Highland Lover

Book 12: Murrays

by Hannah Howell

Genres: Historical Romance; General Fiction; Romance

Synopsis

A reckless need to break free of his family led Gregor MacFingal Cameron on a quest for a rich bride, only to fall prey to kidnappers and be tossed into a cold cell. He is soon joined by a frightened young woman who makes him regret his mercenary search for a wife. After a daring escape, he gladly joins Alana Murray's quest to rescue her sister, and soon temptation leads to seduction, with unspoken promises easily made, but harder to keep.

Alana knows the bond forged by danger and desperation has earned her an ally willing to fight for her sister's cause. But Gregor's tantalizing seduction leaves her breathless, and she seizes her one chance to experience true passion before an arranged marriage seals her fate—never anticipating the inescapable intensity of a man and a love that will change everything.

Release date: April 24, 2012

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Scotland, Spring 1475

“Oof!”

Oof? Dazed and struggling to catch her breath, Alana decided she must have made that noise herself. Hard dirt floors did not say oof. It was odd, however, how the rough stone walls of the oubliette made her voice sound so deep, almost manly. Just as she began to be able to breathe again, the hard dirt floor shifted beneath her.

It took Alana a moment to fully grasp the fact that she had not landed on the floor. She had landed on a person. That person had a deep, manly voice. It was not dirt or stone beneath her cheek, but cloth. There was also the steady throb of a heartbeat in the ear she had pressed against that cloth. Her fingers were hanging down a little and touching cool, slightly damp earth. She was sprawled on top of a man like a wanton.

Alana scrambled off the man, apologizing for some awkward placement of her knees and elbows as she did so. The man certainly knew how to curse. She stood up and stared up at the three men looking down at her, the light from the lantern they held doing little more than illuminating their grinning, hairy faces.

“Ye cannae put me in here with a mon,” she said.

“Got noplace else to put ye,” said the tallest man of the three, a man called Clyde, who she was fairly sure was the laird.

“I am a lady,” she began.

“Ye are a wee, impudent child. Now, are ye going to tell us who ye are?”

“So ye can rob my people? Nay, I dinnae think so.”

“Then ye stay where ye are.”

She did not even have time to stutter out a protest. The grate was shut and that faint source of light quickly disappeared as the Gowans walked away. Alana stared up into the dark and wondered how everything had gone so wrong. All she had wanted to do was help to find her sister Keira, but none of her family had heeded her pleas or her insistence that she could truly help find her twin. It had seemed such a clever idea to disguise herself as a young girl and follow her brothers, waiting for just the right moment to reveal herself. How she had enjoyed those little dreams of walking up to her poor confused brothers and leading them straight to their sister. That had kept a smile upon her face and a jaunty spring in her step right up until the moment she had realized she had not only lost her brothers’ trail, but also had absolutely no idea of where she was.

Feeling very sorry for herself and wondering why her gifts had so abruptly failed her just when she needed them most, she had been cooking a rabbit and sulking when the Gowans had found her. Alana grimaced as she remembered how she had acted. Perhaps if she had been sweet and had acted helpless, she would not be stuck in a hole in the ground with a man who was apparently relieving himself in a bucket. Maybe it would be wise to tell the Gowans who she was so that they could get some ransom for her and she could get out of here. Appalled by that moment of weakness, Alana proceeded to lecture herself in the hope of stiffening her resolve.

Gregor inwardly cursed as he finished relieving himself. It was not the best way to introduce himself to his fellow prisoner, but he really had had little choice. Having a body dropped on top of him and then being jabbed by elbows and knees had made ignoring his body’s needs impossible. At least the dark provided a semblance of privacy.

He was just trying to figure out where she was when he realized she was muttering to herself. Clyde Gowan had called her an impudent child, but there was something in that low, husky voice that made him think of a woman. After she had landed on him and he had caught his breath, there had been something about that soft, warm body that had also made him think of a woman, despite the lack of fulsome curves. He shook his head as he cautiously stepped toward that voice.

Despite his caution, he took one step too many and came up hard against her back. She screeched softly and jumped, banging the top of her head against his chin. Gregor cursed softly as his teeth slammed together, sending a sharp, stinging pain through his head. He was a little surprised to hear her softly curse as well.

“Jesu, lass,” he muttered, “ye have inflicted more bruises on me than those fools did when they grabbed me.”

“Who are you?” Alana asked, wincing and rubbing at the painful spot on the top of her head, certain she could feel a lump rising.

“Gregor. And ye are?”

“Alana.”

“Just Alana?”

