Chapter One
Scotland, Feb. 1643
Stirling Castle
Standing in the shadows near Ross MacLean’s wagon, Brodie Cameron rubbed his frozen fingers together and waited for the man to emerge from the castle. He was about to step across a line.
He was spying on a friend. But he had no choice. Ross might have violated an unspoken trust between them, and more importantly, between their clans.
Ross and his friend Neil appeared, escorting a woman he assumed was Ross’s sister to the back of the wagon, but she looked as if she was arguing with them and wanted to stay at the wedding celebration. Odd. He kenned the woman, and she was not one to be forced to do anything she didnae want. Besides, when he’d asked her about Ross’s activities, she’d informed him they rarely spoke, and she had no idea what her useless brother did.
He’d not been surprised to run into the feisty lass, and fellow spy, earlier in the evening because several clans were here to plan a meeting in Edinburgh with the intention of dampening the rising tensions between the Royalists and Covenanters. His laird had sent him to see what he could discover about the upcoming summit, and it was blind luck that he’d stumbled upon Ross, the man who had been suspiciously close to Cameron lands when several cattle had recently been discovered missing.
After heaving his sister into the back of the cart, Ross turned and walked back toward the castle as Neil seated himself on the bench. The cart started forward and jolted just as the lass rose. She went down hard and could possibly be hurt.
Och. He needed to follow Neil to make sure she wasn’t injured. It might jeopardize his mission, but the thought of the lass lying wounded in the back of that cold wagon galled him.
Intending to inform Neil the lass might be injured before he followed Ross inside, Brodie picked up the pace and jumped onto the wagon bench. Neil flinched, then threw a meaty fist at him, connecting with the side of his face, grazing his eye and causing it to blur as pain shot through to the back of his head. On instinct, Brodie returned with a blow of his own, connecting with the man’s jowl and knocking him to the side.
With the movement, Neil pulled on the reins and forced the horses to a sudden stop, jarring the entire wagon. Grabbing onto the bench, Brodie barely managed to stay seated as his vision distorted. Neil wasn’t so lucky. The MacLean man lay crumpled on the frozen ground a few feet away, seemingly unconscious.
Hearing a moan from the cart, he jumped into the back and froze. He had to squint to bring her into focus, but staring back at him was a gagged and bound woman huddled against the solid wood frame of the wagon. His senses had adjusted well to the dark of the night, but with his injured eye, he could only make out the exaggerated whites of her gaze and light colored locks. He ran a cold hand through his tousled hair. Blinking, he leaned forward to bring the lass into focus, but his eye only watered, making her blur even more.
This isnae Ross’s sister.
A damsel in distress wasn’t a complication he’d bargained on. When he’d watched the pair escort the woman to the wagon, he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but he hadn’t looked that closely.
Why had Ross attempted to abduct a woman? He could woo any lass he wanted into bed—he had no need for force. That just reinforced Brodie’s suspicions that his friend had turned traitor and was up to something nefarious.
It did appear odd, now, that they had stayed to the shadows and carried her out to dump her in the back of a wagon. Ross had only stopped long enough to give some instruction to his friend.
Decision time. Leave the woman and watch from afar, or take her somewhere safe and then find a way to salvage his assignment. If Ross wanted her bad enough to abduct her, surely he would not hesitate to use her to further whatever political game he was playing.
He glanced back over his shoulder to see the unconscious mountain starting to stir. Tearing his gaze from the man on ground, he reached out for the woman. “Come with me. I willnae let any harm come to ye.”
She flinched then recoiled farther into the corner of the small space as her eyes widened even more.
Why was the daft lass afraid of him? He had just rescued her. Gently taking her shoulder, he tried to reassure her. “Ye are safe with me.”
She flailed and shook her head wildly. He didn’t have time for this.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Neil groaned. Hell, he’d had drinks with that man and seen him take out three men at once in a tavern fight.
Giving her his best dimpled grin, he tried one more time to appease her. It never failed to work on the fairer sex. “I promise, I willnae hurt ye, lass.”
She stopped struggling and went rigid. If it weren’t so dark, and if he could see, he would have sworn her brow crinkled. The woman couldn’t be angry with him—he was saving her. The lass’s reaction sent a shiver snaking down his spine, because despite the blurred vision in his stinging eye, she seemed familiar, as if he should know her. A pang of recognition flared, but he pushed it aside, because the thought caused an ache deep in his chest and he had learned to stop analyzing his emotions long ago. In his line of work, giving in to sentiment led to death.
Patience gone, he clasped both hands around her waist and yanked her up. She was thin, and he overcompensated for her weight causing her body to slam into his.
Despite her delicate frame, she had large breasts, accentuated by her arms being bound behind her back. Brodie spared a glance at Neil, who was scrambling to his feet.
Wasting no more time, he flung her over his shoulder and jumped to the ground with a jarring thud. The lass exhaled sharply as his shoulder dug into her abdomen on impact. He almost felt sorry for her, but it was her own fault for not listening. As he ran for his horse, her struggles stopped.
After easily tossing her slender body onto the steed’s back, he climbed up behind her. She rocked as if she would lose her balance, but he pulled her close and held her around the waist. It steadied her, but it also kept her pinned to him while her legs dangled over the side.
“Brodie,” bellowed Neil, who had gained ground, clambering toward them with his fists in the air.
Brodie peered at the dark path ahead.
“Hold on,” he whispered in her ear. Tightening his grip on the lass, he dug his heels into his mount, and the echo of hooves upon hard, frozen ground cut through the silence as his horse shot through the dark.
Despite his hold on her, the movement jolted her to the side. He pulled her closer to his chest as tendrils of her long hair whipped against his face. The smell of fresh lavender teased him and reminded him of home.
It reminded him of her. The only lass he had ever wanted, the one who had shredded his heart. He was torn between the need to push this woman away or pull her closer.
What the hell had he done?
He could have left her in that wagon and continued his mission to spy on his friend, yet here he was, galloping into the night with a strange woman. Still, she might be the key to discovering if Ross was a traitor.
A small change in his plans, but he’d calm the terrified lass down, get the information he needed, leave her somewhere safe, then return to Stirling and finish his mission. As always, he’d turn this small distraction to his advantage. For clan and country.
He spurred his horse on.