The Wrong Highlander

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  An Excerpt from The Trouble With Vampires The Trouble With Vampires

  About the Author

  By Lynsay Sands

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Conran heard his brother Rory approaching before he ever spoke. The man had no idea how to move quietly. He stomped through the woods, snapping branches underfoot like it was his task in life to scare away all wildlife. He’d be murder on a hunt, Conran thought. Which was why he and his other brothers never took him with them when they went on one. Not that Rory would be interested in accompanying them anyway. He was the odd man out in the family—a healer rather than a warrior. Although, to be fair, he had been working out in the practice field of late, building up his strength and skills, he admitted to himself as Rory finally stumbled out into the clearing and greeted him with the question, “How did ye do?”

  Conran turned from his saddlebag and stepped back to reveal the way it bulged. “I found loads of snapdragon, catnip, willow, feverfew and celandine poppy fer ye. Almost too much for me bag.”

  “Celandine poppy?” Rory echoed, and shook his head with a smile. “Look at ye. Ye’re even learning the right kinds o’ weeds I need.”

  Conran grimaced and turned back to continue trying to close his overfull saddlebag. “Aye, well, I’ve accompanied ye on enough o’ yer calls to heal others that I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

  “Aye, ye have,” Rory agreed, crossing the clearing to join him. “More than I expected. Ye always seem to ken what I’ll need ere I ask fer it when ye accompany me to visit the ill and ailing. Ye’re something o’ a natural at healing, brother.”

  Conran shook his head with amusement. “Dougall said the same thing about me and his horses, and Niels said it about his sheep and wool. The truth is, I’m just good at helping out me brothers. It’s made me a jack-o’-all-trades.”

  “Ye’re selling yerself short, Conny,” Rory said solemnly. “I think the truth is that while each o’ us is very good at one thing, ye’re good at many.”

  “Hmm. As I said, a jack-o’-all-trades. Sadly, I’m no’ a master of any though.” Finally managing to close the saddlebag, he sighed his relief and then glanced to Rory. “So, do ye feel like a stop at the waterfalls to clean up ere returning? I swear I’ve weeds and bugs up me butt from traipsing through the bushes and brambles.”

  “Nay.” Rory shook his head with apparent regret. “I still need valerian and yarrow, and then I must stop in to see the innkeeper’s daughter. She’s fit to burst and likely to have her bairn any day now. I want to be sure all is well with her. Ye go ahead though. I ken ye planned to leave fer Drummond ere the nooning meal. I appreciate ye taking the time to help me search out medicinals first.”

  “Always happy to help,” Conran said with a shrug, and then assured him, “I’ll have a quick wash in the falls, and then ride back to the keep to drop off the weeds before heading out.”

  “Thank ye. I appreciate it,” Rory assured him as he mounted up.

  “Me pleasure, brother.” Conran watched him ride off, and then withdrew the sword from his belt and affixed it to his horse, before removing his plaid and shirt. He was looking forward to a nice wash under the falls. Truly, it felt like he had bugs crawling all over his naked skin under the plaid he wore. Conran knew that wasn’t the case, and the feeling was just a result of being hot and sweaty in a wool plaid. Wading through the bugs and sending them flying from the bushes and plants he was harvesting hadn’t helped though. Aye, a nice cleanup in the falls was going to be a true pleasure. It would make a new man of him.

  “Well, there’s his horse. Now, where is he?” Evina asked, her gaze sliding around the clearing and then to the river and waterfalls, which appeared empty.

  “Mayhap he left his steed here while he searches for weeds.”

  Evina narrowed her eyes in consideration at the suggestion from the man sitting astride the horse on her right. Donnan. He’d been the first at Maclean for fourteen years. There was no one she’d trust more to accompany her on this trip, except perhaps the man on her left, her cousin Gavin.

  When she didn’t comment, Donnan pointed out, “The lad did say Rory Buchanan was out gathering weeds for his healing work. The area around here is rich with various plants. Mayhap he leaves his horse here as a main base and returns occasionally with his finds.”

