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Mungan MacDougal made his way past the sleeping guards, while three of the MacPherson clansmen kept their eyes on him. He found a place near the fire, drew his plaid around his shoulders, and lay down.
Earlier, when he had overheard the MacPherson laird speaking to old Hugh, he had not believed his luck. He no longer had to wonder what had happened to Ceana, for he now knew she was tucked away at Blackstone, most likely being waited on hand and foot by the MacPhersons.
The wind howled around the castle, rattling the windows, and he moved closer to the fire. Upon his brother's death, a few months before, 'twas Mungan who had fallen next in line to become laird at Teineaer, but Angus MacDougal, Ceana's grandfather and the Laird of Teineaer had seen fit to change all that. Mungan closed his eyes, remembering with absolute clarity the night he had confronted the old man on the matter.
After learning that Angus had willed the castle and surrounding estate to his only child, Lady MacGregor, Mungan had slipped to the old laird's bedchamber, knocked, and walked in, quickly closing the door behind him.
"Who's there?" Angus asked weakly, unable to recognize his great-nephew in the dim firelight.
"'Tis I, Mungan," he said, keeping his voice low, as he made his way across the room to the bed.
Angus lay on his back, the bedclothes pulled up to his white-bearded chin. His face was an ashen pallor and his jaws sunken, due to his failing health. Even so, his mind was as sharp as a broadsword. "What is it you want?" he demanded, through narrowed eyes.
Too angry to sit, Mungan paced back and forth in front of the massive four-poster bed. "Why did you will Teineaer to your daughter? 'Twas my destiny to be laird of this place, as you well ken, and you yanked it right out from under me."
"I had my reasons, the foremost being the kind of laird you would, and would not make."
"I dinnae ken what you're talking about, old man."
He shook his head. "Of course not. When you arrived at Teineaer after your brother's death, nigh on six months ago, I had high hopes of you making a great laird, as your brother, Brian, God rest his soul, would have. Instead, you turned up dragging a legacy of thievery and debauchery along with you. In your time here, I've overlooked much of your behavior, and even though you've tried to keep your transgressions hidden from me, I've found them out. My people deserve a fair, just, and trustworthy leader, and you, Mungan MacDougal, hold none of those qualifications."
"Why you conniving old bastard," he growled through clenched teeth, as rage and hatred heated his blood. Mungan moved to the bed and grabbed a bolster, pressing it down hard against the laird's face, until he ceased flailing.
When the servant found him the following morning, it was thought he had died of natural causes. Though it had been good to feel the deceitful old fool's last breath drain from his body, he had been no closer to becoming laird, for the MacGregors still stood in his way.
To rectify the problem, Mungan had sought out Lyall Campbell, in Argyll, several weeks later, telling him he knew where many MacGregors were in hiding. The chief had been especially pleased to learn the whereabouts of the MacGregor laird, who had escaped him many years before when Lyall had attacked the MacGregor stronghold under the king's orders. Their demise would further validate the Campbell chief's loyalty to the king.
Mungan had agreed to see that the portcullis was raised on the appointed day if Lyall would rid Teineaer of the MacGregors. But there was one condition. Lyall would not go to the king and request the castle and lands be given to the Campbells, as was his right. Thus assuring, Mungan would become the next laird of Teineaer.
That morning, he had waited for the agreed upon signal, before slicing open the throat of the guard on duty—a distant cousin—and raising the portcullis himself. Then he had quietly slipped away and stayed hidden until the battle was over, and no one had been the wiser—even Hugh—the old fool that he was.
When the Campbells had left Teineaer, Mungan had acted as if he had been in hiding like the others, rather than holed up in a guest bedchamber with all the food he could eat, and whisky he could drink. But everything had not gone as planned. Ceana had lived, and the will had specified she would inherit Teineaer upon her mother's death, to be managed by Ceana and whomever she wed. But that problem would soon be taken care of.
