Chapter Three

A group of people were gathered on the opposite side of the woods from where Alexander had been attacked the day before. Alexander looked over to his cousin, Knox, noting the archer's angry expression. By the way Knox gripped the horse's reins tight in his fist and scowled, he barely kept control of his fury.

On the ground, a man and woman were surrounded by several people. A messenger had come to the keep informing them that a couple had been attacked.

Everyone's attention turned to him as Alexander neared, most of them stepping over the man who lay dead near the edge of the trees.

Dismounting, he and Knox walked to the couple. "Are either of ye harmed?"

The man shook his head. "No, we are nae," he replied looking to the woman who clung to him. "They came from nowhere, approached, and said we were to die." The man continued to calmly describe all that had occurred, from the trio of men coming upon them with swords drawn to an archer saving their lives.

Immediately, Alexander wondered if once again Nala had been lurking in the woods and had been the one to save the couple from demise.

He pushed the thoughts away; the lass wouldn't be so foolish to do it again. The day she'd happened upon him, she'd claimed to be out practicing her archery, and yet, he considered it could have been a lie.

Alexander assured the couple he would do what he could to see to it the men were caught and punished. Silently, he scanned the area wondering why the attackers had come to yet another part of Ross lands.

"Do ye think it is the same men?" Knox asked him.

Alexander shook his head. "It is possible. Although two men were injured who attacked me. It has been reported many times that groups of at least six men ride together. It is surprising that once again they are in the same place."

Knox shook his head. "If they are a group large enough to split in two, why not attack as a whole?"

"Because they have no battle knowledge. Are nae prepared, instead attack as they see fit without thinking," Alexander surmised.

It was well known that Clan Ross guards patrolled in groups of four. If these men numbered eight or more, why not take on the guards?

Seeming to read his thoughts, Knox shook his head. "They attack randomly because they'd rather cause discord between ye and the people. How better than for innocents to die and the people begin to believe more and more that ye failed to protect them."

Alexander nodded. "It is what I think as well."

Upon them nearing the small group that had gathered, the people's feelings were obvious. With either looks of disappointment or open dislike, they barely acknowledged his presence. Some turned to walk a short distance away, yet unable to leave because of curiosity, while others gave barely perceptive nods of greeting. It was definitely a cool reception of their laird.

The dead man was not one of the men who'd attacked him. Alexander lowered to get a better look, studying the slight man. It was evident to him that the man had not been a warrior. Two arrows protruded from his body, one on the lower right side and one through his chest.

A man neared and handed Knox a sword. "It belonged to him, I suppose."

"No emblem," Knox observed looking to Alexander. "We ken these men are nae Clan Ross, there is only one other clan that we have fought with, why try to remain unknown?"

The day before his cousin had attempted to track the men who'd attacked Alexander. The trail of blood had led them to an abandoned encampment. By the items left behind, the group had left in a hurry. Probably to seek a healer to help with the two injured.

Since they'd no doubt bandaged up the men to staunch the blood loss, the trail soon became impossible to track as it merged onto a well-traveled road.

"Put him onto the cart," Alexander instructed motioning to the body, then he looked to his men. "We will deliver him to Armandale, where I am sure he hailed from."

Alexander strode to his horse where an older man stood by. The man looked him up and down, by the dour expression found him lacking. "It is fortunate that there is a mysterious archer who does his best to save us from harm since the lot of ye have nae helped in the least."

"Aye, I am told a family was attacked near the river and a mysterious archer drove the attackers away," a woman called out.

He didn't give the woman any credence. Rumors of attacks were running rampant. Most of the time there were no bodies or witnesses coming forward to confirm it had occurred.

What could he say? That he was as frustrated as they were. It was proving impossible to find the men when they obviously had an entire village helping them to remain hidden. No matter how many times he and Munro had approached the people, no one in the village of Armandale was willing to divulge any information.

