The Niece of His Highland Enemy by Alisa Adams
5
The words rang in Fergus’s ears like the clang and echo of church bells on a Sunday morning, and his heart swelled with sudden hope.
“Laird Campbell is your uncle?” he confirmed, mystified.
She nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Why, yes. You are acquainted with him, then?”
Aye, a bit better “acquainted” than I’d like, as a matter of fact,he thought grimly. But this lass may have just delivered an answer to all of my prayers.
“Our dealings with each other have not always been the most…genteel,” he replied, trying to be tactful. If he openly declared that Moire’s uncle was his bitter enemy, it might frighten the poor girl all over again. She might believe that he intended to harm her or hold her hostage, and that was the last thing he wanted her to think. “However, perhaps this peculiar circumstance will provide us with a mutual opportunity to find common ground. What can you tell me about your uncle, Moire?”
Moire frowned, thinking it over. “Not a great deal, I admit,” she answered. “He took custody of us after our parents passed and saw to it that our younger siblings were looked after by good people as well. So based on that, I have generally tried to assume that he is a decent and honorable man.”
Fergus tried not to snicker. Aye, a “decent and honorable man” who associates with swineherds like the Sinclairs and engages in surprise attacks and massacres instead of straightforward combat. Alas, that such a man should prove to be a blood relation of hers.
Still, this might be precisely the deliverance from my current concerns that I had hoped for.
“You have done well today in your recovery,” Fergus said. “Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your guest chambers and continue to rest for now. Later on, I shall send one of the servant girls to your room to tend to your needs.”
“Thank you,” she replied in a small voice, giving him a modest curtsy.
“Will you be able to find your own way back, or shall I escort you?”
“That will not be necessary, s—Fergus,” she corrected herself, blushing slightly. “I believe I can manage it.”
“Excellent. May I look in upon you later this evening to ensure that you are properly settled in?”
“Indeed you may. And again, you have my gratitude for saving me from my plight, and for providing food and shelter. It is good indeed to know that there are men such as you in the world who are able to show kindness even to strangers.”
Her words humbled him, and he bowed at the waist.
Then she was gone, leaving him to his thoughts.
He strode through the castle at a brisk pace, seeking out Edmund. When he found him, he invited his old friend into his private study so he could inform him of what he’d just learned from Moire.
“There, you see?” Fergus finished triumphantly, banging on the table with a big grin. “It was more than mere superstitious fancy on my part, Edmund! The girl and our conundrum, they were tied together, at that!”
“Aye, it seems they were, strangely enough,” Edmund mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Though myself, I would still call such a thing ‘coincidence’ rather than divine providence.”
“Only because you are a man of little faith and less imagination,” Fergus teased.
“Is that right? Well, you are a man of little length and no bollocks, so how do you like that?” he answered, laughing heartily. “This tale of hers, it’s put a plan in your mind, has it? Come, then, let’s hear it!”
“Is it not obvious, you daft bastard? This gives us precisely the opportunity we needed to approach Ronald Campbell in peace and negotiate a treaty with him!”
Edmund raised an eyebrow. “She is to be ransomed as a hostage, then? A solid approach to be sure, though it hardly sounds like the sort of idea you would take to.”
Fergus shook his head impatiently. “No, not a hostage! Good Lord, man! To offer shelter to a person lost and alone only to twist and abuse it in such a way for my own purposes would be a dishonorable exercise indeed. Rather, I shall simply return his niece to him as a gesture of good faith and ask that in return, he’ll see to it that the Sinclairs give back the territories we’ve lost in the Highlands. Surely Laird Campbell will look upon our clan favorably once we have reunited him with a relative who was assaulted and carried off by brigands?”
Edmund seemed doubtful. “‘Tis a fine scheme, in theory, old friend. In practice, I fear that he will simply accept your gesture and then continue his foul business with the Sinclairs. To assume honorable intentions in an enemy can lead to grave misfortune. And we certainly do not want more of that to befall us, especially after the tragedy we’ve just endured upon the battlefield.”
Privately, Fergus understood that Edmund’s point was a valid one. It was a plot that could quite easily come apart in its execution. And if that happened, Fergus would indeed lose his one and only bargaining chip in dealing with the Campbells.
