It shouldn’t have surprised Lucas that Ailsa was talkative. She had talked him in circles about going back to Edinburgh the night before. Unfortunately, when they’d started out that morning, giving her short answers containing little information only made her more inquisitive. He hadn’t wanted to lie to her overmuch, but if he was going to avoid that, he’d have to shift her focus elsewhere. Otherwise, she would have peppered him with questions all day.

To his relief, he asked one simple question that gave him the answer to his dilemma.

“Ye said ye had two sisters. Tell me about them.”

“Well, my oldest sister is Gillian—she’s been Lady MacLennan for over six years now. I don’t know if ye heard about that when it happened. Laird MacLennan—I mean the old Laird MacLennan, Malcolm not Fingal—he didn’t have any heirs. I mean Malcolm didn’t have any heirs. Fingal has heirs. He and Gillian have two wee lads and two wee lassies. Well, Malcolm sort of had heirs. I mean we were his heirs. Our da and da’s sister, Aunt Meara, were some sort of cousins of Malcolm. Let me see if I remember this right. Our great-grandda was a brother of Malcolm’s grandda. Aye, I think that’s it.” She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Where was I?”

He smiled, finding her way of telling a story, charming. “Ye were telling me about Gillian becoming yer chief.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well when Laird Malcolm and our da died.” She shook her head. “That was terrible. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much. I loved da so dearly. Our da would have been laird if he hadn’t been killed. That meant Aunt Meara was next in line, but she thought Gillian should be made chief because she didn’t have any heirs. I mean Aunt Meara didn’t have any. Well, Gillian didn’t either then, but, ye know, she was only nineteen. In the end, after arguing for days, the elders made Aunt Meara Lady MacLennan, only she died a few months later. That’s a whole other story. So then the elders made Gillian chief, but only until they could decide who she should marry and that person would be laird.”

Lucas actually did know this story. Everyone did. King David summoned Fingal MacIan to Edinburgh and made him Laird of Clan MacLennan. But he wanted to hear Ailsa tell it. “So the elders picked Fingal MacIan?”

“Oh, nay, the king picked him. I’ll never forget that night…” and she was off.

All he needed to do was keep asking her simple questions and she would launch into a detailed answer. He was completely entranced.

After she had explained how Gillian came to be chief and how the king had forced her to marry Fingal, she made it clear that they had grown to love each other. Gillian and Fingal, that is, not Gillian and the king.

“So Fingal MacIan turned out to be a good laird?”

“Aye, he did. One of the first things he did after becoming laird was give me a puppy. He gave one to Gillian too. We’d always wanted a pet but mama wouldn’t let us have one. She got really mad when he gave us the puppies. She said he should have asked her before giving them to us because she didn’t approve of keeping animals inside.”

Lucas was surprised by that. “She told her laird that he couldn’t give a dog to his wife?”

“She did. But he said he was the laird of Brathanead and he did approve of keeping animals as pets. He said she could ban them from her private chamber, but they are welcome everywhere else.”

“Good for him,” said Lucas.

“Mama still tried to change his mind. She said I was too young. I wasn’t, I was twelve. But he told her I needed Duff. That’s my dog’s name. And he said he knew I’d take care of him.”

“And what does yer mama think now?”

“My mama died over two years ago.”

She was quiet for a moment and he worried that asking her about her mother had made her sad.

He gave her waist a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

She patted his hand. “Thank ye, but I’m all right. I loved mama, but Gillie and I were much closer to da. Fallon was mama’s favorite.”

Then she launched into stories about Fallon and Gillian. She became even more ebullient when she talked about something she loved and she clearly loved her sisters. Even if they sometimes treated her like she was still twelve. And she loved her brothers-in-law. Although she confessed that when she was twelve she thought her heart was broken forever because her sister Fallon married Quinn MacKenzie and she wanted to marry him. That is, Ailsa did…but Fallon did too.

When she’d finished talking about her family, she circled back to Duff. “He’s always with me, wherever I go. Except to Edinburgh. He sleeps in my chamber. Well, honestly, he sleeps on my bed. He usually just lays near the foot of the bed. He’s better than a warming pan—my toes never get cold. Sometimes, on really cold nights, he lays against my back. I like that. I stay really warm then.” She smiled. “Sleeping next to ye is nice too. I was much warmer.”

