Seduction of a Highland Lass (McCabe Trilogy 2)

The fire was dying in the hearth but instead of summoning someone to add logs, he set about the task himself and soon the flames licked over the dry wood and roared to life.

A cry went up from the courtyard and Alaric reared his head. He hurried to the door and down the steps into the brisk night air.

Ewan and Caelen led their party into the courtyard and Alaric silently took stock of the men. All were present and accounted for, which meant they’d either not been successful in tracking their quarry or they’d sustained no losses in the fight.

Ewan dismounted and absently wiped his hand over his tunic, leaving a smear of blood. Alaric strode forward. “Are you hurt?”

Ewan glanced down and shook his head. “Nay. We sustained no injuries.”

“They are dead?”

“Aye,” Caelen said in a dark voice. “They’ll not be a bother to us again.”

Alaric nodded. “Good.”

“They would not talk and ’tis God’s truth I wasn’t patient with my questioning,” Ewan said. “They were the same men who took Crispen and Keeley, and Keeley said they spoke of Cameron. ’Tis enough proof for me.”

“How much longer must we wait?” Alaric asked in a quiet voice.

Around them, the men went silent. They all looked to Ewan, the question burning in their eyes. They wanted war. They were ready for war. They all despised Cameron and all he’d done to the McCabe clan. No McCabe would rest until Cameron and all his allies were wiped from the face of the earth.

“Soon,” Ewan said tersely. “We must have patience. After my son or daughter is born, we’ll claim Neamh Álainn as is our right. We’ll unite the whole of the highlands through Alaric’s marriage to Rionna McDonald. Then we’ll spit Duncan Cameron on the end of our swords.”

A roar went up from the courtyard. Torches and swords were thrust skyward as the cry went from warrior to warrior. Swords clanked against shields, horses reared, and fists were raised as the din increased.

Alaric met the gazes of his brothers in the glow of surrounding torches. Ewan’s eyes were alight with determination, and for the first time, Alaric felt shame for his frustration over his impending marriage.

Ewan had given all to his clan. He’d gone without so every woman and child could eat. He’d put his men above himself in every manner. Now they were poised to be the most powerful clan in all of Scotland.

If Alaric could do this one thing for his clan—for his brother, for Mairin, who’d rescued their clan from the brink of extinction—then he’d do it gladly and with pride.

He reached out with his arm, his hand splayed wide. Ewan grasped it and they locked arms. Sweat and blood gleamed on Ewan’s flesh. Their muscles bulged as they held fiercely to each other.

There was understanding when their gazes met and held.

Caelen sheathed his sword and then gave the order for their men to dismount and retire to their quarters. Then he turned to his two brothers. “Anyone for a swim in the loch?”

Chapter 25

When next Keeley awoke, her head felt like an empty tankard and her mouth felt as though she’d dragged her tongue along the ground for a mile. She smacked her lips noisily and licked them, trying to infuse any sort of moisture into them.

She turned her head to the side and then groaned. Jesu, but moving hurt.

Her entire body was as limp as a well-used cleaning rag, and her skin was sticky from sweat. And she was naked. Not a stitch of clothing on, and the furs were in a bunch at her feet.

Embarrassment swept heat through her body once more. She was probably scarlet. Lord only knew who’d come and gone from her chamber during her fever.

A moan started to escape but she curled her lips and snarled. Enough was enough. How much more pitiful could she become? She’d already wasted who knew how much time abed acting like a sickling child. How many days had she lain here senseless? ’Twas embarrassing.

She raised one hand and then let it flop back to the bed. Her throat still pained her, but the fever was gone, though it had left her as a weak as a newborn.

And speaking of newborns, she needed to look in on Mairin to see how things progressed with the babe. Which meant she had to get up.

It took several long, exhausting minutes before she was able to push herself to the edge of the bed and sit up. She’d love a full-blown bath, but she didn’t have the strength to manage it.

She dragged herself over to the basin and wet a cloth. She took her time wiping down her body until she felt somewhat human again. She was tempted to go jump in the loch, frigid temperature and all.

After washing, she pulled out one of her dresses and faced it down like she was about to do battle. With a rueful smile, she realized she was. It took all her strength just to make herself presentable, and when she was done with all the trappings, she collapsed onto the bed and sat there girding her loins to go belowstairs.

By the time she staggered to the stairs, she prided herself of the fact that she hadn’t fallen on her face. Indeed by the time she worked her way to the bottom, her blood had sped up from its sluggish rate.

Breathless, but pleased, she pushed her way into the hall and looked around to see who was about.

Mairin was seated next to the fire with her feet propped on a stool with a pillow. Keeley smiled and set off toward the hearth.

When Mairin looked up and saw her, she gasped. “Keeley! What are you doing out of bed? You’ve been quite ill. You should be resting still. You bent Alaric’s ear for being up too soon.”

Keeley settled into the chair next to Mairin. “Aye ’tis true, I make a rotten patient but a strident caretaker. I expect those under my care to do as I say and not as I do.”