Stifling a chuckle, he imagined the surprised look on the Campbell chief's face when he told him the whereabouts of Ceana—and Lyall's prized warhorse. Once Campbell did away with his bonnie cousin, Teineaer would belong to Mungan free and clear.
Then he would be the Laird of Teineaer and sleep in the laird's bedchamber, have many willing women to warm his bed, and clothing to befit his new position. No longer would he have to sleep on a hard floor before a fire to stay warm, while listening to the resounding snores of a multitude of others. He would remain warm in his soft bed piled high with furs. Aye, fate had indeed smiled upon him.
***
GRIPPING THE WINDOW seat, Ceana placed first one foot on the floor, then the other, and pushed herself upright. She clenched her teeth against the pain that generally came with it, and was relieved when she only felt a bit of discomfort. Day by day she was getting better and better, and would soon be able to walk on her own. Holding onto the wall for balance, she took a step, then another. She let go, and stood, savoring the freedom she felt from such a small venture. At least she knew she could stand alone, albeit for only a short time.
On trembling legs, she stepped toward the bed and stopped, not believing how weak her legs had become. Ceana turned back to the window seat, but her strength was gone. She fell, crying out, as her knees slammed against the hard, oak floorboards. After allowing herself a moment to regain her strength, she crawled the rest of the way, then pulled herself up into the seat. Trembling and with heart pounding, she leaned back and closed her eyes. She was not ready, but with much practice and determination, she soon would be. And then she would leave Blackstone—and Alex behind.
Thinking of him brought to memory his mouth on hers, and her breath quickened. How wonderful it felt to be in his strong arms, her body pressed against his hard chest—feeling so safe and protected. The thought of never experiencing any of that again brought tears to her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away.
Alex had been more than kind to her, and Ceana knew the time would one day come when she would have to leave him. Of course, when she did, she would not be alone. Her Uncle Artagan would be with her. Of that, she was certain.
Ceana looked through the window at the calm loch, mirroring the snow-covered mountains and blue sky. In a different time, a different place, she and Alex might have made a match, for she was most attracted to the handsome Highlander, and she knew he was attracted to her, as well. Even so, she did not wish to cause him any problems with the king, though he had told her not to worry. And then there was Lyall Campbell. What if he were to find out where she was? Did he hate the MacGregors enough to come after her? And if he did, Ceana knew Alex well enough to know he would protect her to the death—and that, she could never allow to happen.
***
IN THE GREAT HALL OF Kilchurn Castle, Lyall downed his third goblet of ale, and the new servant girl quickly refilled it. She was a pretty young thing, with big dark eyes that never looked directly at him. He reached out, wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and pulled her onto his lap, then squeezed one of her firm round breasts.
"Please, m'laird," she begged, struggling to get up, which only served to heighten his desire.
"Please you I will, lass," he said loudly, eliciting a roar of laughter from those sitting within hearing distance. His need intensified as he slipped his hand beneath her skirts and up her long legs. He groaned inwardly. If he did not satisfy his lust soon, he might very well make a fool of himself.
Sitting across from him at the high table, Ellen, his brother's widow frowned. "Leave the lass be. You're frightening her, and you're frightening Mairi."
Mairi, his fourteen-year-old niece, sat beside her mother, her gaze fastened on the table.
"Cease your infernal blathering, woman," he told his sister-in-law, even though he knew it would do no good.
She snorted and got to her feet. "Lyall Campbell, you treat every woman you see as if she were a whore. Now, let her go!"
"Woman, you dinnae order me about." He turned his attention back to the servant girl. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes shimmered with tears. She was more than likely an innocent, which much pleased him. It had been a long while since he bedded a virgin, and he did not mean to wait any longer.
Keeping an arm tightly about her waist, he rose from the table and headed for the stairs. She stumbled along beside him, shrieking at the top of her lungs. But before he was able to haul her off to his bedchamber and have his way with her, Dougal entered the castle.
His nephew frowned. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Lyall raised a brow and smirked. "If I need to tell you, lad, you're even less of a man than I thought you to be."