Well, she certainly was not cold and stiffly proper as he believed most young noblewomen to be. She’d snuggled up to him in the night easily enough and openly admitted liking it. She also never made a single negative comment about riding on his lap. In a word, she was refreshing. At first, he feared that she might drive him completely daft with her constant chatter, but to his surprise she didn’t.

At one point, she asked, “Am I talking too much?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. I quite enjoy it.” And he realized he meant it. He much preferred her conversations to his journey to Edinburgh with his brother’s dour guardsmen. That was as long as he could keep her focus off of himself. So instead of trying to get her to stop talking, he kept her talking all day, about herself and her family. She was delightful, funny and positively brimmed with energy and enthusiasm. Ailsa MacLennan stood in stark contrast to most of the young noblewomen he’d met before.

Still, when they finally stopped for the night, he enjoyed the few moments of quiet he gained while Ailsa sought some privacy. Thinking about her, he smiled to himself as he rubbed Captain down. Over the course of the day, he had discovered quite a lot about Ailsa’s entire family, her friends, the young noblemen who trained at Brathanead and, of course, Ailsa herself. Perhaps her most favorite topic was her dog Duff. Lucas found her affection for her pet completely endearing. She was a sweet, unaffected lass. He hoped Laird MacLennan would consider her personality when choosing a husband for her. He hated the idea of her being married to a man who would quash her bubbly nature.

Where in hell had that idea come from? Ailsa MacLennan was nobody to him. She was an opportunity to bring the Grants a tidy ransom and perhaps ease the sting of William’s disappointment once he learned that Lucas would never marry Moira MacNaughton. There was no earthly reason why he should care a whit about who Ailsa would marry someday.

When he was finished settling Captain for the night, he checked his bag of provisions and frowned. He had only brought enough food to feed himself for the three to four days it would normally take to get to Castle Grant. Now that meager supply had to feed two of them. To make matters worse, riding double meant he had to go a little slower than he normally would so as not to overwork Captain. They had spent two nights on the road so far and he figured it would take two full days and a bit more to reach his home. He had eleven dried oatcakes, a small amount of dried beef and two apples left. They would run out of food tomorrow.

He could hunt for some small game, but then he’d have to build a fire over which to cook it. With only two of them, traveling alone, that was pure folly.

Of course if his brother’s men caught up to them it would solve that problem. But keeping up the charade that he was a Macrae and they were heading to Brathanead would be nigh on impossible.

When Ailsa returned, he gave her an oatcake and some of the remaining beef.

She took the food and sat on the ground with her back against a tree. “Thank ye, Lucas.”

“Ye’re welcome. Eat up and then we’ll try to get a bit of sleep.”

She frowned at him. “Aren’t ye eating too?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I’m not terribly hungry,” he lied. “All I’ve done today was sit on Captain’s back. That’s not enough to work up an appetite.”

When she had finished eating, he handed her his extra plaid.

“Thank ye.” She took it but her brow furrowed again.

“What troubles ye lass?”

“I was just thinking…ye’ve been so kind to me and this was probably meant to keep ye warm at night.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do worry and it’s big enough to wrap around both of us. Since we slept next to each other last night anyway…well, maybe we could both stay warmer if we share it.”

The offer surprised him, but he wouldn’t turn it down. “Aye, we would stay warmer. But Ailsa, not many noblewomen would make such an offer.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t see why not. We slept next to each other last night. It’s a cold night and that would seem to be a practical solution. There’s nothing wrong with keeping warm.”

He chuckled. “Aye. I can’t argue with that. But I’m a stranger to ye.”

She laughed. “No, ye aren’t. Ye’re Lucas Macrae and we’ve spent the day together getting to know one another. Besides, I trust ye.”

God’s bones. He wasn’t Lucas Macrae, he’d spent the day utterly avoiding letting her get to know him and she certainly shouldn’t trust him. He intended to ransom her, not take her to her home as she believed. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why do ye trust me?”

“Well, because ye risked yer life to save me. Ye didn’t have to do that. If those Galbraiths had awakened before we escaped, it would have been six to one and ye might have been killed.”

