Healing the Highlander (17 page)

Trouble was, she wasn't in any position to tell them that. She'd given her oath she wouldn't.

"You see to it that you do speak to him, my dear."

Sallie wiggled her eyebrows and grinned before she answered. "But, I could have sworn, Mother MacPherson, no two nights past, you were complaining of pain in yer knees and back and announcing to all who'd listen that you'd no be caught dead on a horse again."

"I may have, at that, but mark my words well, Marsali Rose, this is one of those moments in life I willna be denied, no matter what physical burdens it requires of me. To see Rosalyn's face when Andrew rides into Dun Ard announcing he's brought home a bride? That's a sight worth any amount of aching bones."

Something in the older woman's chatter had caught her ear. "Wait. What did you say?" Surely it couldn't have been what she thought she'd heard.

"Pay no attention to her," Sallie reassured, a hand to Leah's knee. "I told you no to listen to half of what she says. She meant nothing against you, did you, Anabella? It's only that she and my mother have always had this wee rivalry stemming from bad blood between them that dates back to a time when they were but girls themselves. Dinna take her words to heart."

As if she cared one bit what that grumpy old woman thought of her. Her concerns were much larger than her own little ego. Perhaps she'd only imagined she'd heard the words because the name was in her thoughts.

"Did you say Dun Ard?"

"Aye." Anabella laid Baby Ana on her stomach on the rug and rose to her feet, a hand at her lower back. "Dun Ard is the seat of the MacKiernan clan. Andrew's home."

Rosalyn. It was the name Mairi had told her to ask for. Mairi's Rosalyn was Drew's mother?

No wonder he knew the way to Dun Ard. It was his home.

A heat rose to Leah's face and her heart pounded in her. chest, but this time it had nothing to do with embarrassment or fright. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this angry.

He'd all but lied to her! Here she'd gone out of her way to confess everything to him and he'd hidden this most important of all information from her. Even knowing her grandfather's life was on the line, he'd not told her he was a member of the family whose help she sought. He'd said nothing. Nothing!

Then, as if to plop the proverbial cherry on top, he'd had the unmitigated gall to accuse her of being Fae. Him, of all people. Knowing all the while what he was.

Oh, did she ever have a thing or three to say to Mr. Andrew MacAlister, not a single one of them fit for the ears of Baby Ana.

Dropping the mending back into the basket at her feet, she slowly rose to stand.

"Where exactly would I find these lists you mentioned?"

FIFTEEN

Thrust. Withdraw. Defend.

Drew sent a silent thanks to the Fates for his wickedly good ability to wield a sword. That gift allowed him to participate in sword training without putting any real thought into it, even with an opponent as worthy as Moreland was turning out to be.

Moreland. The man had quickly become a thorn in Drew's flesh.

There was no way he could allow the knight and his men to accompany them to Dun Ard. His laird might well insist that the MacKiernan retain their neutrality? in the troubles that rocked their land, but it was words only. They all of them knew it.

Half the men living at Dun Ard had fought against the English at one point or another. Hadn't Colin been held for ransom by an English sympathizer just last year? Hadn't the laird himself been taken captive by the same man?

Drew held no illusions as to what might result from a company of English soldiers marching into Dun Ard.

As if the patterns his feet followed were written somewhere in his unconscious, he feigned a move to his left, then twirled to his right to strike.

Moreland stumbled backward but quickly regained his balance, following with a nod of respect, which Drew returned.

Here they could be civilized. Here the threat was lessened. But at Dun Ard, where his brother and the men who'd followed him into battle against the English lived, things might well be different. Especially once Moreland realized they'd deceived him.

No. Under these circumstances, he could not lead these men to his home. He would not.

This time the pattern his feet followed led him to drive straight in, backing Moreland up a step or two. Automatic. Done without needing to think. It simply happened as if the hand of the Fates guided his own, allowing nothing to distract him.

"Andrew MacAlister! I'd speak to you now, if you please."

Nothing except Leah's voice. Her presence drove everything else from his mind.

"I'm somewhat occupied here, dearling. Can it no wait?" He ducked and twirled, lifting his sword at the last second to deflect Moreland's blow.

"Now," she insisted, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. She had the look of a woman who intended to

say more, but, for the moment, her soft mouth drew down into a line as hard as her glare.

"Yer woman's learned to sound like a wife quickly enough," Ran quipped, laughter from the men gathered around drowning out other comments. "Now," she repeated.

He could ignore her demand. Could allow her to wait and fume, but then he risked her speaking what was on her mind. From the looks of her, that seemed anything but an intelligent course of action for him to take.

"You'll excuse me if I end our round early?"

Moreland nodded his assent, his usual smirk surprisingly absent. Drew passed the practice sword he held to one of the waiting men, each of them eager to try his mettle against the English knight.

Once outside the practice yard, he stopped to grab up his shirt, wiping the perspiration from his face and chest before approaching Leah.

She'd stepped a short distance away, and though she maintained her resolute silence as he approached, her eyes sparkled dangerously with her anger.

Whatever had set her off must have been something to have witnessed indeed.

"I can only assume it's a serious matter that brings you out here?"

"You bet your ass it is. You lied to me, you hypocritical bastard," she hissed.

This definitely was not shaping up to be a conversation he wanted to hold within hearing distance of an eager audience.

"Taking her by her upper arm, he led her out into the center of the bailey, far enough from everyone that they couldn't be overheard. Far enough into the open, no one could approach without his notice. Far enough the walk might give him a chance to bring his own temper into check.

