Highland Lover (2 page)

shadows. Yet mishap after mishap had plagued her as she had fled from the men, and they had

barely raised a sweat in pursuing and capturing her. If she were a superstitious person, she would

think some unseen hand of fate had been doing its best to make sure she was caught.

“Did they tell ye why they are grabbing so many for ransom?” Gregor asked.

“Oh, aye, they did.” Of course, one reason they had told her was because of all the things she had

accused them of wanting the money for, such as useless debauchery, and not something they badly

needed, like soap. “Defenses.”

“What?”

“They have decided that this hovel requires stronger defenses. That requires coin or some fine

goods to barter with, neither of which they possess. I gather they have heard of some troubles not so far away and it has made them decide that they are too vulnerable. From what little I could see

whilst hanging over Clyde’s saddle, this is a very old tower house, one that was either neglected or

damaged once, or both. It appears to have been repaired enough to be livable, but I did glimpse

many things either missing or in need of repair. From what Clyde’s wife said, this smallholding was

her dowry.”

“Ye spoke to his wife?”

“Weel, nay. She was lecturing him from the moment he stepped inside all the way to the door

leading down here. She doesnae approve of this. Told him that, since he has begun this folly, he had

best do a verra good job of it and gather a veritable fortune, for they will need some formidable

defenses to protect them from all the enemies he is making.”

Alana knew she ought to move away from him. When he had first draped his arm around her, she

had welcomed what she saw as a gesture intended to comfort her, perhaps even an attempt to ease

the fear of the dark she had confessed to. He still had his arm around her and she had slowly edged

closer to his warmth until she was now pressed hard up against his side.

He was a very tall man. Probably a bit taller than her overgrown brothers, she mused. Judging from

where her cheek rested so nicely, she barely reached his breastbone. Since she was five feet tall, that made him several inches over six feet. Huddled up against him as she was, she could feel the

strength in his body despite what felt to be a lean build. Considering the fact that he had been held in this pit for almost three days, he smelled remarkably clean as well.

And the fact that she was noticing how good he smelled told her she really should move away from

him, Alana thought. The problem was, he felt good, very good. He felt warm, strong, and calming,

all things she was sorely in need of at the moment. She started to console herself with the thought

that she was not actually embracing him only to realize that she had curled her arm around what felt

to be a very trim waist.

She inwardly sighed, ruefully admitting that she liked where she was and had no inclination to leave

his side. He thought she was a young girl, so she did not have to fear he might think she was

inviting him to take advantage of her. Alone with him in the dark, there was a comforting

anonymity about it as well. Alana decided there was no harm in it all. In truth, she would not be

surprised to discover that he found comfort in it, too, after days of being all alone in the dark.

“Where were ye headed, lass? Is there someone aside from the men ye were with who will start

searching for ye?” Gregor asked, a little concerned about how good it felt to hold her even though

every instinct he had told him that Alana was not the child she pretended to be.

“Quite possibly.” She doubted that the note she had left behind would do much to comfort her

parents. “I was going to my sister.”

“Ah, weel, then, I fear the Gowans may soon ken who ye are e’en if ye dinnae tell them.”

“Oh, of course. What about you? Will anyone wonder where ye have gone?”

“Nay for a while yet.”

They all thought he was still wooing his well-dowered bride. Gregor had had far too much time to

think about that, about all of his reasons for searching for a well-dowered bride, and about the one

he had chosen. Mavis was a good woman, passably pretty, and had both land and some coin to offer

a husband. He had left her feeling almost victorious, the betrothal as good as settled, yet each hour he had sat here in the dark, alone with his thoughts, he had felt less and less pleased with himself. It did not feel right. He hated to think that his cousin Sigimor made sense about anything, yet it was

that man’s opinion that kept creeping through his mind. Mavis did not really feel right. She did not

really fit.

He silently cursed. What did it matter? He was almost thirty years of age and had never found a

woman who felt right or fit. Mavis gave him the chance to be his own man, to be laird of his own

keep and have control over his own lands. Mavis was a sensible choice. He did not love her, but

after so many years and so many women without feeling even a tickle of that feeling, he doubted he

was capable of loving any woman. Passion could be stirred with the right touch and compatibility

could be achieved with a little work. It would serve.

He was just about to ask Alana how extensive a search her kinsmen would mount for her when he

heard the sound of someone approaching above them. “Stand o’er there, lass,” he said as he nudged

her to the left. “’Tis time for the bucket to be emptied and food and water lowered down to us. I

dinnae want to be bumping into ye.”

Alana felt immediately chilled as she left his side. She kept inching backward until she stumbled

and fell onto a pile of blankets. She moved around until she was seated on them, her back against

the cold stone wall. The grate was opened and a rope with a hook at the end of it was lowered

through the opening. The lantern this man carried produced enough light to at least allow them to

see that rope. Gregor moved around as if he could see and Alana suspected he had carefully mapped

out his prison in his mind. She watched as the bucket was raised up and another lowered down. As

Gregor reached for that bucket, she caught a faint glimpse of his form. He was indeed very tall and

very lean. She cursed the darkness for hiding all else from her.

“We will need two buckets of water for washing in the morn,” Gregor called up to the man,

watching him as he carefully lowered the now-empty privy bucket.

“Two?” the man snapped. “Why two?”

“One for me and one for the lass.”

“Ye can both wash from the same one.”

“A night down here leaves one verra dirty. A wee bucket of water is barely enough to get one

person clean, ne’er mind two.”

“I will see what the laird says.”

