Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

F inding a way to escape MacKay was taking Mariota longer than she'd hoped it would. She couldn't free Valkyrie, claim a horse, and get all three out of the keep, herself included, without garnering too much notice. Her father had laid down the law with the guards. Under no circumstances was she to leave the keep. Not alone and not with anyone else, especially Seamus, who had been relegated to the nighttime watch, though perhaps to soften the blow, he'd been named chief of the watch. She was sorry for the trouble she'd caused him, but her da could have done worse.

Alber had been under the care of the healer. Despite all the blood Mariota had seen and her da's claim that he'd been found near death, his injuries were not as serious as she'd imagined. In Valkyrie's favor, he'd never look the same again, not that Mariota thought he'd been an attractive man to start with. Her hawk's claw marks would scar his neck. The chunks the raptor had torn out of his face would heal, but would leave unsightly pits on the side opposite the Harlaw scar. Bruises, though those would fade, further detracted from his appearance. So she'd been told. She hadn't been foolish enough to get anywhere near his chamber.

He was under no such compunction. Mariota found him waiting outside her chamber after the evening meal the day after he was brought back to the keep.

"What are ye doing here?" She shouted at him, hoping someone would hear and come to her aid.

"I've come to finish the business between us. Yer damned bird did this to me," he said and lifted a hand to his face, open wounds seeping still.

Hadn't the healer bandaged them? Or had he torn the covers off to try to frighten her with his grotesque appearance.

"She protected me."

"She's no' here now." He moved more quickly than she thought him capable of, grabbed her arm and forced her against the wall, his other hand splayed over her face, fingers gripping the sides of her head in a punishing show of strength she feared would crack her skull. "Ye are mine and ye owe me. I'll make ye hurt as yer damn bird hurt me, then I'll have ye."

Mariota tried to scream, but he flattened his palm against her nose and mouth, denying her breath. She was on her own. But she'd beaten him before, once by herself and once with Valkyrie's help. She'd do it again.

She tried to twist away, but it was a ruse and he fell for it, stepping wide to contain her as she writhed. With no mercy, she kneed him between the legs, surprised he fell for the same maneuver again.

His howl echoed down the hallway. She suspected it could be heard in the great hall. In moments, running footsteps proved her right.

"I owe ye naught and will never wed with ye," she spat. "I dinna ken what is wrong with ye. But ye got what ye deserved."

Two men reached her first, followed by two more and several women.

"He attacked me again," she said. "I stopped him."

The women took in Alber lying on the floor, hands between his legs cupping himself, tears mixing with the blood seeping from his face from his fall and laughed. "Ye got him good, lass."

"Get him away from me, please. Lock him in his chamber and tell my da."

"We'll take care of him," one of the men said, his frown at Alber promising something other than care. He nodded to the others and they dragged Alber down the hall toward the stairs. In moments, she heard the hard thump, thump, thump that told her they dragged him down them, too.

So, she wasn't the only one having trouble with him.

"Did he hurt ye?" One of the older women asked in a sympathetic tone, reaching out to touch her arm.

"He tried," Mariota told her and the others who remained. "I didna let him."

"Ye are a braw lass," one of the others said. "I canna imagine fighting off a man that size."

"Thank ye." Her pulse pounding in her ears, she added, "I'd like to go rest now, but later, I'll be happy to show ye what Cook taught me. Or ye can ask her." She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep them from seeing her tremble.

With understanding nods, they left her in her chamber. She locked the door and gave in to a fit of shakes, angry tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She was out of time. Once Alber recovered, no matter what her father might say or do, he'd come after her again.

A knock on her door startled her. Not Alber, please! Nay, he wouldn't knock. "Who is it?"

"Yer da sent me to guard yer door, lass. Ye'll be safe." She recognized the voice of one of the men who'd carried off Alber. So, she was confined to her chamber after all.

Left with no alternative, she waited until midnight, made a rope out of bedsheets and with her few belongings wrapped in a spare plaid tied on her back, climbed out of her window and down to the bailey. The night was quiet and the guards' attention was outside the walls, not inside, so she was able to sneak to the mews and free Valkyrie. Outside, she tossed her skyward, knowing the hawk would keep pace with her. If Mariota was caught, the hawk would return to the mews by morning. The stable tempted her, but she knew she'd never get out with her horse. Keeping to the shadows, she hurried to the postern gate, and once through it, made her way on foot to the village, staying under the trees and out of sight of the guards on the keep's walls. She knew the value of a horse to each villager, and she hated to do it, but she was desperate. She saddled and stole one she knew, vowing to return it as soon as she could. After leading it quietly away from the village and the MacKay keep before mounting it, she rode into the night.

