My Rebel Highlander Read online

  "Mayhap she was just interested in you. She'd remembered you from years ago, you were not yet aware of her presence, and she wanted to learn more about you."

  "I hope you're right. Aye, she was worried that I was going to tell everyone of our… association." Maybe that was part of it. But he had a sense that wasn't all. Nay, his gut told him she was hiding a secret that worried her incessantly. "I'll find out. I have to."

  ***

  In the gloaming, Claybourne and his men quietly dismounted in the wood with a clear view of the small castle near a loch. Too bad the tall curtain wall appeared impenetrable.

  Claybourne and his men had followed Laird Draughon and the rest of the men here. Was Lady Stanbury inside the castle? And if so, how could he get her out?

  He'd wasted far too much time on this already, and he wanted to be done with it. Just after her husband's death several months ago, the lady had kept herself secreted behind the walls of the Stanbury Estate. Once she'd quit that place, she'd gone under heavy guard to her distant cousin, Barclay. She always had too many guards about her. Besides, he'd enjoyed slowly wearing her down just as he had done to her husband. The only difference was he didn't want to kill her; he wanted her occupying his bed.

  Strangely, the harder she made him work to get a hold on her, the more determined he became. He grinned. The lady would not thwart him. He intended to have her. His lusts for her had magnified tenfold within the last few days.

  He posted his men at various positions throughout the wood so they could watch the castle but remain hidden. A short time later, a man emerged from behind the wall, slipping along, and then running toward the wood. Had he come from inside or elsewhere?

  "You three, go grab him and bring him to me," Claybourne whispered to his most skilled men.

  "Aye, m'laird."

  In the dim light of gloaming, the three crept through the wood toward the stranger. Upon seeing them, he cried out and tried to flee, but his men quickly disarmed him and dragged him by the arms deeper into the wood.

  Claybourne hastened toward them.

  "Who are you?" he asked the newcomer, a Highlander in a belted plaid.

  The man watched him with wide, shifting eyes. "M-MacFadden."

  "Did you come from within the walls?"

  "Aye."

  "Who holds this castle?"

  MacFadden narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "The Earl of Rebbinglen."

  "Ah. Is he the Highlander with dark hair and dark eyes? Fearsome-looking fellow who rides a black stallion?"

  "Aye."

  "Did he arrive with a bonny, flaxen-haired lady?"

  "Aye."

  So, Lady Stanbury's rescuer was an earl, was he? The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

  Claybourne had already taken down one earl—Stanbury—and he could easily take down another. All that was required was more cunning, which he had in spades.

  "Who are the other men who just arrived?" Claybourne asked. He knew about Draughon, for he'd asked in the village.

  "The Earl of Draughon, the Earl of MacGrath, and Rebbinglen's father, the Marquess of Kilverntay."

  "God's bones," Claybourne muttered. So many powerful men. And Rebbinglen was heir to a marquess? A thrill shot through him when he imagined bringing such high and mighty aristocrats to their knees. "What relation are the other two to Rebbinglen?"

  "Draughon and MacGrath are brothers and they are friends of Rebbinglen."

  "And why are they here?"

  "The lady was…" MacFadden's eyes widened as his gaze darted from one to the other of them.

  "Aye? Go on?" Claybourne pulled a dagger from its scabbard. "What about the lady?"

  MacFadden's breathing quickened, and his face blanched white as a corpse in the dimness. "L-L-Lady Stanbury," MacFadden stuttered so severely, Claybourne wondered if he was going to get the word out.

  Claybourne smiled. He loved hearing Lady Stanbury's name. "Aye?"

  "She was attacked by-by… someone and Rebbinglen rescued her. His friends brought a garrison of three dozen guards to protect the lady on the way back to… wherever they came from."

  Claybourne nodded. He'd already guessed that much. He was outnumbered, so confronting them directly was out of the question. He wanted no loss of life over this, especially among his own men.

  "Are you the steward?"

  "Nay," MacFadden snapped, appearing affronted at the suggestion.

  "Do you work in the castle or are you a guest?"

  MacFadden lifted one shoulder and shifted upon his feet. "T-This castle belonged to my family… many years ago. My grandfather sold it to Rebbinglen's grandfather."

