The Highlander's Lady (7 page)

The assailant?

“I’ll chase him down, ye check on the woman,” Daniel ordered.

He spurred Demon forward, breaking away from his men. His eyes narrowed on the black cape that whirled with fury behind the break-neck pace of its rider.
As he cleared the trees, surging forward, he was surprised with how fast the rider was able to get ahead.
Hell.

A long, wild mass of
raven-colored
hair grasp
ed
at the air.

The rider looked decidedly like a woman…

She was bent low over the horse—a very dexterous horse. One used to running fast, slimmer in body and longer of leg than his own massive horse.

Demon would have a hard time catching her, but Daniel was determined.

He spurred Demon on, shouting out for the rider to stop, but his own words whipped back toward him, not carrying over the wind.
T
he rider was a good quarter mile ahead of
him and with each passing moment growing further away.

Suddenly, she stopped and veered to the left into the trees. Had she seen him behind her? She hadn’t bothered to turn—not that he could see anyway. But what other reason would she have to go into the trees? Perhaps she had a shelter there. Or worse.

This was an ambush.

Damn. That thought hadn’t come to mind until now.

The devil had coerced them into the woods and then taken flight, hoping he would follow. And now he was a good mile
or two
away from his men.

Hopefully they’d already realized it was a trap and were hastening toward the direction Daniel had taken. He pulled on the reins, slowing Demon’s pace and turned into the woods too. Daniel was good at walking
silently
through the woods
and h
ad trained his warhorse to do the same.
’Twas
an important skill to have ever since he’d b
ecome
a man—the English were always afoot.

Daniel wanted to groan aloud, but kept silent. What if the lass was leading him straight into an English camp?

He stopped Demon altogether.

Following her was not worth
the risk
.

He had a mission. A plan. He was going to the Wallace camp.
There was no time for an ambush. While he was in the
mood to fight,
and
could use a little sport, ’twas probably not for the best.

Reluctantly, Daniel whirled his horse around, intent on returning to his men, when a loud sob stopped him.

’Twas faint, but sobbing all the same. Heart-wrenching sobs. And decidedly female.

He glanced with weariness from the direction
of
the cries
and longingly back toward his men. Was it possibl
e
he’d gotten it all wrong and this was no ambush at all?

Mo creach!
His ballocks were stuff
ed
between a rock and a
mountain rise
. What the hell was he supposed to do? If the person
weep
ing—a woman—was in need, could he truly leave her to her own defenses? And if it was a trap, surely he could hold them off until his men arrived.

Decision made, he uttered an oath under his breath and forged ahead, broadsword in one hand and
sgian dubh
in another. Weapons readied, he tensed as he edged through the trees, making sure to steer Demon
with his knees
in a way that would make the horse’s
carefully placed hooves as silent as possible.

The scene he came upon made his heart twist. He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth and peered through the trees around the woman who knelt upon the ground crying her soul to the heavens.
There did not appear to be any signs of danger or of a trap
.
He studied the surrounding area for anything out of place, a glint of metal from the sun. Nothing.
She was quite alone.

Daniel sheathed his weapons and dismounted, his boots making a soft whoosh within the leaves.

The woman gasped and he heard a shuffle and crunch of leaves and sticks as she scrambled to gain her footing. Her hands
and the front of her gown where her cloak opened
were covered in blood, a dagger was pointed in his direction.
She must be hurt. He had to help her.

Her
truffle-brown
eyes were wide, wild, like that of an animal
that
had
already been speared once and only wanted to be left in peace to lick his wounds.
Beyond the blood, her gown was covered in mud making the color indiscernible.
The garment looked in bad need of repairs.
Her face was smeared with dirt and streaked with tears. A lot like Rose’s face had been
. Leaves and other debris clung to the cloak draped over her delicate shoulders.
There was something familiar about her, but Daniel wasn’t sure where he would have come across her. Perhaps at one of the inns while he was traveling. Judging from her gown and cape, she was not of noble stock, meaning th
at
he could have bedded her or she may have only served him ale.

“Lass.” He held out his hands, showing he bore no weapons. “I’m not here to harm ye.
I’m here to help ye.
I heard ye scream and followed ye.”

Her throat bobbed and her eyes searched all around, assessing, weary.

He continued, speaking softly,
“I am alone now, although I’ve a dozen men sure to follow me. Dinna be afraid, we willna harm ye.”

“’Tis w
hat
the others said.”

“Others?” Now Daniel glanced around. Had he missed them?