“Just Gregor?”

“I will tell ye my full name if ye tell me yours.”

“Nay, I dinnae think so. Someone could be listening, hoping we will do just that.”

“And ye dinnae trust me as far as ye can spit, do ye?”

“Why should I? I dinnae ken who ye are. I cannae e’en see you.” She looked around and then wondered why she bothered since it was so dark she could not even see her own hand if she held it right in front of her face. “What did they put ye in here for?”

Alana suddenly feared she had been confined with a true criminal, perhaps even a rapist or murderer. She smothered that brief surge of panic by sharply telling herself not to be such an idiot. The Gowans wanted to ransom her. Even they were not stupid enough to risk losing that purse by setting her too close to a truly dangerous man.

“Ransom,” he replied.

“Ah, me, too. Are they roaming about the country plucking up people like daisies?”

Gregor chuckled and shook his head. “Only those who look as if they or their kinsmen might have a few coins weighting their purse. A mon was being ransomed e’en as they dragged me in. He was dressed fine, although his bonnie clothes were somewhat filthy from spending time in this hole. I was wearing my finest. I suspect your gown told them your kinsmen might have some coin. Did they kill your guards?”

Alana felt a blush heat her cheeks. “Nay, I was alone. I got a little lost.”

She was lying, Gregor thought. Either she was a very poor liar or the dark had made his senses keener, allowing him to hear the lie in her voice. “I hope your kinsmen punish the men weel for such carelessness.”

Oh, someone would most certainly be punished, Alana thought. There was no doubt in her mind about that. This was one of those times when she wished her parents believed in beating a child. A few painful strikes of a rod would be far easier to endure than the lecture she would be given and, even worse, the confused disappointment her parents would reveal concerning her idiocy and disobedience.

“How long have ye been down here?” she asked, hoping to divert his attention from how and why she had been caught.

“Two days, I think. ’Tis difficult to know for certain. They gave me quite a few blankets, a privy bucket that they pull up and empty each day, and food and water twice a day. What troubles me is who will win this game of ye-stay-there-until-ye-tell-me-what-I-want-to-know. My clan isnae really poor, but they dinnae have coin to spare for a big ransom. Nay when they dinnae e’en ken what the money will be used for.”

“Oh, didnae they tell ye?”

“I was unconscious for most of the time it took to get to this keep and be tossed in here. All I have heard since then is the thrice-daily question about who am I. And I am assuming all these things happen daily, not just whene’er they feel inclined. There does seem to be a, weel, rhythm to it all. ’Tis how I decided I have been here for two days.” He thought back over the past few days, too much of it spent in the dark with his own thoughts. “If I judge it aright, this may actually be the end of the third day, for I fell unconscious again when they threw me in here. I woke up to someone bellowing that it was time to sup, got my food and water, and was told about the privy bucket and that blankets had been thrown down here.”

“And ’tis night now. The moon was rising as we rode through the gates. So, three days in the dark. In a hole in the ground,” she murmured, shivering at the thought of having to endure the same. “What did ye do?”

“Thought.”

“Oh, dear. I think that would soon drive me quite mad.”

“It isnae a pleasant interlude.”

“It certainly isnae. I am nay too fond of the dark,” she added softly and jumped slightly when a long arm was somewhat awkwardly wrapped around her shoulders.

“No one is, especially not the unrelenting dark of a place like this. So, ye were all alone when they caught ye. They didnae harm ye, did they?”

The soft, gentle tone of his question made Alana realize what he meant by harm. It struck her as odd that not once had she feared rape, yet her disguise as a child was certainly not enough to save her from that. “Nay, they just grabbed me, cursed me a lot for being impudent, and tossed me over a saddle.”

Gregor smiled. “Impudent, were ye?”

“That is as good a word for it as any other. There I was, sitting quietly by a fire, cooking a rabbit I had been lucky enough to catch, and up ride five men who inform me that I am now their prisoner and that I had best tell them who I am so that they can send the ransom demand to my kinsmen. I told them that I had had a very upsetting day and the last thing I wished to deal with was smelly, hairy men telling me what to do, so they could just ride back to the rock they had crawled out from under. Or words to that effect,” she added quietly.

In truth, she thought as she listened to Gregor chuckle, she had completely lost her temper. It was not something she often did and she suspected some of her family would have been astonished. The Gowans had been. All five men had stared at her as if a dormouse had suddenly leapt at their throats. It had been rather invigorating until the Gowans had realized they were being held in place by insults from someone they could snap in half.