His nephew's hands balled into fists. "Let Ileen go." He took a step forward.
Lyall laughed. "You just want her for yourself. I've seen the way you watch the lass. Once I'm finished with her, you're welcome to her." He was ready to slice the whoreson's throat for his interruption, even if Dougal was his own flesh and blood.
"Turn her loose, now," he growled through clenched teeth as he took another step toward Lyall.
"You dinnae get to tell me what to do," he chortled, sizing up the lad, wondering when Dougal had become taller than him. The muscles of his nephew's arms and chest strained against the fabric of his linen shirt. Lyall was certain he could still beat the hell out of him, but decided against it. He shoved the girl to the floor and walked away, ignoring the surprised whispers and stares of his men, as he returned to his seat at the high table.
Dougal helped the servant to her feet and escorted her back to the kitchens.
Ellen chuckled.
"I ought to have rid myself of the two of you and that worthless nephew long ago. And I still might."
She sniffed. "You're just angry because he's the only one around here who will stand up to you. I ken you've beaten him many times over the years—since his father's death. But he always denied it. Dougal is no longer a young lad, but has seen twenty-two summers and is a man full grown," she declared, before leaving the high table.
Lyall growled and tossed back his goblet of spiced wine. He had despised Ellen since the day his brother, William, had married her, and time had not changed the way he felt about the damnable wench in the least. He was still seething for not getting to bed the lass when he saw Gil come into the great hall—and he was not alone. Mungan MacDougal was with him. What the hell is that sniveling dog doing here?
Gil smiled. "He's got a bit of information you'll want to hear, chief."
"I bring good news," Mungan claimed, grinning from ear to ear.
"What news?"
"I've found your warhorse, and the lass, as well."
"Where are they?"
"Blackstone Castle."
He frowned. "How is it you come to learn of her whereabouts?"
"The laird of Blackstone, Alexander MacPherson, appeared at Teineaer several days ago. I overheard him tell Hugh, the steward, she was there."
"You say my horse was still with her?"
He nodded. "Aye. She rode him all the way to Blackstone."
Lyall shook his head. He could not believe the stallion had not killed her. Perhaps she was a witch after all. "You've been much help to me in finding the MacGregors. Stay at Kilchurn for as long as you like." Besides, he might be in need of his services at a later date.
Mungan grinned. "Much thanks, chief."
Lyall had come across the young Laird of Blackstone Castle on several occasions, when the clans had been ordered to appear before the king but had not seen him for some time. He had never cared for Alex MacPherson—nor his father. He turned to Gil. "Ready the men. Tomorrow we leave for Blackstone Castle."
***
WEARY FROM STRUGGLING to walk, Ceana fell back onto the bed and propped the bolster beneath her neck. For the past week, she had been pushing herself hard and was most pleased with her progress. A pair of fur-lined slippers, Flora had found in Sorcha's belongings, had lent considerable protection and comfort, enabling her to be even more assertive in her effort. The majority of the blisters on her feet had disappeared, and their natural color had returned. In fact, they felt close to normal, except for the occasional twinge of sharp pain in her toes.
Alex had been gone for several days, but before leaving, he had given Willie the task of carrying her about. Realizing how much she missed the handsome laird did not surprise her in the least because she had finally admitted to herself she was in love with him—which was all the more reason she had to leave. For the longer she remained, the harder it would become to walk away from him. But, before she could go anywhere, she needed to gain better use of her feet—and she was, albeit slowly.
One day soon, after his return to Blackstone, Alex would come to her bedchamber expecting to carry her down to the great hall, instead, she would slowly rise from the bed and walk toward him. She could not wait to see the look of surprise on his face.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Enter."
Flora came into the room and closed the door. She looked at Ceana and raised a brow. "Been pushing ye'self again, m'lady?"
She smiled. "Aye, I have. I intend to walk, instead of having the laird carry me everywhere."