Stellan and his men continued to hunt, making their way slowly back toward the keep with the buck tied over the back of one of the horses. They'd stopped only once to field dress the buck when he was certain they were far enough into Sutherland territory the MacKays wouldn't dare follow. Hoisting it up by its hind legs and a rope slung over a tree branch, they cut its throat and drained its blood, gutted it and left the entrails for the local predators. Then they'd moved away and found a spot near a burn to get some sleep before continuing their journey home.

Stellan woke to a guard's hand on his shoulder, early sunlight in his eyes, and the sound of a horse moving nearby rustling in the undergrowth beyond their camp, headed their way. With no fire to warn of their presence, he expected the rider would be on them in moments. He stood and toed two more men awake. "Someone's coming," he told them quietly.

They nodded, got up, and soundlessly reached for weapons.

Stellan bit back an oath when a lass on a stocky draft horse stumbled on their camp. She looked half asleep and barely aware enough of her surroundings to avoid getting knocked off by tree branches as she rode. Her mount looked more suited to pulling a plow than carrying a rider. This lass was no threat to anyone but herself. Why was she out here alone?

"Lass," he said softly as he grasped the horse's bridle to keep her from jerking awake and galloping away. They were covered in the stag's blood and would frighten her when she noticed it.

Then she shifted and dark eyes glinted, peering out from the edge of her cloak. Against her chest, a hawk in jesses gripped her sleeve.

Suddenly, the lass became much more interesting. What was she doing with the raptor?

"What? Ach!" Her eyes widened as she took in her situation. "Who are ye? Let me go."

"I'll let ye go when ye are awake enough to ride safely. I'm Stellan. Who are ye?"

She studied him, her eyes widening as she took in his and his men's bloody clothes. No amount of dunking in a shallow burn would remove all of it, though they'd tried.

"Did ye kill the men following me?"

"Men are following ye? Who?"

"MacKays." She looked around as if looking for a way out.

Tormund came up and gave her a nod before turning to Stellan. "Likely 'tis why that lot were so close to our border last night, aye? Searching for her and found our buck."

"We havena killed anyone but a buck, lass, and ye are safe with us. Now, who are ye?"

"Mariota. I'm… lost, I think. Can ye help me?"

Stellan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What are ye doing lost in the woods alone?" No lass in her right mind would venture out with nothing but a hawk for company. Or protection?

"I wasna safe where I came from."

Not safe at MacKay? What had happened there to send her out into the night? "'Tis lucky ye found us. We're headed home to Sutherland," he said and nodded toward the buck's body tied over one of the horses. "Come with us and we'll see ye taken care of. But first, let's get ye down. We're about to break our fast. Ye must be hungry."

"I am," she told him and tried to dismount, but the weight of her hawk made her movements awkward and dangerous.

If she fell, she could be hurt, and so could her raptor, so Stellan reached for her waist. She nodded and clung to her hawk while he lifted her down, her arms wrapped around it to keep it still. He held her waist, her slender form burning his hands until she seemed steady on her feet. Once she was off her horse, he realized she was tall enough that the top of her head reached his jaw. Her chestnut hair blazed with golden highlights in the sunrise, her coloring much like her hawk's. A sensation Stellan had long suppressed filled his chest with heat that radiated throughout his body. He hadn't felt attraction like this in months, certainly not for a lass he'd just met. But her large eyes, the color of woodland moss, held him in thrall as she looked up at him, studying him much as he did her. He forced himself to release her. She was a lass who needed his help. Scratched and limping as they made their way into the camp, she couldn't continue her escape on her own. But where was she going? For a moment, he considered whether she'd stolen the hawk, but her clothes were too rich for a serving lass on the run, and the hawk tolerated her touch. This lass was someone of substance.

He helped her to a seat on a log near the fire someone had stirred back to life. "We have trail rations," he told her. "Oatcakes and dried meat and the like."

"I'm grateful for anything ye can share," she told him. "I had to leave too urgently to gather many supplies."

"Is that why ye are limping?"

"Nay, I twisted my ankle a wee getting down to a burn for some water during the night. 'Tisna bad." She demonstrated by turning her booted foot one way, then the other.

