Marguerite’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at the over-familiarity. He winked at her and sauntered away, whistling, leading the horse behind him.

  From her position between the old women, Marguerite was perfectly positioned to see what took place. Lord Glenarris tipped his head forward and ruffled his fingers through his hair, causing the thick tangles to stand out from his head. He loosened the brat that he had so meticulously arranged until it sagged around his shoulder and fell in untidy drapes. He pushed his sleeves up, once more revealing his well-shaped forearms, and stopped walking as he reached the boy holding the horses.

  ‘Are ye selling or buying?’

  The child gaped at him.

  ‘They’re fine animals for a lad like you. Did ye thieve them?’

  The child began protesting loudly and before too long Duncan appeared from within the inn, followed by three lumbering men dressed in brown. Marguerite wanted to run, but could not move without drawing attention to herself.

  She had placed her trust in the Earl and he had gone straight to Duncan. His soft words and gentle touch had seemed so unusual in a man that she had been fooled into thinking him an ally, but he had no intention of helping her.

  Marguerite gave a soft moan and the grandmother passed her a jug of milk, which she drank from gratefully. It meant that when Duncan looked around the square, his eyes passed right over her, dismissing her as a villager and beneath his notice. Her heart stopped pounding a little. Perhaps Lord Glenarris was not about to betray her after all. Either way, she had no choice but to wait and watch what was about to take place.

  * * *

  ‘Duncan McCrieff! Why are you here?’ Ewan made his voice genial and surprised. He patted the chestnut gelding on the neck. ‘Is this handsome animal yours?’

  McCrieff looked him up and down and sneered. He put his hands in his jerkin, thrusting his chest forward like a strutting bantam in a farmyard.

  ‘Did you sleep in a bush last night? I’ve been looking for you, but your men denied you were there. I see they were right.’

  ‘Aye, I did.’ Ewan made a show of straightening his brat and brushing his unruly hair. He rolled his neck from side to side, feeling a crick he did not have to feign.

  ‘My horse grew lame so I was forced to sleep by the road. I’m trying to catch up with them. Angus! Jamie! Show yourselves! We’re closer to noon than sunrise.’

  He bellowed towards the inn and before long his companions appeared, greeting him as if they had been parted for weeks, not a night. Angus and Jamie glared at two men who were lounging on barrels by the door. Ewan recognised one of them as McCrieff’s English brother-in-law and fury almost knocked him sideways. Duncan had brought an Englishman into Scotland at this time!

  ‘You’re a long way from Stirling and this isn’t McCrieff land.’ His voice became accusatory. ‘What could a McCrieff ever have to say to a Lochmore that would compel him to cross the country to do it?’

  McCrieff glared. ‘I’m looking for my bride. She went missing on the same morning you left. Did you take her?’

  ‘Your French lass? Take her? Are you accusing me of abducting her?’ Ewan did not have to feign the anger that coursed through his veins. When he had left Mademoiselle Vallon he had been undecided whether to return her after all, but Duncan’s bullish expression was tipping the balance rapidly. He reached for the dagger at his belt and drew it. A fight in the market square was not his preferred option, but if it came to it he would not hesitate.

  ‘Enemies our clans may be, but you’d better have good reason for that accusation or I’ll have your blood.’ He circled round so he was facing Marguerite Vallon and Duncan had to turn his back on her to keep Ewan in view.

  ‘She has no friends in Scotland, but I saw her speaking to you on a number of occasions,’ McCrieff said.

  ‘You accuse me on the basis that we spoke once or twice!’ Ewan threw his head back and laughed, though the thought that he was the only ally the poor woman had made his belly twist with grief. His laughter caused bystanders to turn their heads. Some began milling around to see what was happening.

  ‘Did you help her abscond?’ McCrieff snarled.

  ‘Abscond?’

  Ewan grinned widely at Angus and Jamie, and risked a glance at Marguerite Vallon over Duncan’s shoulder. What little he could see of her face beneath her hood was pale. She was biting her lips in a manner that would ruin them. They should only be bitten by a lover and gently at that. The thought quite distracted him for a moment.

  ‘Was she abducted or did she run away from you?’ He strode closer to McCrieff. ‘Has she abandoned your marriage before it has even taken place? Why would she do that?’

  McCrieff bunched his fists and lowered his head and Ewan saw embarrassment flit across his face. ‘I am uncertain why she left, but she may have taken something I said in jest as serious.’

  ‘Is it my assistance in finding her you’re begging for?’ Ewan said warmly, throwing his arms out wide. He was enjoying this playacting now. ‘Lochmores and McCrieffs have our differences, but I’ll gladly help if you need it.’

  ‘I don’t want your help!’ Duncan spat. ‘Did you help her leave Stirling?’

  Ewan spread his feet wide and leaned forward. ‘I will enter the Kirk right now and swear before the altar that I did not assist your woman in leaving the castle. Do you wish for proof that I don’t have her?’