  "And?"

  "I-I was staying here, watching over the place… and Rebbinglen returned."

  "Does he pay you for that service?"

  "Nay."

  Claybourne frowned. The man made no sense. "You are good friends with him?"

  "Nay. I wish he was gone from here," he said with vehemence.

  "Well, I can help you with that. Can you get into the castle?"

  "Of course," he said as if 'twas the easiest thing on earth.

  "Good." Claybourne rubbed his hands together. "I'll pay you a hundred pounds to go into the castle and bring Lady Stanbury out to me."

  "Are you a m-madman? I'd never be able to do that alone. S-She'd scream and alert all the guards. And—and Rebbinglen would kill me if he found out."

  "I'll give you a thousand pounds."

  Jittery, MacFadden shook his head with great vigor. "'Tis not possible, I-I tell you."

  "Give me the key." Claybourne held out his hand. "I'll take care of it myself."

  "I-I don't have it on my person at the moment. Rebbinglen confiscated my keys."

  The daft man was trying his patience. "You said you could get into the castle."

  The man clamped his lips shut tight.

  Claybourne sighed. "What is it you want most, MacFadden?"

  He glanced toward the castle then down at the ground.

  "You must want something. Tell me and maybe I can help you get it."

  MacFadden eyed him speculatively and with a bit of hope. "The castle."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I-I want the castle of my forefathers. Rebbinglen cares naught for it. He has many estates. 'Tis only the third time he's ever been here."

  "I see. Well, once I have the lady, Rebbinglen will follow me. I'll kill him, and then you'll have the castle. Simple." Claybourne shrugged.

  "That wouldn't make it legally mine. His father or someone else would still own it."

  "'Tis doubtful they'd want to live all the way out here." Claybourne spread his arms. "There's not even a decent-sized village close by."

  "Aye, but—but 'tis not worth my life."

  "All right. I'll pay you ten-thousand pounds. That amount should go a long way in paying for this crumbling heap. It couldn't be worth much more than that. All you have to do is go in and secretly bring the lady out, without alerting the guards."

  MacFadden was practically drooling now, though still fidgety. Claybourne held back a grin. Of course, he wasn't going to pay the daft man ten-thousand pounds, but he wouldn't find that out until it was too late.

  "P-pay me half now, and h-h-half when I bring her out."

  "Are you mad? I don't simply carry around that much coin. I'll have to talk to my treasurer and my solicitor."

  "Then—then I have no guarantee you'll pay me." MacFadden's mouth twitched.

  "I'll draw up a legal document." Claybourne motioned to his steward. "And I'll start off by giving you a thousand pounds right now to prove I'm trustworthy."

  "You're not going to kill the lady, are you?"

  What? MacFadden was suddenly growing a conscience? "Nay. Of course not. I'm quite smitten with the lady, in fact." Was smitten and consumed by lust the same thing? He shrugged.

  A quarter hour later, his steward had drawn up a very rudimentary contract on a small piece of wrinkled parchment and they'd signed it, di
fficult in the dimness and with only a flat rock as a desk. But his steward was always prepared.

  Once MacFadden had his legal document and his gold and silver coins, Claybourne motioned for him to return to the castle, but MacFadden didn't budge. He'd best bring Calla out or he would pay with his life.

  "I-I can lure her out to the orchard in back, but n-not outside the walls. I can let you into the orchard through the postern gate."

  Claybourne narrowed his eyes. Damn the man. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

  "I-I just now realized, but I have a plan."

  Claybourne certainly wasn't going in there. He named three of his men standing nearby. "All of you go and bring the lady to me unharmed. Bind her hands and tie a gag in her mouth, if you must, so she doesn't scream and alert the guards. If she won't come peacefully, tell her… we have her son."

  ***

  MacFadden unlocked the postern gate, allowed Claybourne's three men into the garden behind him, then closed it. He would lock it once the men left with their baggage.

  After cutting a red rose from the thorny vine against the stone wall, MacFadden said, "T-two of you hide and w-wait here. And one of you come with me and wait in the kitchen," he whispered.

  "You said you would bring her out here," the tall, brawny man growled and pulled his dagger.