The woman nodded, her tangle
d hair
clinging in her eyelashes. “They tried…” Her words were breathless, ending on what sounded like a choke.
She flailed her arms out of a sudden, and stared at him, eyes filled with fright. “I killed him.”

At her words, he started. The bloody hands made sense now.
He was glad to hear she was not harmed physically.
“Who, lass?”

She shrugged, looking helpless at the same time she looked utterly dangerous. “I dinna know.”

“Ye killed a man ye dinna know?”

“Aye. He was going to hurt me.”

Daniel wanted to pull her in to his grasp, to offer her comfort, but he had a feeling that would only gain him a knife protruding from his chest.

“’Tis all right. Ye did so out of defense. God will forgive ye.”

She nodded, then stared down at her bloody hands, her face draining of what little color she had.

“I killed him. But I’m still alive.” Her words were soft, not meant for him.

“What is your name, lass?”

She glanced up at him again, as if noticing him there for the first time. Daniel thought perhaps she might be in shock. “Myra.”

An odd coincidence? This lass was certainly not Munro’s sister. The Myra he knew was elegant. This woman was wretched. But those eyes…
“I am Daniel.” He didn’t wish to scare her by giving his title, and instead hoped by giving her his Christian name, that she would be more comfortable with him—and perhaps put that dagger away. “Can I help ye, lass? I can stand guard while ye wash up in the burn.”

Her eyes met his, and again he was struck with recognition, but still baffled
, she couldn’t be the same Myra he knew
.
Had to be that he’d met her somewhere else. Myra was a common enough name wasn’t it?
Damn him for being such a merrymaking fool.

“Aye,” she said simply. Myra turned and headed toward the burn, tripping over her gown
more than
once
, but catching herself each time
. He noted that she did indeed
stop to
put the dagger away. Daniel had to keep himself from laughing at the
possible
thought of her being afraid she might stab herself with it
if she fell
.
Putting it away was not for his safety, but for her own.

Daniel followed her to the burn at a safe distance, with both horses’ reins. He watched how even with trembling
limbs, she delicately knelt before the water and rinsed away the blood and mud from her hands and arms. After splashing and scrubbing her face clean, she took a long sip. From where he stood, he could not see her face, but heard her speak clearly.

“Have ye anything to eat?”

The poor woman had probably tossed her accounts when she’d killed the man. “Aye. Whisky too.”

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that before. Whisky always helped to settle a person’s mood. Reaching into his satchel he pulled out an oatcake, a thick slice of jerky and the smaller wineskin that held his precious whisky.

Daniel dropped the reins and turned to give her the items, only to be stunned still. ’Twas
indeed
Munro’s sister. Myra. He should have known, but she’d looked like a bar
wench or a farm woman.
Dirty, unkempt.
Not the sister of the Munro Laird.
She was a lady. Born and bred.
And she hadn’t identified herself as a lady. He didn’t miss that part.
Myra Munro had been through hell and back, he couldn’t begrudge her looking a mess.
A wicked bruise streaked across her forehead. Had they hit her?
He was surprised to see her standing. And where was her guard that Rose spoke of? Was it possible Rose had lied, or had her guard been taken down when she killed the man?

Why hadn’t she told him who she was?

Perhaps she felt she needed to protect her identity. Daniel would not press her on it—for more reasons than that. S
he probably wouldn’t remember him at all. They’d danced, laughed, but then she’d disappeared when he went to get her another mug of ale. He’d not seen her
the rest of his visit. Likely
he’d bored her to death and she’d felt the need to escape him
—mayhap that was why she didn’t like him, he was boring
. Hell
,
he’d been there for three more days after their first meeting. She didn’t look as though she recognized him, and Daniel wasn’t about to remind her who he was.
He’d never been spurned by a woman before and he wasn’t willing to relive it.

“My lady, what happened to ye?” He was aghast at what he saw.

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I told ye I was attacked.” She grabbed the offered goods from his hands.

Ballocks, he was dense. Lady Munro had told them
of the attack on Foulis
, but he’d not been paying much attention. Instead he’d been thinking of Myra
—and here she stood before him
.
He was aware she did not speak of the attack on her castle however, nay, she spoke of the man she’d had to kill who’d attempted to steal her virtue.

“I am very sorry for your
troubles
, my lady.”

Myra nodded, bit into an oatcake, her eyes rolling with pleasure. Good God…

“What are ye doing in the middle of the woods?”

She flashed him a glance from her fiery eyes.
“Besides killing men?”

Why did he get the feeling she wanted him to be next?