But he simply could not bring himself to consider Moire a prisoner rather than a guest. She had said that she had long sought to reunite with her siblings, and he had an opportunity to make that happen for her.
The truth, no matter how much he loathed to admit it, even to himself, was that he desperately wanted to be in the girl’s favor. In doing this for her, she might come to admire him, as he increasingly found himself admiring her.
In pursuing this course of action, he scolded himself harshly, you are confirming all of the concerns that Edmund previously expressed to you: That you are too obsessed with this strange woman and her affairs to properly lead your own people during their hour of greatest peril.
Aye, mayhap that was true.
But Fergus had had a sort of premonition that the girl was somehow linked to the predicament with the Sinclairs, and he had been correct, hadn’t he? True, it was not a triumph of reason, but even so. Mightn’t his impulses in this instance be guiding him correctly as well, even if neither he nor Edmund could quite see the logic of it at this juncture?
He hoped so. He was wagering the lives of his kinsmen—and, indeed, his future as laird of his clan—upon it.
“I can plainly see the wisdom of your counsel,” Fergus told him. “It is sound indeed. But I am extending an olive branch to Ronald Campbell, and ‘tis important for it to seem sincere and unequivocal, else it will have no chance of success.” He saw his friend open his mouth to protest and continued hurriedly, “I realize that as a laird, I am untested. I know that what I propose represents a great risk. However, the reward it could yield if approached correctly will be greater still. Will you support me now, when I need you most?”
Edmund looked as though he wanted to argue further, but instead, he closed his mouth, sighed, and shook his head. “I shall stand by you, as I always have and always will. But I fear that this may result in your undoing, Fergus. Truly. I beg you to at least reconsider before making a firm decision on the matter.”
“I promise that I will.” And Fergus meant it, for although he felt certain that his course of action would lead to good results, he was deeply touched by his friend’s words, and he fully believed in the genuine concern behind them.
Edmund was an intelligent man. Indeed, there had been times aplenty when they were growing up together that Fergus had wondered whether Edmund might have made a better scion and future laird of the Brodies. And there had been times when his eyes caught those of his friend, and he strongly suspected that Edmund had wondered the same.
If he had, though, he had never let it show in his words or actions. He had been a stalwart comrade to Fergus through the years, and if he felt that Fergus should give his proposed course of action deeper consideration, Fergus felt compelled to oblige him.
These, then, were the thoughts that swirled in the young laird’s head as he strode through the corridors of the castle. He told himself that his wanderings were aimless, but something inside of him knew better. It knew exactly where he was going and why.
Sure enough, he ended up in front of the door to Moire’s guest chambers.
And why not? He had heard from Edmund, and now he felt that the best way to properly consider what his comrade had said was to subject himself to its counterpoint in the form of the woman herself. Could he possibly look into those brilliant green eyes of hers and bring himself to tell her that she was to be ransomed for peace? That the only way he would consent to reunite her with her wayward family would be if her uncle ceased his aggressions against them?
Perhaps it was the right thing to do, as Edmund had said. In fact, it almost certainly was.
But did that mean he could go through with it?
He knocked, and he heard her shy voice answer from within, “Yes?”
“‘Tis Laird Brodie, my dear lady.” Fergus cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling foolish for announcing himself in such a fashion. What was it about her that caused him to feel so flustered and unguarded?
He was reminded instantly when she bade him to come in, and he did, his eyes meeting her sparkling emerald gaze. It was instantly disarming. At once, he felt like a young boy again, stammering and shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Was he truly the same mighty warrior who had led his clan into battle just a day before?
Aye, the “mighty warrior” who led them straight to the slaughter, he reminded himself bitterly. Were it not for that, you would not now be confronted with such a choice. Remember that above all else. This problem is yours to solve, and it must be taken seriously. It must be prioritized over your personal attraction to the girl and your desire to earn her affection and gratitude.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked. As she stood, radiant, in the halo of sunlight from the window behind her, her beauty made it hard for him to collect enough breath to speak above a whisper.
“I am, yes. Thank you,” she replied. “Again, you are most kind for taking me in like this and for agreeing to return me to my family in the Highlands.”