"If ye dinnae mind m' saying so, If I were you, I'd rather have him do the carrying." She chuckled.
Ceana grinned. "He is a most handsome man, but I cannae stay here forever, Flora. I've no choice but to learn to walk again, and be on my way." She did not yet know where she would go, but Uncle Artagan would surely have an idea, and they would start a new life together, though it pained her greatly to think of leaving Alex and this life behind.
Flora nodded. "I'll miss ye, and so will the others."
"I'll miss you as well. You've shown me such kindness and lent an ear when I needed one."
The maid blushed.
"Now, help me get up from here. I've got work to do."
***
RETURNING FROM TEINEAER Castle, Alex and the others rode into the bailey at Blackstone. He lifted his gaze to the window of Ceana's bedchamber, hoping to catch a glimpse of her on the window seat. He had missed her immensely, and she had occupied his thoughts the entire time he was gone. Had she missed him as well?
He had been away much longer than he had expected to be, but the people of Teineaer had needed help with re-roofing the byre and other major repairs they could not do by themselves. And there had been a shortage of food. Alex, Drostan, Ewin and several guards had ridden out hunting and had returned with enough game to keep the residents' bellies filled for a good while. In a few days, Alex would have Conn and some of the others return there with supplies.
Dismounting, he left Jet in James' care and hurried inside the castle and up the stairs. He could not wait to see Ceana, and excitement washed over him at the prospect of looking upon her lovely face again. He had borrowed two horses from Teineaer to bring her things back to Blackstone, one was a mare called Renny, Ewin had said belonged to Ceana. He had sent them on to the stables, but once he had a word with Ceana, he would have the items unloaded and taken up to her bedchamber.
"'Tis late. Go and see what's left of supper," he told Drostan. "I'll be along after I speak with Ceana."
Drostan nodded and followed the others to the great hall.
Once he reached the upper floor, Alex went to Ceana's bedchamber and knocked on the door.
"Aye?"
"'Tis I, Alex."
"Please, come in."
Was it excitement he heard in her voice? Or had he imagined it? He entered the bedchamber and found her seated on the edge of the bed. Judging by her smile, she was as pleased to see him, as he was her. His chest tightened. "How have you fared during my absence?"
"Willie was very kind to me. I didnae miss a single visit to the stables."
He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they were both senseless. But he wanted no more secrets between them when he did. He blew out a long breath. "Before I have my supper, I must speak with you about a matter of utmost importance."
Ceana visibly stiffened. "Of course."
He turned to Flora. "Leave us."
She curtsied, then left the bedchamber.
This time, Alex did close the door behind her. After adding more peat to the fire, even though it had been recently tended, he sat down in a chair beside the bed. "I never told you where I was going when I left here."
"Nay, but you're the laird, and I'm but a guest. You have no need to tell me of your comings and goings."
He moved to sit beside her on the bed and took her hands in his. "Ceana, I've just returned from Teineaer Castle."
She stared at him a long moment before speaking. "Then you've seen firsthand the carnage Lyall Campbell leaves behind him, and see why I must go. But if you'll allow me to stay until I'm well, I'll leave Blackstone, which I'd planned to do all along."
"Listen to me, lass, I'm not afraid of Campbell, and you're welcome to stay here for as long as you wish. Do you understand?" She had to stay—she owned his heart.
She nodded. "I thank you for that."
"There's something I think you should ken. Cree is Lyall Campbell's warhorse."
Ceana gasped. "Then he's the one who's been beating the poor animal."
"Aye. And from what Hugh has said, Campbell very much wants him back."
She shook her head. "Nay. Please, dinnae let him take Cree."
"Dinnae fash, lass. If he finds out the stallion is here, I'll pay whatever he asks to keep him from getting his hands on him." And Alex meant to do whatever it took to keep Campbell from getting his hands on her.
She smiled. "You would do that?"
"Of course." Alex would do anything to see her smile.
"Does he ken 'twas I who took him?"