Chapter Five

W
hy did Daniel have to be so darn handsome? Granted he was fierce, huge, immensely frightening, but still… There was something so insanely attractive in the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the slightly imperfect nose, and intelligent hazel eyes. He wore his dark hair long and wild, and she had the sudden urge to thread her fingers through it, to try and tame it.

“Do ye plan to kill me?” he asked.

Despite the situation, the stress of the day and the fact she was fairly certain she was in shock, Myra did laugh.

“Nay, I willna kill ye, Daniel.”

He smiled, further improving his handsome face. His smile was crooked,
roguish
, and showed off his wide, full mouth and the one tooth that faintly overlapped another. Dear Lord, why was she all the sudden thinking of kissing that mouth?
She’d never kissed a man before. Perhaps it was the shock…

Myra glanced away, pretending to dry her wet hands on her gown, realizing too late, she ended up smudging more dirt back onto her palms.

“Ye can trust me. I’ll help ye if ye allow it.”

Myra could attempt to finish this journey on her own, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think she’d make it another few days without running into more
brutes
. Her best bet to deliver the message to the Bruce was to take advantage of Daniel’s offer of help.

She nodded and met his gaze. He stole her breath and she took a moment to gain it back. She’d never been a shallow lass, but the way she craved looking at his face,
how she
wanted to devour every dip and line
,
made her feel… Delicious and wicked.

She’d be wearing a
hair shirt
for months at this rate. What the hell was happening to her?

“I think I do need your help
,
”
she managed to say without looking at him.

“Ye have it.”

“I am traveling to Eilean Donan.”

“As am I. I’d be happy to escort ye.”

Why did he have to be so agreeable? And answer her so quickly. She didn’t like it.
“I’m likely to have an enemy following,” she warned.

Daniel crossed his arms over his broad chest bringing attention to the area. Myra frowned all the more and forced her gaze to his boots.
S
oft leather boots encasing overlarge feet.
The man was a giant. Did he realize that? His feet were easily twice as long as her own.

“I will keep ye safe. May I ask why ye’re traveling to the Wallace camp?”

Myra shook her head, chancing a glance at his face.
“Nay.” The least he knew the better.

Daniel raised a dark brow. “Nay?”

“I canna tell ye. If ye are set on knowing then I’ll be on my way without your help.”

Myra turned, ready to climb back on
Coney
and somehow brave the wilds of the Highlands on her own again. If she’d been able to make it this far, she could power through it. She could try to survive.
For a few hours.

At least she was no longer hungry. The food Daniel had provided her filled her belly and the whisky had burned a pleasant path down her throat, making her feel warm though her fingertips felt cold.
There’d been no time to grab her gloves before escaping and she’d not found any in the stables.

“I canna leave ye to fare on your own. We are both traveling the same way. If your purpose is private, I shall not keep ye from it.” Daniel’s voice was even, steady.

Myra paused, her hands on Coney’s withers.
Could she trust him?

“Ye will provide me escort then?”

“Aye.
”

“And protect me, no matter what?”
She stroked over Coney’s mane, still not turning around.

“Aye.”

He was too agreeable. She had to offer him up a real challenge.
“What if I am attacked by one of your
own
men?”

“I will see ye protected. Ye have my word.”

“What if the Bruce does not like my…reason for visiting E
il
ean Donan, will ye protect me when he threatens to toss me into the dungeons?”

Daniel chuckled.
“Is your purpose so nefarious, lass?”

Myra laughed at his easy nature. He teased her and offered her comfort at the same time.

“Nay, but ye must swear it all the same.”
She turned around this time, her eyes meeting his. They were a sharp green, intense.

“I swear it.”

“What of yourself? How will ye protect me from yourself?”

Daniel laughed at that
, spreading his arms outward
. “
Have some faith
, Lady Myra, I wouldna harm ye. I do possess a certain amount of self-control.”

Myra studied her escort for several moments, taking in his towering height, the breadth of his shoulders, strength of his legs. He was a man built for warring. Despite his considerable bulk, he moved with ease and grace, giving credence to his control of
his
body—but his mind was another matter.

“Ye’ll pardon me for being skeptical. ’Tis not a man’s
tendency
to contain himself when alone with a female.”

“Truly? Ye think all men beasts?”
He stepped closer to her and she imagined heat coming off his large frame in waves.

“Those I’ve come to meet.”

“Ah…”

Was there a twinge of hurt in his words? Had she offended him?

“I mean no offense, Daniel
.
’
T
is only my experience that I speak of.”

“I take no affront, Lady Myra.
Ye’ve been through quite a trauma today.
”

He glanced up at the sky, assessing the
whitish-grey
clouds and she did the same, wondering at his thoughts.