The dead man was loaded onto the back of a cart that was headed toward the village that used to be Mackinnon lands.

After defeating Laird Mackinnon and his warriors, the lands there had fallen under Clan Ross ownership. His brother, Munro, had taken over the keep and surrounding villages as a newly established laird.

Although he'd made a lot of progress gaining the loyalty of most of the people by treating them fairly and lowering taxes, there were still many who harbored ill will against Clan Ross. During the many years of battles, they'd lost fathers, sons, and brothers to Ross swords.

Alexander suspected the attackers were people who wanted to avenge the dead. No matter how noble these men thought their cause was, he would never allow the persecution of innocents. Like the man in the cart, those responsible for attacking his clan's people would all pay with their lives.

Leaving Knox behind to begin tracking the assailants, Alexander and several of his men rode in silence behind the wagon with the body. Each of them with the same set expression. Their jaws tight with frustration. Their gaze straight ahead.

"Is it possible that the same archer who saved this couple was the one who helped ye?" asked Hendry, one of his warriors.

"I doubt it," Alexander replied truthfully. "The arrows are different."

Hendry's eyebrows rose. "It could be we have our own band of men seeking vengeance on our side."

Alexander turned to his friend. "How does this person ken where the attackers will be? It seems impossible that this person just happens to be where the attacks occur?"

"Perhaps one of their group has turned against them," one of the guards replied.

"That idea has merit," Alexander told the guard.

Upon arriving at the village, the dead man was quickly identified, and they were told where his family lived.

The man had no wife and lived in a small cottage next to his parents' home. A group of people had already gathered, which meant they'd been informed of the man's death.

Two men approached the wagon and without a word began to unload the dead man. Alexander walked to them. "Ye dinnae seemed surprised to find out about this man's death." He studied the bearded man intently. "Who told ye?"

The man grunted, his eyes sliding to glance up at Alexander before looking back to the task at hand. "We were nae informed. The reason for the gathering is that we planned to go out and search for him."

"Aye, his parents were worried after he'd nae returned home."

The men's statement made sense; however, it was not believable. Especially since it was so late in the day and they'd yet to set out.

Walking behind the men carrying the body, Alexander stopped in the doorway of the humble home and peered into the dim interior.

An older woman, with a sorrowful expression, directed the men to place the body upon a table, whilst another man of about the same age as the woman motioned for Alexander to enter.

"Please sit down," the man stated in a raspy voice. "Thank ye for bringing my son home." Pulling out a dingy rag, the man mopped his face.

"Were ye aware he'd been killed whilst attacking innocent people?" Alexander asked.

There was a flash of annoyance on the man's face before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they were calm. Flat. "We prayed he would be alive. We were just meeting to discuss a search." The man slid a look to the table his son had been placed upon.

"He was a good and loyal son," the man stated.

The phrasing of the man's words made Alexander hesitate. Why had the man chosen to describe his son as being loyal?

"Loyal to whom?" Alexander asked.

The old man shrugged, a smile curving his mouth his hand waving Alexander's question away as if it was of little importance. "Loyal to his family…"

It sounded as if the man was going to add something else, but he stopped and once again wiped his face.

Since the man persisted in his silence, Alexander tried a different question. "Who did he go riding with?"

"My son went alone," the man said and went to stand by the table where the body was. It was obvious he wouldn't say more.

Still, Alexander tried. "Ken that whoever is attacking the people of my clan will end up dead. I have a powerful army of trained warriors. These men…"—he motioned to the dead man—"have little chance against us."

The man met his gaze. "There is naught to be done about it, my son is dead, Laird Ross."

Alexander went to the doorway and spoke loudly so everyone could hear. "Ken this. Those who come against my people will be found and will pay with their lives."

Other than an exchange of glances, no one spoke. How could they be so blind and defiant? Their lives were so much better now that his brother had taken over. They had more freedom than ever. Their taxes were lower. Their lives were better. And yet, they persisted in their grudge against Clan Ross.

