Highland Captive Page 10

  Deirdre reached down and swept him into her embrace, coming to his rescue once again. Ewan wrapped her up tight, arms around her shoulders, legs around her waist, and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Gavin looked back at the goats, trying to determine what the trouble might have been. Had one of the goats butted or bitten him? Or maybe some hay had lodged in his eye—he’d noticed Ewan had been rubbing them for quite some time.

  He looked back at the four of them. Kerr and Isobel had gathered around Deirdre to help soothe Ewan. Gavin stood apart, his feet rooted to the spot, feeling like an outsider in his own castle—in his own family. No matter what he did, how much time he spent with his son, Ewan kept returning to Deirdre for comfort.

  He shoved his fingers through his spiky hair, a bit longer than usual by now, and this time when he fisted his hand and yanked upward, he got just enough purchase on the strands to feel a bite of pain.

  It felt good.

  He turned on his heel and started walking, not sure where he was going. He ended up in the stable in front of Thor’s stall. The stallion huffed and tossed his head, sensing Gavin’s mood, but then he dropped his muzzle and snuffled his rider’s shoulder. Gavin leaned into Thor’s soft cheek for just a moment before he opened the stall, readied the horse, and swung into the saddle.

  He pressed his heels into Thor’s flanks and leaned forward. The horse sprang into a run. Groomsmen jumped back as he exited the stables and crossed the bailey toward the portcullis.

  “Gavin!” Kerr yelled from behind him.

  He didn’t answer, and he heard Kerr whistle to send men after him. Gavin crossed under the iron gate and wheeled around on the other side of the castle wall. Thor raised up on two legs, front hooves slashing the air, a reflection of his master’s agitation.

  “Close the portcullis,” Gavin ordered the guard stationed there. “And tell Clyde not to open it until he canna see Thor’s backside—no matter what Laird MacAlister threatens!”

  “Aye, Laird!” the man said just before the portcullis dropped down with a rattle and a bang.

  Gavin turned Thor and raced across the open fields toward the tree line in the distance.

  * * *

  Gavin spent all day evading “capture” by Kerr and his men. He’d ridden long and hard along creek beds and game trails, even leading Thor by the reins up the side of a rocky mountain. He’d allowed them to get close on several occasions and hid silently as he watched them go by.

  One of those times, Kerr had stopped and looked around, surely recognizing it was a good place for Gavin to stay close yet unseen. He’d gone to the spot Gavin had originally chosen and looked under the brush, but Gavin had moved somewhere else that was harder to access. He held his breath as Kerr looked right at him—or rather, at his current hiding spot.

  His foster brother rubbed the back of his neck in exasperation. “Come on out, ye wee shite, and quit being a bloody ablach! The lad was just tired from being up most of the night. Bairns need their mothers when they’re exhausted.”

  Gavin set his jaw at that and remained hidden. She is not his mother!

  Kerr and his men left, and when Gavin was sure they’d moved on, he came out, brushed himself off, then pulled Thor from his hiding spot. “You’re a good lad,” he said, rubbing the soft fur on his nose up and down. He wandered aimlessly for a while, then stopped on a sloping meadow. Letting go of the reins, he flopped down onto the grass, his arms and legs spreading out as he stared up at the blue sky.

  The sun was warm above him, but the grass was cool—opposites, just like his conflicting emotions. He was grateful for Deirdre, yet he was angry with her as well. He felt protective toward her, but he also wanted to tear Ewan out of her arms. He wanted her gone, yet he wanted her.

  Aye, at least I’ve finally admitted that to myself.

  A soft whistle sounded in the trees. One of his men, checking on him.

  He whistled back. I’m well.

  It was a lie. He sat up, his arms on his knees, and looked out across his land. He knew he was being an idiot, running and hiding from Kerr, but he’d needed to escape, needed the physical exertion and exhilaration of staying one step ahead of his foster brother to calm the chaos in his body and his mind.

  It was the next best thing to fighting Kerr—fighting anyone—and beat escaping into the bottom of whisky-filled cups.

  He’d thought that when he got Ewan back, life would be perfect. That having his son in his arms would magically make everything good again.