“I will see ye safely to Eilean Donan, so ye might be about your business.
” He paused,
consider
ing her. She felt more exposed than she’d ever been in her life, and she couldn’t be sure why. She was completely clothed. He had no idea who she truly was. “
On one condition.”

Myra swallowed, feeling her nerves prickle. He was indeed a man.
“What is your price?”

Daniel nodded his chin in her direction, a challenging glint entering his eyes.
“Ye must agree to marry me.”

She gasped, stepped back, her mouth agape in horror.
She fisted her hands into the folds of her gown and cloak.
“Marry ye?”
Shaking her head vehemently, she tried to keep her throat from closing in panic.

“Aye.”
He didn’t sound even a quarter as nervous as she did. Almost like he asked lasses to wed with him on a daily basis.

Was the notion of being forever tied to another so mundane to him? Of so little value? What kind of a man was he?

Miraculously, she was able to recover her voice and was pleased when her reply came out in steady, even tones,
“Why would I do that?”

“Because ye want
t
o reach the Bruce in one piece. Because your reason for getting there is of such importance ye will not tell me w
hy. Because I will keep ye safe and ye’ve already had
the misfortune of meeting one
of
the many vagrants upon the road. Next time ye may not be so lucky—even with your swift hand.
”

He had a point…
Myra didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to leave this earth without having completed her mission. She’d give
n
Byron her word. She would deliver to the Bruce the news of his enemy. Pray that the Bruce hadn’t already found out the hard way.
Then she’d have to return to her clan.
Her
clan. They were her responsibility now.

Taking a deep breath, Myra asked,
“If I agree, when would the ceremony take place?”

“Spring.”
Daniel reached for the wineskin of whisky, their fingers brushing as he took it.

She glanced down, not even realizing she’d still been holding his drink.
A slight shiver passed through her. His fingers were rough against her softer skin, scraping. She bit her lip,
and
watched him take an
extra-long
gulp of the whisky. Perhaps she was not the only
nervous o
ne. He was just better at hiding his feelings. Drowning himself with whisky. The idea had merit. When he finished she took it back for another long gulp.

There was one thing Myra had not known before meeting Daniel—she liked whisky.
And apparently, whisky liked her. She felt warm, giddy almost. Happy. Hmm… Maybe she should give it back…

Married come spring.
That was several months from now. She could certainly agree
today
and then disappear.
By the time
he found her
, she could join the church, or perhaps beg the Bruce to let her arrange her own marriage, for she was essentially Laird Munro.
T
heoretically
, she could
make that decision on her own.

Myra glanced again at Daniel. His eyes were warm, but cautious. She got the feeling he was hiding something from her. Something he knew and didn’t wish to share. Well, what
did it
matter? They all had secrets, she certainly had hers.
Keeping this man around so she made it safely to Eilean Donan was
better than going at it alone.

There was also the… No. She couldn’t possibly consider it. Or could she?

Marrying him—or at least pretending to—would get her out of marrying Ross
completely. Not that the bastard
having
attack
ed
Foulis wouldn’t
cancel out their betrothal
, but just so there was no doubt their marriage contract was voided. To be safe.
Ross wouldn’t be the first man to force an unwilling bride into a lifetime of misery. Marrying someone else would be a deep wound to his pride—one she was more than happy to inflict.
But that meant she would have to go through with the marriage with Daniel and…the bedding.
Additionally, Daniel would become the chief of her clan unless Rose birthed a male bairn.
That was sure to prick Ross’ pride.
Judging from his clothes, horse and weaponry,
Daniel
was wealthy.
He didn’t offer her a surname or the name of a clan. At the moment, with men surely fast on her heels, she didn’t want to delve into it either. In the end, did it matter? If she was planning on returning to her own clan, the man she pretended to wed was insignificant.

Nevertheless, being married to
Daniel
, though she knew so little about him, would still be better than marrying the man who’d massacred nearly her entire clan.
If it came to actual nuptials, she’d discuss his clan with him then.
’Twould be the
part
of her revenge
on Ross
.

Taking a deep breath, she said,
“All right.”

Daniel raised his brows as if he’d been expecting her to say no.
He reached again for the whisky.

Myra tried not to laugh aloud, and instead bit the inside of her cheek. Hard.
Aye, he was good at hiding his emotions, and certainly used the whisky to aid him.

She’d shocked him. There was an o
dd
power in that realization. But it was swiftly gone with the knowledge that
by agreeing to marry him she was essentially giving up her own freedom.

“Then ye are now under my protection.” Daniel’s voice wasn’t as strong as it was before.