Outside the home, he went to his horse and glanced around at the people who'd begun to gather.

He thought about repeating the threat but didn't. They were going to protect the men who were killing innocents, out of loyalty or fear. Perhaps both. It didn't matter, they'd not speak to him, especially not in front of witnesses.

His men, who'd patrolled the small area returned. By the looks of resignation, they too had been unsuccessful in gathering information.

"They insist the man had gone to hunt alone and that he's never ridden in a group," one of his warriors stated.

Hendry, a large muscular Ross warrior gave those gathered a menacing look. Several seemed to shrink under his direct gaze. "Tell those who enter our lands with ill intent that we are waiting for them."

Although the people seemed intimidated, no one said a word.

Riding back in the direction of where the attack had occurred, they met up with Knox, who'd tracked the blood droplets in the direction of Armandale, the village they'd just come from.

After Alexander informed Knox of everything that had occurred, the archer gave a weary sigh. "The easiest way to capture the attackers is to catch them in the act. Unfortunately, it is hard to predict where they go."

"We can set a trap," Alexander stated. He blew out a frustrated breath. "A warrior can dress as a farmer and drive a wagon on the roads near Armandale. We can have extra men on the back of the wagon, covered with hay or sacks."

"That could work," Knox said, his tone was without inflection. Meaning, his cousin doubted the plan would actually work.

"For now, I think they will take time before venturing out again. They have injuries and a death to deal with. I believe this mystery archer has served to deter any attacks for now," Alexander added. "That gives us time to plan for three wagons a day on different roads."

When they returned down the road to where the attack happened, it was as if nothing had occurred at all. The road was empty, and everyone had gone.

Knox frowned down at the dirt. "Several of us will remain here and plan the best routes to use and try to lure the attackers."

"I will leave ye to it then," Alexander replied.

When his personal guards attempted to come with him, he waved them away. "Help Knox, that is our priority at the moment. I am visiting a family and then going to the keep. There is nae any threat."

It was not long before he arrived on Maclaren lands. An expansive house sat centered between good-sized stables on one side and planted fields on the other. Sheep and several cows roamed freely on a green hillside through which a narrow stream flowed.

The house was built on a hill overlooking the shore. He'd always liked this particular place that was well served by the sea, a stream, and a pond that fed into it. In addition, there was plenty of land surrounding the house.

As he rode down the path toward the Maclaren home, memories of coming there during his childhood formed. He recalled running down that very path toward the house after a day of meandering in the woods with his brothers, Munro and Gavin, while the youngest, Cynden, and Nala did their best to keep up.

It had never occurred to him that Nala would one day leave for ten long years. As a matter of fact, when her parents had announced her imminent departure his youngest brother, Cynden, had been devastated at the loss of his close friend.

There was about a ten-year age difference between Alexander and Nala, so he'd not been too bothered by her leaving. On the cusp of manhood, he had other things on his mind. Proving himself, chasing after pretty young girls, and learning to properly wield a sword. Yet every so often, he'd thought about Nala and wondered what had become of her.

Upon arriving at the Maclaren home, a lad hurried to take the horse's reins, greeting him with open awe. "Laird, I will take good care of yer mount."

Alexander nodded at the lad. "Just water. He will be fed at the keep."

The front door opened as he approached, Nala's parents, Calum and Kamila, stood in the doorway.

Nala's mother was born on an island that Alexander had never heard of. Kamila described it as a place where all the people had brown skin and curly hair. She said the weather was always warm, the skies were clear, and the water a rich clear blue.

Her father, Calum, a tall man with bright blue eyes swept his arm toward the inside of the home. "I am delighted to see ye. Have nae seen much of ye since ye became laird," he said with a wide grin.

Kamila seemed genuinely glad he was there, greeting him with a warm hug. "I am so happy ye are here. I am planning a gathering to celebrate Nala's return. I planned to come visit yer mother, but time has gotten away from me. Be sure she knows to come along with ye and yer brothers."

