Highland Deception (Highland Pride) by Lori Ann Bailey

to give it to her.”
    “Didnae ye send Dougal to find Maggie’s family?”
    “I only sent him to ask who owned her horse. He’s just to say he found it wandering and nothing of her. I dinnae think he will be recognized, anyway. He was not with us when we came upon the letter or during the altercation.” Lachlan shook his hand out. His knuckles were still bruised from the punch he’d landed on Conall’s jaw.
    “We will take care,” Gillies said.
    “And take only horses from our stables. Ye don’t need to be seen on any of Conall’s.” They turned to walk back to the camp, and Lachlan continued, “Return as quickly as ye can.” He wasn’t certain how long his resolve would hold out. Maggie was a distraction he didn’t have time for, especially as his clan became increasingly mired in politics.
    He not only had an obligation to protect Robbie—he was sworn to the Catholic Royalists. If he was able to thwart Conall’s plan to align with Argyll, he might be able to stop the fanatical Covenanters from forcing their religion on others. King Charles shouldn’t have tried to impose Catholicism on the Covenanters, but he didn’t see that his oppression had sparked their movement. There would be war soon if something couldn’t be done, and the last thing he wanted was to send his men to fight.
    Nae, the bonny Maggie, with curves his fingers itched to feel again and innocent lips that had been sweet and willing, was a diversion he didn’t need and couldn’t afford. Neither could his clan.

Chapter Four
    After returning to the glade, Maggie let her gaze drift to Lachlan. But he took one look at her and, as if nothing had happened between them, turned away and strode off through the thick green shrubbery and lavender heather into the opposite woods with two of his men.
    “Why does he find me offensive?” Maggie asked, discouraged, when Alan came to stand beside her.
    “Ye misread him, dear lass.” Alan laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
    “How so?” Lachlan’s changing currents of emotions had utterly perplexed her.
    “’Tis no’ ye he finds offensive. ’Tis the thought of a beautiful woman, which fortunately or unfortunately for ye, puts ye into the untrustworthy wench category.”
    This man only confused her more. Maggie’s head quirked to the side. “Why?” she asked.
    “Lachlan overheard his betrothed plotting his murder. She was a bonny lass he had known all his life. Now he doesnae trust women. But he wants ye. I can see it. He’s trying to deny it, but we all saw it just now.”
    “What did ye see? I see him avoiding me like a leper.” Her gaze wandered restlessly to the woods where he’d disappeared.
    “In his own way, he just warned us all to stay away from ye.” Alan laughed harder. She didn’t see anything humorous in the matter. “Watch yerself, lass. He’s sworn to never marry. Dinnae hope for that outcome.”
    She didn’t want marriage, either, but she wasn’t about to tell Alan—all men assumed that was a woman’s goal in life.
    “Are ye Presbyterian, lass?” His good humor had fled, and she blinked at the change. His face had become granite, and his eyes met hers with a steely challenge. Like Lachlan, he had obviously hoped to trip her up by pretending friendship. She got the sense her answer would tell him much, and whatever he learned would be passed on to Lachlan.
    “Why does it matter what my religion is?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head.
    “The Camerons are Royalists. If ye are a Covenanter, ye will have to seek refuge elsewhere.”
    “I believe everyone has the right to worship in whatever way they please.”
    “’Tis noble of ye, but where are yer clan’s loyalties?”
    She looked away to avoid his scrutiny, fighting back the bitter feelings from years of being told her fate was for the good of her clan. Despite that, she would not betray her people by speaking about them to a stranger.
    Lachlan had probably told all of them his suspicions