  He ordered his men to bring the cart around and threw the covering back with a flamboyant gesture to reveal the neatly stacked boxes and barrels.

  ‘Do you see any woman in white either hiding herself or bound and taken against her will? Would you like to search inside the boxes? Perhaps I’ve hacked her into pieces and stowed her in the wine cask?’

  McCrieff shook his head. Once more he looked about him, but saw no one dressed as Ewan described. The lass at the wool stall in a dress of green and dark cloak did not even draw his attention. How fortunate she had changed her clothing before she fled. Ewan stifled a grin, as it occurred to him that fortune had nothing to do with it. Her departure had been planned with impressive thoroughness and his estimation of her raised.

  ‘The last time I spoke to your intended bride before I left was the previous day when she impressed upon me how much she hates our country,’ Ewan said. ‘Look to the ports.’

  ‘I’ve sent men in all directions,’ McCrieff gloated.

  Ewan’s stomach knotted. Getting the lass to a port in safety would be harder than anticipated. ‘I’m honoured I received your personal attention.’

  Eyes and ears, Mademoiselle Vallon had said. Ewan narrowed his gaze and strolled close to McCrieff, a daring idea coming to him.

  ‘The only person I spoke with that day was Robert Morayshill. We spoke about an uncertain future for Scotland and those who may help her or harm her cause for their personal gain. You would have found it most interesting, I’m sure.’ He glanced pointedly to the Englishmen who loitered beh
ind Duncan. ‘As might your companions.’

  McCrieff’s shoulders tensed and his mouth twitched. He drew his sword and Ewan knew he had scored a hit with his insinuation. It was not proof, but was something to mention to Morayshill, who could decide whether to act on the information. He drew his own blade and moved towards Duncan with a growl.

  ‘We’re not on McCreiff land here. Lochmore neither. Do ye want to start a fight on another clan’s land? Shall we go back to Stirling together and declare what has passed here?’

  There was silence for a long moment. Ewan bared his teeth and squared his shoulders. Duncan sheathed his sword.

  Ewan kept his held out. He jerked his head towards the gelding. ‘Look for your woman elsewhere and stay away from me.’

  ‘If I discover you’re lying...’

  ‘You won’t.’

  With a look of pure hatred at Ewan, McCrieff called his men to him. He swung into the saddle and they galloped back in the direction of Stirling, sending townsfolk scurrying out of the way of their hooves.

  Ewan stared up the road for a long time until he was sure McCrieff would not return before he strolled back to the women at the wool stall and knelt by Mademoiselle Vallon.

  ‘Are you feeling better now, Maggie?’

  ‘I...’

  He grinned at the old women. ‘Why he would think I have anything to do with his betrothed’s absence is beyond me, when I have a beauty right here,’ he said.

  He gazed at Marguerite with a look of affection and stroked her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise and she blinked rapidly, thick lashes fluttering in a manner that caused a shiver to run down Ewan’s spine. The old woman gave them both a warm smile. He pulled Marguerite to her feet and realised she was trembling all over. Her wide mouth twisted down. Impulsively, and ignoring all convention, he gathered her up and held her tightly. She did not remain stiff as she had the night before, but wilted against him. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and led her to the cart, doing his best to ignore the heat that rushed through his lips.

  ‘Now, lassie, there’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘There is.’ She sniffed. ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m all alone.’

  ‘You’re not alone.’ He unwound his arms and tilted her face upwards. Her eyes were wide and full of despair. ‘I lied to him to protect you.’

  ‘Did you?’ She looked at him doubtfully and he grinned. He had not spoken a word that was untrue, though he had avoided answering some questions and evaded others.

  ‘In spirit, if not in fact,’ he amended.

  ‘You were very cunning,’ she said. There was admiration in her voice. ‘I feared you were going to tell him I was here and challenge him to fight.’

  ‘I’d have fought him if it came to that, but I told you I wouldna’ give you back. The truth is, I do not know why you ran from him, but I do not condemn you for it and I will not return you to him.’

  ‘You may have fooled him now, but why did you tell him I was going to France? Now he will be watching the ports.’

  Her voice became shrill. He held her tight, crushing her to him with a powerful embrace she could not have broken free of even if she had tried. He noticed she made no attempt.

  ‘He said he had men there anyway,’ Ewan pointed out. ‘He’s no fool and I think he’s a spider with a large web.’

  She groaned in despair. ‘He will stop at nothing to find me.’

  She sagged against Ewan with her arms limp at her sides. She seemed unable to stop the trembling that had taken hold of her. He drew her closer, acutely aware of the contours of her breasts and belly brushing against him as he held her so intimately. She rested her head against Ewan’s chest. He stroked his hand over the silken mass of hair and murmured soothing words into her ear until she stopped trembling.