  But here Gavin was, feeling like the hole inside him had grown so big that even Ewan couldn’t fill it. And most of the time, Ewan didn’t care to. No, he had Deirdre now, leaving Gavin feeling upended, and…enraged. At Cristel who had tricked him, at the people who had kidnapped his son, at Deirdre for stealing the lad’s affection away from him.

  She was an imposter who’d taken Gavin’s place in Ewan’s life for two and a half years. Time Gavin could never get back.

  She’d replaced him.

  Nay. I willna have it! I am the boy’s family. Not her!

  “Laird MacKinnon.”

  Gavin stiffened, even though he recognized Finn’s voice immediately. The fact that someone had been able to sneak up on him unawares—especially his own man, who wouldn’t have been trying to keep his presence hidden—increased Gavin’s agitation.

  Finn could have put a knife in his back and he wouldn’t have noticed a thing until too late.

  He turned, and the tall, skinny lad smiled at him uncertainly. “I whistled, but you ne’er whistled back. Someone’s here.”

  “Who?” Gavin asked, rising to his feet.

  “A messenger from Lewis MacIntyre.”

  “Where is he?”

  “At the border by McGilly Creek. We knew you were out here and came to fetch you rather than escorting him to the castle. ’Twill not take us long to get there.”

  Gavin whistled for Thor, who was grazing at the edge of the clearing. The stallion lifted his head, ears pricked forward, and trotted swiftly toward him. “Does my foster brother know he’s here? Or my sister?”

  “Nay, but we can send a runner to find Laird MacAlister and alert the castle.”

  “’Twill not be necessary,” Gavin said quickly. Thor arrived at his side, and Gavin mounted the stallion. “’Tis a MacKinnon matter. I doona want anyone else to know.”

  Finn’s brows rose in surprise. “Aye, Laird. I’ll spread the word.”

  Gavin urged Thor onto the path toward the border, anticipation thrumming in his veins. He hadn’t thought the MacIntyres would respond this fast. Although Finn had said it was a message from Lewis MacIntyre, and not his father…someone who had followed behind them from Deirdre’s keep, perhaps?

  When he reached the border crossing by McGilly’s Creek, he saw a lean lad around Finn’s age standing beside an old horse that looked ready to drop. The mare’s sides heaved, and her head drooped nearly to the ground.

  The lad rubbed her neck, but he hadn’t led her to the creek. Too nervous to move, perhaps. The three MacKinnon warriors who guarded him weren’t menacing, but they looked battle-hardened and ready to fight.

  Gavin whistled as he dismounted, and when one of his men ran forward, he said, “Take the mare for a drink and bring water for me and the lad. He looks ready to fall down. And take Thor too. The mare will feel better if he’s there.”

  “Aye, Laird.”

  They approached the lad, who looked even more nervous than before. When the guard reached for the mare’s reins, the lad shook his head. “Nay, I’ll keep her.”

  “She’s done in, lad,” Gavin said. “He’s just going to water the horses at the creek. And Thor is good with the females, no matter their age. He calms them.”

  He reluctantly gave up the reins, and Gavin indicated for them to move under the shade of a sprawling tree. “I’m Gavin MacKinnon
, Laird of Clan MacKinnon. You have a message from MacIntyre?”

  “I’m Tomaidh, Laird. The message is from the son, Lewis, not from Laird MacIntyre. Master Lewis has asked to speak to you privately. His father isna here yet, but once he is, the opportunity will be lost. And Master Lewis asks you to bring along his wife, Lady MacIntyre. He said she is innocent, and he wishes for her safe return.”

  “What about my son? He ne’er mentioned Ewan?”

  The lad blanched and swallowed. “He said naught about the lad. Only that he wanted to talk with you before his father arrived. He’s at a shepherd’s hut on Campbell land. I can take you and Lady MacIntyre there as soon as you’re ready.”

  Gavin peered at him and determined the lad was not attempting to deceive him. The question was whether Lewis MacIntyre told the truth or not. “Were you at the keep, Tomaidh, when I arrived with my men to take back Ewan?”