He had mentioned that he would help her with that problem, hadn’t he? True, it wasn’t exactly a solemn oath. He could bend it if he had to, especially if the greater good of his clan was at stake.
Except that looking upon her fair countenance, he realized that he could not.
This poor woman had no part in the crimes of her relatives. She was innocent in all this, and she had already suffered enough at the hands of the brutes who had attempted to drown her. She’d come close to death, and she had been taken to an unfamiliar place filled with strangers.
He could not subject her to any further injustice or indignity. His conscience would simply not allow it. He thought it was bad enough that he had to use her as a means to an end at all. He would not make her a captive in the bargain.
“I am pleased to find myself in a position to help you,” he answered. “No doubt your uncle will be tremendously happy to see you safe and sound.”
As these words escaped his lips, a shadow of unease briefly flitted across his heart, like the shape of a hungry owl looming above a field mouse. He was uncertain of why, only that it felt like some dark omen, a warning he should heed—if only he could understand the nature of it.
Alas, he could not, and the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.
She smiled gratefully. “When will you take me to them? If you do not mind me asking. That is, I would hate for you to believe that I was rejecting your hospitality or displeased with the accommodations you’ve furnished for me in any way.”
He laughed. “I understand completely, lass. No doubt you are eager to be returned to your kinfolk, and I shall do all I can to ensure that that transpires. We will depart in two days. Will you be content to remain my guest until then?”
“More than content, I assure you.”
She took a hesitant step toward him, then another. Her lips parted softly. The air between them thrummed heavily, and Fergus became acutely aware of the sound of his own pulse beating in his ears. Her presence filled the room like perfume, heady and dizzying, and he felt as though he might be suddenly swept away by it if he weren’t careful.
Would that be so bad, though?he thought. To let go of all my responsibilities and allow my infatuation with her to carry me off entirely?
It was a terribly tempting notion, but he knew himself well enough to know he would not be able to fully give in to it. His father had left him more than a lairdship. He’d left Fergus a legacy, one he had to live up to no matter the cost.
Still, it was hard to think of anything other than her lovely mouth drawing closer to his. Or the expression on her face, anxious yet eager, silently yet desperately searching his demeanor to determine whether he wanted her to keep going until their lips met.
She was just inches away now, so close that he could feel her cool breath on his skin, and the sensation sent goosebumps all over his body. All he would have to do is move his head forward slightly, and he would close the distance between them and delight in the ecstasy of her kiss. The pull within him felt like that of the tides themselves—eternal, undeniable, irresistible.
But no.
At the last moment, he managed to pull himself away from her. His desire could not overcome his duty to his people. It would not. He would not let it.
“I will send a maid in,” he told her, his voice hoarse, “to assist you with your hair and clothes and to attend to your needs. Her name is Donella. I hope you will find her to be pleasant company. I shall see you tomorrow,” he finished brusquely.
Then, before she could say any more—before she could utter a word or even the smallest sound that might compel him to remain—he turned and walked out. He tried to keep his stride steady and even so that it would not appear as though he were retreating, as he had from the battle the previous day.
Moire watched the door shut behind him, then threw herself down on the bed, groaning loudly and inwardly chiding herself for being so silly and almost giving in to her feelings for him.
He saved your life, you stupid girl,she told herself sharply. ‘Tis only natural that you would view him as some perfect specimen of manhood sent down from above to carry you away from all your troubles and woe. But he is just a person like any other, and one who is willing to return you to your uncle. So why complicate matters by throwing yourself at him, you wee ninny? Next time he comes to your chamber, remember your place and leave room for the Lord between the pair of you rather than coming on to him like some commonly painted strumpet!
Even so, she found that she ached for him every time she was in his presence, even at the start, when she had been vaguely afraid that he was somehow in league with the men who had tried to murder her. It was a kind of longing she had never experienced before in her life. The kind she had only heard about in stories of love and adventure and happily ever afters.
Fanciful stuff and nonsense, nothing more. Certainly not when weighed against the very real and immediate prospect of finally embracing her brothers and sisters again.