  MacFadden's stomach dropped at the sight of the blade glinting in the moonlight. "T-t-the kitchen is empty at this hour. I-I know I can get her into the kitchen, but she may be afraid to come out here."

  "Get her out here or I'll kill you," the man seethed, looking about in a wary manner.

  "V-very well. W-wait here by the door, then." Damn, how MacFadden hated his stutter. If only he could calm his nerves, it wouldn't be so bad. He hastened through the warm, empty kitchen and up the stairs to the floor above and paused in the dark corridor. He allowed his breathing and heart rate to slow.

  He wished to be calmer when he talked to Lady Stanbury… and gave her this rose. She was so beautiful she made him stutter, anyway. If only he could be more easy-going around women, like Laird Rebbinglen was when he'd given her the rose in the garden and kissed her.

  MacFadden scraped the thorns off with his thumbnail, then sniffed the flower's heavenly scent. This is my rose, just as this is my castle.

  He ground his teeth. Damn Rebbinglen and his princely attitude. Aye, his name might be on the deed as owner of the castle, but he could never love and appreciate it the way MacFadden did. He ran his hand over the ancient stone wall at his back. How he loved this place. His ancestors had lived here for centuries. It should be his! And it would be. Excitement shot through him. He couldn't believe the opportunity which had been handed to him just as he'd feared all was lost.

  In his hand, he weighed the heavy sack of coins he'd attached to his belt. Not nearly enough to buy this castle, but a start. While he didn't entirely trust Claybourne, he couldn't deny the man drove a hard bargain. Ten-thousand pounds! Aye, 'twould surely be enough to buy this castle from Rebbinglen, or from his father once Rebbinglen was dead by Claybourne's hand. Though 'twas a dangerous risk, MacFadden could not pass up the generous offer. Just to get the lady into their hands? 'Twould be an easy task.

  Grinning with anticipation, he headed up the narrow spiral stairs toward the lady's chamber, stopping every few moments to listen. He sure as the devil didn't want to be caught.

  Though it hadn't been easy, he'd escaped the guards Rebbinglen had set to watch him earlier during supper in the great hall. Once they'd had several tankards of ale, and were deep into telling their stories of war and wenching, MacFadden had easily slipped away using a small hidden doorway in an alcove that few knew about. He doubted even Rebbinglen kenned of it. Then he'd stolen out the postern gate using a key he'd had hidden. He'd meant to quit this place entirely and return much later, but then Claybourne and his men had captured him in the wood.

  Now, to hold up his end of the bargain, he would lure the lovely lady down to the kitchen door. He didn't care what became of her. He simply wanted Tummel Castle by any means, fair or foul.

  ***

  Calla sat by the fire, unbraiding her hair. Since Rebbie's friends and the other men had arrived this afternoon, she'd hardly seen Rebbie at all. Though she knew 'twas foolhardy, she wished he would come to her room tonight after everyone was asleep. She could think of little beyond their lovemaking. He was so passionate, so beautifully male and virile. His muscles, the way his powerful body moved as he was stretched over her, kissing her, driving himself to her depths. Her body heating at the memory, she blew out a sharp breath.

  She buried her face in her hands. How terribly wanton she was. But she had good reason. No man had touched her for six long years, and Rebbie was the only man she'd ever wanted to touch her, anyway. He wasn't like her late husband. Rebbie's hands were warm and strong, but gentle. 'Twas as if, with his fathomless eyes, he peered into her soul. Could he see how much she loved him? She hoped not.

  When a soft knock sounded at her door, the rhythm of her heartbeat kicked up. It had to be Rebbie. Wearing only her smock, she rushed to the door and opened it.

  MacFadden stood there.

  "Oh." Alarmed, she pushed the door almost closed again and peered at him through the crack. What could he possibly want? "A good eve to you, MacFadden."

  "G-good eve, m-m'lady," he stammered and gave an awkward bow. Even in the dim light of the candle he held, his deep blush was evident. "Laird R-Rebbinglen sent me."

  "He did?" Why would Rebbie do that? He could hardly tolerate the man. But she did remember seeing the two talking the afternoon before, outside where the tower was being constructed.