Alana winced as the grate was slammed shut and that faint shaft of light disappeared. She tried to

judge where Gregor was, listening carefully to his movements, but was still startled a little when he sat down by her side. Then she caught the scent of cheese and still-warm bread and her stomach

growled a welcome.

Gregor laughed as he set the food out between them. “Careful how ye move, lass. The food rests

between us. The Gowans do provide enough to eat, though ’tis plain fare.”

“Better than none. Perhaps ye had better hand me things. I think I shall need a wee bit of time to

become accustomed to moving about in this thick dark.”

She tensed when she felt a hand pat her leg, but then something fell into her lap. Reaching down,

she found a chunk of bread and immediately began to eat it. Gregor was obviously just trying to be

certain where she sat as he shared out the food. She did wonder why a small part of her was

disappointed by that.

“Best ye eat it all, lass. I havenae been troubled by vermin, but I have heard a few sounds that make me think they are near. Leaving food about will only bring them right to us.”

Alana shivered. “I hate rats.”

“As do I, which is why I fight the temptation to hoard food.”

She nodded even though she knew he could not see her, and, for a while, they silently ate. Once her

stomach was full, Alana began to feel very tired, the rigors of the day catching up to her. Her eyes

widened as she realized there was no place to make up her own bed and doubted there were enough

blankets to do so anyway.

“Where do I sleep?” she asked, briefly glad of the dark, for it hid her blushes.

“Here with me,” replied Gregor. “I will sleep next to the wall.” He smiled, almost able to feel her

tension. “Dinnae fret, lass. I willnae harm ye. I have ne’er harmed a child.”

Of course, Alana thought and relaxed. He thought she was a child. She had briefly forgotten her

disguise. The thought of having to keep her binding on for days was not comforting but it was for

the best. Thinking her a child, Gregor treated her as he would a sister or his own child. If he knew

she was a woman, he might well treat her as a convenient bedmate or try to make her one. She

brutally silenced the part of her that whispered its disappointment, reminding it that she had no idea of what this man even looked like.

Once the food was gone, Gregor set the bucket aside. Alana heard him removing some clothing and

then felt him crawl beneath the blankets. She quickly moved out of the way when she felt his feet

nudge her hip. After a moment’s thought, she loosened the laces on her gown and removed her

boots before crawling under the blankets by his side. The chill of the place disappeared again and

she swallowed a sigh. Something about Gregor soothed her, made her able to face this

imprisonment with some calm and courage, and she was simply too tired to try to figure out what

that something was.

“On the morrow we will begin to plan our escape,” Gregor said.

“Ye have thought of a way out of here?”

“Only a small possibility. Sleep. Ye will need it.”

That did not sound promising, Alana mused as she closed her eyes.

Chapter 2

Alana grimaced as she finished washing, patted herself dry with a cloth, and began to don her clean

but damp clothing. The Gowans catered to her and Gregor’s need to keep clean, but there was

nothing they could do about the all-pervasive damp. Or the chill, she mused, wrapping her damp

plaid around her shoulders. After three days in the dark hole the Gowans had tossed her into, Alana

felt as if that chill had settled deep into her bones. The only time she felt even partly warm was

when she was curled up in Gregor’s arms, pressed close to his warm body.

And that was beginning to be a pure torment, she thought as she brushed and braided her hair. All

too often she had to sharply bite back the confession that she was a woman, not a child. Alana did

not understand how she could be so hungry for a man she had only known for a few days, one she

had never seen and who told her very little about himself. In most ways, he was a complete stranger

to her, and yet, she felt as if she had known him for years. Each time she felt that hard length

pressed against her backside, she wanted to move against it and ached for it to be born of a desire

for her, not for some chimera in his dreams or a need to relieve himself. It was utter madness.

Worse, she could think of no way to cure herself of this insanity.

It was past time for the man to devise a plan of escape, she decided, especially since she had not

come up with one. Since he had spoken of it the first night she had joined him in the pit, he had

never really spoken of it again. The few times she had ventured to mention it, he had said only one

thing—patience, lass. Just how patient was she supposed to be? If he had a plan, he could share it

with her, and if he did not, why did he not just admit it? She would be disappointed but would not

fault him for not being able to find a way out of a very deep hole in the ground.

“Best ye move to the bed, lass,” Gregor said. “Our meal is arriving.”

Alana cautiously groped her way toward their rough bed. She doubted she would ever learn to move

about in the dark as easily as Gregor did no matter how long she stayed here. Stumbling into the

bedding, she quickly sat down and watched as the faint shaft of light appeared overhead.

“Ready to tell us who ye are?” asked the Gowan man who was lowering down the clean privy

bucket.

“Nay,” replied Alana, proud of how she resisted the growing urge to scream out her full name, give

precise directions to her people, and demand to be pulled out of the darkness.

She frowned a little when Gregor’s response was little more than a grunt of agreement to her words

as he exchanged the clean bucket for the soiled one. He stood as he had for the last three days,

staring intensely at the rope as the Gowan man raised the privy bucket and then lowered down their

food. And again as he exchanged the dirty water for clean water. It puzzled Alana, for he was far

too intense in how he watched the whole tedious process. Although she could not see his face, she

almost felt his concentration and could see it in the taut stillness of his lean form.

Their guard left, taking that faint light with him, and Alana shivered with fear as she always did.

She fought for calm, but still sighed with relief when Gregor sat down next to her. Each time that

light disappeared, her fear of the dark reasserted itself. It embarrassed her that she required Gregor’s presence to harness it again. It seemed so cowardly, yet it was not a fear that could be reasoned with.

She could only hope that Gregor was not aware of how deep and strong that fear was, although why