It was a little puzzling that she had not eluded capture. She was very fast, something often marveled at by her family, could run for a very long way without tiring, and could hide in the faintest of shadows. Yet mishap after mishap had plagued her as she had fled from the men, and they had barely raised a sweat in pursuing and capturing her. If she were a superstitious person, she would think some unseen hand of fate had been doing its best to make sure she was caught.

“Did they tell ye why they are grabbing so many for ransom?” Gregor asked.

“Oh, aye, they did.” Of course, one reason they had told her was because of all the things she had accused them of wanting the money for, such as useless debauchery, and not something they badly needed, like soap. “Defenses.”

“What?”

“They have decided that this hovel requires stronger defenses. That requires coin or some fine goods to barter with, neither of which they possess. I gather they have heard of some troubles not so far away and it has made them decide that they are too vulnerable. From what little I could see whilst hanging over Clyde’s saddle, this is a very old tower house, one that was either neglected or damaged once, or both. It appears to have been repaired enough to be livable, but I did glimpse many things either missing or in need of repair. From what Clyde’s wife said, this smallholding was her dowry.”

“Ye spoke to his wife?”

“Weel, nay. She was lecturing him from the moment he stepped inside all the way to the door leading down here. She doesnae approve of this. Told him that, since he has begun this folly, he had best do a verra good job of it and gather a veritable fortune, for they will need some formidable defenses to protect them from all the enemies he is making.”

Alana knew she ought to move away from him. When he had first draped his arm around her, she had welcomed what she saw as a gesture intended to comfort her, perhaps even an attempt to ease the fear of the dark she had confessed to. He still had his arm around her and she had slowly edged closer to his warmth until she was now pressed hard up against his side.

He was a very tall man. Probably a bit taller than her overgrown brothers, she mused. Judging from where her cheek rested so nicely, she barely reached his breastbone. Since she was five feet tall, that made him several inches over six feet. Huddled up against him as she was, she could feel the strength in his body despite what felt to be a lean build. Considering the fact that he had been held in this pit for almost three days, he smelled remarkably clean as well.

And the fact that she was noticing how good he smelled told her she really should move away from him, Alana thought. The problem was, he felt good, very good. He felt warm, strong, and calming, all things she was sorely in need of at the moment. She started to console herself with the thought that she was not actually embracing him only to realize that she had curled her arm around what felt to be a very trim waist.

She inwardly sighed, ruefully admitting that she liked where she was and had no inclination to leave his side. He thought she was a young girl, so she did not have to fear he might think she was inviting him to take advantage of her. Alone with him in the dark, there was a comforting anonymity about it as well. Alana decided there was no harm in it all. In truth, she would not be surprised to discover that he found comfort in it, too, after days of being all alone in the dark.

“Where were ye headed, lass? Is there someone aside from the men ye were with who will start searching for ye?” Gregor asked, a little concerned about how good it felt to hold her even though every instinct he had told him that Alana was not the child she pretended to be.

“Quite possibly.” She doubted that the note she had left behind would do much to comfort her parents. “I was going to my sister.”

“Ah, weel, then, I fear the Gowans may soon ken who ye are e’en if ye dinnae tell them.”

“Oh, of course. What about you? Will anyone wonder where ye have gone?”

“Nay for a while yet.”

They all thought he was still wooing his well-dowered bride. Gregor had had far too much time to think about that, about all of his reasons for searching for a well-dowered bride, and about the one he had chosen. Mavis was a good woman, passably pretty, and had both land and some coin to offer a husband. He had left her feeling almost victorious, the betrothal as good as settled, yet each hour he had sat here in the dark, alone with his thoughts, he had felt less and less pleased with himself. It did not feel right. He hated to think that his cousin Sigimor made sense about anything, yet it was that man’s opinion that kept creeping through his mind. Mavis did not really feel right. She did not really fit.

He silently cursed. What did it matter? He was almost thirty years of age and had never found a woman who felt right or fit. Mavis gave him the chance to be his own man, to be laird of his own keep and have control over his own lands. Mavis was a sensible choice. He did not love her, but after so many years and so many women without feeling even a tickle of that feeling, he doubted he was capable of loving any woman. Passion could be stirred with the right touch and compatibility could be achieved with a little work. It would serve.

He was just about to ask Alana how extensive a search her kinsmen would mount for her when he heard the sound of someone approaching above them. “Stand o’er there, lass,” he said as he nudged her to the left. “’Tis time for the bucket to be emptied and food and water lowered down to us. I dinnae want to be bumping into ye.”