More than her anger, her accusation caught him unawares.

"I'm no a man who perverts the truth to anyone, least of all you. You'd best be explaining yerself."

"Me?" Her cheeks had turned a mottled red. "If anyone has any explaining to do, it's you. Why didn't you tell me Dun Ard is your home? What did you think? I'd be so happy to be shown the way there, it would never occur to me that you'd lied about it?"

So that was it. He should have guessed one of the women would let it slip sooner or later. His money was on the ogress herself, Anabella.

"You accuse without just cause, my lady. You never asked if Dun Ard was my home, only if I could show you the way to get there."

Not a lie. At most, no more than a sin of omission.

"That's a fine line of crapola, and you know it. I told you why I needed to find the MacKiernans. I told you my grandfather's life depended on it. I told you who had directed me to them. You had every opportunity to tell me you are them. Especially when you were telling me you wouldn't help me if you were them." She gulped air as if her indignation could not wait. "Not to mention the unmitigated gall it took for you, you of all people, to accuse me of being Fae and then have the nerve to get angry when I wouldn't own up to it."

Proof that she well knew his family's bloodline. Progress at last.

"Does that mean you are admitting what you are now?''

The sound she made in answer was something like file growl of a trapped boar. Best he keep his hands away lest she decide to take a few of his fingers.

He shrugged, noting that Moreland and two of his men watched them closely. "Nevertheless, I've no ever lied to you. No yet."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as he spoke. "What's that supposed to mean? Not yet?"

Perhaps this wasn't the best time or place, but he'd have to break the news to her sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.

"I canna take you to Dun Ard, Leah. Surely you can see the danger it would present to my family."

"What?" Her voice actually rose an entire octave. "Danger to your family? My grandpa Hugh is going to die if I don't get help. Die as in dead. I can't think of much worse danger than that."

Somehow he had to make her understand that there were many more lives than just one old man's at stake here.

"Do you see that man over there?" He nodded his head in Moreland's direction. "He obviously suspects our story. Wherever we go, he's determined to go as well. I've kinsmen at Dun Ard who fought at Wallace's side against men like Moreland. Can you no understand what could happen if I lead him to Dun Ard and he realizes we've been lying about who you are? I'd be putting my entire clan at risk. Yer grandfather's life wouldn't be the only one forfeit."

Her lips tightened back into that thin, hard line. "My whole family is already at risk. Without your clan's help, they have no hope."

Impossible. She was absolutely impossible to reason with.

"Would you truly have my people fighting hardened soldiers like these?"

"I would. You have no concept of what Hugh and Margery MacQuarrie have done for me. I'd have anyone, anywhere, do anything necessary to save my grandparents. Anything."

He hadn't much time to convince her. Moreland and his men even now headed in their direction.

"And what of you? What are you personally willing to risk?"

"I already told you. Anything."

"Aye? Well, lassie, are you ready to offer up the rest of yer life, married to me? Because if we lead that man to Dun Ard, in order to convince him yer no the one he seeks, we'll be forced to speak our vows on the steps of the church to see him gone without a battle. I'm convinced he'll leave with no less."

Her eyes opened wide, the anger instantly replaced by an emotion he found hard to read. Fear? What in the name of the Fates could the woman fear in him?

"Even that," she stated at last. "For Hugh and Margery, I'd even go so far as to wed you."

"MacAlister!"

Time was up. Moreland and his men approached. He grabbed Leah's shoulders, pulling her close as he bent his head to hers.

Only to give Moreland pause and to give himself time to think. Certainly he had no other reason.

Her lips were soft to his touch. Soft and warm, like her body that leaned into his embrace. Those lips parted on a tiny sigh and his tongue darted inside, as if the taste he'd had once before had only whetted his appetite.

The world around him ceased to exist; his only thoughts were of the woman he held in his arms. Of her hands that fluttered up to cup the sides of his face. Of her heart pounding against his chest. The taste of her, the feel of her.

"MacAlister!" Moreland called again, shattering the spell.

"I've had quite enough of that man today," Leah murmured, her lips hovering under his. He couldn't agree more. "As you wish, my lady."

With one arm behind her back and another behind her knees, he swept her from her feet in a movement that didn't even require him to move his lips from hers.

"MacAlister!" Moreland called a third time, only feet away.

"Apologies, again, Sir Knight. I've found myself embroiled in a marital dispute that requires my immediate attention to resolve." He grinned at Moreland as he turned on his heel, striding toward the main keep.

"You know exactly what that man is going to think we're headed to do right now, don't you?" Leah linked her hands behind his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Exactly what we want him to think, my lady."

It felt right to hold her in his arms, as if she belonged there. As if he had every right to be carrying her thus.

Good thing, come to think of it. Once they entered the gates of Dun Ard, the die would be cast and her in his arms was something they'd both better get used to.

Oddly enough, he had a sneaking suspicion that it might not take a great deal of effort at all.

SIXTEEN

No turning back now. His path might as well be written in stone.

Drew braced his feet against his stirrups, stretching his leg in an attempt to find some relief. They'd been hours in the saddle this day, with more to come. He normally made the journey between MacPherson Hall and Dun Ard in one long, nonstop stretch. Traveling as slowly as they did with this large group would require at least two days.

A full day on horseback always aggravated his leg.

Spending his last two nights on the hard stone floor hadn't helped much either.