The Accidental Highland Hero (The Highlanders #2)

Chapter Two

“‘Tis a sweet lassie near drowned,”

a gruff man said. He wrapped her in a blanket while the boat tossed about in the rough breakwater. “Lass?”

“Is she dead?”

the other man asked, his voice not as aged as the other’s but just as concerned.

She heard the men’s voices, understood their language but couldn’t open her eyes for the life of her. Her temple throbbed with such pain she could barely think straight.

The boat rose and fell with such a terror, she knew it would soon break up in the surf. No ship would ever be big enough again to protect her from the sea. Then the waves and the boat crashing in the turbulent water, the smell of the salty sea, and the feel of the sun on her cheeks faded away.

A short while later, she heard a grinding noise, and the boat quit rising on the swells. ‘Twas sitting on the beach now, she thought. And her stomach began to settle, although she felt she was still rolling with the waves. One of the men lifted her out of the boat and held her close. Instantly, she felt a wee bit warmer, although her body trembled without end, and she clenched her teeth lest she jar them loose from her head.

“Lass, your name? The name of the ship you were on?”

he asked, his voice harried, but coated with warmth and reassurance.

Her name? Panic rose in every bit of her. Her name? Why could she not remember her name?

“She is half drowned, Eanruig. She will never make it to Castle Craigly,”

the younger man said.

Eanruig snorted. “She is a Scotswoman, Niall. She will make it.”

“Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

“Aye, if you are thinking the comely lass would be a good offering for your cousin James.”

Nial laughed. “‘Twould be something, would it not, if she were not betrothed or wed, to fish the half-drowned lass out of the sea and present her to the only clan chief in the region who refuses every offer of a wife, and he accepted her? Except we have no idea which clan she hails from nor if we are at war with them. And as choosy as my cousin is…”

His words dropped off, and he said no more.

Was she betrothed? She could not recall. She could not remember anything, and the panic returned with a vengeance. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the brightness of the sun, saw the tanned face of the dark bearded man who carried her, his black hair hanging loosely about his shoulders, dripping wet like she was. Wet and cold.

“But bonny Catriona will catch James’s eye, and that will be the end to this madness. ‘Tis not fair he has had four offerings and has turned them all down.”

Niall glanced down at her. “She is awake.” His voice was tinged with hope. “Lass, your name?”

She looked at the younger man, his dark brows furrowed with concern, his brown eyes wide. He stood tall and lean, his posture straightening as if to impress her of his height. She was impressed. High cheekbones and an angular face were covered in a shadow of a beard running along his chin and jaw, giving him a slightly roguish look. A steady breeze tugged at his wet, tangled auburn hair. He seemed familiar somehow. Was this good or bad?

His lips curved up slightly. Was he amused at the way she so boldly considered his attributes? She only wished to consider the men more closely who had rescued her. Would they soon place her in a dungeon?

Mayhap they would, if she was one of the clan who had attacked these two. Beaten by the waves and wind and rain and rocks, she was too weary to care what happened next.

The older man, Eanruig, the other had called him, stared at her for a moment, then watched again where he was going, his long stride carrying her farther away from the waves crashing against the beach. “No other survivors. But the lass does seem a wee bit familiar.”

No, not him. She didn’t recall having seen the older man before.

“It was God’s will we found her when we did, or she might not have made it.”

“Aye, if Dunbarton’s men had not set upon us, we might not have paused at the beach and seen the lass. Which makes me wonder what they were doing there in the first place. Although our men are still trying to learn about the ship that Dunbarton was interested in. I am wondering if their cargo was on the same ship the lass was on.”

Eanruig smiled. “If so, he has lost his precious cargo at the bottom of the sea.” He gave a shake of his head. “As for your cousin, he rejected the last four lassies, Niall. Think you he will not reject Catriona also? He is a hard man to please.”

“Aye, my aunt has always said so.”

The two men laughed.

“Catriona will be here on the morrow to catch James’s eye,”

Niall said. “Think you I will have a chance with this one?”