  The scent of earthiness from the forest floor filled his nostrils, along with a hint of rose that had somehow survived in her hair and an undertone of sweetness that was her skin. He breathed deeply, finding it intoxicating. She raised her head suddenly and their cheeks brushed. He blinked, caught in the act of what might seem a violation.

  Her breath was gentle on his cheek and when she turned her head their lips were almost touching. Only his sense of honour prevented Ewan closing his mouth over hers and tasting her as he longed to do. She lifted a hand to his shoulder, her fingers stroking the edge of his brat.

  ‘Will you help me find someone to take me back to France now? I need to leave quickly.’ He saw entreaty in her eyes and beneath that a hint of helplessness.

  ‘Wait awhile,’ he said. ‘You haven’t eaten yet and you don’t want to risk catching up with him as you travel.’

  She glanced towards the road and shuddered, then dabbed fiercely at her eyes. Ewan realised with dismay she was blotting away tears. He followed her gaze, half-expecting to see Duncan McCrieff riding back, and a knot of anxiety thumped in his belly. He could not leave her now, but equally he could not travel on to Leith before returning to Lochmore. It was nigh on two hundred miles in total.

  ‘I won’t leave you in the care of someone I don’t know, but I can’t take you back to France, or even to Leith, I’m afraid. I said I have responsibilities I must fulfil,’ he said. ‘Let me think.’

  He released her from his embrace and she stepped away with what Ewan hoped was an air of reluctance. She did not push him for an answer. He slipped her arm under his and began to lead her through the market place. He saw no one he would trust to hold his horse, let alone take care of this beauty. An idea had been forming that he had done his best to ignore. If he carried through with it he would indeed be guilty of stealing away McCrieff’s bride. Sense warned him not to. His conscience cried out that he could follow no other path.

  Chapter Ten

  Ewan bought oatcakes and milk as he thought of what he needed to do and how to balance that with what Marguerite needed. They sat side by side on stools outside the inn to eat. She devoured hers hungrily, tongue skimming around her lips to catch the crumbs with a precision and swiftness that transformed Ewan’s legs to water. Spending time in her company without trying to kiss her would be a trial. But he could see no other option.

  He sat back against the wall, stretching his legs out, and looked at her. Now was his last chance to change his mind, but the sight of her trying to control her trembling lip and blink back tears tore his conscience and heart to shreds. They shared no common grief, but the loneliness that exuded from her reached inside him to the black knot where his own grief had nested.

  ‘I cannae take you back, but I can take you with me. I’ll take you to Lochmore.’

  ‘To your home?’

  Her eyes widened. She glanced away modestly with lashes fluttering, then quickly looked back at him with her head on one side; innocence incarnate. His heart pounded. He would have to tell her what effect her unconscious habit might have on a man less scrupulous than him. He wondered if she had already discovered the result unpleasantly in Duncan McCrieff’s arms.

  ‘It’s the wrong direction, but from there you can find a boat to take you round the coast, or you can travel back across the country when some time has passed. I don’t mind which.’

  She reached into the bag that she was wearing across her body. ‘How much will your services cost?’

  He took her wrist. ‘I’m not a hired man. I don’t want paying.’

  She looked down at his hand encircling hers and flexed her fingers. They were long and slender, with neat, rounded nails, and the pulse in her wrist grew faster beneath his fingers. He wanted to run his thumb over the soft mound at the base of her thumb where the skin was creamy and soft, to see if it caused the rhythm to increase. Aware of how his own blood was quickening, he placed her hand in her lap.

  ‘You’ll be my guest. Consider it my contribution to the Auld Alliance to see a daughter of France safe.’

  ‘Why
are you helping me when I’ve caused you so much trouble?’ she asked suspiciously.

  He could have answered any number of ways, but struggled to articulate any of them and to make sense of some. The knowledge he was thwarting a McCrieff. The way she had faced him with courage when he discovered her. The fact she had paid for the stolen cheese that first night.

  He leaned his head back and stared at the sky. ‘When I was seven my brother, John, and I found a deerhound bitch who had whelped. We stole a pup and took him home. My father made us return it, but the mother would not touch it. It was our fault and our father said we must keep him and care for him.’

  He stopped and smiled to himself. This was the first time since their deaths that he had been able to speak of his brother and father with such ease. That he had found pleasure in recalling the memory, even. That for the first morning since his father had died he had woken with his mind on something other than the heavy load of responsibilities. She was proving a useful distraction.

  ‘We thought it would be easy until he grew hungry, widdled on the floor and howled half the night until I took him into my bed. I realised I’d been overconfident, but I had said I was going to keep him so I did. He became my responsibility. You became my responsibility when I deliberately lied to your fiancé to protect you.’

  She looked at him sharply. ‘Are you comparing me to your dog?’

  He winced at her tone and ruffled his fingers through his hair, giving her an embarrassed look.