Alana felt immediately chilled as she left his side. She kept inching backward until she stumbled and fell onto a pile of blankets. She moved around until she was seated on them, her back against the cold stone wall. The grate was opened and a rope with a hook at the end of it was lowered through the opening. The lantern this man carried produced enough light to at least allow them to see that rope. Gregor moved around as if he could see and Alana suspected he had carefully mapped out his prison in his mind. She watched as the bucket was raised up and another lowered down. As Gregor reached for that bucket, she caught a faint glimpse of his form. He was indeed very tall and very lean. She cursed the darkness for hiding all else from her.

“We will need two buckets of water for washing in the morn,” Gregor called up to the man, watching him as he carefully lowered the now-empty privy bucket.

“Two?” the man snapped. “Why two?”

“One for me and one for the lass.”

“Ye can both wash from the same one.”

“A night down here leaves one verra dirty. A wee bucket of water is barely enough to get one person clean, ne’er mind two.”

“I will see what the laird says.”

Alana winced as the grate was slammed shut and that faint shaft of light disappeared. She tried to judge where Gregor was, listening carefully to his movements, but was still startled a little when he sat down by her side. Then she caught the scent of cheese and still-warm bread and her stomach growled a welcome.

Gregor laughed as he set the food out between them. “Careful how ye move, lass. The food rests between us. The Gowans do provide enough to eat, though ’tis plain fare.”

“Better than none. Perhaps ye had better hand me things. I think I shall need a wee bit of time to become accustomed to moving about in this thick dark.”

She tensed when she felt a hand pat her leg, but then something fell into her lap. Reaching down, she found a chunk of bread and immediately began to eat it. Gregor was obviously just trying to be certain where she sat as he shared out the food. She did wonder why a small part of her was disappointed by that.

“Best ye eat it all, lass. I havenae been troubled by vermin, but I have heard a few sounds that make me think they are near. Leaving food about will only bring them right to us.”

Alana shivered. “I hate rats.”

“As do I, which is why I fight the temptation to hoard food.”

She nodded even though she knew he could not see her, and, for a while, they silently ate. Once her stomach was full, Alana began to feel very tired, the rigors of the day catching up to her. Her eyes widened as she realized there was no place to make up her own bed and doubted there were enough blankets to do so anyway.

“Where do I sleep?” she asked, briefly glad of the dark, for it hid her blushes.

“Here with me,” replied Gregor. “I will sleep next to the wall.” He smiled, almost able to feel her tension. “Dinnae fret, lass. I willnae harm ye. I have ne’er harmed a child.”

Of course, Alana thought and relaxed. He thought she was a child. She had briefly forgotten her disguise. The thought of having to keep her binding on for days was not comforting but it was for the best. Thinking her a child, Gregor treated her as he would a sister or his own child. If he knew she was a woman, he might well treat her as a convenient bedmate or try to make her one. She brutally silenced the part of her that whispered its disappointment, reminding it that she had no idea of what this man even looked like.

Once the food was gone, Gregor set the bucket aside. Alana heard him removing some clothing and then felt him crawl beneath the blankets. She quickly moved out of the way when she felt his feet nudge her hip. After a moment’s thought, she loosened the laces on her gown and removed her boots before crawling under the blankets by his side. The chill of the place disappeared again and she swallowed a sigh. Something about Gregor soothed her, made her able to face this imprisonment with some calm and courage, and she was simply too tired to try to figure out what that something was.

“On the morrow we will begin to plan our escape,” Gregor said.

“Ye have thought of a way out of here?”

“Only a small possibility. Sleep. Ye will need it.”

That did not sound promising, Alana mused as she closed her eyes.

Alana grimaced as she finished washing, patted herself dry with a cloth, and began to don her clean but damp clothing. The Gowans catered to her and Gregor’s need to keep clean, but there was nothing they could do about the all-pervasive damp. Or the chill, she mused, wrapping her damp plaid around her shoulders. After three days in the dark hole the Gowans had tossed her into, Alana felt as if that chill had settled deep into her bones. The only time she felt even partly warm was when she was curled up in Gregor’s arms, pressed close to his warm body.

And that was beginning to be a pure torment, she thought as she brushed and braided her hair. All too often she had to sharply bite back the confession that she was a woman, not a child. Alana did not understand how she could be so hungry for a man she had only known for a few days, one she had never seen and who told her very little about himself. In most ways, he was a complete stranger to her, and yet, she felt as if she had known him for years. Each time she felt that hard length pressed against her backside, she wanted to move against it and ached for it to be born of a desire for her, not for some chimera in his dreams or a need to relieve himself. It was utter madness. Worse, she could think of no way to cure herself of this insanity.