Eanruig considered her further. “She is a bonny lass, lad. You stand a chance if she is not from an enemy’s clan. Unless she is already betrothed.”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep then wake and know who she was and where she was bound, whether she was wed and if so, had she lost her family aboard the ship? Her heart sank even further into a pit of despair. But she could conjure up no feelings about the matter, no sense of what had been, and it was more than terrifying.

“James will be enraged when he hears of this latest attack against us.”

“On his own cousin, no less,”

Eanruig said.

Then the sun, the smell of the man’s fishy woolen clothes, or even her own, the touch of his warm body, and the smell of the horse he lifted her onto, all faded into nothingness.

Sometime later, although she was not sure how much except the sun hovered high above, the rhythmic clip-clops of the horses woke her. She observed the inner bailey of a sandstone castle that appeared golden in the sun’s rays. Several men, women, and children ran to greet the two men and stare at the stranger in their midst. Worse, she was as much a stranger to herself as she was to them. Yet something deep inside her begged her to keep her identity secret as if it was best no one ever knew her. What evil had she done to warrant feeling in such a manner?

“Who is the lass, Niall?”

an older woman asked, her brown eyes warm and kindly, her equally dark brown hair tinged with a light smattering of gray, braided down her front.

The ends wrapped in silk, and metal tassels extended them even farther for the longest, most beautiful tresses. Having her hair adorned with expensive trinkets and fabric indicated she was the lady of the castle. She had the same eyes and mouth as Niall. A relation, no doubt.

“Half-drowned in the sea, my lady, and the ship carrying her lost forever,”

Eanruig said. “As fiery colored as her cheeks are, I fear she has taken a fever.”

The woman placed ice cold fingers on her temple, and she shivered. “She is burning up. Take her into the guest chamber next to the laird’s.”

Niall’s brows rose. “Aunt Akira, I thought you bid the servants prepare the chamber for Catriona.”

The woman huffed, her eyes narrowing. “Think you she arrives on time? Nay, the willful lass sends word she is coming in a fortnight.”

“You have told James?”

Niall asked, his voice dark.

“Nay. Mayhap a miracle will occur, and Catriona will arrive on the morrow as she had promised. No sense in borrowing trouble. Who is the lass, Niall?”

Their words echoed off the massive stone walls of the keep.

“She has not spoken a word, my lady.”

“We have no idea which clan she comes from?”

“Nay, Aunt,”

Niall said. “And naught from the wreckage to identify the ship.”

“Verra well. I will be right up to see to her. And Niall?”

“Aye, my lady?

“You and Eanruig, no word to His Lairdship concerning the lady.”

“Because we know not who she is?”

“My verra thoughts, nephew. ‘Tis best James not know who she is until we do. He has had his own battle this morning with more raiders and is not in a verra good mood.”

“And if she is from the enemy’s clan?”

“We will deal with that when we have to.”

Then the interrogation would truly begin, and her deepest worry beset her. Who was she truly, and was she from an enemy clan? Was she in league with those who had attacked her rescuers? She would die if she was, after the kindness these people had shown her.

****

In his solar, James listened intently to what his seneschal and his cousin had to say about the attack at the beach, both looking a little worse for wear. “Have you no idea what the precious cargo was they were seeking? The ship would have docked at the seaport. Why would the brigands be so far away from the docks? And why were you not with the rest of our men?”

Niall cleared his throat and glanced at Eanruig as if waiting for him to explain. His seneschal didn’t seem to have an answer any more than his cousin did, but then Niall spoke. “The ship had broken up in the storm. ‘Tis our guess they were searching to see if anything survived. Our men were still trying to find records of a ship coming in at the docks. We had not thought Dunbarton’s men would be at the beach and not at the docks, but they must have seen the debris as well, and gone to investigate.”

James rubbed his chin, his thoughts dark. “I have to know what the cargo was that Laird Dunbarton deemed precious.”

He considered Niall’s bloodied sleeve. “Your blood or theirs, cousin?”

“A wee bit of both.”

“Have Tavia see to your injuries.”

James turned his attention to Eanruig, the man as big as the one he had bested earlier in the day and the perfect choice as a bodyguard for his cousin.