Might have been? It pleased him to know she considered that there was at least some chance he would have prevailed over six men.

Ailsa continued. “I figure any man who would do that wouldn’t be planning to hurt me. Besides, ye swore to keep me safe.”

He nodded. “And so I will. Aye, I’ll gladly share that plaid with ye.”

She smiled. “Good.” She glanced around. “I suppose this spot will do as well as any.” She spread the plaid on the ground and curled up near one edge of it.

He laid down behind her and pulled the rest of the plaid over them both.

Once again, she snuggled into him. “Good night, Lucas. Sleep well.”

He smiled at her sweet innocence. “Good night, Ailsa.”

She gave a deep sigh and he felt her relax. Soon her breathing became slow and even. She had fallen asleep.

Having her curled up, asleep, next to him felt very good. He could get used to this.

Damn it all to hell. Get thoughts like that out of yer mind. Whether she knew it or not, she was his captive being held for ransom. Nothing more.

~ * ~

Ailsa awoke the next morning feeling rested and refreshed. She blushed to admit it, but she liked sleeping next to Lucas Macrae. He was warm and solid and made her feel safe.

She liked traveling with him too. He didn’t mind talking to her. In fact, he had said he enjoyed it. She had been called a magpie often enough that it was wonderful to find someone who didn’t seem bothered by her chattiness. It made the second full day on the road with him as pleasant as the first. Today, they talked about dogs and horses and their favorite foods and more. It made the time absolutely fly by. When they stopped for the evening, she didn’t feel as if she had been in the saddle all day.

But then, truth be told, she hadn’t been. She had been comfortably on his lap the entire time and she had quite enjoyed that. The thought made her blush.

Once Lucas had chosen a place to camp, she excused herself to attend to nature’s call while he tended Captain. When she was finished and walking back to the spot where they would make camp for the night, her stomach growled. She was hungry and ready to eat. Frankly, it surprised her how little he ate. That morning he’d shared an apple with her and ate a single oatcake, then only ate an oatcake in the middle of the day. Come to think of it, he’d had nothing the night before. He said he wasn’t exerting himself as he normally would and therefore wasn’t hungry. But she wasn’t exerting herself either and she was hungry. In addition to the oatcakes and half an apple, she took the dried beef that he offered at every meal.

Then it struck her. He had been traveling alone. The food he brought for the journey now had to stretch to feed two people. He was giving her the food he’d meant for himself.

She frowned. He needed to eat too. She glanced around. Maybe there was something edible that she could gather for them. There was a stream close by—Lucas had told her he always camped close to water. Blackberry brambles often grew near streams. It was late in the year, but if she could find them, there might still be some berries left.

She listened for the sound of the water and headed towards it. When she reached the streambank she was thrilled to see brambles on the other side. The sun had set, but she could see well enough in the early twilight to pick berries if any were there.

The stream bank was about ten feet above the water. She scrambled down one side, lifted her skirt and stepped on stones to cross to the other side while keeping her feet dry. She climbed up the slightly steeper bank on the other side, finally reaching the blackberry bushes. To her delight, there were some berries left on the branches. Of course they were the ones that grew deep in the bushes and were dried and shriveled, but they were edible. She reached for one, picked it and popped it in her mouth. Aye, no great treat, but edible.

She reached deeper into the heart of the bush where most of the remaining berries were and plucked a couple more. As she pulled her hand out, her sleeve caught on the thorns. With her other hand, she pulled at the branch on which she was stuck. In the process her other sleeve snagged on a briar. She pulled a little, trying to loosen it, but couldn’t. Finally, she gave an almighty yank, successfully pulling her arms from the bush, but the sudden movement disturbed a bird that squawked loudly as it took flight. Startled, Ailsa stumbled backwards, lost her balance and fell down the steep bank, hitting her head on a rock at the bottom.

~ * ~

Lucas was beginning to get worried. Ailsa had been gone much longer than usual. She couldn’t be far so he called to her. “Ailsa?”

There was no answer. Where could she be? He had expected her to come right back. Now the twilight was deepening. Soon it would be dark and he hadn’t even paid terribly close attention to which direction she went.

“Ailsa!” he called again, louder this time.