It was past time for the man to devise a plan of escape, she decided, especially since she had not come up with one. Since he had spoken of it the first night she had joined him in the pit, he had never really spoken of it again. The few times she had ventured to mention it, he had said only one thing—patience, lass. Just how patient was she supposed to be? If he had a plan, he could share it with her, and if he did not, why did he not just admit it? She would be disappointed but would not fault him for not being able to find a way out of a very deep hole in the ground.

“Best ye move to the bed, lass,” Gregor said. “Our meal is arriving.”

Alana cautiously groped her way toward their rough bed. She doubted she would ever learn to move about in the dark as easily as Gregor did no matter how long she stayed here. Stumbling into the bedding, she quickly sat down and watched as the faint shaft of light appeared overhead.

“Ready to tell us who ye are?” asked the Gowan man who was lowering down the clean privy bucket.

“Nay,” replied Alana, proud of how she resisted the growing urge to scream out her full name, give precise directions to her people, and demand to be pulled out of the darkness.

She frowned a little when Gregor’s response was little more than a grunt of agreement to her words as he exchanged the clean bucket for the soiled one. He stood as he had for the last three days, staring intensely at the rope as the Gowan man raised the privy bucket and then lowered down their food. And again as he exchanged the dirty water for clean water. It puzzled Alana, for he was far too intense in how he watched the whole tedious process. Although she could not see his face, she almost felt his concentration and could see it in the taut stillness of his lean form.

Their guard left, taking that faint light with him, and Alana shivered with fear as she always did. She fought for calm, but still sighed with relief when Gregor sat down next to her. Each time that light disappeared, her fear of the dark reasserted itself. It embarrassed her that she required Gregor’s presence to harness it again. It seemed so cowardly, yet it was not a fear that could be reasoned with. She could only hope that Gregor was not aware of how deep and strong that fear was, although why that should be important to her Alana did not know.

“I have a plan now, lass,” Gregor said as he divided the food between them, carefully placing her share in her lap.

“And just when did ye devise this plan?” she asked calmly, even though her pulse quickened with hope. “Before or after ye assisted in changing the privy bucket?”

“So sharp for one so wee,” he murmured, grinning. “I was watching the raising and lowering of the buckets.”

“I noticed that. I cannae see much in that wee flicker of light, but it did seem that ye were most interested in that.”

“I was studying it all verra closely. It took me a while to decide on the best way to judge it.”

“Judge what?”

“The distance up to that hole.”

“Too far for either of us to reach it.”

“Aye, but, mayhap, nay too far for the two of us.”

Alana took a moment to think about that as she finished the bread she had just filled her mouth with. “What do ye mean by the two of us?”

“How tall are ye, lass?”

“Five feet.”

“And I am six feet and a few inches.”

“How proud ye must be,” she muttered and then sighed out her irritation, “but how does that matter?”

“Your height added to mine might be enough to get ye up to that opening.”

“To do what? Gnaw through the thick iron bars?”

“The grate isnae locked or barred.” He could feel her grow tense even though she was not sitting up against him.

“Are ye certain of that?”

“Aye. Why should they bother? ’Tis too high to reach, or so they believe. And these walls cannae be climbed. I tried several times ere ye arrived and got naught for my effort save more bruises. I am a verra good climber, but e’en I need the odd niche or outcrop or so to grab hold of as I climb. The few there are are too far apart and not easily grabbed hold of.”

“So how do ye plan to get us out of here?”

“I think that if ye stand upon my shoulders, ye will be able to reach that grate.”

Alana looked up, envisioning the grate in her mind since it was too dark to see it now. It was made of a very thick iron. Barred shut or not, it would be difficult for her to move it, especially since she would be standing on a man’s shoulders and not on firm, steady ground. She was also not that fond of heights but felt she could overcome that unease if offered the chance to escape. Alana was just not sure this plan gave them much chance.

“’Tis a heavy thing to try to push up and out of the way,” she murmured.

“I ken it, and ’twill be a struggle for such a wee lass, but there is no other choice. I cannae stand upon your shoulders.”

“Quite true. ’Tis worth a try.”

“’Twill probably take several tries because of the lack of light. ’Tisnae easy to do anything in this dark. We should give it a try after we sup.”

“Why wait?”

“If we succeed, ’tis best if we try to leave the keep come nightfall. After the last meal is delivered, we can also be certain no one will be coming down here for hours.. . .