He followed the couple into the main room, which was furnished quite uniquely compared to most of the other homes on Skye. According to his mother, they'd brought back many of the furnishings and decor from Kamila's home island.

"What brings ye," Nala's father asked. "Has something happened?"

Alexander glanced toward a doorway. "Have ye heard of the attacks?"

"Aye, a terrible thing," the man replied.

Kamila shook her head. "Such a pity. We hear it is on the other side of the lands, closer to Mackinnon lands."

"The last ones have been not too far from here," Alexander informed them.

At once the woman's eyes widened. "We should nae allow Nala to ride out alone."

"Where is she?" Alexander asked, glad they'd mentioned her.

Kamila shook her head. "Gone to Sencha MacTavish's house. They take turns visiting each other. She should return shortly. It is but a short distance to the MacTavish's. Do ye think it is safe?"

"Despite it being a short distance, she is alone, and it is dangerous. Perhaps from now on, send someone with her and advise Sencha's family to do the same," Alexander said knowing Nala would be cross at hearing that he warned her parents against her riding out alone.

A servant entered with a tray and placed mugs in front of Alexander and Calum. Kamila already had a small goblet in front of her, which he assumed was honeyed mead.

"Ye must stay for a meal," Calum stated.

Alexander took a drink of the fresh ale. "I cannae unfortunately. I was riding past and wished to inform ye of what occurred this morning. It was a husband and wife on their way home from Tokavaig. The attacks are unprovoked, for no apparent reason other than to create fear."

The couple exchanged worried looks. "What about yer men?" Kamila asked.

"Patrols are out every day. I assure ye, we are doing our best and they will be caught. Already several of them have been injured or killed." He left out the part where some of that was because of the mysterious archer.

Kamila clasped her hands in front of her chest. "We should send someone to escort her back home."

Alexander stood. "I am going in that direction," he lied. "I will see about Nala and bring her back."

There was a twinkle in her mother's eyes. "I am sure she will be glad to see ye after so long and also for the company of such a handsome young man like yerself."

Alexander frowned. Nala did not tell them they'd seen each other the day before. He realized she'd not because the lass kept her forays into the forest secret.

The couple followed him to the door, peppering him with questions about the attacks and about what his plans were. Finally, he was able to break away after reminding them he must see about Nala.

Alexander rode toward the MacTavish's home hoping not to have to knock on the door and have to visit the family, where once again he would be forced to drink ale and converse.

Relief flooded upon seeing Nala riding toward him. Atop the horse, back straight, hair pulled back, she seemed more a warrior than a delicate young lass.

Upon nearing, he noted the slight frown between her brows. She was definitely not happy to see him.

"Why are ye here?" It was not exactly a warm greeting, but he ignored it.

"Yer parents told me ye were out visiting the MacTavish's," he replied in an even tone, noting the long bow tied to the horse's saddle and the quiver of arrows slung across her back. There were plenty of arrows, so he wondered again if it might have been her who'd saved the couple.

She glanced down to her bow and lifted a challenging brow. "I was indeed at the MacTavish's most of the day."

"Nala, I must ask. Were ye on the east side of the forest this morning?"

"I left my home to visit my friend, Sencha, late morning," she replied motioning to the road that wound from where they were over a slight hill. "There is no forest along the way."

For a moment, he met her challenging gaze. "There was another attack. Or if I were to believe the rumors, there were two."

Her eyes widened. "That is horrible."

"Aye, it is," Alexander replied.

Her plump lips parted as she let out a breath. "Was anyone killed?" Her eyes met his in what seemed like genuine curiosity mingled with sadness.

The depth of her eyes pulled him in, and Alexander found it impossible to look away. "The couple attacked says they think an archer killed one of the attackers. The same archer saved them." He kept eye contact with her. "It made me think of how ye helped me."