She had waited so long, and now she was so close to her goal. She could not jeopardize it over some idiotic fixation on a man she barely knew.
The thought of that—having only just met him the previous day and in such harrowing circumstances, caught off her guard and answering more questions than she asked—made her stomach do a slow somersault of unease. She did not know much of him, that was certain. And the fact that his face was fair did not necessarily mean his intentions were honorable.
She struggled to remember the exact words Fergus had used with regard to her uncle: “Our dealings with each other have not always been the most…genteel.” Wasn’t that it?
What did he mean by that?
Before she could ruminate on it much further, there was a knock at the door. It opened before Moire had a chance to respond, and a short, plump, round-faced girl entered the room. Her chestnut hair hung in a thick braid down her back, and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her small button nose, like cinnamon on a pastry.
She beamed at Moire warmly. “Hullo, milady! My name is Donella, and I’ve been sent to see to your needs. I hope I’ve not disturbed you?”
“Not at all.” Moire shook her head sharply, trying to clear it. But sticky wisps of suspicion and uncertainty still clung to it stubbornly, like cobweb strands.
She had to learn more.
And this, perhaps, was her best chance to do so.
“What can I do to make you more comfortable, milady?” Donella asked.
“Well, for starters, you need not refer to me as ‘milady,’” Moire giggled. “Moire will do just fine, thank you.”
Donella’s eyes widened, and she shook her head insistently. “Oh, no, but I must, milady! For I dare not call you otherwise in the hearing of others, lest I be punished for my insolence!”
“You may be punished for disobeying the first request made of you as well, though, eh?” Moire raised an eyebrow sardonically.
When she saw the look of horror on Donella’s face, she laughed, trying to put the girl at ease again. “I am only joking, you poor thing! I would never do such a thing. I understand your point completely, and if it puts you more at ease to refer to me as milady, then milady it shall be.”
“Do you wish anything else of me?” Donella’s voice was tinged with desperate hopefulness. “Name it, milady, and I promise that this time I shall not let you down!”
“Very well.” Moire stroked her chin, making a great show of thinking it over. Finally, she said, “My request is twofold: First, I would greatly appreciate it if you might brush my hair? It became quite tangled when I was left at the seaside.”
“It would be my greatest honor, milady!” Donella exclaimed. She lunged for the hairbrush that sat on a nearby table, then coaxed Moire into a chair and began to run the brush through Moire’s light brown hair.
Moire fought the urge to hiss in pain and cry out, for her hair was indeed a hopeless morass of knots and sand, and every stroke of the brush tugged at it cruelly.
“Am I doing it too hard, milady?” Donella asked.
“Not at all,” Moire replied through clenched teeth. She knew that in order to get the information she required from Donella, it would not be wise to make her feel as though she were failing in her job. Better to encourage her, to put her at ease, and immediately convince her that she could confide in her new mistress.
Moire had always prided herself on being a straightforward person, with no use for manipulation or subterfuge. However, the stakes, in this case, were far too high. She was prepared to do anything she could to ensure that she found her siblings again.
Besides, it genuinely seemed to her that poor Donella was trying her best.
“And your second request of me?” the maid prompted.
“Ah, yes.” Moire did her best to keep her tone casual. “This Laird Fergus, who saved my life. What can you tell me of his nature? Is he a good man?”
Donella paused in her brushing, much to the relief of Moire’s pained scalp, considering. “He is a good man, I believe,” she affirmed slowly. “However, as a laird, he is young and quite untested. The loyalty of the clan has been sorely tested since he lost the battle against those hateful Sinclairs.”
“What happened? Why was he not victorious?”
“Well, it wasn’t truly his fault, was it?” Donella answered, setting the brush down. “At least, I didn’t think so, having heard how it all transpired. He took only half his men to the fight, aye, and it turned out they were not enough to defeat the enemy. But how was he to know that the Campbells would join the fray on the side of the Sinclairs?”
Moire tried to hide her surprise at this revelation. Her own clan was at odds with the Brodies? Yet Fergus was giving her aid and comfort and even seemed as attracted to her as she was to him. What was going on here?
Was she truly Fergus’s guest, or had he simply been so nice to her to conceal the fact that she was his prisoner?