He listened for a response and heard nothing. But just as he started to call for her again, he heard her scream. His blood ran cold as he tore through the forest towards the sound. He stopped to listen for her again but heard nothing. “Ailsa! Where are ye, lass?” Still, there was no response. He glanced around but could see no sign of her. As best he could tell, it sounded as if the scream had come from the direction of the stream, so he kept running until he reached the bank. To his dismay, ten feet below him in the water lay a crumpled Ailsa, blood oozing from the side of her head.

He was down the bank in an instant. When he reached her, he thanked the Almighty that she was still alive. Head injuries were always worrisome, but this one didn’t look too bad. It wasn’t very deep and the bleeding had already stopped. She didn’t appear to have any broken bones, so his most immediate concern was that she was completely soaked from the icy cold water of the mountain stream. He needed to get her warm and dry. He scooped her out of the water and holding her close carried her back to the campsite. He laid her down gently and began to undo the laces of her kirtle.

She moaned and began to stir.

“Ailsa, lass, are ye all right?”

“I fell.”

“Aye, ye did, lass. Ye’ve got a nasty bump on yer head and ye’re soaked to the skin.”

“I’m c-c-cold,” she said, shivering as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

“I know ye are and I’ll warm ye up, but we need to get this wet gown off ye first. Once ye’re dry, I’ll wrap ye in my plaid and start a fire. Ye’ll be toasty soon.”

Her fingers went to the laces, but cold as she was she couldn’t get them untied.

“Let me help ye, sweetling.” He unlaced her kirtle and without a second thought pulled it off her shoulders, down to her waist. She wore only a thin shift underneath.

“Y-y-ye c-can’t undress m-m-e,” she said, pushing his hands away.

But I can sleep next to ye? was on the tip of his tongue but he refrained. “Ailsa, if we don’t get ye dry, ye’ll freeze. Ye’re practically frozen already. Let me help ye.”

“N-nay. N-n-now that the l-laces are undone. I c-c-can d-do it m-myself. T-turn yer b-back.”

“All right. But take the shift off too. Ye can’t leave any wet clothes on.” He helped her stand before turning away from her. He removed the extra plaid from his bundle, as well as an extra léine and hose that he had packed.

“Here, put these on,” he said, turning back to her with the items. He intended to keep his gaze averted, but caught sight of her slender legs and could not stop himself from glancing up the full length of her. She was turned away but he saw her shapely backside, narrow waist, and for a moment caught a glimpse of the curve of her breast as she reached back to take the garments from him. Her creamy skin nearly glowed in the waning evening light. By the rood, she was a lovely creature.

He turned away again as she pulled his léine over her head. He needed to get his thoughts off of the beautiful, half-dressed woman…who trusted him. So, he began gathering wood for a fire. It could draw unwanted attention, but it was the only way to warm her sufficiently. He’d just have to stay awake and watchful.

By the time she had donned his overlarge garments and was enveloped in his plaid, he had the beginnings of a blaze started.

“I-I th-thought we c-couldn’t have a f-fire.”

“We have to warm ye up or ye’ll catch yer death. I think it’ll be all right for one night.”

Once the fire was burning steadily, he turned his attention back to her. “I want to clean that wee scratch on yer head now.” He picked up her damp shift. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything else to use. Can I tear a strip of fabric from this?”

“That’s fine.” Her shivering seemed to have stopped. “I’ll be home soon anyway.”

He knew she wouldn’t, but between both of his brothers’ wives, they would have clothes for her. He tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of the shift and tore it in half. Head wounds often bled quite a lot. He needed to see how bad it was to know how much of her shift he might need to use as a bandage. Squatting in front of her, he wet one half with the water from his costrel using it to wash away the blood and dirt from her injury. He used the other half to pat it dry gently.

“It’s not as bad as I feared. It has stopped bleeding. I don’t think we even need to put a bandage on it. It looks like ye might have an ugly bruise from it. That’s all.” He sat back on his heels and looked at her. She was a mess. The ribbon holding her hair had come off. Without it her braid was no match for her wild curls—it was almost completely undone. His léine was so big, it slid off one smooth, white shoulder. She yanked it back up only to have it slip down her other shoulder. She had a smudge on her nose, not to mention her injury. Still, she was lovely.

