Free When a Laird Takes a Lady: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel by Rowan Keats

brother, Lady MacCurran.”
    “A false charge.”
    “Any mother would say the same,” said Isabail coolly. “But the law disagrees. You insult me to even hint of an arrangement between our families.”
    “Nonsense,” the other woman dismissed. “I am merely seeking a peaceful resolution to our troubles. How can that be insulting?”
    “My brother was a good man. He deserves justice, not to be forgotten the instant his memory becomes inconvenient.” Isabail felt her grief rise in her throat, nearly choking her. “Good day, madam.”
    Turning on her heel, Isabail lifted her skirts and prepared to stomp off.
    “Did you approach me for a particular reason, Lady Macintosh?”
    She froze, her heart pounding a mournful dirge in her chest. She’d completely forgotten her mission. Pivoting slowly, she did her best to wrestle her emotions under control. “Aye. A ransom prisoner is due every courtesy while held by her captors. I wish to examine the stores for items that might ease my ordeal. I understand you hold all the keys.”
    Lady Elisaid frowned. “Do I?”
    The man standing just behind Lady MacCurran bent toward her and whispered in her ear. The frown eased. “Apparently, I do. Master Tam will give them to you. Take whatever you like, but Iassure you, comfort is a scarce commodity in this ancient pile of rocks.”
    Master Tam, slowly and with obvious reluctance, handed Isabail a small iron ring hung with four rust-spattered keys.
    Isabail nodded sharply to Lady MacCurran. “I will return them presently.”
    Then she departed, her stomach knotted so tight she could barely breathe. The gall of the woman, suggesting an alliance between their families. Her fiendish son had stolen away the one true friend she had in this world, felling him in his bed. John was dead.
    Tears blurred Isabail’s vision. And Lady Elisaid thought she could simply brush those horrid memories aside. Impossible.
    She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and marched up to Beathag. “I have Lady Elisaid’s permission to examine the stores. Show me where they are.” Determination added weight to her demand. “Now.”
    * * *
    Once he was confident that the defenses of the hill fort were as strong as they could be and that Niall’s men were diligently keeping an eye out for MacPherson’s patrols, Aiden returned to the keep. Although he knew Isabail was weary from her journey, he could not afford to give her a lengthy respite. The names she held in her head were all that stood between his clan and safety.
    The inner close of the ruined palace echoed with his boot steps. Crumbling stone walls andthe towering crags of the mountainside gave rise to eerie sounds.
    He knocked on the lintel of the roundhouse assigned to Isabail, then ducked inside. The room was empty, save for a neatly covered pallet and a bucket of water. There was no sign of Isabail or her maid.
    “Beathag,” he roared.
    The large woman arrived at the door with surprising speed. “Aye?”
    “Where in the bloody hell is Lady Macintosh?”
    A family retainer since before he was born, Beathag simply folded her arms over her ample bosom and stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to re-collect his composure.
    “Where is she?” he asked, quieter.
    “In the cave.”
    Aiden blinked. “Doing what?”
    “Counting.”
    “By the gods, woman!” The cave was their secret refuge, their last hope if MacPherson’s men discovered the hill fort. Divulging its whereabouts to their enemy, even if the lovely lady lacked a dangerous air, was a grievous mistake. “What possessed you to reveal the whereabouts of the cave?”
    Beathag gulped. “Lady Elisaid gave her the keys.”
    His mother had simply handed off the keys? To a stranger? Unable to wrap his thoughts around that tidbit of information and frustrated by his lack of understanding, Aiden simplyglared at the good woman. Then he headed for the cave.
    * * *
    The entrance to the tunnels beneath the ruin lay at the very back of the inner