  "Aye. Y-you're probably wondering why he sent me instead of coming himself. H-he's considering hiring me as his steward. A-anyway, he requests that y-you meet him in the kitchen so that you two might take a walk in the moonlit orchard."

  Frowning, she glanced at the narrow window and the darkness beyond. But she could also see the bright orb of the moon. Did Rebbie have some romantic notion of kissing her in the moonlight?

  "Why?" she asked.

  MacFadden fidgeted. "H-he wouldn't say. O-only that he wished to spend some time with you without his friends knowing. He didn't want to embarrass you. He said to give you this." MacFadden drew a red rose from behind his back and thrust it through the crack.

  "Oh." She took the rose and sniffed its spellbinding fragrance. Rebbie knew she'd loved the rose he'd given her yesterday afternoon. He was a romantic, through and through.

  She knew not what would happen after they returned to Draughon and he broke the marriage contract. Elena might suspect Calla was to blame and never speak to her again. She would lose her job and her only means, at the moment, of earning a living. She knew Rebbie wasn't the marrying kind. She'd never had any aspirations of marrying him anyway, because 'twas too outlandish a dream to even contemplate.

  The time here at Tummel Castle might be all she would ever have with him. Once they returned to Draughon, they would again need to act like mere acquaintances. If he paid off the debt, she would likely then be his employee.

  "Pray pardon, m'lady?" MacFadden said. "W-what shall I tell him?"

  "I'll be down in a minute." She closed the door and drew on the clothing she'd just removed a short time before. After pulling her cloak on, she picked up the rose and opened the door.

  Carrying the candle, MacFadden led the way down the dark corridor and two flights of servants' stairs to the kitchen. The stone room was still overwarm but dark except for the orange glow of the coals.

  "Where is Rebbie?" Calla asked.

  "He was here. He must have stepped out into the garden." MacFadden opened the outside door and the wind extinguished the candle, casting them in near darkness. "M'laird?" he called in a low voice. "Where did you go?"

  Calla stood so near the door, the wind whipped at her hair. A tall silhouette moved toward her from outside.

  "Rebbie, what are you—?" Calla's words were cut short
when the man yanked her to him and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  She screamed, but the sound was muffled.

  Oh, dear God. That wasn't Rebbie. Who?

  She struggled to free herself from his binding grip, but the man picked her up and carried her through the windy night.

  "Rebbie!" she tried to yell, but 'twas only a mumble beneath the man's strong hand.

  What was happening? Icy chills covered her. Two silhouettes stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Who were they? Claybourne's men?

  "Listen to me, my lady," said a raspy voice in her ear—that belonging to the man holding her immobile within the strangling grips of his arms. "Come quietly and no one will get hurt."

  Remembering she hadn't even brought her small knife, she kicked backward into his shin. His hold on her tightened painfully and he growled in her ear. "'Twas a bad move on your part. The more you fight me, the more I will hurt you. Oh, and by the way, we have your son."

  "What?" she yelled but the word only came out a blunted syllable. They had to be Claybourne's men. She'd kill every one of them if they harmed Jamie. How had they kidnapped him? He was supposed to be safe with his aunt and uncle, under heavy guard. But, she was supposed to be safe here, too, wasn't she? Yet they had managed to seize her. They could very well have Jamie. Rage burned through her veins and tears flooded her eyes.

  "Aye, now will you come quietly and peacefully?" the blackguard asked.

  Though she wanted to kill the bastard, she nodded.

  "If you so much as utter a sound, your son's life will be forfeit."

  She felt lightheaded of a sudden, but ground her teeth and forced herself to nod. She'd do anything to protect her son, even become Claybourne's whore. But she would figure out a way to rescue Jamie, if Claybourne did indeed have him. It might be a grand lie, but she couldn't risk it. Never had she thought herself capable of killing a man, but once an opportunity presented itself, she would stab Claybourne and leave him lying in his own blood, just as he had done to Stanbury.

  The largest of the men tossed her over his shoulder, near knocking the breath from her, and carried her toward the postern gate. A third man opened the gate. Once they were outside the walls, the night wind blew harder against her. The men sprinted with her through the dimness toward the wood. Upside down, she grew dazed and disoriented. Turning her head aside, she saw no one at the castle's portcullis.