MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter by Suzan Tisdale Page B

on their village, the three of them went to live at Castle Gregor and were raised as brothers and to this day, they considered themselves as such.
    “Nay. I have never met any.”   She was growing weary and truly wanted to sleep but there were too many questions, too many uncertainties racing through her mind.  
    Duncan had felt sorry for the lass before, for what she had endured at the hands of the earl.   His heart had sunk more at learning 'twas her own brothers who had sent her to live with him.   But on learning the lass knew naught of any of her own people brought a greater sense of sadness and pity to his heart.  
    “I do know that my mum was from the Highlands,” Aishlinn told him.   Oddly enough it felt good to say it aloud.  
    Duncan raised an eyebrow.   “A Highlander ya say?”   That was promising news.   “Ya no’ be English then?”  
    “Nay!” Aishlinn shuddered at the thought.   She despised the English for what they had done to her people.  
    “Ye be one of us then!” Duncan said happily.   He knew his people would welcome her with open arms, especially once they learned she had killed the earl. Having learned what he had of the lass and her life thus far, the possibility of helping her find her real family delighted him.  
    “We will help ye find yer people then, lass,” he told her.  
    His next thought worried him. “I just hope it not be any we have feuds with!” He would push that thought aside for now and concentrate on getting her to the safety of his castle.
    Aishlinn had long ago given up hope of ever finding her blood family or the truth of her own existence.   The prospect of finally finding the family she had dreamt of since her mother’s death brought an overwhelming sense of joy to her heart.   There was however, a part of her that remained fearful.   What if they were all gone and that was the reason her mother had ended up in the England?   Or what if they did not want her?
    Knowing nothing of the inner workings of Highlander clans, it mattered not to Aishlinn if her own clan feuded with Duncan’s. After all, these men had saved her life.   Feud or no, she would always be grateful to them for that.   It was strange for her to think there was the chance of finally finding her real family.   As she lay her head upon Duncan’s chest, she prayed they would be as nice as these men.
     

Seven
     
    They rode hard and fast for Dunshire, with Aishlinn sleeping atop Duncan’s lap. He held her closely, wrapped in plaids with her head in the crook of his arm.   After several hours of holding her so tightly, his arm began to ache.   When he thought of all the lass had gone through, he decided he could put up with a little pain.
    It was becoming increasingly difficult for Aishlinn to breathe or to remain awake. Duncan repeatedly apologized for the fast pace at which they rode but he knew that the sooner they reached his home, the better her chances of surviving.   Pausing only long enough to eat, stretch their legs and rest their horses, they raced toward Dunshire.
    It was difficult to sleep being jostled about like a sack of leeks, riding along at a full run. Sleep did not come any easier at night when they stopped to rest, for that was when the nightmares came.   In them she was always hiding; in the snow, a tree, or a grotto -- it mattered naught. Each time she was found by the king’s soldiers and carried back to Penrith.   She would wake frequently, fighting for air and with a churning stomach. The dreams were telling her no matter where she hid the soldiers would find her.  
    Even though she was covered in plaids and slept as near to the fire as she could, it was still difficult to become warm. When the dreams frightened her to the point of waking, she would find that Duncan and Rowan were sleeping very close to her.   They guarded her as if she were the Queen of Scotland and had forgone their own warmth and comfort by covering her with their own