Highlander's Guardian (Highlander Heat #4)

Colin grasped Arthur’s shoulder. “Are you with me?”


“Aye, and ’tis best when we leave, we do so with your wife. Mayhap you should even change into your monk’s habit. ’Twould be best if neither of us remained attired in domino as the guard saw us.”

“A sound idea. Let’s go.” Against the castle wall, Colin slid through the shadows then hastened along the maze of passageways. In his chamber, he stripped off his robe and mask as Arthur did the same, then donned his brown monk’s habit and tied the leather strings around his waist. “Are you ready to face the masses?”

Arthur tucked his tunic into his dark leather trews. “This will need to do for me. Let’s hope we dinnae get caught.”



Annie couldn’t sit still after Ian had raced her back to her chamber and instructed her to bolt the door and get rid of the clothing she’d worn. No link must be made between her and the maid who’d delivered the ale. As quick as she could, she lit the fire, stripped off her kirtle and tossed her clothes and the wig into the flames.

As it burned to ashes, she shakily dressed in a midnight-blue gown edged in black satin. Wishing for an escape, she paced her chamber. She needed to know if Colin had gotten past all the guards and reached his chief without issue. Even now, did he ride across the country for Duart Castle? Her stomach tossed and turned and her thoughts wouldn’t settle. Aye, she should follow Colin’s instructions and remain where she was, but the castle was filled with guests roaming about and it would take mere minutes to check the stables for his mount.

She grabbed her black fur cloak and swung it over her shoulders. She’d take the utmost care, discover if his horse remained, then return.

With her softly lined fur hood covering her head, she snuck out the door.

“Well, well, if it isnae Annie MacLeod.” A warrior with a red bulbous nose wearing the MacDonald plaid under a steel-studded war coat eased out of the darkened alcove next to her door. “You’ve been busy this eve, dressed as Cleopatra one moment, then a lowly maid the next. Now you appear as if you’re ready to wander about again, yet this time unescorted.”

“Who are you?”

“Hugh MacDonald at your service.”

“I’ve heard of you.” A man she had no desire to stand about chatting to. “Excuse me.” She hurried down the passageway.

“James is courting you, but he’s no’ for you.”

“He’s no’ courting me, and I agree.”

“Good.” He offered her his arm as he kept pace but she ignored the gesture. “Allow me to escort you to wherever it is you’re going.”

“No thank you. I’ll escort myself.” A buzz of voices echoed toward her from the great hall. She wasn’t in the middle of the woods, but a crowded palace swarming with guests and guardsmen. Aye, she’d find one of her MacLeod warriors and be done with Hugh MacDonald.

“Take my arm, my lady, and if I were you, I wouldnae draw any attention to us should the opportunity arise.”

“Are you threatening me?” She hastened her step as she searched for one of her kin.

“You should have taken more care this eve.” He snorted. “Particularly after your jaunt to the tower, and if I were to hazard a guess at to the identities of the other men I saw you with, I’d have to say they were Colin and Arthur MacLean.”

“I—I—” A chill shuddered through her. Hugh MacDonald knew too much.

“Allow me to allay your fears. The men you seek have returned to the ball.”

Colin would never have done so, not after he’d rescued his chief.

“They also left the tower empty handed.”

“What?”

“Take care. Dinnae draw any attention to us. If you do, Colin and Arthur MacLean will be hanging from the king’s noose at daybreak, and if that happens, ’twill be because you’ve forced my hand and I’ve had no choice but to expose them.” He gripped her elbow, tugged her through the doors and across the inner courtyard.

“What are you doing?”

“Ensuring you save your kin. I take it you wish to confirm their steads are here?” MacDonald steered her inside the stables, led her past two lads brushing down the guests’ horses, and toward the rear.

Colin and Arthur’s horses remained in their stalls. Hugh had told her the truth. Colin hadn’t left.

“Wait here.” Hugh stepped across the dusty corridor, stirring up loose hay scattered across the hard-packed ground. He clapped a warrior on the back, and said, “Fergus, gather four of our men, those loyal only to me and no’ James.”

“Aye, Captain.” Fergus jogged past her.

Their voices sent shivers down her spine. She brushed up against Colin’s destrier and scratched between his stallion’s silky black ears. “Where are they, and what happened to them?” she whispered to the animal, hoping an answer would present itself, somehow and some way.

The war horse let out a throaty snort and knocked its muzzle into her shoulder as if pushing her to send her on her way.