Although neither Eanruig nor he would ever let on to Niall that was the purpose Eanruig served whenever they left the castle. With his three brothers gone to seek their fortunes, James was not about to lose his cousin, who had been raised as their brother, to a band of rogues. Beyond being incensed Dunbarton’s men attacked him and James’s seneschal, the business of a shipment coming to port that carried some goods for Dunbarton’s clan, intrigued him. Good that the ship sank and left them without. But he had to know what precious cargo the ship had held. No doubt Laird Dunbarton would pay for another shipment, and James would have to stop that one next.

“The men on board the ship all drowned, I take it?”

“Aye,”

Eanruig quickly said.

James stared at him, feeling as though something was not right. His cousin and Eanruig were much more subdued than they normally would be after a clash with Dunbarton’s warriors. Although they were now dry, he could smell the saltwater on their skin, and a residue of the white powdery sea salt clung to Eanruig’s beard and both men’s hair.

“You took a dunk in the briny sea?”

“Aye,”

Niall said, then his lips lifted a wee bit, but the result looked insincere.

A servant carrying a bucket of water hurried to pass him, but as soon as James caught his eye, the man quickly lowered his gaze and rushed toward the stairs.

This matter concerning choosing his betrothed had to be decided quickly. ‘Twas making his people ill at ease whenever they saw him, but he did not think he was to blame.

****

A hoard of women pulled off her wet gowns and though a fire burned in the hearth, she was even colder than before. Then sometime between that horrendous effort and the next, she, who couldn’t remember her name, was washed, then dressed in a dry gown. Lying buried beneath blankets in a huge bed and smelling of sweet lavender, she stared up at the face of Niall’s kindly aunt.

“Lovely lass, may we know your name?”

the lady asked. Large concerned brown eyes and lips curved upward slightly as if trying to set her at ease, greeted her.

Niall stepped into the room, and his aunt frowned at him.

“Did you learn her name? Which clan she is from?” he asked.

“She is barely able to stay awake. She has had a bad bump on her head. I fear ‘tis hopeless until she is better.”

“James is asking again about Catriona. Would it not be better if we told him the truth? That the lass will not be here on the morrow?”

“Nay, you know how he is. He must have a wife by winter, or give up the clan to his brother, Malcolm. So leave him be. For a fortnight, he has behaved like a bear. ‘Tis better he knows naught about Catriona until the morrow. Mayhap she has changed her mind and will still arrive by then?”

“Aye, like the remnants of the ship we plucked the lassie from will suddenly become whole and emerge from the bottom of the sea.”

His aunt smiled at him. “‘Tis not that you have some interest in the lass, is it?”

He shrugged. “I will need a wife one of these days, especially should James’s brothers not be interested in being laird. Then I would be next in line. And I am not as choosy as my cousin.”

He grinned. “This one suits me fine.”

His aunt shook her head. “Impulsive as always. You have no knowledge of who the girl is. What if she is married? With child even?”

Niall drew taller and furrowed his brow. “Is she?”

“She doesn’t appear to be. But you have no idea who she is. What if she were a Dunbarton?”

Folding his arms, Niall’s already dark eyes grew black. “You have a point, my lady. As to James, I will engage him in a bout of archery before the meal. If I let him beat me, mayhap his mood will improve.”

“Aye, ‘twill be good when he has chosen his bride and mopes no more about it.”

His aunt motioned to the bed. “We will call her Marsali until we know her name.”

“Pearl. Sounds appropriate since we plucked her from the sea. Until the meal.”

He glanced at the healer. “If you have a moment, you might take a look at the nick or two I received in battle.”

Tavia tucked a loose dark curl back into her braid, glanced at him and gave him a funny, wee smile. “’Tis naught more than a scratch, I fathom, but aye, I will have a look at them if Lady Akira gives me leave.”

Lady Akira nodded.

He gave a bow to his aunt, then smiled at Tavia, whipped around, and took his leave with the healer hurrying after his long stride.