  “Aye, Laird.” His voice shook, and Gavin almost felt sorry for the lad.

  “You made good time. Did you leave right after we did to find Lewis?”

  “Maybe an hour after. Master MacIntyre was at a…place along the way, so we didn’t lose any time coming here.”

  “A place?” What was Lewis MacIntyre doing when he wasn’t with his wife?

  The lad nodded but didn’t add anything further, and Gavin didn’t intend to force him. “Were there any other men there? Guards?” he asked.

  The lad shook his head this time. “Nay, but we stopped and picked up Old Ailig and Colla MacIntyre on the way.”

  “So, if what you say is true, Lewis MacIntyre is waiting to speak to me—a man who kidnapped his wife and a lad he claimed was his child—with only two other men to help him should he need it. Is this something you’ll swear to?”

  The lad rubbed a shaking hand across his brow. “’Twas how it was when I left, Laird. I doona think Master MacIntyre intends to deceive you. He’s just concerned for his wife and wants her back. Our keep has naught to do with Laird MacIntyre and the castle folk. And whate’er happened with your son, Lady MacIntyre is as innocent of any wrongdoing as her husband says. She’s a kind, generous woman.”

  Gavin nodded and clapped a hand on the lad’s shoulder to reassure him. “I believe you, Tomaidh. And you have naught to worry about. Rest here until I return.”

  “Thank you, Laird.”

  Gavin passed the approaching guard on his way back to Thor. He took the water the warrior held out and drank thirstily. When he was done, he wiped his arm across his mouth. “It looks like we’ll have another beautiful day tomorrow. A good day for traveling.”

  “Are you going somewhere, Laird?”

  “Maybe.” He handed back the cup. “Take care of the lad and put him at ease. The mare too. They’ll need to be well rested for tomorrow…just in case. And keep some of your men here tonight.”

  Gavin’s mind drifted back to last fall and the attack on Callum’s land by an unknown force of twenty men. Seasoned warriors, but not good enough to take down Callum, Gavin, and four of their men.

  Still, it was only due to good fortune that Callum’s wife, Maggie, hadn’t been killed.

  “And gather at least ten men, including a marksman…just in case.”

  “Aye, Laird. I’ll gather our best. Just in case.”

  * * *

  Gavin pushed Thor hard on the way home. He wanted to beat Kerr back to the castle so he wouldn’t have to ride with him and answer any questions or talk about his “rage.” Aye, maybe he wasn’t like his old self anymore, but too much had happened for him to remain the same. And as far as he knew, his father had never gone through anything like Gavin had suffered with Cristel and Ewan.

  But even more importantly, he didn’t want to talk to Kerr about Lewis MacIntyre’s request for a meeting—or Deirdre’s return.

  At least not until he knew what he planned to do. He was fair certain, if he did choose to return Deirdre, he’d have to do it behind his foster brother’s back. Isobel’s too.

  He shoved a hand through his hair and tugged, welcoming the sharp pain.

  He was a third of the way into the clearing around Castle MacKinnon when thundering hooves sounded behind him. He didn’t turn around. He knew who it was, and he sighed.

  “You have leaves in your hair,” Kerr said as he reined in his big black stallion.

  “From hiding in the brush and watching you stomping through the forest, looking for me like a wee lad of ten. Not that I was worried. You couldnae find your arse with a… Oh, wait, of course you could. ’Tis the size of a—”

  “I knew you were there. I was just giving you time to run off your wee sulk,” Kerr threw back at him.

  “I wasn’t running. I was evading.”

  “Oh, aye. Well, evade this.” Kerr’s fist punched Gavin’s shoulder just as Gavin kicked his foot into the back of Kerr’s thigh.

  They both fought to keep seated in their saddles, and when Gavin urged Thor into a gallop, Kerr accelerated right beside him. They raced neck and neck toward the portcullis, their bodies bent low over their mounts, their hands and feet trying to push the other rider off course.

  At the last moment, Gavin took advantage of a rise in the path on his side and directed Thor to leap forward and land just far enough in front of Kerr to knock his stallion sideways, so Gavin crossed under the portcullis first.