  Evina eyed the bulging saddlebag hanging from the side of the handsome beast across the clearing, and nodded. It seemed a good possibility. Although it did look to her as if he must be nearly finished with his weed-gathering expedition. In fact, unless he had a second bag that he was carrying with him, he should be done. There didn’t look to her to be room for even one more leaf, stem or root in the bag.

  “Or no’,” Gavin murmured quietly.

  Raising her eyebrows, Evina glanced to her cousin and then followed his direction to the water when he nodded that way.

  At first, she didn’t see anything to explain his comment. There was nothing in the river itself. It wasn’t until Evina turned her gaze to the waterfall again that she saw what he’d spotted. The cliff the water fell from was a good twenty feet up. The water rained down in a white, frothy torrent that hid the rocks and anything else behind the sheet of water, and that was what she’d seen the first time. Now there appeared to be an elbow poking out of the water and someone moving around under the spray.

  “Looks like we’ve found him,” Donnan said with amusement. “Do we wait for him to come out?”

  Evina considered the matter briefly, but that didn’t really seem an option to her. Rory Buchanan might rush through his cleaning and be out quickly, but he could also piddle about in the falls for a good long time, but either way, every moment they wasted was one more during which her father lay dying.

  “Nay. We fetch him out,” she said finally. “And we’ll no’ take nay for an answer.”

  “Right,” Donnan said quietly, and then glanced past her to Gavin.

  Following his gaze, Evina saw that the younger man was already dismounting. Once on the ground, her cousin quickly removed his sword and boots. When he reached for the pin of his plaid, Evina turned her head away and stared at the waterfalls instead to give him privacy. She used to change Gavin’s nappies and give him baths as a boy, but he wasn’t a child anymore. Besides, while she’d often been accused of being less than a lady, even she wouldn’t look on a bare-arsed man.

  At least, not on purpose, Evina qualified when her gaze landed not on an elbow protruding from the falls now, but on a bare arse. That was all. The Buchanan had obviously turned under the water and bent over, presumably to wash his lower legs or feet, because while she could now see the outline of his legs through a very thin layer of foamy water, his behind was the only thing out of the spray and on display.

  And a fine rounded rump it was too, Evina noted before movement drew her attention to Gavin as he headed determinedly toward the water. She looked away, but not before catching a glimpse of his back, legs and behind. Evina had always thought her cousin a well-built young man, and he did have a nice muscular chest and shoulders. He also had fine legs. Despite that though, he couldn’t compare with the Buchanan when it came to rumps. Gavin fell s
hort when compared to the only part of the man she could really see. Her cousin’s behind was flat in comparison to the one sticking out of the waterfall.

  “When ye said we’re no’ taking nay fer an answer,” Donnan said slowly. “Did ye mean . . . ?”

  “I meant exactly what it sounds like,” Evina assured him. “We’ll kidnap the bastard if we have to, but Rory Buchanan has to return with us. I’ll no’ let Father die for lack o’ the right healer.”

  Donnan nodded, but then pointed out, “It could mean war with the Buchanans.”

  “Then we’ll battle the Buchanans,” she said grimly, and turned to peer at him. “Is that a problem?”

  Donnan shook his head. “Nay, m’lady. I pledged me fealty to yer father. I’d give me life fer him. I just wanted to be sure ye kenned the consequences o’ this action.”

  “I ken the consequences,” Evina assured him solemnly. “And I would give me life for me father too. If it takes a war to save him, then war it shall be.”

  Donnan was silent for a moment, and then said gently, “Rory Buchanan may no’ be able to heal him either. Yer father may be beyond help.”

  “Mayhap,” she agreed. “But I’d also give me life for just a chance at saving him. Hopefully, it’ll no’ come to war though, and the Buchanan will come willingly.”

  “I’m thinking that does no’ seem likely,” Donnan said dryly, and nodded toward the waterfall again.