He noted the quality of the leather and workmanship. Not something a serving lass would own. "Where were ye thinking to go, lass?"

She accepted the food one of his men brought to them, shrugged and took a bite of oatcake. "I thought to reach Inverness. Or Sterling, perhaps."

Inverness was rebuilding after Domnhall burned down much of it on his way to Aberdeen and the battle at Harlaw last summer. It was not a fit place for a lass alone. But Sterling? To the royal court? He contented himself with asking her, "Alone?" He couldn't get past the idea that she was mad— or that desperate. There were a lot of mountains between here and her goal. And a lot of dangers. But he held his tongue, wanting to hear what she would reveal— and how she expected to survive.

"With Valkyrie, I would never starve. And I'm hard to kill," she added softly, as though to herself.

"One well-timed arrow and ye would truly be on yer own," Stellan observed. Even he and Anders took precautions when they traveled for the clan. Including men and weapons. As many as they could reasonably carry. He'd seen no sign of any with Mariota. But perhaps she sought to hide any she carried because, once again, she was surrounded by men— strangers this time —and was afraid they might try to do her harm like the MacKay soldier

"I nearly was. That is how the fight started with the guard. He shot at Valkyrie. Thank the saints he missed."

"Yet he and his men are after ye?" Why did he get the sense that she was holding back something important?

"I wounded him. He sought retribution and I had to hurt him again. I wasna safe at home any longer."

This lass harmed a MacKay guard, twice? Perhaps she was mad. "I'm sorry for that. Could ye no' appeal to the MacKay?"

"I tried." She huffed out a breath. "He didna believe I could best one of his favored warriors."

Stellan leaned back to study her. "I mightna either, save that ye are here." Travel-worn and weary, she was still lovely. Something about her made him want to put his hands on her again. He clenched his jaw and laid them on his lap instead.

She made a moue of her mouth. "I had nay choice but to leave," she said and bit into a chunk of dried meat, then went about chewing it, effectively halting her side of the conversation.

Stellan knew she'd never make Inverness or Sterling with nothing for protection or supplies but her hawk. She'd be safe at Dunrobin, and could live there in comfort until such time as she revealed more about herself, until someone sent for her from MacKay, or until they could send her onward with an escort. Stellan knew he was taking a dangerous step— MacKay could say he stole the lass —but her plaintive tale gained his sympathy and his cooperation.

"Ye will come with us to Dunrobin," he told her. "Ye will be safe there and welcome for as long as ye wish to stay."

"I dinna expect that?—"

"'Twould be best if ye didna appear to be a lass as we travel," he told her, cutting short her objection. She should be as familiar with Highland hospitality as he, and know that she could count on Sutherland aid.

She turned those moss-green eyes on him, one eyebrow arched in… what? Query? Or disbelief? It didn't matter. He wanted to lose himself in her gaze.

"Aye?"

Her question broke his concentration on the color of her eyes. Moss green, yes, but with flecks of brown like fallen bits of bark on a mossy rock.

"What should I appear to be?"

He realized she was teasing when the corner of her mouth crooked up.

"A sprite would do, I suppose," he said, going along with her jest. "Though I think ye are too tall to be convincing. Perhaps a tree, then?"

She snorted. "With a hawk perched on a limb, aye?" She held her hawk out to one side, her arm extended.

"That looks tiring. Suppose we simply lend ye some clothes and ye can look like a lad. Tuck yer hair up in a bonnet and from a distance, nary a man will be the wiser."

She nodded her agreement.

"How did ye come by having Valkyrie with ye?"

"The usual way. I found an egg in a nest up a tree. I used to be quite good at climbing when I was a lass." Her expression grew solemn, even sad.

Stellan assumed it was because proper young lasses were not allowed to indulge in activities like climbing trees.

"I raised her from the egg," she told him between bites of food, and with little encouragement from him, told him how the MacKay hawk master had taught her to train Valkyrie, and how they had bonded.

Stellan enjoyed how when she spoke about something she clearly loved, she became more animated.

"She is one of the best hunters among MacKay's mews."

He started to ask her who she really was, when Tormund brought a set of clothes for her to change into. She took the spare clothes with polite thanks, and walked behind some undergrowth to change.

Her limp seemed less pronounced already, giving Stellan hope that she'd soon lose it altogether.