His aunt faced the shipwrecked lass. “Niall had better not beat James at archery, considering the foul mood James already is in, but knowing my nephew, he will not give in a breadth of a hair. I must see to the meal, Marsali, and will check on you afterwards. Your own will be brought to you shortly.”

The lady patted her shoulder in a motherly way, and she imagined her own mother being as kind.

Which brought a wave of grief crashing over her. Had her mother been on the ship? Drowned with the others? If not, would she worry that her daughter had been lost at sea and grieved for her? Her head pounded with the new concern.

Marsali, for want of her own name, closed her eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. They burned like they were on fire, as did her skin, although a pretty maid attempted to cool her forehead with a wet cloth. But when she tried to shove the blankets aside, the maid thwarted her time and again. The struggle wore her out, and before long, she dreamed of a glen and mountains, of the blue waters of a tranquil loch, and heather blooming.

She could almost smell the sweet floral fragrance when a woman shrieked outside her chamber, making her heart jump.

“Quit tickling me. The chamber is not occupied by fair Catriona, you knave, but by another young woman.”

“The room was to be readied for the Lady Catriona. Who ordered it otherwise?”

“Lady Akira. She still runs the castle until Laird James chooses a wife, ye know.”

She giggled, and the footsteps scurried away.

The healer had returned and was tending to Marsali. Her long brown braids dangling over Marsali, Tavia leaned over the bed and placed another cold wet cloth on her feverish forehead. Marsali tried to push the clammy cloth away. ‘Twould make her cold again.

“I think you be a Dunbarton,”

Tavia finally said, her dark brows raised, her tone of voice accusatory. “You looked quite stricken when Master Niall mentioned it. Are you from the enemy clan, a Dunbarton, lady?”

****

So many concerns wormed their way into James’s thoughts. Although he had little stomach for it, he tried to make the most of the afternoon meal. The boar seemed too dry, the brown bread too hard, even the butter slightly rancid. Naught appealed.

The news Eanruig and Niall brought him about being waylaid by Dunbarton’s men made his blood run hot. And where were his brothers and their Viking friend, Gunnolf, when he’d asked for their assistance? ‘Twas unlike them not to send word. Unless they’d had more trouble escorting Lady Anice to her castle than they could manage. James shook his head.

This business with Lady Anice and the misfortunes that had befallen her staff worried him. ‘Twas not like he and his brothers could not handle the sword play if that’s where it led. But he wished them home to help him with his border squabbles. When Dougald sent him a missive warning Malcolm was growing overly fond of the Scottish lass, James could not believe it. King Henry desired her wed to a Norman baron loyal to his rule, since she was his wife’s favorite cousin. James hoped Malcolm’s head would not be on the chopping block next if he took his relationship with the lass too far.

Sighing deeply, James reminded himself it was Dougald that got into the most mischief with the ladies. Malcolm would not get himself into trouble.

With all his heart, James had given his younger brothers his enthusiastic thanks for all their support when he became the current laird of Craigly Castle and best wishes to make their way in the world, but…

He missed their hearty wit, their rows, the way they fought together, watching each other’s backs in the thick of battle.

He glanced at his cousin Niall, who’d been raised like a brother with the rest of them, when his parents had died of the fever. Niall grinned back at him. Except that James beat his cousin fair and square at archery, that was the only good thing that had happened this day. The feat was not easily accomplished, and as usual, Niall tried his hardest to best him. James’s seneschal caught his eye.

Eanruig had been curiously avoiding him all afternoon. Even his mother had managed to stay clear of James. He snorted under his breath. He had heard the whispered rumors, that he was acting like an ogre, but who would not under the circumstances? ‘Twas a trying business, choosing a wife…

Sometimes he wondered if it would be easier to let Malcolm, the next oldest of his brothers, run the clan as chief, and let him choose a wife from the insipid choices he had. Only Catriona sparked James’s interest. The others had been too young, or too boorish, or too timid.

What he needed was a hardy Scotswoman like his mother, who could bear his bairns and survive the harsh winters. Someone who had not just come from the cradle or acted too afraid to speak in his presence. He tossed the chunk of dry bread back on the plate. And his clansmen had the gall to wonder why the lassies did not appeal?

