The Secret (Highlands' Lairds 1)

A fair number were staring at her. She raised her chin and stared back. She wasn’t about to let the enemy intimidate her. She wasn’t going to let them know how worried she was, either.

She heard the sound of horses coming toward them just as Patrick nudged his mount forward. He moved to Judith’s right side. He was so close to her, his leg rubbed against hers.

He was trying to protect her. She knew he would give his life to keep her safe. She said a quick prayer to her Maker that that noble act wouldn’t be necessary.

No one moved until the crash of horses sounded in front of them, breaking through the thicket. Several of the Dunbar warriors turned to look then.

Five more men appeared. They were wearing plaids, too, but they weren’t the same colors as the Dunbars. Judith didn’t know what that meant. Patrick did. He let out a low expletive.

She turned to look at him. “Who are they?” she whispered.

“Maclean soldiers.”

Judith’s eyes widened. She turned back to look at the men. The leader moved his mount closer. Judith kept her attention directed on him. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t imagine what it was. The warrior was tall, broad-shouldered, and had dark blond hair and intense blue eyes.

Graham broke the silence. “You’re in league with the Dunbars, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but the Maclean warrior answered him.

“Your laird tried to prevent the alliance. He might have succeeded, too, if he hadn’t had to battle you, old man, and the others who run your clan. Who is this woman?”

Neither Graham nor Patrick answered.

The Maclean warrior motioned to the men surrounding them. Patrick and Graham didn’t have time to reach for their weapons, had they been foolish enough to try. The Dunbars’ swords were now pointed at their necks. The warriors waited for the Maclean leader to give them their next instruction.

“I ask you again,” he said to Graham. “Who is this woman? She looks familiar to me.”

Graham shook his head. Judith’s heart started pounding. “I will speak for myself,” she called out.

Patrick put his hand on her knee and squeezed. He was letting her know he didn’t want her to tell them anything.

The leader nudged his mount close to her left side. He stared at Patrick a long minute, then turned his gaze to Judith. “Then speak,” he arrogantly commanded.

“Tell me who you are and I’ll answer your questions,” she commanded.

Patrick’s hold on her knee became painful.

“My name is Douglas Maclean,” he answered.

“Are you commander over these men or just the most outspoken?”

He ignored the insult. “I’m the laird’s son,” he said. “Now tell me who—”

He stopped his demand when he noticed the radical change that came over the beautiful woman. The color had left her face. She almost fell off her horse, and didn’t even seem to notice. He reached over and grabbed hold of her arm.

She was daring to shake her head at him. “You cannot be his son.”

The vehemence in his voice confused him. “The hell I can’t,” he replied.

She refused to believe him. A thought popped into her mind. Her father must have been married once before. Yes, that was it, she told herself. Douglas looked several years older than she. . . . “Who was your mother?” she demanded.

“Why are you asking me such questions?”

“Answer me.”

The fury in her voice surprised him. “And if I do answer you, will you then tell me who you are?”

“Yes,” she promised.

He nodded. “Very well,” he said, his voice mild once again. “My mother was an English bitch. Her accent was very like your own. That much I remember. Now tell me who you are,” he demanded again.

She was desperately trying to keep her wits about her. “How old are you?”

He told her, then painfully squeezed her arm.

Judith thought she was going to be sick. Douglas was five years older than she, and his eyes, dear God, his eyes were the same color as her own. Was his hair the exact shade, too? No, no, she told herself. Hers was much lighter.

She had to take a deep breath to keep herself from gagging. She slumped to the side of her saddle, close to Patrick’s side.

Dear God, it was true. Douglas was her brother.

Patrick tried to put his arm around her. Douglas jerked her toward him, then lifted her from her mount and settled her in front of him.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he asked.

No one answered him. Douglas growled in frustration. He still didn’t know who the woman belonged to, but he recognized Patrick, all right.

“The Maitland laird will come after his brother,” he told his men. “We’ll be ready to give him a proper greeting. Bring them to my father’s holding,” he ordered with a nod toward Graham and Patrick.

The length of time it took to get to the Maclean keep was shortened considerably because they were able to ride directly there, across Dunbar land. Patrick memorized every detail on the way for future use.

Judith didn’t pay any attention to where they were going. She kept her eyes tightly closed while she tried to sort out this god-awful situation in her mind.

She wanted to weep with shame over her mother’s treachery. How could she abandon her child? Judith was so sickened inside, she could barely concentrate on anything but keeping her stomach settled.

As they rode, she wondered how Douglas would react if she threw up all over him.

She finally opened her eyes. He noticed. “Did the Maclean name scare you into a faint?”

“I didn’t faint,” she snapped. “I want to ride my own mount.”

“I want you to stay here,” he replied. “You’re very beautiful,” he added almost as an afterthought. “I might decide to let you warm my bed.”

“That’s disgusting.”

She hadn’t meant to blurt out her thought, but she couldn’t keep it inside. Douglas took exception to the appalled look on her face. He took hold of her chin and forced her face up to his.

Good God, was he going to kiss her? “I’m going to be sick,” she stammered out.