"He does, lass, but you're safe here at Blackstone. I've guards patrolling the grounds, and I've placed extra archers along the ramparts."
"That makes me feel much better. My greatest fear is that he'll come here and force you into a fight."
He raised a brow. "We MacPhersons can hold our own, lass."
"I'm certain of it." She squeezed his hand. "Now, tell me about Teineaer."
"Well, Hugh, Ewin, and Millie were most pleased to learn you were safe. Ewin acquired a rather nasty leg injury during the attack, but 'tis now healing."
"For that, I'm most thankful. How many survived the onslaught?" she asked, tightly gripping his hands.
"Perhaps fifty MacGregors and MacDougals remain at the castle. Hugh said the others returned to their clans or went down to the village."
"Fifty," she whispered, "which means nearly everyone was killed." She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her face. "Saints above! How could such a horrible thing have happened?"
He let go of her hands and pulled her into his arms, holding her while she wept.
Once she had calmed, she raised her head and gently kissed him on the cheek.
"You're not upset with me?" he asked, surprised by her action.
"Nay, why should I be? In fact, I'm glad you went, as I cannae. But I wish to hear everything."
"Very well. When we first arrived, only Hugh ventured out to greet us. While we ate our supper, I told him you were safe at Blackstone, then he had the others come out of hiding. As I said before, I met Ewin and Millie, then their two wee daughters."
She smiled. "Jenny and Heather are such delightful children."
"I must agree. Everyone was most pleased to hear you were safe—especially Mungan MacDougal, who seemed particularly delighted." He watched her face for a reaction.
She frowned. "Mungan? How strange. I'd never have believed he'd have cared one way or the other, as we are not on the friendliest of terms, nor have we ever been."
An idea wiggled its way into his thoughts. "Lass, do you have any thoughts as how the Campbells got inside the castle's curtain wall?"
Ceana shook her head. "Nay, but I've often wondered."
"Drostan and I noticed the portcullis had not been damaged in any way."
Her eyes widened. "The morning I left, the portcullis was raised, but I was so intent on escaping, I thought no more about it—until now."
He nodded. "Which could only mean..."
"Someone let the Campbells inside!" Her face suddenly drained white, and Alex tightened his hold on her, fearing she might faint. "But who would do such a thing?"
"I've a thought on the matter. You might not agree with me, but hear me out."
"Very well," she said, her face still as pale as a snowdrift.
"Among the survivors at Teineaer, I was surprised to see Mungan had no lingering battle wounds, unlike most of the other men. Of course, it has been several weeks since the attack, and he could have healed, but somehow, I dinnae believe so. Another thing, while everyone else looked as if they'd been through hell, Mungan looked well-rested and at ease. Do you think it possible he raised the portcullis, then hid somewhere until the battle was over?"
Ceana frowned. "For what reason would he have betrayed his own people?"
Alex shrugged. "There's no telling what the Campbell chief promised him. The guarantee of wealth and power have led many a man down the wrong path."
She sighed. "I dinnae wish to believe it, but your notion is sound. I'm certain he would never admit to doing such a thing, but if 'twas found out he did allow them entrance, is there any legal way to have him punished?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Lyall Campbell is a most loyal subject of the king, and if Mungan was working under his guidance, he would be safe from persecution. Ostracization by his own people would be the only course."
"Still, I'd like to learn the truth of the matter."
"Aye, as would I."
She placed a hand on his forearm, and he covered it with his own. "How are my people faring?"
"Much better than before we arrived. We provided them with game, and promised to send supplies soon, as they are getting low on provisions."
"Alex MacPherson, you are a good and kind man, and I thank you for what you did for them—and me." Her eyes welled up. "How will I ever be able to thank you?"
He grinned. "I'll settle for a kiss."
She smiled, then wrapped her arms around his neck, and proceeded to kiss him until they were both breathless. "Will that suffice?" she asked, raising a perfectly arched brow.
"Aye. In fact, 'tis more than sufficient, lass. But I'm a greedy man when it comes to your kisses, and wondered if I might have another before I go off to find my supper."