When she returned, he handed her a man's bonnet to hide her hair. They might be unlucky enough to happen upon MacKay men foolish enough to be heading south, looking for her on Sutherland land.

She twisted her hair into a loose braid, tucked the thick strand into the bonnet and pulled it onto her head.

Stellan hid his disappointment. He could think of several fantasies involving that hair, but it was hidden now, out of sight and touch. "I think ye will do," he told her, though she'd had to roll up her sleeves to reveal her hands. And the leggings were similarly shortened to keep her from tripping over them. From a distance, she'd look like a lad in an older, larger brother's clothes. Up close, she was all lass, and Stellan was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from her form that the clothes revealed. God help him if she turned around.

Tormund joined them and nodded. "Ye could be a ghillie, helping with the hunt. 'Tis good, Stellan."

Mariota smiled at Tormund's comment. "'Tis? Good. Are these yer clothes? My thanks."

"One of the other lad's," Stellan said, unreasonably jealous of the smile she'd turned on Tormund. "He'll get them back when we get ye settled at Dunrobin."

"Thank him for me, nonetheless," she said.

Stellan's estimation of her rose higher. "Do ye need more time to rest? Ye were half asleep when ye arrived."

"Nay, I am restored. Thanks to ye. Let's keep moving and get more miles between me and MacKay."

It still bothered him that the MacKay had not protected a mere lass against one of his fighting men, which meant there had to be more to Mariota's story than she had revealed. Though by her clothes and the hawk she carried, she seemed to be no mere lass. But he admired her spirit and liked her manners. And then there was the heat that filled his belly— and lower —every time she met his gaze. He wanted to know more, to spend more time with her, and the best way to do both of those things was to take her home to Dunrobin.

If MacKay men were truly pursuing her, he'd just as soon get her behind Dunrobin's walls and out of danger. That applied to him and his men as well. He wasn't eager to have to protect her during a fight with an unknown number of MacKays. So Stellan kept them moving, glad the trip back to Dunrobin's large tower house went much faster than the trip out. They weren't meandering around the countryside on the trail of the huge buck, but rode straight through to the Sutherland keep and arrived just after midday.

When they reached Dunrobin's bailey, Stellan helped Mariota dismount, as he had when she'd stumbled across the Sutherland camp, with Valkyrie secure against her chest. Now, as then, the span of his large hands on her waist made her insides melt. She'd never seen a more handsome man, not one who appealed to her the way he did. His thick, dark hair had a touch of curl at the ends, enough to give it a wild, unkempt look, especially after he ran a hand through it. His shoulders were broad, his arms and chest well-muscled, his legs long and as well-muscled as the rest of him. Looking at him made her think of the tales she'd heard from her married friends. What would it be like to kiss him? And more? Who was he at Sutherland? The head huntsman? If so, he'd be important enough to be considered a candidate to betroth with her. She might like that very much indeed.

She realized all the while she'd been admiring him, his hands still spanned her waist. His thumbs had begun to stroke the sides of her abdomen, sending tingles spiraling into her chest while he studied her. She put her free hand over one of his, reluctant to stop his simple caress, but a few seconds more and people would start to notice. The bailey was bustling and she noticed no few gazes on them as people passed. Were they what caught the interest, or simply the way she was dressed? "Thank ye, Stellan. I'm quite steady now."

He dropped his hands to his sides, then lifted one to run through his hair, mussing it further. "Sorry, lass." He looked Mariota over once again. Making certain she could stand on her own? Then he glanced up and waved a hand. "Ah, Nan," he called out.

A lovely young woman approached, and Mariota's heart dropped into her belly. His wife? Mistress?

"Stellan," she said, her voice throaty and soft as she said his name. "Who do ye have here?"

"Mariota MacKay, my cousin, Nan. If ye would, Nan, please find the steward and help him get Mariota settled in a guest chamber. With a bath," he added, glancing at her. After she nodded, he continued, "and a tray from Cook sent up to her. I ken we're late for the midday meal."

"'Tis lovely to meet ye," Mariota ventured, not certain she or Nan could pull their attention from her cousin.

But Nan surprised her, turning to fully face her and smiling warmly. "And I ye, as well. Let's get ye comfortable. We'll have time to get acquainted after ye have had a chance to rest."

Mariota liked that idea. But she turned to Stellan before Nan led her away. "Thank ye. Ye and yer men have been more than kind. To whom do I return these clothes?"