  Evina turned her head quickly, her eyes widening as she saw that Gavin had reached the Buchanan and, rather than talking, the two men were now grappling under the waterfall. Even as she noted that, the pair tumbled off the low ledge they’d stood on and into the river itself.

  “Huh,” Evina muttered, pursing her lips as she watched the pair rolling and bobbing in the water, alternately wrestling, punching and appearing to try to drown each other. “Ye may be right.”

  “I’m thinking Gavin might need a hand,” Donnan said after several minutes had passed with the men continuing to struggle.

  “Aye,” Evina agreed with concern as she watched the Buchanan force her cousin under the water and hold him there. When Gavin didn’t reappear, or roll the other man under, Donnan dismounted, intending to go help.

  Quite sure he’d never make it there in time on foot, Evina cursed and put her heels to her mount. The mare responded at once, bursting into a sprint that took her to the water’s edge before Donnan had crossed half the distance. Evina rode right into the water, drawing her sword out as she did. Once next to the man holding Gavin under the water’s surface, she reined in hard enough to make her mare rear in the water.

  The Buchanan turned a startled face up toward her, their eyes met briefly, and then Evina brought her sword down. The hilt of her weapon slammed into the side of his head with force. She watched him wince in pain and then lose consciousness as her mare settled on all four hooves again in the water.

  The moment the Buchanan released Gavin, her cousin reared up out of the water, sputtering. Relief pouring through her, Evina sheathed her sword and slid quickly off her mare’s back. She landed in the waist-high water next to the men even as Donnan rushed into the river to approach them.

  “Help Gavin,” she ordered, noting the way the young man was swaying as he stood up. She didn’t wait to watch the man obey, but moved to the Buchanan. Grabbing the healer by the shoulder, she turned him in the water. Her face pinched with concern when she noted his pallor, but she quickly shifted her hold to his hand and dragged him toward shore.

  The healer was surprisingly heavy. Evina only managed to pull him halfway out of the river before she had to stop, but at least his head and chest were out. Once she’d dragged him as far as she could onto the grassy shore, she dropped to her knees beside him and quickly turned him on his stomach. Evina then placed her hands on his back and pushed hard and fast, once and then again. Water immediately poured from his mouth and nose. When a third such push didn’t bring up any more, she turned him over. When she saw that the man wasn’t breathing, she didn’t hesitate, but pinched his nose, opened his mouth and bent to blow her breath into it.

  “Er . . . m’lady?” Donnan said, sounding uncertain as he let a coughing and hacking Gavin drop to his knees next to her. “What are ye doing?”

  “Breathing for him,” she muttered between breaths. “Me mother did this to me brother when he near drowned as a lad. It revived him,” she explained as she pressed on the Buchanan’s chest, before bending to cover his mouth with hers again.

  “Looks more like yer kissing on him,” Donnan said dubiously, and Gavin released a chuckle of amusement that was raspy and sent him into another coughing fit.

  Evina ignored both men and bent to press her ear to the unconscious man’s chest. Much to her relief she heard his heart beat and the sound of his drawing breath into his lungs on his own. Straightening then, she peered down at him expectantly, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  “Ye hit him pretty hard, m’lady,” Donnan pointed out solemnly. “He may no’ wake up for a bit, but he’s breathing now on his own at least.”

  “Aye,” she sighed the word, her eyes sliding over the man’s face. He was really quite handsome. She hadn’t expected that. She’d heard tales of his skill as a healer, but not one of those stories had mentioned that he was a good-looking man. She’d imagined a plain-faced, scrawny, bookish man like the priests, who were the only learned men she knew of. Instead, he had a pretty face and a strapping body, she noted, her gaze sliding down his wide, naked chest to his tapered waist. The rest of him was still submerged in water so Evina couldn’t look farther.

  “M’lady?” Donnan said quietly, drawing her reluctant gaze. “Mayhap we’d best get moving. If one o’ his brothers come looking for him and finds him like this . . .”

  “Aye.” Evina stood abruptly, ignoring the way her wet skirts dragged at her. She glanced quickly around the clearing, but once assured they were still alone, turned her attention to Gavin as his coughing fit ended and he spat in the dirt. “Are ye all right, Gav? Can ye ride?”