"Perhaps, after all you've done, you do deserve at least one more," she teased, then kissed him again.
His stomach growled.
She pulled her mouth away, then smiled up at him. "Go and have your supper, before there's naught left. I ken you must be hungry after your long journey, and one of my kisses could never compete with a trencher of Maggie's venison stew."
He grinned. "I'd not be so sure about that, lass. Her stew could never be as tasty as your kisses." He gave her a last peck on the mouth before getting to his feet. "I'll see you in the morn," he said, then reluctantly left Ceana's bedchamber, and headed to the great hall to fill his empty belly.
Though his heart overflowed with happiness, all was not as it seemed. Even though Alex had told Ceana he was not afraid of Campbell, which of course he was not, but he was afraid he might come after her. Since Hugh had informed him the Campbell chief sought revenge upon her, which he had chosen not to tell the lass, Alex had not rested—and would not—as long as Lyall Campbell drew a breath.
***
ALEX TOOK HIS SEAT at the high table and filled his trencher, while Inna, a young dark-haired servant girl, hurried to fill his goblet with ale.
She was smiling and a blush pinked her cheeks, while her gaze was noticeably fastened on Drostan, who sat across from Alex, wearing a roguish grin.
"Inna, that will be all," Alex said, as ale spilled over the edge of his goblet and across the table.
"Forgive me, laird," she said, before hurrying back to the kitchen.
"You have such a bewildering effect on women." Alex shook his head.
Drostan chuckled. "'Tisn't my fault."
"Och, is it not?"
"Well, perhaps a wee bit of 'tis. Speaking of lasses, how is Ceana?"
"You're changing the subject, but she's doing well. I told her we'd been to Teineaer, and everything we'd learned while there."
"How did she take it?"
"Much better than I'd anticipated. She's an amazing young woman." He leaned across the table toward Drostan and lowered his voice. "Once you and I saw the portcullis intact, did we not agree it had been opened from the inside, for the sole purpose of giving the Campbells access to the castle?"
Drostan nodded. "Aye. 'Twas clear that was what had happened."
"Well, once I mentioned the gate had been undamaged, Ceana recalled that on the morning of her escape, the portcullis had been left raised. And after careful consideration, I believe I've come up with the culprit."
"Who?"
"Mungan MacDougal."
"That doesnae surprise me in the least. Does Ceana agree?"
Alex drained his goblet and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "She sees it as a possibility, but hesitates to believe a relation could do such a thing to his own people."
Drostan rubbed the golden stubble on his chin. "Even if you had solid proof, naught would be done, because he was but following the orders of Lyall Campbell, who is always ready to do the king's bidding."
Alex nodded. "Aye, and that's exactly what I told Ceana. But I feel the people who suffered because of Mungan's actions need to ken he cannot be trusted. I'll think on the matter and make a decision as to what to do. There's something I did come to a conclusion about tonight, though I've known I would for some time."
Drostan propped his elbows on the table and laced his fingers beneath his chin. "I'm listening."
"I intend to ask Ceana to be my wife." Alex's heart drummed against his chest at hearing himself say the words out loud.
His friend chuckled. "I cannae say I'm surprised, as I realized some time ago you were in love with her."
Alex snorted. "I'd thought I was, but the real truth of it hit me square between the eyes when she informed me she was planning to leave Blackstone as soon as she's physically able. There's no way I can allow her to go."
"Thus, the hurry to make her your wife. When do you plan on marrying her? 'Twill be spring before Father MacTavish passes this way again."
Alex frowned. "We must wed as soon as possible—to keep her safe. Once Ceana and I are husband and wife, she'll belong to my clan, not the MacGregors."
"I understand what you're saying, but you've not answered my question. How do you plan to wed the lass?"
Alex grinned. "The way my grandparents and their parents did."
Realization dawned on Drostan. "A handfasting ceremony."
"Aye, and the sooner the better.