He hastily let go of her.

She took several deep breaths to convince him she really was having difficulty, then relaxed. “I’m better now,” she lied.

“All the English are weak,” he told her. “Tis yet another reason we despise them.”

“English women as well as English men?” she asked.

“Aye,” he answered.

“I’m English,” she said. “And you contradict yourself. If you hate all of us, why would you hint at wanting me in your bed?”

He didn’t answer her. A few minutes passed before he spoke again. “Tell me your name.”

“Judith,” she answered.

“Why are you wearing the Maitland plaid?”

“My friend gave it to me. I’m here on a visitation and will return to England after my friend has had her baby.”

He shook his head. “The Maitlands wouldn’t let you leave. You’re lying, Judith.”

“Why wouldn’t they let me leave?”

“You’re too beautiful to—”

“I’m English.” She interrupted him with that reminder. “They don’t like me.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he ordered. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“She’s telling you the truth,” Patrick shouted. “She’s a guest, nothing more.”

Douglas laughed. He wasn’t believing any such nonsense. His hold on Judith’s waist became painful. She reached down to pry his fingers away. She saw the ring on his finger then. She let out a little gasp. Her hand flew to her bosom where her father’s identical ring was hidden. “Where did you get this ugly ring?” she asked.

“It was my uncle’s,” he answered. “Why do you persist in asking such personal questions?”

“I was merely curious,” she repli

ed.

In a low whisper he said, “You belong to lain, don’t you?”

“I don’t converse with pigs.”

He laughed then. Douglas was too ignorant to know when he was being insulted. She told him so.

“It’s too fine a day to take insult over anything,” he announced. “I’ve captured Graham for my father, and you for myself. Aye, it’s a fine day all right.”

God help her, she was actually related to this barbarian. She didn’t speak to him again for a good hour or more. Curiosity got the better of her intention to ignore him, however, and since they now rode well ahead of both Graham and Patrick, and wouldn’t be overheard, she decided to find out what she could about her father.

“What is Laird Maclean like?”

“Mean.”

She heard the amusement in his voice. “And?”

“And what?”

“Never mind.”

“Why are you so interested?”

“It’s good to know as much as possible about one’s enemies,” she explained. “Why will your father be pleased to see Graham?”

“He has something to settle with him,” Douglas answered. “The hate goes back long years. Aye, my father will be happy to see Graham again.”

They didn’t speak again until they had reached Maclean land. Judith was given a few minutes privacy. She returned from the shelter of the trees, ignored Douglas’s outstretched hand, and gained her own horse before he could stop her.

Patrick kept trying to get close enough to talk to her. The Dunbars weren’t letting him. Those warriors took their leave when additional Maclean soldiers surrounded them, obviously intent on returning to their own holding.

Judith knew Patrick wanted her to keep silent. He didn’t want the Macleans to know they’d captured the laird’s wife to use as bait to draw lain out. Douglas had only been fishing for the truth when he’d suggested she was Iain’s woman. He couldn’t be sure until someone who knew the truth verified it.

None of it mattered. lain would come anyway. Surely Patrick realized that. The two brothers had always looked after each other, and lain would come to Patrick’s aid now, Judith told herself, even if she weren’t involved.

There could be a bloodbath. Judith didn’t have any doubt about that. lain wouldn’t be reasonable when he retaliated, and just thinking about what would happen made her stomach ache.

She didn’t want anyone to die. She didn’t know what she could do to prevent the war, but she was determined to try.

She could try to get her father alone and tell him who she was. Then she would have to beg his mercy. If he proved to be compassionate, he might let Graham and Patrick leave before lain came after them.

Judith had never begged for anything, and in her heart she doubted it would work anyway. She didn’t think her father would welcome her. He hadn’t bothered to come after her or her mother . . . why would he change his attitudes now?

And if she told him who she was, she would certainly lose everything. lain would never forgive her. She couldn’t blame him. She should have told him the truth, should have insisted he listen to her.

She thought about all those warm, dark nights when they had held each other close and whispered their thoughts to each other . . . oh, yes, she could have told him then.

She’d been too afraid, of course, and all because deep inside she knew he wouldn’t love her anymore.

Judith’s mind was so consumed by her fears, she didn’t notice they’d ridden into the courtyard of the Maclean keep. She looked up, caught sight of the massive stone structure and immediately straightened her shoulders . . . and her resolve.

She gave the Maclean holding a name. Purgatory.

Douglas tried to help her in mid-mount. She kicked his hand away. He tried to grab hold of her arm after she’d reached the ground. She shoved him away, then turned and walked up the steps.

Her bearing was every bit as regal as a queen’s. Graham followed her. He was so proud of her behavior, he smiled. So did Patrick. The Maclean warriors were left guessing as to why the Maitlands were in such cheerful moods. They shook their heads and hurried inside to see their laird’s reaction to his son’s “gifts.”

Laird Maclean made everyone wait on him for over three long hours. Judith was kept at one end of the gigantic hall, and the other captives were kept at the opposite end. Patrick and Graham had their hands tied together behind their backs.