"Nan will get them back to me. I'll take care of them." He was staring at her chest. Nay, not at her. "Ach, Valkyrie!" Mariota was so distracted, she'd nearly walked off with her hawk.

"I ken ye are weary, lass. If she'll accept me handling her, I'll take her to the hawk master in the mews and have him settle her there," Stellan promised. "She'll be well cared for."

"I'd like to meet him. If I may take a moment, I need my things, too."

"Of course."

He helped her retrieve her pack. She took it from him, dropped it, and bent to search within it. In a moment, she found what she sought, slipped the hood over the hawk's head and secured it. "I've got her."

"Ye're certain ye dinna want me to take her?"

"She's my responsibility," Mariota told him. She might be tired, but so was everyone else. "I willna leave Valkyrie's care to a stranger. Once I meet him, once I see her safe, I can rest."

Stellan nodded, understanding plain in his approving smile. "Come with me, then. Nan? Can ye join us?"

"Of course." She bent to retrieve Mariota's pack, but Stellan took it from her and led them to the mews.

"We house our own hunting hawks and falcons here," Stellan told her when they reached it. "I'll see if Ian is within."

"I'm here," a middle-aged man said, exiting the door to the mews. "One of the lads told me ye might have a guest for me."

"I do," Mariota told him and introduced herself.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on a lass in a lad's clothing.

"Ian Sutherland," Stellan told her. "Sutherland's hawk master these past fifteen years, aye?" At Ian's nod, he continued. "Since my brother Anders and I were lads. While she's here," he told Ian, "Mariota needs a safe place for Valkyrie."

Mariota pulled aside her cloak and displayed her raptor.

"Hooded. Wise lass. She's calm with ye."

Mariota smiled at the praise. It was certainly something she was unused to. "Thank ye."

"Let's get her settled, aye?" Ian opened the door and gestured them inside.

Mariota stepped into the structure, dim save for shafts of light slanting through tightly spaced bars on a large window. Perches at different heights were occupied by hooded birds, but several stood empty. Ian led her to one away from the occupied perches. "'Twill do, I think."

"It will do nicely," Mariota agreed and shifted Valkyrie to the perch. She removed the hood long enough for her raptor to have a look around, and to see and sense the hawk master, then she replaced the hood.

"I'll see her fed and watered while ye rest, lass," Ian told her. " Dinna fash for yer bird."

"Thank ye." Relieved, she turned to Stellan. "Valkyrie is in good hands, as ye said she would be."

"Let's get ye settled, too," Stellan told her. "Thank ye, Ian," he added before gesturing for Mariota and Nan to precede him out of the mews.

Nan took her hand, a gesture she found reassuring. It struck Mariota that everyone here seemed calm, even happy. She saw none of the tension or conflict that seemed a normal part of life at MacKay. Surely there had to be some here. She'd give Stellan time to show her the real Sutherland.

"Nan will take care of ye," Stellan said after they'd gone a few paces. "I need to see to the horses and help with the buck before I come in."

Mariota nodded, grateful for the attention he'd already given her. "Thank ye, Stellan," she told him. "For everything."

She and Nan headed across the bailey toward the keep's door just as another man came out— one who looked exactly like Stellan.

Mariota stopped dead, twisted around to make sure Stellan had not somehow gotten around her and into the keep and back out again. Nay, he was still with the horses and his men. Fighting to keep her mouth from falling open, she hissed, "Dear God, there are two of them?"

Nan laughed and called out. "Anders, come meet Mariota. Mariota, this is Stellan's twin."

"What a lovely lass ye have brought me," Anders said, stopping to take her hand and bow over it. "Mariota?" He looked her up and down and grinned.

"MacKay," she managed to say without stammering.

"Stellan just returned from the hunt with her," Nan told him. "Lass, I ken ye have a story to tell, but perhaps it should wait until after ye have a chance to rest."

And have time to absorb the fact that there were two devastatingly handsome Sutherland men for her to feast her eyes on. "Aye," she managed to say. "Thank ye."

"I look forward to seeing more of ye," Anders said with a grin. Mariota glanced back as Nan led her away. Anders stood watching them walk away. So did Stellan, visible beyond his brother's shoulder. She whipped her head forward and took a breath.

"One of them is good looking enough, but two? More than a lass can take, aye?" Nan teased.

"Much more," Mariota agreed and put a hand over her heart.