She smiled at him and it was so endearing it took his breath away.

“Thank ye, Lucas. Now, not only have ye rescued me from kidnappers, ye saved my life.”

He grinned at her. “Ye’re welcome. Now would ye care to tell me how ye ended up in the stream bed?”

A warm blush suffused her cheeks. “I noticed that we’re running out of food. I figure ye only brought enough for yerself and now ye’re having to share it with me. I thought I’d look for some blackberries.”

“Sweetling, blackberries ripen in August. It’s October now.”

“I know that, but sometimes ye can find dried berries left on the bush even into the winter. I saw the bushes on the other side of the stream and climbed up for a look.”

“Were there berries?”

“A few, but they were deep in the brambles and I caught my sleeve on the thorns. In the process of getting loose, I flushed a bird from the bush. It startled me and I lost my balance.”

“Ye could have broken yer neck.” He reached out and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. She had warm, beautiful brown eyes.

“But I didn’t.”

“Nay. Thank heaven for small blessings.”

~ * ~

Ailsa had never noticed Lucas’s eyes before. They were the deep blue of a summer sky. Aye, a cloudless summer sky, so blue it makes one’s heart ache with the beauty of it. He had been so gentle with her. So caring. He’d rescued her, given up his food for her, and now he’d saved her life.

Ailsa knew instantly that she was in love.

She thought she’d been in love before.

More than once.

A lot more than once.

Gillian always teased her about it, saying Ailsa fell in and out of love more often than they changed the rushes in the great hall.

But this time was different.

A little voice deep within her said, ye say that every time. But this was different. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before. She watched as he made a tripod out of long sticks, placing it near the fire. “What are ye doing?”

He smiled at her, picked up her dress and what remained of her shift and hung them over the tripod. “Making sure ye have dry clothes for tomorrow. Although ye look quite lovely in my léine, if we happened across anyone, ye might be more comfortable in yer own clothes.”

He was so thoughtful and he said she was lovely. Quite lovely, to be precise. “Thank ye.”

She curled up that night with her head on his lap. He said he wasn’t sleepy yet. Each time she woke during the night, he was still sitting up, his back against a tree and her head in his lap. The last time she woke—to leaden morning skies—he was no longer there and a delightful aroma filled the air. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and saw him crouching by the fire, roasting a rabbit.

“Ye went hunting?”

“Aye. But I didn’t venture far. I could see the fire the entire time. I figured it was worth a try although I really didn’t think I’d get anything. It was only by sheer luck that I found the rabbit.”

“I didn’t know ye had a bow with ye.”

“I don’t. But I’m rather good throwing a knife. I can usually bring down a rabbit with my dagger.”

“That’s impressive.” She inhaled deeply. “And it smells delicious.”

He winked at her. “I thought it might be a bit more filling than dried blackberries.”

She felt a blush warm her cheeks. “Aye, I suppose so.” She motioned to her injured head. “I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“Nay, lass. It was thoughtful of ye. I’m just sorry ye got hurt in the process.”

They ate half of the rabbit and he put the rest in the food bag. “We have an apple and some oatcakes left. That should be enough to feed us today. If we push our pace a little and the sky remains clear enough that we can see by the moonlight, we might be able to make it home late tonight.

Home tonight? That would be good. She could finally send a messenger back to Edinburgh to let Fingal know she was safe. Of course, Gillian would be angry with her, but she never stayed angry long. In the end, she’d be glad Ailsa had made it home safely. After that, Ailsa wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long rest in her own bed with Duff warming her feet.

She frowned when she realized that she had quite liked sleeping next to Lucas, with his solid form keeping the chill away and once they reached Brathanead, they’d part company.

She wasn’t ready for that. “When we get to Brathanead, ye should plan to stay for a few days.”

He smiled enigmatically. “And why would I do that?”

Aye, why would he do that? “Uh…after all ye’ve done for me…that is…the least I can do is offer ye a comfortable bed and see ye’re fed well. Besides, Laird MacLennan will want to thank ye for saving me and I suspect he won’t leave Edinburgh until he knows what happened to me. It’ll be days before he’s home.”

He nodded. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”