  “Aye,” he growled, staggering to his feet.

  Evina watched him with concern, but he appeared mostly recovered. At least he wasn’t swaying or coughing anymore and there was color in his cheeks. Nodding, she turned back to the water, a grimace claiming her lips when her skirts slapped cold and wet against her legs. Her mare still stood where she’d left her, and Evina waded back into the water to reclaim her reins and lead her back onto land.

  “What do ye want us to do with the Buchanan?” Donnan asked as he watched her mount her mare.

  Evina settled in the saddle, arranged her skirts the best she could sitting astride as she was and then glanced down to the naked, unconscious man on the ground. He really was a pretty man, a pleasure to look on, she thought, but said, “Bind him hand and foot, toss him over his horse’s back, and then tie him hand to foot to be sure he does no’ fall off.”

  “Do I dress him first?” Donnan asked, not looking pleased at the thought, and Evina supposed pleating a plaid and dressing an unconscious fully grown male in it might be something of a task.

  She shook her head. “Nay. Just throw his plaid over him once ye’ve ensured he’ll no’ fall off his mount as we ride. And mayhap tie it down somehow so it does no’ fall off him either.”

  Donnan nodded and then glanced to Gavin. “Are ye well enough to fetch his mount?”

  “O’ course,” Gavin said irritably, and headed away muttering, “Took in a bit o’ water, is all, but I’m fine now.”

  They watched him go, and then both Evina and Donnan shared small smiles. Gavin was always a bit touchy at any suggestion that he may not be up to par. He was young yet, but determined to prove he was a man.

  “The Buchanan’ll no’ be pleased at being knocked unconscious,” Donnan predicted solemnly as he shifted his attention back to the unconscious man.

  “Nay,” Evina agreed on a sigh, her eyes wandering toward the still-submerged lower half of the unconscious man’
s body before she caught herself and drew it back to his face. This hadn’t been how she’d hoped this task would go. She’d planned to have an amiable chat with the man, and convince him to come with them. Knocking him out and dragging him home with them had only been a last-resort possibility if he’d refused to accompany them willingly. However, things rarely went according to plan in her experience.

  Shaking her head, she glanced warily around the clearing again before her gaze settled on her cousin leading the Buchanan’s mount to them.

  “Thank ye,” Donnan said, taking the horse’s reins from Gavin. “Go fetch our beasts while I get him on his horse.”

  Nodding, the younger man moved quickly away to retrieve their waiting horses.

  Evina watched Donnan bind the Buchanan’s hands and feet and then frowned when he caught him by his tied hands and drew him into a sitting position.

  “Can ye manage on yer own? Or do ye need me to help ye with . . .” Evina’s question died in her throat. Donnan already had the man over his shoulders and was carrying him the few feet to the Buchanan’s mount. She watched silently as he slung him over the beast and quickly attached a rope between his bound hands and his feet under the animal’s belly so that he wouldn’t slide off during the ride.

  Evina supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at how easily Donnan had managed the task. It was why she’d brought him along on this journey. The man was huge and strong, his neck as big around as her thigh, his upper arms bulging with muscle and his shoulders almost twice the width of most men’s. He probably could have carried the three of them if necessary, Evina thought as she watched him arrange the Buchanan’s plaid over his back and fasten it around his neck and knees to keep it in place.

  “That should do,” Donnan announced as he stepped back from his handiwork.

  “Aye,” Evina agreed as Gavin reached them, already astride his mount and leading Donnan’s. She waited as the first mounted, but once he was settled and had the reins of the Buchanan’s horse in hand, she turned her own mount to lead them out of the clearing. Her thoughts were already on the ride home and the quickest way there. It was usually a two-day ride, but she intended to make it in a little more than one. There would be no stopping to eat or make camp at night. They would eat in the saddle and ride nonstop, as they had on the way out. Her father’s life depended on it. If he still lived.