She splayed her hand over her chest. "That is good news that the innocent people are safe. One of yer archers perhaps?"

Alexander had already questioned all his men. None had admitted to being the vigilante, but several admitted they would consider it now.

"Ye should nae be out riding alone. I informed yer parents about the attacks and yer father stated he will nae allow ye to be out without escort."

Nala frowned, eyes narrowing, but she remained silent. It was obvious she wasn't pleased that her future outings could possibly be limited. She guided her horse around him and continued in the direction of her home.

Her reaction was not surprising, as even as a child she'd been fiercely independent and obviously remained the same. Nala was a woman who had a hard time accepting being told what she could and couldn't do.

Alexander brought his horse alongside her ignoring the glare she directed at him. "I have every right to ensure the people on the lands are safe. It is my duty to the clan"

"I understand yer lairdship." Nala looked up at the sky. "Should ye not be out hunting for the attackers?"

He ignored the question. "If this vigilante is ye. It will only lead to dire consequences. I fear for ye. Allow my men and I to catch and do away with the attackers."

Nala opened her mouth to say something, but then she clamped it shut. The ire in her expression spoke volumes and he could sense she'd held her tongue only because he was her laird.

In a way he hated to dampen her spirit and although he did not have romantic feelings toward the lass, the need to protect her from harm was stronger than he could explain. Perhaps it had to do with knowing her since childhood.

She dismounted and pointed to the ground, so he followed suit, perplexed. She released the hold on her horse's reins and stomped closer to him. For a moment Alexander thought she planned to strike him. Instead, she pressed a finger into the center of his chest.

"I am nae a delicate lass that sits indoors simpering and sewing, or whatever it is they do. Not now, nor will I ever be happy to be kept away from this." She motioned around them, arms outstretched. "I am sure upon my return, Father will nae allow me to ride alone."

When she lifted up on her toes and once again pressed the same finger into his chest, Alexander's eyebrows shot up. He had to admit having her standing so close threw him off-balance. The intense way she glared up at him made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her. Had she been kissed before?

Just then he gathered she'd continued speaking and he'd not realized it.

"…Now because of these attacks, Mother will do her best to convince Father to send some sort of escort with me." She'd flattened her hand against his chest, not seeming to notice how intimate the gesture was. "I understand. Of course I do, but at the same time, I am very careful."

When she took a breath, Alexander bent at the waist to look her in the eye.

"What would it matter if ye had an escort. If ye are nae the vigilante, then it should nae be much of a hindrance."

Nala was silent for a moment. He almost smiled at how obvious it was that she considered how to reply.

When she didn't, he continued. "If ye continue to venture out alone, ye will be attacked. Perhaps ye can shoot from a tree, or hill, or even from a distance. But what will ye do if caught on horseback? Ye will be easy prey."

At a loss for words, Nala stared at him, eyes narrowing, breathing hard.

He covered her hand with his, and her eyes flew wide, and lips parted as she took a breath.

Surprisingly, Nala didn't move her hand but looked up at him with what looked like curiosity.

"Ye can be killed. Ye cannae possibly fight off a group of armed men. Do ye understand why I worry about ye?" Alexander asked in a soft voice.

Nala snatched her hand from under his and for a moment they stared at each other, neither wishing to be the first to look away.

Finally, Nala broke eye contact and went back to her horse. "I can ride the rest of the way without escort. Ye can see my house from here. I am sure ye have more important lairdly things to do than to follow me about." With a curt nod, she galloped away toward her home.

Alexander's lips curved; it would take a strong man to tame Nala. A docile Nala was not something he could picture, and he doubted any man would ever completely change her.

As she became smaller in the distance, Alexander frowned. Something about the lass made him want to protect her. At the same time of all the women he'd ever met, she was the one who needed protection the least.

"Go home," he said to his horse, whose ears flickered back at the sound of his command. It was doubtful his horse understood, but Alexander chose to think it did.