Judith couldn’t sit still. She paced back and forth in front of the long table. The longer they were kept waiting, the more anxious she became. She was worried about Frances Catherine most of all. Would her friend begin her laboring when she was given the news that Patrick had been taken captive? Dear God, she wouldn’t be there to help her.

Her heart went out to Patrick. He was certainly thinking the same worrisome thoughts right now.

Her pace must have been driving the Maclean warriors daft. One reached out to grab her. She was too surprised by the bold action to fight him until he pulled her into his arms.

Patrick let out a roar of fury and came charging across the hall. Douglas came running from the entrance. Judith gathered her wits before either man could get to her. She rammed her knee into the eager soldier’s groin. He let out a howl of outrage—and pain, she was pleased to note—before doubling over and crashing to the floor.

She was thoroughly satisfied. Douglas caught her attention then. He grabbed her to pull her away from the soldier writhing on the floor. Patrick wasn’t hindered by the fact that his hands were bound behind his back. He used his shoulder to knock Douglas away from Judith.

Douglas went flying into the stone wall. Judith went with him. She would have hit the back of her head against the stone, but Douglas’s hand got there first, protecting her.

Patrick tried to slam into Douglas again. Judith was still in his way, however. Douglas shoved her out of his way and then lunged for her brother-in-law.

“Don’t you dare strike him,” Judith cried out. “His hands are bound, damn it. If you want to hit someone, hit me.”

“Stay out of this, Judith,” Patrick roared.

“Enough.”

The bellow came from the entrance. Everyone turned to see who had issued the command.

Laird Maclean stood in the center of the entrance. Judith stiffened at the sight of the big man.

The laird’s hands were settled on his hips and he had a mean scowl on his face. “Get that soldier out of here,” he ordered.

Douglas nodded. He helped the soldier Judith had felled to the floor back to his feet and gave him a push toward the entrance.

The laird nodded with satisfaction, then walked into the hall. He passed Judith without giving her a glance and continued on until he reached the other side of the table. He took his seat in a high-backed chair in the center.

A woman came hurrying inside. She appeared to be about ten years older than Judith. She was dark-haired, heavyset, and wore a smug expression on her face. She paused to stare at Judith before hurrying on toward the table. Judith decided to hate her.

Her attention returned to her father. She didn’t want him to be handsome. He was, though. He looked a little like Douglas . . . and like her, she supposed with a sinking heart. His skin was far more leathered-looking than his son’s, of course, and he had deep creases around the corners of his eyes and mouth. His brown hair was streaked through with gray, giving him a distinguished appearance.

It was apparent he didn’t know who she was, but when his gaze settled on Graham, he smiled a mean-hearted, ugly smile.

Douglas walked forward. She tried to trip him when he passed her. He grabbed hold of her arm and jerked her into his side.

“I’ve a wedding present for you, Father,” Douglas called out. “I can’t be certain, but I’ve got a strong feeling this shrew belongs to lain Maitland.”

She kicked him because he’d called her an insulting name. Then the fullness of what he had just said penetrated her mind.

A wedding prese

nt for her father . . . no, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t have understood. “Your father isn’t getting married, is he?”

She sounded as though she was strangling on something. Douglas turned to look at her. “Aye, he is getting married, and Lord, you really do ask the strangest questions for a captive.”

Her knees went weak. Douglas had to hold her up. God’s truth, she didn’t think she could take any more surprises. First she found out she had a brother, and now she was learning her father was about to become a bigamist.

“He thinks he’s going to marry that woman?” she asked with a wave of her hand toward the table.

Douglas nodded. The laird’s companion took offense. “Get her out of here,” she called out. “She offends me.”

Judith took a step toward the woman. Douglas squeezed her arm. She thought he might have broken the bone. She let out an involuntary cry of pain and pulled away from him. The sleeve of her gown ripped wide.

Douglas had an appalled look on his face. In a low whisper only she could hear, he said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please stand still. It won’t do you any good to fight.”

Laird Maclean let out a loud sigh. “You will leave,” he ordered his companion. “I don’t need your interference.”

She took her time obeying. She glared at Judith again when she walked past her. Judith ignored her.

“The Maitland laird’s coming up the path,” a soldier shouted from the doorway.

Judith’s heart felt as though it had just stopped beating. lain was here.

“How many ride with him?” Laird Maclean shouted.

“He’s all alone,” the soldier reported. “Riding up the hill as sweet as you please.”

The Maclean laird laughed. “The boy’s got courage, I’ll give him that,” he remarked. “He isn’t carrying any weapons, either, I’ll wager.”

“Nay, he isn’t,” the soldier replied.

Judith desperately wanted to run outside to her husband. She tried to do just that, but Douglas caught her. He tightened his hold on her already bruised arm and pulled her close.

“You will not mistreat a woman, Douglas, no matter how much she provokes you. I’m wanting lain, not his woman.”

“For the love of God, I beg you to listen to reason, Laird Maclean. Stop this now before there’s a bloodbath.”