  His men and some of the castle folk had been watching the race and cheered his triumph. He laughed, his blood pumping though his veins, exhilaration pouring through his body, and he did a little victory lap around the bailey. “Clan MacKinnon!” he yelled, and his men returned the cry: “Clan MacKinnon!”

  When he neared the keep, he caught sight of Isobel sitting on the top stair, laughing. Deirdre and Ewan stood on the grass below. Deirdre held the round, leather bag that Gavin and Ewan had been kicking around the bailey earlier. Deirdre’s other hand crossed over Ewan’s body and held him tight against her legs, even though the lad struggled to get free.

  To get to his da!

  Anger burned through Gavin, turning his exhilaration to ash. He hadn’t told her not to play with the ball, but still it infuriated him—that was his and Ewan’s game—and then to top it off, she kept his son by her side.

  Kerr reined in beside him. “She’s just holding the lad back from the horses. You doona want him running under their hooves again, do you?”

  Gavin clenched his jaw and then forced himself to release the tight muscles, to smile. “Nay, of course not.” He turned Thor toward the stables, and Kerr fell in beside him. “I was thinking perhaps tomorrow we could have a family outing at the loch. Spend all day there. You and Isobel could go ahead with Ewan—’twill be good for you to have some time alone with her. And it will give me time to talk to Deirdre without everyone around. ’Tis time we cleared the air, and for me to take her needs into consideration, so I have a better understanding how to move forward from here.”

  Kerr glanced at him, his brows raised. “Aye, a family excursion would be nice. And I always welcome time alone with Isobel.”

  Gavin nodded and looked up at the sky, but his mind was elsewhere, making plans. And he repeated the words he’d said earlier after speaking to Lewis MacIntyre’s messenger. “It looks like we’ll have another beautiful day tomorrow. A good day for…the loch.”

  Eight

  Deirdre woke the next morning with dread twisting her stomach. Gavin MacKinnon had let Ewan sleep with her last night.

  Why?

  He’d been gone all day yesterday and then disappeared into his solar as soon as he’d returned home. He didn’t even appear for the evening meal, nor when Ewan ran down to her room in the middle of the night.

  She’d sat up with her son at first, waiting for Gavin to appear and take him back up to the nursery. In a strange way, she’d missed him—missed the intimacy that had been woven between them the night before as the
y’d sat together in front of the fire, waiting for Ewan to fall asleep. And before that, when she’d sat all day cushioned against his body on top of Thor, his arms encircling her and Ewan, keeping them safe.

  She pulled her son close to her body under the covers and pressed her nose to his hair, inhaling deeply. He smelled like Ewan, like her wee lad, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  Is this the last time I’ll hold him in my arms? Is that why Gavin didn’t come for him last night?

  Ewan squirmed, and she realized she was squeezing him too tight. She kissed his head and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded thick and broken.

  “S’all right, Mama,” Ewan slurred sleepily. He wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed his soft, rounded cheek to hers.

  “I love you, sweetling. So much,” she said into his ear, her voice hitching. The tears flowed freely now. “No matter what happens, ne’er forget that. I am your mother, and you’ll be mine to the edges of the earth and back. Hold on to that forever.”

  “Aye, Mama. I love you too.”

  Ewan snuggled into her, and she turned her face into the pillow to muffle the sounds of her sobs. A soft knock at the door broke the quiet.

  This is it.

  Ewan sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Someone’s here.”

  The door opened quietly, and Annag pushed her gray head around the edge. When she saw Ewan watching her, she smiled brightly and came in. Deirdre sat up too, pulling the covers up over her linen shift and letting her hair fall forward to hide her wet face.

  “It’s time to get ready, lad,” the nursemaid said. “You have a busy day today!”

  Ewan had played toy warriors with Annag before bed last night and had fallen under her spell, just like everyone had reassured Deirdre that he would.

  “What are we doing?” he asked, as he pushed back the quilt and crawled out of the bed.

  “We’re all going to the loch. We’ll be able to play in the water and even have our midday meal there! We can take your warriors too, if you like, and set them up on the rocks and in the forest.”