They were all pretty, aye, but there had to be more to them than that.

The times he’d been with Catriona, he found her attractive, willing in bed, and able to carry a conversation without being overwhelmed by his position. He thought she would do.

“You say the chamber is ready for Catriona,”

James said to his mother, unable to get his mind off Catriona’s impending visit.

His mother’s eyes widened a bit.

James leaned back in his chair. What was the matter with everyone? Did they fear he would reject Catriona also? There were no others, save a distant cousin he could inspect in a month or so afterwards if circumstances were such that he had to. “My lady mother?”

“Aye.”

But the worried look on her face said otherwise. “Are you certain?”

“Aye, aye, you need not fash yourself over it. ‘Tis my business to manage the household, my laird.”

She quickly looked to her meal.

“I agree, although you seem uncertain.”

He frowned at her. “You seem bothered about something. Even Eanruig, who normally pesters me throughout the day, has avoided me.” He turned and slapped Niall’s shoulder. “Even my cousin asked me to try and best him at a game of archery, and he has not asked that of me in ages. Whatever troubles everyone?”

Tavia hurried into the great hall, her face ashen, her brown eyes as round as the goblets sitting on the trestle tables. She wrung a wet cloth between her fingers and headed straight for his mother, who was getting ready to bolt from the table when James caught her wrist. “What is going on, Mother?”

“A lady is ill. Tavia was taking care of her. She must be worse. I will return soon.”

“Tavia serves as our healer. Why would you need to see to the matter?”

He frowned. “Which lady is ill?”

His mother looked from him to Niall. James grew increasingly suspicious. “Catriona has not arrived early and is ill?”

he asked, his heart thundering.

“Nay, nay, my son. ‘Tis naught like that. I will be but a moment.”

“I will attend you.”

James rose and motioned to his people. “Eat.”

“I will go with you,”

Niall said, also rising.

James shook his head and strode out of the great hall with his mother and Niall, but the maid seemed even more distraught than before. Tavia wrung her hands, her eyes cast downward as if she were inspecting the rushes littering the floor.

“Out with it, Tavia,”

James said, wondering why Niall wished to see the woman, but suspecting he knew all about her already. The latest of his string of conquests?

“I wished to speak to Her Ladyship alone first, my laird,”

Tavia demurely said.

James stopped and faced the petite woman. “Why?”

“I…I said something I ought not, and she left.”

“What?”

His mother’s word was stricken with concern.

“Who is the lady, where was she staying, and what is this all about?”

James ground his teeth, his face hot with annoyance.

Niall cleared his throat like he always did when he’d been up to mischief. “Eanruig and I found her on the rocks after her ship sank. We saw the sun glinting off a brooch she was wearing and after nearly wrecking the boat on the rocks, we managed to pull her from the sea, slightly battered.”

James stared at him in disbelief. Normally it was his good fortune his clansmen always kept him informed no matter how trivial the concern. So what was the problem now? “Why did you not already say so? I asked if there were any survivors.”

“Nay, you asked if there were any men who survived,”

Niall corrected him, but his tone was conciliatory.

James raised his brows. “Man or woman, I would not think I would have to be so explicit. Why did no one think to mention this to me? Was the lass the only one who survived?”

Niall nodded. “She was thrown upon the rocks in a bad way. When Eanruig and I reached her, she was unconscious. She is staying in the chamber next to yours where Catriona was to reside.”

In utter disbelief, James glanced at his mother, now seeing why she had been nervous when speaking of the chamber.

She shrugged a shoulder as if it mattered not. “Catriona delayed her journey for a fortnight.”

James clenched his teeth and controlled his language then stormed toward the chamber. “And what, pray tell, Tavia, did you say to upset the woman?”

“I called her a Dunbarton. She got out of bed, and when I tried to confine her, she fought me. I could not stop her and came to tell Lady Akira at once.”

James’s blood instantly boiled. “You gave Catriona’s chamber to a Dunbarton?”

James asked his mother, unable to curb his angry tone of voice. “Our staunchest enemy?”